Wishing he had the forethought to put on shoes, Ash ploughed his way through the halls of the Indigo Plateau with a single-minded determination that belied his early comatose state. He added a coat to the list of things he wished he had put on as a small, cold gust of wind came through an open window and danced upon his skin, it also widened the back of his thin nightgown and made the women who just passed him gasp and then blush.

Ash was used to people looking at him wherever he went, most of the time he could get away with only a few furtive 'no it can't be, surely not' glances and gasped whispers before he booked it. This, however, was something new entirely.

Running around the crumbling walls of the Indigo Plateau in nothing but boxer shorts and an open back hospital gown was sure to raise more than a few eyebrows. The route to the dining area was longer than he remembered; then again he had never been in the medical wing of the Plateau and, of course, many of the hallways had been cordoned off due to structural damage.

Managing to dodge between people, smiling at those who either stared at him blankly or with shocked surprise as they recognized him, Ash finally made his way to the dining area and looked around for the familiar shock of red hair. He saw a few peaks up at the balcony and strode towards the stairs, a determined air following in his wake. Ash was so focused on his task, he missed the taken aback stares of Paul and Dawn who were also in the dining area.

People moved out of the way for him as he made his way over to Lance, who was sitting and eating lunch with Agatha. He stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath and with his bruised side protesting against his vigorous effort to get where he needed to go.

The two Elites stared at him as he let out an out of breath 'hi' and then placed both his hands on the back of a chair in front of him to rest against; Agatha recovered first and after initially giving Lance a disgusted look as his mouth was open in surprise and had a few sprigs of masticated pasta falling from it, she addressed Ash with slight amusement. "Would you like to sit down?"

Ash nodded, still wheezing slightly and pulled out the chair to sit down, "I need to talk to the two of you."

Agatha snorted and took a sip of her drink while Lance chewed ferociously trying to rid himself of the pasta in his mouth, "That, Ketchum, is obvious. For you to be running around after being out for nigh two weeks and wearing . . . that . . . ."

She sniffed down her nose and him and Ash rolled his eyes, "I don't think my fashion choices are really that big a deal at the moment—"

"No?" Agatha asked, her eyebrows raised, "Tell me, now that everyone has no doubt seen or heard about you running around in such a state, after knowing you have been 'recovering' for two weeks, what do you think that suggests to them?"

Ash stopped for a minute before ignoring the implications, "It doesn't matter—"

"Yes, Ash—it actually does," Lance finally spoke up. "A lot has happened in the time you've been—"

"Clair has passed away right?" Ash cut off his friend and they both stared at him, shocked. "Bill has arrived? Cyrus is here?"

Lance looked behind him briefly to see if anyone was listening in, "How the hell did you know all of that?"

"First—answer me this. Is Brock awake? Has he been awake?"

Ash looked between them both and Agatha shook her head, "No—he hasn't awoken at all."

Ash paused for a second, "Have you noticed anything funny at all, anything to do with him sleeping—anything different between him and me?"

Lance furrowed his brow and looked to Agatha who was staring at him like he had grown another head, "Nothing out of the ordinary—why?" Agatha asked sharply.

Ash let out a sigh and finally sat back in his chair, "It's hard to explain." he said and knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Try," Agatha almost growled and bristled, "you come to see us—dressed in nothing but your medical gown and underpants after being comatose for two weeks, telling us that you 'need' to talk to us after enduring god knows what, yelling and screaming at Lance to 'take down' a Raticate of all things. Clair is dead, Brock is still asleep, Tracey isn't speaking, you have your long lost father taking up residence in my crumbling home, and then you tell me something is 'hard to explain'?"

Ash took a moment and then let out a wry chuckle, "I should have known—I really should have . . . ." Agatha puffed up and Lance laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. Ash rubbed a hand over his face, "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry—for what you've all been through—it's easy to shove it all under the rug if you've been asleep but . . . ."

He trailed off, remembering what he had seen while running around the halls of the Indigo Plateau moments before. The crumbling terracotta coloured stone, the flimsy tape blocking off areas, big slabs of stone lying on the once pristine floor—who knew who or what was under them. The tired faces of those left behind. What was once a beautiful, colourful, and immaculate building was now reduced to a drab and lifeless crumble of nothing. All the warmth and feeling of coming home was eradicated. It almost felt like a prison, as if there was no life in or outside the walls.

"When I was . . . asleep," Ash began with slight hesitance, "I imagined . . . I believed events were happening—I could see things happening even if I wasn't physically there to witness them."

He looked up at Agatha and Lance and found them staring at him—both looking extremely worried for his mental state. Ash let out a sigh, "Okay so you asked how I know about Clair, Bill, and Cyrus?" once Agatha had nodded Ash continued, "When I woke up—well when I thought I woke up, the two of you came into my room and proceeded to tell me what happened since I had been asleep for two weeks—you told me about Cyrus being here, you told me about Clair being dead, we talked about who had lived and who had survived the attack—uh," Ash shook his head trying to remember what had happened in his dream state.

