Author's Note: The plus side? I'm still here and kickin'. The negative? It's so abysmally hot it bakes my brain. The plus side? I've got a huge fan and an open window combating that. The negative? Mutant moths come creepin' in.

(Ever had that time when you're so nearly done with a chapter, but it just won't be written? That was my predicament. T_T)

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Pokémon. (Yet … )

Intuition

Chapter Fourteen

Saffron City, Kanto

Grey eyes snapped open as he jolted up with such rigid vigor that an onlooker could have believed he'd been fatally electrocuted, had the sweet smell of burnt flesh not been absent amidst the stench of sweat leaking from his every pore. His heart was jittering wildly, as though electrocution had been the method to awaken him.

He recovered slowly, his labored breaths subsiding to a reasonable level, one that didn't leave his brain swimming with dizzying delirium, allowing it to work a mile a minute and piece together the fleeting fragments fading from his memory, hastily pulling together the bigger image.

Blue eyes, unnaturally bright.

The glint of moonlight on a crystal surface.

That grand laboratory standing in the distance.

The agonized screech of a cornered beast.

It meant only one thing: she was here. The time was now. And they knew.

He tossed his sweat-soaked sheets aside and was on his feet in an instant, breaking out into a run before his mind had comprehended his body's actions. Without sparing a moment to flick on the lights, he was weaving through the shadowed hallways, his knowledge of the entire building so expansive that sight wasn't a necessity to navigate his way to his destination.

The slapping of bare feet against the wood floors came to a sharp halt as he reached the ornate double doors; they stood twice as tall as he could reach and were embellished with elaborate carvings that made not a scrap of sense to anyone outside himself and his daughter. He neglected the silver knocker fused to the wood, instead brushing his fingertips down the slit of the connecting doors. A dim blue light shone from the various markings for nary a second before both doors swung open, granting him access.

The room inside was dim and uninviting: the scarce light the few candles provided flickered as the doors slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the expansive room.

It was as though the echoing noise had triggered his vocal chords, as speech suddenly felt such an easy task. "It has happened," he said, exerting more oxygen that he thought wise. "I saw it, just minutes ago. I-I can feel it … it is going to happen soon."

An onlooker would have believed he were speaking to the darkness itself, for the faint outline of his meditating daughter was visible only to himself. She remained emotionless to his words for the longest time, her back to him and her eyes sealed shut, until her voice finally punctured the heavy silence:

"I am aware," she said softly, lowering her elevated arms to rest upon each of her knees. "I received a vision from our own crystal. I believe they sensed this before the decision had been made. Fate, perhaps, intervened."

Her movements were so fluid she could have been anything but human: in an instant she was standing up straight, her silky hair spilling straight down to her waist and shimmering in the dim light like a purple waterfall. She turned slowly to meet the stare of her father, whose lips had melted themselves into a firm frown, as though a bitter medicine lay upon his tongue.

"How long ago was this?" he inquired, his voice quiet even with the inevitable echo.

For a full minute, she just stared at him, violet eyes boring into grey. "A while," she replied eventually, turning away from her father. Though she walked at a brisk pace, he easily kept up with each step she took.

"A while?" he urged, his frown evident in his tone. "By your standards that must have been at least an hour ago. Why didn't you trust me with this knowledge?"

Her expression and voice remained deadpan. "Because I had no reason to. You would have insisted we intervened, which could have unintentionally given away more than either of us is comfortable with sharing."

"Sabrina," he sighed, not bothering to hold back his frustration, "I do trust your judgment and I acknowledge that mine may not be the best at time—Mew knows there are events I regret—but there simply isn't time to hold back and leave it to fate to run its course. You know there are two possible outcomes to this and neither of them is desirable, but you can be damn certain I will not take this lightly. You understand that, don't you?"

Violet irises glanced in his direction for a fleeting moment. "You know that I do, father, but there are reasons—complications that I cannot explain. My intuitiveness has never been wrong on this and I do not wish to begin my doubts now."

