Author's Notes: See the end of chapter

Game
Part XI

Ash is dead.

Ash is dead.

Ash is dead.

For the briefest of moments Gary couldn't move, think or speak. In fact all he saw was a white space that was filled with the disembodied voice of his grandfather. Years later, or perhaps seconds, his vision began to clear and his grandfather reappeared. "What?"

Gary stuck a pinky in his ear, certain he had misheard. He was obviously hallucinating. Too much coffee and not enough sleep, he reasoned.

"I'm sorry, Gary. Ash is gone."

Gary looked at a paper clipping that Delia had hung on the refrigerator from a week before announcing Ash and Misty's engagement. The headline read, "Pokémon Master Makes His Finest Catch!"And there, right there, was a picture of the two of them at a press conference on the Indigo Plateau. Ash was at the microphone and Misty had her arm wrapped around his back. Ash was looking at the camera but Misty, Misty was looking only at him.

That had just happened.

Ash is gone.

Gone.

Gone, Gary mused. It was a rather gentle word. As though he just evaporated into thin air. Poof! He's gone.

"I don't…" Gary felt like he was trying to type an important paper when his computer was freezing up. His mind was churning out thousands of words per second, but a coherent thought did not pass through his lips. "How could – I mean – I just - That's…"

How could Ash be gone?

"…That's impossible," Gary finally said. "We just saw him…"

"I know this is very hard for you to understand," Samuel Oak took a step towards his grandson, hoping to offer the comfort they both desperately needed, but Gary immediately retracted.

"No. No, it's not hard for me to understand," Gary told him in a suspiciously calm voice. "It's impossible for me to understand!"

For some inconceivable reason, Gary felt himself get angry. It was completely illogical, but he was all of a sudden seething. His fingers curled into fists and he felt his fingernails cutting into the skin on his palms.

How could he? The voice in Gary's head fumed. All Gary could think about was that he gave up his chance with Misty so that little punk could live out a life goal. Not to mention, it was a life goal which had conveniently waited ten years for him while he was out achieving yet another life goal. Gary was going to let himself be miserable and noble so that stupid kid could have a shot at happiness. And how does Ash repay him? What does he do? He has the gall to go die on him! How dare he? Gary thought. How dare he die on me!

"Gary?" Sam Oak noticed his grandson was now shaking. "Are you – "

"How?! Gary demanded suddenly. "How did this happen?"

Sam eyed his grandson uneasily. His promising, researcher grandson had a dead look in his eyes and a voice that was hollow. It was like he wasn't even Gary right now. The man in front of Professor Oak was a stranger.

"Gary, I'm sure this is quite a shock. Why don't you – "

Gary turned his head slowly – the look on his face made his grandfather immediately close his mouth. "Tell me," the voice was slow and deliberate, yet strangely quiet. "What happened?"

Sam nodded, but swiftly look away from Gary's probing eyes. "It was a car accident. Misty has been staying with Ash at the Indigo Plateau. She had taken ill and asked Ash to go to the drug store – she couldn't sleep and he offered to get her something that would help. So he walked to the drug store - it was only a few blocks from their apartment and it was late – " Professor Oak took a breath to steady himself. He felt like he was finding out all over again.

"He reached the store, found the medicine, paid and left. It didn't take more than a few minutes. When he was walking back, he went to cross the street. He was in the crosswalk, but some driver was in too much of a hurry. We don't know if he even saw Ash. But – he hit him and drove away. The convenience store owner called he police right afterwards but – " Sam bowed his head. "It was too late. He was pronounced dead at the scene. All because of one irresponsible, selfish person. A hit and run."

A hit and run.

Gary felt his blood run cold.

A flood of images assaulted his brain. Like a flipbook, images and memories flashed in front of his eyes. He could hear his own mocking voice saying to Ash, "Your funeral" that night during their epic battle. Then, the blinding headlights of the car that nearly ran Gary over. The car horn was blaring and some unknown woman screaming in the background. Then, Ash's body after he had tripped on carpet in the Oak Mansion; spread eagle almost like he was -

Gary's head felt like it was spinning; he put his hands on his temples just to hold it in place. More images. The red-haired woman on TV, crying over her dead boyfriend. Then Ash sitting in bed watching, unblinking.

And finally that brief but, all-to-sinister thought that Gary had just before challenging Ash to a final Pokémon battle. It spoke in his voice:

If Ash weren't around…that would solve a lot of problems.