"Jasmine!" He almost shouted, "Jasmine was hurt!" he said—too happily for Lance who glared at him and Agatha who just closed her eyes in frustration. "Sorry," Ash said while hunching his shoulders, he lowered his voice, "she was on top of the roof when it collapsed in, and she was one of the last to be pulled out?"

Lance just stared at him in astonishment, "You dickbag!" he finally whispered fiercely, "You've been awake this whole time while I've been coming to see you, haven't you?" he threw a punch at Ash's arm which connected and really hurt.

Ash let out a small cry of pain, "Ah, fuck—Lance, I may be up and moving but you don't need to add more bruises to the already impressive display I have!"

"Children," Agatha droned in deceptively casual as Lance straightened up to start a rebuttal, "we really do not have time for your . . ." she waved a hand, "whatever this is."

She turned a sharp eye onto Ash, "We have more important things to deal with. Like how on earth do you know any of this? You saw it all in a dream? Ash, you were mentally and physically spent. You're bruised over 78% of your body, you were running on nothing more than adrenaline—your body had gone into starvation mode—"

"And you both think that because I was shouting at Lance to take down a Raticate, went through all of what I did in Victory Road, and now that I ran around the Indigo Plateau in nothing but my underwear means that I'm not in the right state of mind at the present?" Ash threw out casually and fiddled with one of the clean forks on the table.

Agatha didn't blink, "It's a distinct possibility."

"Oh for sure," Ash said, "if it wasn't for the fact that I could have stayed in the dream state for the rest of my life. Maybe awaken fifty feet below ground in a coffin, or be cremated accidentally—"

"Ash," Lance started but Ash cut him off.

"But something felt wrong—I was wrong, you were wrong, everything just . . . wasn't right. Close . . . but not right."

"How so?" Agatha asked, curious as to what Ash was getting at.

"You for a start . . . you were trying to . . . you were being nice to me."

Lance choked on his water while Agatha looked appalled, "Are you trying to infer that I cannot be nice?"

She spoke the word like a disease and Ash raised an eyebrow in her direction because of it, "There is nice—nice like you and then nice like my Mom. You were in the middle of both."

Agatha sucked in her cheeks and before she could open her mouth to speak, Ash looked at her with a deadpan expression, "You filled a cup with water and put a straw in it so I could drink from it."

There was silence around the table for a few moments before Lance, amusement lacing his tone, spoke up "Agatha, you wouldn't even do that for me."

Agatha let out a snort, "This is ridiculous—"

Ash interrupted her again, "I saw Misty and Tracey sitting at a table, Lance you were there and Bill joined shortly after. You guys did your normal hate-for-no-reason banter—"

"There is a very good reas—"

"And until we know what that is, we will continue to say 'no reason'," Agatha chimed in as Lance interrupted, "close your mouth Lance, you're spraying your food everywhere," she finished distastefully.

"Bill guessed I was awake and for some reason you led him down to me; he and I had a conversation before I actually woke up and my Mom was there. That's when I realised it was a dream—there is no way that my Mom wouldn't be there when I woke up, ever, and . . . ." Ash trailed off and furrowed his brow as he tried to think about what else had happened.

Agatha took a moment to take all this in, "So what you're saying is that . . . you were in a dream that happened but didn't happen?"

Lance shrugged, "I did have lunch with those three yesterday and I did take Bill down to see Ash—although he wasn't awake."

"Any idea what he said to me?" Ash asked with a sidelong glance at Lance who shook his head. "Hmmm, he was antagonistic towards me in the dream, really antagonistic . . . well, at least for Bill."

"Shock horror," Lance said sarcastically.

"Antagonistic how?" Agatha asked, ignoring Lance.

Ash hesitated, "He called me a coward—kept trying to bait me . . . probably because in the dream, when I woke up, I told you guys that we should run, leave, get out of the Plateau."

Agatha's eyebrows rose to her hairline and Lance dropped his fork before letting out a laugh, "You've never run from anything in your entire life."

"Exactly—which was my first jump into consciousness but why would he want me to think like that?" Ash asked almost to himself.

"He?" Agatha parroted.

"Oh, right—the Pokémon, the one in Victory Road that's doing all of this," Ash said shaking his head, "sorry—hard to keep track of who knows what right now."

"A Pokémon?" Agatha asked, rather shocked.

"Yeah, he's really old too—ancient. He said uh . . . he said Arceus was his brother—and currently his captive which would explain why I haven't seen him."

"Hold on," Lance cut a hand across his food, "you're saying this Pokémon is holding the possible 'creator of the universe' captive?"

Ash ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded, "Brock figured out he was blind—which is why I told you to take out the Raticate—he uses other Pokémon to see and doesn't seem able to handle light for long periods of time; so the Arcanine you found? He's probably using him to get a grasp of us and where we're at with everything."

Agatha shut her eyes, "Nadireous . . . Nadireous . . . ."

Ash looked at her and then back at Lance, "Bless . . . you?" he asked awkwardly.