Her father was a patient man—a trait he prided himself of—but help him Mew, this girl could be difficult at the best of times. "Regardless, even with an intuition as accurate as yours it is not wise to rely on gut feeling alone. This matter is … delicate. Psychic assistance or no, how can you be so confident on this matter? Do you know where to begin?"

"No. But I do know that she will be upon this land, either residing in Kanto or Johto. I have tried, but it is impossible to narrow down our search further. We should be thankful we know this much, it's a great advantage."

"Then it's obvious: our wisest option would be to begin the search, filter the arrivals and go from there. We have the knowledge. It wouldn't be difficult to narrow things down and make damn well sure we find her first."

"It is pointless. She remains hidden beneath a veil, thus our chances of locating her are as good as anyone else's. Our advantage lies in knowing she will be here, whereas no one else can be sure of this."

The footsteps behind her halted, and Sabrina paused, peering over her shoulder at the stern face of her father. "How can you believe in such a foolish claim in a time as grave as this? A matter so severe will not solve itself!"

"Some things are simply meant to be," she elaborated firmly. "This is meant to be. Don't you feel it in the air? We won't find her, but she will find us, one way or another. That is how it will be. We have the means to aide her: it will be like luring a Beautifly to a honeypot."

"Opening up a single honeypot won't draw out the only Beautifly lost somewhere in either of two regions. The two would be at least miles apart, how can you possibly put faith in that ridiculous notion?"

"You could name it an inner guide. This isn't logic I am following … I cannot spell out the steps of how I came to trust this path, only that I know to follow it. Some things desperately need to play out their full course and I know this is one of them. This needs to happen and we cannot intervene needlessly. You said it yourself that this is a very delicate, subjective matter and one action could affect many more. Father, you told me that you trust my instincts and abilities, so why do you feel differently now when before you have never had a reason to? Do you believe I would ever choose this option if I weren't entirely certain?"

Blood flushed into his neck, marring his skin a violent shade. "Never pull that line on me," he said quietly. "I do trust you, with my life, and I would to the end of days, but there are factors we must bring into this conclusion. You may be entirely reassured by a simple feeling, but I fail to see how I am the villain for having my doubts. If you had them, too, then you wouldn't remain so docile."

For the longest time, Sabrina stood unmoving in her place, her dark eyes examining the man before her. "This means so much more than either of us, Father. If I had your doubts then I'd likely rebel and do things my way, so if you feel you need to begin a search then I won't stop you. But don't prevent me from choosing my own actions. We both have a mutual aim, only our methods of reaching it are different. I would never have chosen this one if I weren't entirely certain. Keep that in mind."

There were many past occurrences that had sharpened his resolve enough to dictate when a person shouldn't be trusted, and far too much of that stemmed back to the actions of his own daughter. The discovery of her powers and her obsession with developing it had unlocked the chain of events that cast a dark cloud over Saffron City and nearly tore apart Sabrina's mental health, and the memories of the occasion refused to deteriorate no matter how long they bore the brunt of time.

But still, he liked to keep the mindset that he was a man who learned from his mistakes. Encouraging Sabrina's powers had been a shaky step, but oppressing them had been a terrible decision: the girl was independent to the point talking to her could become unbearable, but it wasn't for lack of restraint, more justified confidence in her own abilities.

As he caught the glint of the lilac crystal resting in his daughter's palm, he released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Maybe his distrust in Fate wasn't the issue; after all, he was up to date with recent events enough to determine that life-or-death conflictions often ended in the favour of a black-haired boy who shouldn't even exist.

"You're right," he heard himself relenting, his mouth going ahead without confirmation from his brain. "So … what did you have in mind?"

XxXxX

Snowpoint Temple, Sinnoh

It was in the deepest catacombs of the Temple that Brandon gained the unmistakable feeling that something somewhere was terribly amiss. He paused in his current action and reached down to touch the twitching Poké balls clipped to his belt. The Regias had been mostly docile since the incident with J some months ago, but even before then Brandon had his fair share of doubts.

But like this? No, never quite to this extent.