Gary's heart stopped. In fact, he couldn't be sure but time might have stopped altogether as well. No,he thought. No! No, that isn't what I meant. This isn't what I wanted. He wracked his brain desperately, trying to justify the horrible thought that he had had. I never said I wanted him dead. I never said that! All I wanted was – was…

Gary's head began to ache painfully. A taunting voice in his head was crooning, be careful what you wish for, be careful what you wish for, Gary.

Be careful what you wish for Gary…

Be careful, Gary…

Gary…

"Gary," the mocking voice slowly transformed into the concerned voice of his grandfather. Gary nervously looked around to find he was still in the kitchen of the Oak Mansion and not in some sort of fiendish hell. He looked down at his hands, inspecting them, noticing the small cuts his fingernails had made in his skin.

"I don't understand," he said in a tight voice that thinly concealed his still blinding rage, which was, at this point, largely self-directed.

"It was…just an accident, Gary," Sam Oak was a man without any other explanation. Even with all his experiences, his knowledge and his advanced years, the Pokémon professor had no adage to make the situation better.

This paltry rationalization did nothing for the incensed Gary. "There are no accidents, Grandpa!"

Without warning, Gary's fist collided with the wall, leaving an unmistakable dent in its wake. Gary let out a primal yell as pain coursed up his arm. His whole body sagged against the wall as he held the injured hand tightly.

Gary didn't quite realize yet that he wasn't really angry. The truth of it was so much worse he didn't dare let himself feel that way. The truth was he felt like he had been run through with a Scyther's blade. He felt like a Hitmonchan punched him in the gut. He felt the numbing chill of a Lapras's Blizzard. He felt confused, like he'd been poisoned, paralyzed and frozen all at once. He felt like he was about to faint.

Mostly, he felt…sad. He felt broken. He felt as if all goodness had left the world in one foul swoop. And that nothing could ever be good again. And it was easier to blame Ash, as if he had chosen to leave, than to accept something so incredibly shitty could happen to someone so incredibly good. It was easier to blame himself, for inadvertently wishing Ash harm, than to accept that something so terrible could happen for no reason at all. It was easy for him to be mad. Because being sad was too devastating. Too soul crushingly, heartbreakingly devastating.

"Gary, you need to calm down," Sam Oak reached out his hands to Gary, but Gary swiftly recoiled. He retreated to the other side of the room, unable to look his grandfather in face. He was breathing hard, in part because of the radiating pain in his hand and in part due to his unbridled fury.

"I want to know who," was all he could manage. "Who did this?" Maybe if Gary had a name, another to blame, he wouldn't feel so responsible himself.

The revered Professor could only shake his head. "I honestly don't know, Gary."

Gary turned his head sharply. "How can you not know? HOW?" Gary pounded the table so hard that his coffee mug fell off and shattered on the ground.

"Gary, please!"

Gary couldn't help it. He was overcome with such rage that he grabbed the thing closest to him, which happened to be his laptop, and hurled it across the room with the force of a Seismic Toss. He let out a bellow that rivaled an angry Aerodactyl and watched the delicate machine shatter against the kitchen wall. It broke apart and as did Gary's wrath. He finally succumbed to the awful, searing pain, fell to his knees and cried.

It had been a long time since Gary Oak had cried. He never cried about Misty. He never cried about Umbreon. The tears were pouring from his eyes at an alarming rate now. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever stop. He had years of tears built up and floor gates had been opened.

The last time he could even remember crying was when he was around five years old and he found out for the first time that sometimes bad things just happen. And there's just no reason for it.

Gary had been dreaming about a cherry red convertible at the time. Even then, he had a fascination with the car. He had seen it on TV; a man in a suit driving with one hand while the other was around the shoulders of a gorgeous woman, her waves of hair tossed in the wind. Even at five years old Gary wanted a car like that. It was sleek and shiny and red, just like a pokéball. It was cool and fast and commanded everyone's attention. That's how Gary always wanted to be.

He was dreaming he was sitting behind the wheel; somehow his short little limbs were able to reach the pedals. He was swerving on a race track, churning up dirt and gravel, burning rubber on the pavement. It was just like the rollercoasters at Pokémon Land. A young Gary felt a thrill speeding around the curves, feeling wind blowing through his hair, his heart beating faster. He was going faster now. And faster still.

70 miles per hour. 80 miles per hour. 90 miles per hour. And now one hundred!

And little Gary still wanted to go faster.

A tight curve was coming up, but instead of slowing down, Gary put his foot on the accelerator. The little boy gripped the wheel tightly and cut it hard to the left. The car spun out of control and veered off the road and flew over the edge. And then Gary was falling...

He was screaming when the hands of his grandfather woke up from the night's grip.

"Gary? Gary?" Strong arms wrapped around Gary's tiny frame and immediately the falling car and his fear disappeared into nothingness.