Lance shook his head, "No—Cyrus . . . well sort of Cyrus . . . he, he's not well."

"Has he ever been?" Ash asked glibly making Lance chuckle briefly before sobering up and letting out a puff of breath.

"He has fits . . . he said he awakened something in Mount Coronet—something called Nadireous."

"Nadir meaning the lowest point of something, Arch referring to the highest point, two brothers . . . two halves," Agatha finished. "It makes sense, you cannot have life without death . . . if Arceus created, then Nadireous would . . . destroy."

The three sat in silence for a moment, "And I suppose to know why . . . we would have to ask Arceus who is currently MIA." Lance said at length.

"I'm not interested in 'why'," Agatha said harshly, "I'm only interested in stopping this . . . abomination before he can do any more damage."

"Just that like?" Ash asked quietly and Agatha looked at him with steadfast eyes.

"No, not 'just like that'; from what I gathered we are dealing with an Ancient Pokémon far beyond our understanding, a Pokémon that has been locked up in a cave for centuries—who has his other half, our creator, trapped god knows where. He is capable of rendering the Indigo Plateau to rubble if he so chooses, he can infect Pokémon and humans . . . ."

"I'm not 'infected!" Ash spoke heatedly and Agatha raised a hand to hush him.

"She's referring to Cyrus," Lance said, "he has a mark—like the ones on the Pokémon? It's on his tongue; it renders him incapable of giving us any information . . . unless we ask the 'right questions'—also the more questions we ask . . . the more pain he is in."

Ash grimaced, "On his tongue?"

Agatha nodded, "Basically. . . the more information we glean from him, the faster he dies."

Ash blanched and his eyes widened, "Nothing should have this kind of power . . . ."

"No, they shouldn't—question is, if he can do all of this, then what else is he capable of and why hasn't he done it yet?"

It took him a minute to remember, but when he did, Ash let out a loud gasp that startled both Agatha and Lance. "The orb—what he asked me for—why he let me go, my pack, where are our packs? Brock's—actually! He's the one that found it!" Ash was speaking so quickly that Agatha and Lance barely had time to catch up.

Lance stood up briefly from his chair and pushed down on Ash's shoulders to stop him from babbling, "Okay—Ash, we get it, but first things first," he looked at Agatha who nodded at him, "first you're going to need a check up." he removed his hands from Ash's shoulders and held up a hand when he protested, "Na-uh, I get it—that time is of the essence, I get that what we're dealing is out of the ordinary and I'll accept your dreamland. You know that—you know that I'll believe you no matter what, but other people might not and besides," Lance smiled at him, "humour your mother will you?"

Ash stopped for a second and then let his shoulders slump, "Yeah—yeah alright. When though?"

"This afternoon if we can get the Doctor back here from Viridian, if not, tomorrow morning," Agatha said briskly, all business again. "Once you get the all clear—then we can call an emergency meeting." she turned a fierce stare to Ash, "Until then you are on strict rest—no more running through the halls . . . especially like this."

She sniffed down her nose at Ash who couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry Agatha, next time I'll remember to put on shoes—hey what's on the menu by the way? I'm starving."

Lance laughed, "Looks like we may not need that check-up after all if you're already asking for food. I'll go and get you a tray so you can try a little bit of everything, I think—oh . . . ." Lance trailed off as he got up from his chair and turned around. His sudden silence got Ash's attention and he leaned back in his seat to see why Lance had stopped talking.

Misty was standing there, trembling fingers barely holding onto her tray, Bill was standing behind her looking similarly shocked and staring at Misty like she was going to going to explode at any point. Ash immediately stood up; in his haste he banged his leg against the table and the screech of the chair being pushed back was grating.

Agatha usually would have said something, but this was neither the time nor the place, especially considering how dedicated Misty had been during Ash's absence and how she hardly left his side while he had been asleep. If it hadn't been for the combined efforts of Bill and Delia Ketchum, Agatha wondered whether or not the young woman ever would have left Ash's side.

"You're awake . . . ." her voice was shaky, like she couldn't believe it. There was a joy too—an inflection that showed in the blooming colour finally returned to her cheeks. A smile that was tremulous, she took a cautious step forward.

Ash didn't say anything. He noticed that she looked pale, there were shadows under her eyes which indicated her fatigue, she also looked thinner than he remembered. He hadn't seen her in over a month; it seemed like she hadn't been eating properly and judging by the lack of food on her tray—he was correct.

He perceived all that and should have mentioned those things, should have shown his worry for her. Instead there was only one thing running through his head; one thing that even the nightmare down in the bowels of Victory Road could never erase from his head if he tried.

"You were pregnant."

He blurted it out almost like an accusation, when really it was just a culmination of things bubbling to the surface and that was the one thing that kept running through his mind – the one thing he couldn't let go.

This time she really did drop the tray; the bang of the plastic against the tiled floor was loud and many heads turned to the direction of the sound.