He frowned, trying to make sense of it with quick mental calculations. Though typically serene, there had been moments relatively few and far between that suggested not all was right in their connected world, but in the times he'd let them out of their Poké balls they'd done little more than stare off into the distance. Had he kept them inside, the insistent twitching had calmed down after a few minutes.

But this was different. Anxiety oozed from the Regias' minimalized forms and filled Brandon's chest with a heavy weight, one he was unaccustomed to feeling. Like a rookie trainer on one end of a battle field, up against a foe they had little chance of beating but had little choice but to fight.

Lightheaded nerves decreasing one's sense of stability and dread weighing down their stomach like they'd swallowed a thick helping of tar.

Unclipping them from his belt, he looked down at the three shrunken poké balls resting in his palm, twitching this way and that as though the Legendary Regias were angling not to escape, but to direct themselves to a destination without emerging from their captivity.

With a heavy sigh, Brandon clenched his fist and resigned himself to seeking the answer the Regias were angling to locate. Perhaps now he would find out exactly what was going on.

XxXxX

Cerulean City, Kanto

Misty wished she was worried.

Years ago, she thought she'd overcome the point where she could be shaken enough to want to rip her hair out of the roots. In her naïve youth, she knew that along the line, somewhere inside of her, things had changed. Gone were the days where she could say that worry was the worst emotion that could tie up her nerves into elaborate knots, now such a feeling was only a memory, a nostalgic luxury.

Misty wasn't scared.

During the legendary bird trio, she had felt scared: the world was in turmoil and she could do nothing more than stand aside and watch things unfold, to pray desperately that Ash could resolve the situation without the cost of his own life. There was burning in her veins, and her will was barely her own when she knew that without her intervention, Ash dying would be a sacrifice, but a regret. A broken cry that they were so close.

Misty knew pure fear.

She'd felt it for one desperate, horrifying moment when she thought she'd lost Ash beneath the icy waves. When she believed that the one thing that she could do in that time of crisis, something that didn't involve standing around idly, was an objective she had failed.

Misty had felt the temptation of suicide.

The chilled waves were rough and relentless. She had failed. It would be so easy to succumb to her numbed body's pleas and give in to the grip of the ensuing insanity; to just relax, close her eyes, and let the ocean take her. To end her unbearable suffering before it could destroy her.

Misty had been fueled by pure adrenaline.

Just one fleeting glimpse at a spot of inky black between the white-tipped waves had been like a needle piercing her heart, pumping energy directly into her core. There had been no time to think, barely enough time to act. Her mind was set, her body was ready, and the water was no longer her enemy: it coaxed her on as much as the sudden rush. Her arms had encircled Ash's waist as her legs drove them back to shore. There had been too much control when barely ten seconds earlier she had been losing a pointless battle with her dying limbs, but motivation had been concentrated into one spot.

As frostbitten as she felt, she couldn't keep still. The friction of the snow burned her as she pulled them both to shore, her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest in its crazed tempo, but the thought of stopping, just to catch her breath, was impossible. There was too much energy to burn, like she'd sapped stamina directly from Ash's exhausted, semi-conscious body.

They were so close.

Misty had once been overwhelmed by the crushing sense of relief.

From head-to-toe she pulsed with her fading rush, the sting of unknown wounds piercing through her natural high, but her bruised, battered and partially frozen body felt lighter than a Hoppip lost in a breeze. Her mangled nerves had sprung free, the frenzied Butterfree in her stomach had flown away, and she felt like she could just float.

They had done it. It was over. There was nothing more to worry about, no losses to mourn.

Misty wasn't remotely certain how she felt now.

Ash had left with Gary hours ago, just as the night had cloaked the region, and now the darkness was evaporating as the sunrise spilled onto the city from over Mt. Moon. It felt like much too long. She doubted she'd been remembered through the turmoil Ash was experiencing, but it was a small comfort in light of knowing no news on the subject.

Just one word, a brief phone call, a weather-abused letter—she'd take anything. All she desired was knowledge that whatever may be happening, things were at least controlled.

As popular as the saying was, Misty disagreed: ignorance wasn't bliss. It was torture. There had never been a time when she was happier not knowing. As small a comfort as it was, at least there was no mass guessing, no bone-crushing fear that the worst had happened … if things had taken a bad turn, then at least there was closure.