The first thing Gary noticed was that it was still nighttime. The Charmander lamp beside his bed was on; the bulb inside its tail was aglow just like a real Charmander's tail. He also noticed it was his grandfather holding him and not, as was customary, his father.

"Grandpa!" He was happy to see the older man. Grandpa Oak knew just about everything there was about Pokémon. Someday Gary wanted to be exactly like him.

"Hey, kiddo," he tussled Gary's chestnut hair. "Having a bad dream?"

"Yes. Well no! It was so cool at first, Grandpa. I was having a dream about a red car and I was driving it! I was going so fast - a hundred miles per hour! No one could catch me!" The child reveled in that thought for a moment. "But then I lost control at the end. And the car went off the road. And I was falling." Even then, Gary felt some shame in less-than-perfect execution. "But you woke me up, so I'm okay now."

Professor Oak nodded his head sadly. "Gary, I've got something to tell you. It'll be hard for you to understand." Gary was far too young to have noticed the extra lines in his grandfather's face. He was too young to hear the way Sam Oak's voice quivered the littlest bit. He was too young to know even adults get scared too.

"What is it?" the young boy asked without fear.

"It's about your parents."Gary looked at his grandfather expectantly for more clarification, but something was holding Sam back.

"Uh huh," Gary nodded, prompting him to continue.

"Well Gary, I'm sorry to tell you that…something bad has happened to them." That was a word Gary understood. He had come to learn 'bad' meant a lot of things. He knew bad was when he let a wild Spearow into the house and it left feathers and poop everywhere. He knew bad was when he didn't listen to adults. He also knew of the bad things that lived in the dark and under children's beds. Although he knew not all the intricacies and the extent of bad, he at least knew it was something that he didn't want happening to his parents.

"I don't understand," Gary told him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Mom and Dad are good," the young Oak pointed out. After all, he only got time-outs and no dessert when he did bad things. His mother would tell him when he got nightmares from scary movies it was because he didn't listen to her about watching them in the first place. As far as Gary knew, his parents had never done anything bad. Why should they be punished?

"Yes, I know Gary," Sam cupped the little boy's cheek. "They're very good. And they love you more than anything else in the world. It's just that sometimes…" Sam bit his lip and prayed for strength. How you do you explain to a five-year-old that the world is just a terrible place? "Sometimes…bad things happen to good people. And it's not a punishment for anything they did. It doesn't mean you did anything wrong. It's just a bad thing.

But Gary, it's important to know that no matter what bad things happen, if you love someone...if you truly love someone they'll always be with you." He couldn't help it. A small, inconspicuous tear slid down his face. He hastily wiped it away, but his grandson had noticed it.

"Grampa?" Gary put a tiny hand on top of his grandfather's. "What happened to them?"

Every horrible memory he ever had, every disappointment he every felt, every person who had ever hurt him – every single one of them came to the forefront of his mind causing him to cry even harder. Gary was fully aware he was making noises akin to a dying Dragonite, but he was unable to stop himself. It was so hard to breathe. His lungs were burning, tears were falling over his lips. Everything hurt.

I'm never going to see that stupid kid again. I'll never see that crazy, impulsive, idealistic kid ever again.

Gary sobbed even louder. I'm never going to get to go to his wedding. At one time this thought would have been a welcome relief, but it made Gary cry even harder. And then he thought of Misty – sitting by Ash's hospital band, clutching his cold, lifeless hand, staring at the diamond on her own. Pikachu's once bright eyes dull, nudging its still master. Little pleading squeaks - wake up Ash. Please. Just wake up.

More noisy sobs spilled forth as Gary thought of the last time he saw Ash; dancing with Misty, in his slightly too big tuxedo. He tried to talk to me, Gary thought. And I wouldn't listen.

He felt a pair of arms wrap around him and instinctively Gary let his head fall on the comforting shoulder. He knew he didn't deserve to be comforted but he was too exhausted to resist. His grandfather held Gary close like he did when the boy was little. The last time I held Gary like this, the saddened professor thought, was when we lost his father.

"Why wasn't it me?" Gary's voice was raw and muffled but Sam heard it clearly. "Why wasn't it me?"

In the pit of his soul, Gary knew Ash was the better man. The one with integrity and honor. The one with heart and gumption. The brave one. The idealistic one. He had so much to live for. His Pokémon. His career. His girl. Gary rued this awful twist of fate. It should've been me, it was repeating in his head over and over. It should have been me.