Bill quickly placed his tray on an empty table to his right and grabbed a hold of Misty's elbow, "Let's go, c'mon Misty," he whispered in her ear, but everyone in hearing distance no doubt heard him as the silence increased.

No one said or did anything as Bill pulled Misty away from Ash; she stumbled as she was jerked away and Ash could see tears falling out of her eyes. There was a gut reaction from him to go and hug her – to tell her everything would be fine; however, his body wouldn't move. She hadn't said yes, she hadn't really confirmed the notion that she indeed was ever pregnant. However, her reaction suggested otherwise; the shock that he knew, the flicker of resignation that Brock told him and the fear of what Ash will do now.

No wonder she dropped her tray.

And where was the kid—boy? Girl? Were they unsure of their own gender? Ash didn't care either way; he just wanted to know for sure whether or not he has a child out there. All the signs pointed to yes and Brock wouldn't lie to him, nor would Misty lie to Brock—a conviction he stood by regardless of what he was sure anyone else thought.

"Ash?" Lance's voice seemed far away and it wasn't until he was shaken slightly that Ash managed to come out of his daze. "Ash!" Lance spoke urgently; he stood in front of his friend and peered into his face with worry, "Are you . . . is she . . . I mean . . . ."

Lance's bewilderment aside, all Ash could do was shake his head and shrug his shoulders, "I don't know," Ash spoke on a sigh.

"But you said it?" Lance asked, "And it wasn't a question either—you said it . . . rather assuredly. Did you always know?"

Ash let out a laugh, "If I did I wouldn't have let Misty do her own thing all these years, no—Brock told me just before we got out of Victory Road."

There was a snort coming from behind the young men as Agatha stood up, "Interesting timing."

Ash let out a tired smile, "I guess he thought we were both close to dying and didn't want to go out with any secrets between us. I don't know, but I find it rather comforting the only secret he had was actually someone else's."

"Except everything that went down between him and Professor Ivy," Lance pointed out.

Ash shrugged his shoulders, "That's different—Brock also doesn't know what went down between Misty and I; it's not the kind of thing you tell, you know?"

"As lovely as all this chatting is," Agatha spoke pointedly and tapped her cane against the floor, "we need damage control." she looked directly at Lance, "You will go and inform Cynthia and the rest, I will do my best to calm the masses and you," she looked at Ash, "will go and rest before the doctor arrives to give you the all clear – you will not take any detours, you will not 'visit' anyone and nor will you argue with me. Am I clear?"

Too tired to argue, Ash chuckled and mock saluted before turning and shuffling away. He was a ways away before he remembered something and turned around with a sheepish look on his face, "Either of you know the way back to the medical wing?"

Jasmine liked looking outside at night; the stars were always so lovely and being cooped up inside the Indigo Plateau all day, being unable to leave her bed, was grating on her. Her father had always found it funny how she didn't like staying inside her house but didn't mind traipsing through caves for hours on end.

Maybe she was just a little more on edge than usual since there hadn't been any stars to look at in a while and what with being attacked by a massive Shadow Ball and falling through the crumbling walls of the Indigo Plateau; it was more than enough to make her less sure of everything.

She let out a sigh and sat up with a wince; her left side still ached from the landing and her entire body was black and blue with bruises. Her left leg was broken along with her left arm—she was lucky it hadn't been her shoulder. Both limbs were in a cast and many people had drawn all over them when they came to visit her the last few days.

Falkner had been lovely as usual, if not a bit overprotective. She supposed it was understandable but he seemed to forget she had steel in her bones; she would weather this storm and anything else that came after it.

There was a knock on her door and the smile that spread across her face was blinding, she waited most days for these nightly visits—clandestine as it sounded. The door opened and Lance popped his head around, took a quick look, and then jumped in and gently shut the door behind him.

"Hey," Jasmine breathed into the darkness and followed his shadowy form with her eyes until he sat in the chair near her bed.

"Hey," Lance smiled back. He sat awkwardly and was wearing clothes she had never seen him in before. Jeans and a hoodie—it looked remarkably strange on him, other than the red hair, he almost seemed . . . ordinary.

"Nice outfit?" Jasmine half said, half questioned.

Lance looked down at himself and then looked back at her and rolled his eyes, "Yeah I know, but it's clothing—I'll take what fits and keeps me warm. Speaking of which—you want me to close this?" He gestured to the window and Jasmine shook her head.

"No, keep it open, I like the breeze and looking outside."

Lance gave her a little grin, "Going a bit stir-crazy, huh? I was wondering if that would hit you soon."

Jasmine let out a small pathetic sigh and leaned back on her mound of pillows, "It's okay I suppose, I should count my blessings. It could be worse."

There was silence between them for a while, before Lance spoke up quietly, "Ash woke up today."

Jasmine turned to look at him with an incredulous look on her face, "You didn't think to open with that? How is he? Is he doing alright? Do you know what happened or what's down there?"

She was leaning further forward until Lance leaned into her and pressed her back on the pillows with a fond smile, "Jasmine—breathe. He's okay . . . for the most part."