Hope could be as cruel as it was uplifting.

Misty sighed and rubbed her heavy eyelids. She found that trying to sleep was pointless; no matter how exhausted she was, unease overpowered it and kept her conscious. Pulling her knees close to her chest, she stared out her bedroom window, resting the side of her forehead on the glass pane. She'd never been content to idly sit by: stewing in her own fear-tainted thoughts was mentally taxing. At least by doing something, however small, it kept her mind off things and she was contributing on some level.

No, she thought, gripping the worn sleeves of her hoodie, I'm making no difference by fretting over it. If I can't sleep then I'll do something productive while I can. Maybe I'll check on the Horsea, and see if I can get them to sleep, at least.

She sat up and immediately regretted it. Wincing tightly, she rubbed her temples, held back by the dizzying sensation of a head rush.

Coffee, she revised, coffee first, then I'll check the Horsea.

Powering through it, Misty stood up and descended downstairs to the gym.

XxXxX

A short distance away on a concealed ledge of Mt. Moon, a lone man adjusted the lens of his binoculars and lifted a black radio to his mouth:

"I've lost visual, she's moved away from the window," he informed whoever listened on the other end. Diverting the lens to allow his visual to graze over the building, he paused as he caught sight of the ginger-haired girl on the lower floor. "Disregard that information. It doesn't seem like she's giving sleep a try."

Almost immediately, the radio buzzed with a response: "You have the exits covered?"

"Every single one. She leaves the building, we'll know. Just a little more prep and outside surveillance won't be necessary anymore. Unless we're ready to make our move?"

"Negative. The retrieval of Molly Hale is still under way. Give us another few hours and we'll know if our target changes to Misty Waterflower."

"I still think this is all backwards. I have a visual, we should nab them both now. Hell, all of them."

"And bring up suspicion? We have to tread carefully here, which means sticking to the plan every step of the way. Understand? Keep your eyes set on Miss Waterflower: I want updates every hour on the hour. She goes outside, you let me know. She opens a window, you let me know. If she blinks twice in the same second, you let me know."

"You worry too much. Trust me, not even a miracle could take her off our radar. But try not to keep us waiting too long; it's been two years since I lost out on the Cascade badge. I think I'm ready for a rematch."

XxXxX

Viridian Hospital, Kanto

Nurse Joy had spent the last twenty minutes going over a medical report, would be what an on looking member of staff would say. To ask Joy herself would elicit an identical response. But to ask the sandy-haired man who had given her that report would bring a different reply, should he choose to be honest.

"Yes, that's all in order," Joy said, returning the document back to him. Her voice alone was no different than usual, but to look directly into her eyes would prove something wasn't quite right. "I'm sorry that took so long, but I'm sure you realize the necessity of the routine."

The man took the document back and offered a smile. "Think nothing of it. We can't be handing out coma patient into the care of any stranger who comes knocking, can we?"

"Absolutely. We do take pride in what we do, and offer out the best health-care that exists. Now, you said you've made all the customary arrangements to transport her to Sinnoh?"

"I certainly have. Though you're feel to call ahead and confirm the transfer if those documents and my word haven't proved efficient."

"It's already taken care of," she said as she led him down the hallway. Not a soul would be savvy enough to catch the synthetic aspect of her words.

"It's a dreadful shame, though," the man said somberly. "Delia has always been such a bright, free-spirited young woman, and to hear of her accident … my deepest wish is that she makes a full recovery. This is taking such a heavy toll on her son; he was sent ahead to Sinnoh, you see. I wasn't certain if it was the right decision to move him so far away, but it would have only botched his own recovery to have him stay here and see his mother in such a state."

A look of sympathy came across Joy's face. "I understand. I, myself, have lost family members and friends, both young and old. And being a Nurse requires being prepared for the worst to happen at the most unexpected of times … " She cut herself off, shaking her head. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to bring such a dampener—"

He held up a hand. "Please, don't apologize. Taking on this profession is never the easiest lifestyle. Arceus knows so many could never imagine the weight of having someone's life in their hands. It is truly a respectful thing that people do what we do."