She let him push her back but kept her eyes on him, "For the most part?" she queried.

Lance paused, "I'm not sure—but he just seemed . . . vacant . . . like he was going through the motions. I may be wrong, I don't know. I haven't been on one of his adventures with him, so I'm not sure what he's supposed to be like after . . . something like this, I don't know if he has experienced anything like this before—whatever happened, it's messed with him a little. More than he's perhaps aware."

"And Brock?" Jasmine asked after a slight pause. Lance shook his head and Jasmine let out a small sigh, "Does Ash know yet?"

Lance shook his head again, "No, he doesn't, but it's something I don't look forward to telling him."

Lance furrowed his brow and Jasmine reached forward to smooth her fingers over it gently, "I don't suppose you do, but it has to be done and I don't think anyone else has the strength right now."

Lance chuckled and leaned away from her touch, ignoring the twinge in his gut and the slightly hurt look on her face, "You're saying that like you think I do, it's not strength that's pushing me forward."

Jasmine clicked her tongue, "Yes it is; you just refuse to see it. No one will ever thank you Lance, no one will ever show their gratitude towards you for making the hard decisions or doing what's right instead of what's easy, but when all this is said and done—it's your name that will be remembered, whether you want it to or not."

There was a slightly pause again before Lance broke it with a derisive chuckle and a roll of his eyes, "Far be it from me to argue with someone . . . ." he threw her a sideways smirk, "indisposed."

She hit him the first night when he had awoken and frightened her with a grin asking, "How's the cripple going?" she had lambasted him over the use of that word and he had since not used it. She still didn't get that apology though. Typical Dragon Master.

"Or," she sniffed with mock superiority, "you just have no argument against my first-class logic and don't want to admit it."

He sent her a sideways smirk, "You got me," he said in a slow tone she knew meant he didn't actually mean what he said.

"What happened to being nice to me?" Jasmine asked with a huff and small smile to let him know she was only joking, "I am the invalid here and I can't do anything to get back at you."

He met her eyes and they shared a conspiring grin—the 'yet' going unmentioned between them both.

Lance raised his hands in mock-surrender, "As it so happens, I have a gift for you— though I'm not sure you deserve it with how pushy you're being tonight. I suppose it means you're feeling better."

"More like it means I've got nothing better to do all day but sleep and eat." Jasmine said wryly, "Spending time with you is arguably the only mental stimulation I get all day!"

Lance paused for a minute, "So you would like something that would keep you . . . engaged as it were?"

He seemed cautious, wary even. A rarity for Lance. Jasmine narrowed her eyes at him, "What did you do?"

"Nothing—just got you a gift, like I said . . . ."

His voice was higher pitched—something she had never heard before, making him sound like a little boy who knew he was in trouble and tried to be cute to get out of it.

Holding in her laughter, Jasmine fixed Lance with a stare, "Seriously Lance—what did you do? If it's something extravagant, you know I can't accept it." She looked apologetic at the thought and it made his heart swell for her.

He brought his hands into the large pocket in front of his hoodie, "Don't worry—it's nothing extravagant. Well not yet, he's still got room to grow, but I think he would enjoy spending time with you while you recuperated and you can start the bonding experience."

Jasmine's mouth dropped open as Lance pulled out a baby Dratini, who blinked open one eye, yawned and then started to uncoil itself. "Lance—what? How? I . . . ." Jasmine stuttered as the Dratini slithered its way out of Lance's hands and onto Jasmine's bed. It stopped at her lap, gave her hand a quick lick or two in greeting and then curled up again to go to sleep.

Lance gave her a grin, "Your hatchling missed you."

Jasmine looked between the pleased Lance and the slumbering Dratini with a horrified expression, "My hatchling? No—no!" Jasmine gasped and stilled herself when the baby on her lap gave a small mewl of protest at her moving too much and jostling him from sleep. She whispered a small 'sorry' to the hatchling who mewled again and went back to sleep.

She pulled a mutinous look at Lance who was leaning back in his chair, beaming at the pair. "Lance, take him back."

Lance shrugged, "I can't—he's picked you. He's been pitiful without you, crying and not sleeping or eating well. I've managed to get him eating and sleeping a bit more, but I think he will grow better now that he's with you."

"Picked me?" Jasmine asked incredulously. "What do you mean picked me?"

Lance chuckled, "It's not hugely common, but sometimes when a Pokémon hatches they form a bond, or 'pick' a human for whatever reason. It can also happen a little later in life—like Mr Mime and Mrs Ketchum, Ash and Pikachu. They are good examples of 'later-life bonding'." Lance cleared his throat, "It's rare however, for a Dragon Pokémon to not pick early as they are the more volatile, powerful kind of Pokémon and are hard to raise, which is why this kind of thing happens earlier usually—and as it so happens, this Dratini picked you." Lance smiled at her and gently ran a hand down the back of Dratini who shivered slightly and then went back to sleep.

Jasmine looked aghast, "Oh my gosh—Lance! I stole him from you!"

Lance looked baffled for a moment before he burst out laughing; his laughter woke up Dratini again who gave him a petulant kind of look that was uncannily similar to the face Jasmine was currently showing, setting him off again.

It took the Dragon Master a minute before he managed to choke out a 'sorry' through his laughter and eventually calm down.

"You didn't 'steal' him from me Jasmine," Lance finally said to which Jasmine crossed her arms and turned her face away from him in anger. Lance let out a sigh, "Look, to be honest—I have enough Dragon Pokémon; you know that, hell everyone does. I don't need another and quite frankly this little guy; he doesn't deserve what Blackthorn has in store for him."

Jasmine bit her lip and looked down at the Dratini lying peacefully in her lap. She stroked the Pokémon a few times, "You said he wasn't eating—or sleeping well. Lance I don't know the first thing about Dragon Pokémon, let alone raising one. What happens if—"

Hearing the panic escalate in her voice, Lance gently rested his hand over her own that laid on the Dratini, "Nothing will happen—you are amazing with your Pokémon, a type that hadn't even existed till you and your father came across it, you two managed to figure out how to raise Steel Pokémon remarkably well. There is no reason you can't do that with Dragon-type Pokémon."

Jasmine huffed "This is a completely different scenario, at the time no-one knew what to do with Steel Pokémon and I had my Dad for help."

Lance nodded, "Well—I may not be your Dad but if you even need any help you know you can always ask me."

"Or," Jasmine perked up, "you can just take him and all this worry will be for nothing."

Lance sent her a bemused look, "I could take him, but it wouldn't be the same." Lance sent a pointed look to the slumbering Pokémon in her lap, "He would still miss you and respond 100 times better to you. It wouldn't be like it is with my current Dragonite and he wouldn't be used in battle—there would always be something missing between us."

Jasmine glared at Lance, "Way to make me feel super guilty."

Lance sighed, "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I am trying however to figure out what the problem is—why you are so reluctant to take what this Pokémon is freely offering you, what most trainers outside the Blackthorn Clan rarely get to experience with Dragon-type Pokémon."

Jasmine opened her mouth and then shut it again in hesitation. Lance waited patiently for her answer and squeezed her hand in support.

"What if . . ." Jasmine started in a small voice, "what if—I grow attached? What if I start to really love this Pokémon and my other Pokémon get jealous? I had no idea about his bonding thing—what if that doesn't happen with Steel Pokémon?"

Lance hummed, "Good question—one I don't have an answer for and no-one does—yet. And yes—jealousy can occur but, with patience and training, Pokémon generally get over it. Have your Pokémon shown jealously before?"

Jasmine shook her head, "No—but . . . I mean this is a Dragon-type, not a Steel-type. It may exacerbate the situation."

"It may, or it may not. I mean—your Pokémon don't have a tendency towards jealousy and you won't know unless you try; besides I've seen the way your Steel-type Pokémon are towards you. They adore you; I don't think they will try to hurt this little guy if that's what you're worried about. If anything I think they will care as much for him as you will."

Jasmine sniffed, "What if Blackthorn decides I'm not good enough and come to take him away?"

Her question gave Lance pause, he stared hard at the Dratini, "They won't."

Jasmine gave him a knowing look, "Lance, you can't honestly believe that."

"They won't," Lance repeated firmly. "Even if they do—the bond is there now. It would damage Dratini in the long-term and he would be of no use to them. They can't have that getting out. Besides . . . I wouldn't allow it."

Jasmine gave an amused huff, "You wouldn't allow it?"

Lance squeezed her hand again and gave her a solemn look, "I wouldn't allow it."

Jasmine held that look, "I don't know what to do Lance," she whispered and squeezed his hand, "what if I make the wrong decision, what if he doesn't meet his full potential—I know nothing about the Blackthorn ways."

Lance shrugged, "Me either."

Jasmine gaped at him and Lance let out another grin, "I train my Pokémon the way I want to—a way that works for me and the Pokémon. There is no right or wrong as long as the Trainer and Pokémon are happy and healthy. I may have been given the title 'Dragon Master' by the Blackthorn Clan, but it was only after everyone else started calling me by the title that the Clan decided to officiate it."

Jasmine blinked, "That's why they want you back then . . . they don't know how you do it . . .?"

Lance grinned again and tapped her on the nose lightly, "And anything I tell you, make sure you keep it a secret."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jasmine tried one more time "But then he should be yours. You're the Dragon Master for crying out loud! If anyone can bring out his potential, it's you!"

Lance smiled, "Jasmine—he picked you. It's not something you have to question or think about, Pokémon . . . they just know these things. And he knows that you're the one for him, he's just waiting for you to accept that."

Jasmine didn't say anything following that, Lance went to remove his hand but found that he couldn't due to Dratini coiling his tail around both their hands and locking them in place. Jasmine smiled and let out a small laugh while Lance tried to remove his hand as gently as he could eventually giving up when Dratini opened an eye and growled lightly.

Lance glared at the Pokémon while Jasmine giggled, "You've been told."