Joy smiled in a detached way. "Few people express that kind of gratitude. Oh, here we are." She halted outside of the correct door, opening it and allowing him to step into Delia's room. "Would you like a moment alone with her?"

"If you wouldn't mind. If, Arceus forbid, Delia doesn't make it through … I would like a moment with her now, while I have the chance."

She nodded. "Of course, take all the time you need, Mr. Ketchum." And without another word, Joy left the room, quietly closing the door behind her and walking back down the hall. Had anyone looked, they'd have seen the dull blue glow fading from her eyes until it was gone entirely, and have caught the slight shift in her posture, as though an oblivious weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

However, no one did. And no one would ever question the events that had gone on that night. Not even Joy herself.

Back in the closed off room was the only one who knew exactly what happened. He approached the stiff white bed, looking down at the near-lifeless form of Delia as a small smile graced his lips.

"It isn't right that you should live this way, Delia," he murmured, gently teasing a stray lock of auburn hair from her forehead. "But no matter—" he slowly traced his other hand over the steadily beeping heart monitor, "—we can easily rectify that."

XxXxX

Greenfield, Johto

"Ursa! Teddy, teddy ursa!"

"Teddiursa, come back! I'm sorry!"

Molly Hale dashed across the expansive lawn of her family garden, following her normal-type companion as he scurried toward the thicket of plants, seeking a hiding place. She didn't hesitate to dive through the leaves after him, idly noting her mother calling, "stay in sight, darling!" as she wove deeper into the greenery.

Thin vines lightly whipped her bare legs, eliciting giggles as she scanned the thicket for the honey-brown fur of her disgruntled companion. "You weren't supposed to run and hide until I started counting," she insisted, wading through the miniature forest. "That's all I meant!"

Snap.

She didn't miss that sound of a broken twig, but she had enough instinct not to spin round to face that direction and give away her knowledge of Teddiursa's hiding spot. Suppressing a sly smile at unintentionally being handed a vital clue to winning the game, Molly halted in her path and craned her neck, exaggerating her movements in skimming her gaze through the seemingly unending thicket of twigs and leaves.

"Teddiursa, please?" she crooned, as though about to burst into song. "You know we're not supposed to go this deep into the garden, not until the weeds have been cut down."

Her parents had made her promise not to wander off into the swamp of greenery, out of concern she would get tangled up in prickled branches and end up left hanging in mid-air until the misfortune of being found by a frustrated Beedrill would leave her covered in festering wounds. But no matter, as she gingerly stepped backward towards the bush that the snapping branch had emitted from, keeping her eyes fixed in the opposite direction.

"You don't want to get both of us in trouble, do you?" A few more carefully placed steps back and she could feel the tips of the leaves tickling the back of her bare calves. "I mean, Mom is baking her famous Grepa berry tarts, and I know you don't want to miss out on that. If you don't come out by the time I count to three, then good luck explaining this on your own to Mom and Dad. Okay: one … "

She slowly turned to face the bush, keeping her head otherwise in another direction. "Two." She lightly pinched one of the skinny branches between her index finger and thumb. "One!"

With speed a Sneasel would admire, Molly yanked the branches aside, providing a clear insight to anything hiding within the bush. "Ha! I found you, Teddi—" Her victory gloat was cut short as the words froze in her throat as several things happened at once.

The sting of a needle piercing the flesh on the back of her thigh was accompanied by a numbing sensation, which spread fast enough that not a second later, her leg gave in beneath her as though the bones in it had been removed. She collided roughly with the ground, her fingers grasping at the hem of her skirt and roughly yanking it back, exposing the minute needle wound as she hastily plucked it from her leg.

Darkness was creeping in the edges of her blurring vision, the concoction within the needle was like ice in her veins, slithering inexorably through her body from the inside as her control over her own body gradually slipped from her grasp. Her legs were the first to go completely, holding as much stability as wet rope after a few seconds, and now her midsection was becoming increasingly numb, her arms steadily weakening and her head becoming much too heavy.