Lance tapped the hand beneath him gently in reprimand, "Now I can see why you two are meant for each other."

Jasmine smiled and continued stroking Dratini with her other hand.

"Are you going to give him a name?" Lance asked as he watched her with the hatchling, making Jasmine look at him with surprise,

"Oh—I hadn't given names to my other Pokémon. I suppose I didn't think about it."

Lance shrugged, "I haven't either, it's not a requisite for a Dragon Pokémon, I just didn't know if you had named your other Pokémon and was wondering that's all."

Jasmine pursed her lips in thought and then let out a giggle, "Lance."

Lance hummed to show she had his attention and she let out another giggle, "No, I could call him Lance."

The Dragon Master lifted his head up sharply, horror covering his features. "No."

"Yes!" Jasmine crowed with glee, she bent her head to have a look at the Dratini on her lap, "What do you think? Lance? Lancey? Lancelot?!"

Human Lance looked on in abject acceptance as the Dratini opened his eye again and mewled while Jasmine used her good arm to raise Dratini to her chest and give the hatchling a little hug, "Oh Lancelot—my little knight."

Lance buried his face in his now free hand, muttering to himself about never doing anything for anyone ever again, before rising from the chair and heading towards the door.

Jasmine let out a gasp, "You're leaving? Lance—I'm sorry, seriously. I promise I won't call him that, it was just a joke, and I was just—"

Lance held up a hand, "I don't mind about the name, call him whatever you want, but I have to go—the time."

Jasmine leaned over to check the time while Dratini slithered back into her lap, "Oh gosh—that's the time?" She sent a shocked look to Lance who was checking out the peephole in the door.

"Yeah, I've got to get going, hopefully now though you won't be as bored during the day—he likes to play games, fetch and coil around your hand with his tail as you pull it away. He also likes his belly rubbed and he's been fed already. I'll make sure to bring some food for him tonight, we're still figuring out what he likes and what he doesn't."

"Lance!" Jasmine whispered fiercely as he gently opened the door and turned back to look at her. Jasmine sent him a smile that she hoped showed her gratitude despite her earlier protests. "Thank you."

He sent her a small grin and then disappeared through the door, leaving her again. She looked down at the Pokémon in her lap and smiled, feeling better now that she wasn't completely alone again.

Ash didn't completely ignore Agatha's command for him to rest, he just decided once he was better dressed that he would rest somewhere else other than his room. He trailed down the hallway of the medical wing, searching for the room Brock was in. He walked past a heavily guarded door and realised that was Cyrus' room and decided to go back the other way.

Another few doors later, Ash saw his mother sitting down and opened the door to see her knitting while Brock was asleep in the bed next to her. "Hey Mom," Ash said as he walked over to her.

"Hi honey," she replied warmly and put her knitting down to give her son a hug. He received it gratefully and sunk into her arms, "Everything with Lance went okay?"

He nodded against her neck and pulled away slowly, "Yeah—I think so. We still need to get everyone together and go over what we all know and form some semblance of where to go from here."

Mrs Ketchum nodded and sat back down, "That's good, it's wonderful that you've woken up, it shouldn't be long until Brock wakes up now." His mother's peppy nature never failed to make him smile.

Ash pulled up a chair and sat next to her while she continued her knitting, he raised a brow in question and she smiled, "When the Plateau was hit, a lot of people's clothes and belongings were destroyed, everyone pooled their stuff together but I just thought it would be nice to knit a few things, socks, cardigans—it can get quite cold here I've noticed."

Ash took a moment, "Why did he leave you?" he asked quietly, wonder almost in his tone. To her credit, Delia didn't stop knitting, but the smile had left her face. "That is something you will need to ask him, I don't know the answer myself . . . I've never had the courage to ask I suppose."

'Or the opportunity' Ash thought darkly and then stopped himself; he had more important things to worry about than his parent's relationship at present, "When the Plateau was attacked—were you hurt?"

Delia's smiled returned, she looked up briefly from her knitting, "No—I'm one of the lucky ones. Cynthia and I were down here—Cynthia with Cyrus and myself with Richard. This side of the Plateau was relatively undamaged. Unfortunately, it happened to be the place where there were less people and well . . . ." Delia trailed off sadly and Ash let her, not wanting to think any harder about what happened. The guilt was already overwhelming and constantly reliving the moment wasn't going to do much but drive him to drink.

"It's not your fault Ash," Mrs Ketchum spoke up, her knitting needles breaking the silence with their light clacking.

Ash smiled sourly, "I didn't realise people were already blaming me. Good to know I suppose."

"No-one is blaming you Ash, but I know you will blame yourself." Delia put down her needles and turned her body towards her son. "You are my son and I know what you are thinking—what you tend to do when things go wrong, you don't blame anything but yourself, ever, which leads you to get angry at everything and everyone around you."

"And we don't need that right now," Ash interrupted, "yeah I get it. But it is my fault Mom—I went in there. I brought that thing out of Victory Road . . . I taunted it and I lost . . . ."

"Ash," Delia implored and reached out a hand to her son. "No-one could have foreseen this, you did the best you could, no-one could have done better nor asked for more."

Ash slouched in his seat, "I was told not to engage, just to have a look. I should have left the minute we found that crevasse; I should have told everyone to leave and just gone back in by myself. That way maybe . . . Clair would still be alive, Tracey would be talking, and Brock wouldn't be in a coma."

"Honey," Delia got up and ran a hand through Ash's hair, he shrugged her off gently, not feeling like he deserved her comfort at present.

"He just wanted me Mom—just me." he turned to look up at her, tears coming out of his eyes unwittingly, "if it had just been me—then everyone else wouldn't have been hurt."

Delia furrowed her brow, "What do you mean, he just 'wanted you'? What for?"

Ash was interrupted by the door opening; both he and Delia turned to look and were surprised to see Bill on the other side of the door, almost as surprised as Bill was to see Ash.

"Oh—I didn't, actually stupid of me really . . . I should have guessed you'd be here, hey Ash . . . how're you feeling?" Bill spoke awkwardly, hardly meeting Ash's eyes.

"I'm okay Bill, glad to see you are doing okay." Ash continued confusedly and looked at his Mom who bit her lip apprehensively. Ash looked back at Bill, "Did you need me for something?"

Bill lost a little colour and looked at Delia briefly before darting his eyes back to the floor, "No, I actually need to speak to your mother."

Ash furrowed his brow while his mother packed up her knitting to take it with her. "Why would you need to—" he gasped as it hit him and he spun around to stare at his mother, "you knew . . . about Misty—her being pregnant?"

Delia looked slightly chagrined but kept walking towards the door, "Yes—I did know."

Ash gaped as she kept walking and not acknowledging him further. "Were you never going to tell me?" Ash asked weakly, hardly believing that his mother had kept this from him.

Delia stopped at the doorway and Ash could see the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a breath. "It was never mine to tell." was all she said before she walked out the door and letting it close in her wake.

Ash stood there in shock for a good thirty seconds before spinning around and landing heavily on the chair his mother had just vacated. He bent over, stuck his head in his hands and concentrated only on breathing.

He could feel the blood rushing to his head and knew his breathing was becoming more and more shallow. He clutched his head so tightly he felt one or two hints of blood prick through, one rivulet ran down his forehead and he tasted it on his lips as it mixed in with the saltiness of his tears. He looked up at Brock, "Please—please . . . wake up. I can't—I need your help. I don't . . . ." he started hyperventilating and the pain in his side slowly pronounced itself, "I don't know . . . ." Ash gulped in air and slowly collapsed onto the floor, trying to stay upright by holding onto the white sheet slightly covering Brock, but only succeeding in pulling out the other side, ". . . what to do." Ash continued gasping and clutching the ache in his side as it strengthened.

The familiar black spots in his vision starting edging in and, in a futile effort to get them away, Ash started to beat his head to clear the fuzziness.

It didn't work and as he let out a scream of terror, Ash slowly gave in to the darkness surrounding him.

Ash woke up from his bed, clutching at the bed sheets, letting out a hoarse scream. He was still in the medical wing; his room was the same—white and sterile but this time there were no beeping sounds, no wires, and he was dressed in a loose shirt and boxer-shorts.

He clutched at his chest, felt at his brow for the blood that wasn't there anymore, and continuously swallowed trying to calm himself down from what he guessed was a panic attack.

The laughter—the one that followed him everywhere, dark, malevolent and haunting; it echoed throughout his brain and around the room, the hot flush vanished and his whole body chilled rapidly to the point where he started shivering.

The laughter was interrupted by that ancient, all-knowing voice that served only to taunt him.

"Which one is real Ash Ketchum?"

End Chapter

Hey guys, sorry, I know it's been a while. Excuses? Other than life getting in the way – just the usual. I did get myself a new job and it's kind of hard to rack my brain around all the ins and outs of that while trying to keep this story as non plot-holey as possible. Plus I've switched from Engineering to Medical….and I did an Arts Degree. Oy with the poodles already!

I don't want to half-ass this, none of you deserve this, especially when effort has gone in to creating this world and making it work, I don't want to just drop off part-way through and punk out. It's not my style.

So again, my apologies for the wait. Can't believe I started this in 2013, it's now 2016!

My goal for this year is to not go two months without putting up a chapter, so lets see what I can manage shall we?

Many thanks for all your reviews and general interest, not only in the story, but my well-being. It's so appreciated and I feel very blessed and thankful to have such wonderful people interested in this story.

Once again - huge, gigantic thank you to the editor of this work BlackPsych. I swear, I sent this off in all it's unpolished glory and the amount of work that goes in to making this work pretty. Sir, you are a god-send.

And finally, my inbox is always open, I try to reply within 24 hours generally speaking. So if you have any questions, comments, concerns, etc. Please feel free to drop me a line.

Hope you guys are having and will continue to have a safe and happy new year.