"T-t-te-edd … y?" It was a tiring battle to force the words from her slack lips. As her arms gave way, severing her final means of support, she slumped fully to the floor.

Her senses were abandoning her one by one, but as fuzzy as her mind and vision were increasingly becoming, she couldn't mistake the misshapen form of an Alakazam in her line of sight. It loomed over her as it slipped it's paws beneath her arms, securing her in a grip that her drugged body couldn't wrench free from.

A single flash of light then illuminated the small clearing for a split second, stealing away all scraps of evidence that a life form had occupied the area as Alakazam activated it's best known power.

Just like that, Molly Hale was gone.

XxXxX

Viridian Pokémon Centre, Kanto

Room forty-eight resided on the third floor of the Viridian Pokémon Centre. Though one of the largest hospitals in the region—second only to those in Saffron City—inside that room was near total silence and only a dim strip of light trickling in from the partially open curtains opposite the bed, conveniently casting down upon the sole occupant.

He was perched on the miniscule ledge on the outer side of that window, quietly observing any minor movement from inside the room the tips of his long fingers traced over the sealed edges of the latch, seeking the weakest point. His eyes, the lightest part of his otherwise black-clad form, seemed the only other portion of him that moved, darting over the pink form of the resident Chansey who entered to check the vitals of the unconscious patient.

She shuffled round the room, flicking on a small bedside lamp as she got to work examining the various machines and injecting a liquid painkiller into the patient's tiny arm. Never once did she look over at the window, unsuspecting of the person watching, all but invisible in the shadows of the night.

Once satisfied her patient was well taken care of for the night, Chansey flicked off the lamp, casting the room back into darkness, and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. By then, the window had already been unlocked. He slid the pane up halfway and slipped inside, his feet making no noise against the linoleum floor as he made his way over to the bed.

Beep-beep-beep.

The heart monitor produced the eternally steady beat, cloaking any other noise that might have lingered in the air and promising the unconscious electric mouse was making his way to recovery. But it continued to beat as slender fingers draped over its chords, another hand simultaneously disconnecting the various leads from Pikachu's bruised limbs.

Two minutes later, no one would have suspected any change if going by simply the sounds of the room. The heart monitor continued to beep as though still connected to a source of life, though the bed was now abandoned and Pikachu's limp form lay nestled in folds of black material, tucked safely away in the arms of the invader.

Not breaking his apparent vow of silence, he returned to the window and slipped back outside, allowing the window to slide back shut, as though no one had been there to begin with. To an onlooker, Pikachu may as well have come to on his own and wandered off in a drug-induced haze.

XxXxX

The earth was broken.

Grass torn from its roots, dirt ripped up savagely, coated with the dust of bones of the ally …

The world was silent .. the air was cold .. gobbets of flesh splattered the ground around his feet … the river ran red and warm …

' … I killed you … ' Were the words on his mind, an ominous mantra of madness sealed within his head …

The burnt remains of an infant … tatters of flesh and skin clinging to the charred bones …

'I killed you.'

The upper torso of a woman … the local apothecary … her healing hands could not reattach her legs to her pelvis … her head to her neck …

'I killed you, too.'

An arm was all that remained of the baker … skin strewn with hideous purple veins … the poisonous fog had doomed him the moment he drew breath …

'And you … I killed you … '

Footsteps behind him were quiet … even when surrounded by death … the arms that then circled his waist were all that held him up … warm lips against his cheek accompanied by a whisper …

'Not your fault.'

Another kiss … a repeated whisper …

'Not your fault … this is not your fault … '

His arms circled them, holding them close as they embraced him like protective shield.

Their salty tears stained the collar of his shirt.

'Not your fault … '

XxXxX

Author's Note: The plus side: inu557 motivates me with inquiring PM's. Yay! The bad side: the extent of my affection can only be given in virtual hugs. T_T

In the anime, Sabrina's hair is green. But I prefer it purple. Hence the (relatively minor) alteration.

Back to Ash and Gary in the next chapter. (And a bit more Palletshipping love~)

XxXxX