"Hush Gary," The elder Oak said somewhat harshly. "Don't ever say that. Ever"

The two sturdy Oaks sat together on the floor of the kitchen for a long time. Gary did not know how long he cried. It felt like days, weeks even. Eventually, the tears had dried up and he could cry no longer. He was content to sit on the floor in silence as his mind continued to assault him with thoughts and images that cut him from the inside out. A thousand Pinsirs nipping at my skin would be less painful than this, he thought at one point. And at least those cuts would eventually heal.

After what seemed a lifetime of agony, Sam Oak finally rose from the floor, pulling his grandson along with him.

"Gary, you need to eat something. Why don't you sit inside and I will make you something?"

Gary was much too emotionally drained to protest. Instead he followed the guiding hands of his grandfather to a black leather sectional that dominated the expansive Oak living room. Gary slowly lowered himself down onto the couch. A familiar squeal of his pants on the leather greeted him as always. However, the sound that Gary had come to detest made absolutely no effect on him. He just stared into space with glassy eyes that rivaled an Espurr.

The elder Oak placed a comforting hand on the younger's shoulder. "Go on," he gave Gary the smallest push. "Lay down."

Gary complied willingly; his back creaking slowly against the leather. Something about the sound reminded Gary of squealing tires on pavement. Suddenly he remembered why he hated it so much.

His head finally hit the arm rest and he felt marginally relieved the heinous sound had ceased. His grandfather remained oblivious to his inner plight. The old professor grabbed a chenille throw from the other arm rest and carefully draped it over Gary's form. It reminded Gary of the way his grandfather had tucked him into bed when he was young.

The older man ruffled his grandson's hair affectionately. "I'll be right back," he assured Gary. Sam then exited into the kitchen, presumably to make something to eat, but more likely to mourn for a moment by himself.

Gary rolled onto his back and stared up at the expansive ceiling above him. He realized he'd never noticed it before now. It was textured, like it was made of stucco and was an off white color as most ceilings are. There was nothing exceptional or extraordinary about it. And yet, Gary found himself thinking that it was. It was a barrier between him and the elements. It shielded him from rain, snow, sleet, excessive sun, wind and everything in between. It made a mere structure into a home. After all, a room wasn't a room without a ceiling.

I never noticed. Gary thought. I guess never noticed a lot of things.

He closed his eyes. I never noticed how much I cared about Ash.

If only I had been there, I could have done something. If only I had started my revive potion research sooner, maybe it could have saved him. If only I hadn't made that bet, Ash might still be alive today. If only…

It didn't take long; Gary was soon fast asleep. As his last shred of consciousness floated away, the haunting 'what if' questions lingered on, without any hope of ever being answered.

…

If Gary didn't know better, he'd say that Ash Ketchum's wake was attended by the entire population of Kanto, Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova. He knew Ash had traveled around and made many friends during his Pokémon journey, but the scope of which was far more than Gary could have possibly imagined. Over the course of five days, hundreds upon hundreds of visitors stopped by to pay their respects. For some, Ash had touched their lives intimately. For others, he had a much more indirect influence. They all offered their condolences, their prayers and their promises to help in whatever way they could.

Ash was laid out in one of his father's suits which now fit him like a glove. His first official Pokémon league hat was placed into the casket beside him, as were a few other personal trinkets. Among them was Butterfree's Pokeball - the very first Pokémon he ever caught. Ash never did see his Butterfree after letting it go free.

For four days and four nights, Gary stood at the back of the room, watching the guests from afar. He kept to himself mostly; he did not console any of those weeping or join in on the memorable anecdotes about the young Pokémon Master. He did not even approach the casket where Ash lay, pale and unmoving. Instead he just watched with probing eyes the hundreds of people who came into the funeral home.

Many of the guests were familiar; they were ones he had seen at Ash's Pokémon Master celebration and again at Delia and Sam's wedding. There were also many Gary didn't know, generally they only lingered for an hour or so before leaving. And then there were a pair of people that stuck out to the young Pokémon Professor because they were ever present, yet he could not place them.

There was a man and a woman who showed up every day and stood in the exact same spot. They were clad in black like everyone else. The woman wore a black pillbox hat adorned with a black net that covered her face. Gary was sure if he could have seen her properly she would somehow be recognizable. He would say the same for the man, but he always seemed to have his face pressed to the anonymous woman's shoulder constantly, sobbing softly as she reassuringly pat him on the back. He also appeared to have something of a deformity; a huge protrusion swelled from his back. Although if Gary didn't know better he'd have sworn he had seen it move.

The pair stood in the back corner of the room, much like Gary did. That in part is why he noticed them. In room of people moving and talking, these two definitely stood out to him. He observed they never signed the book that was laid open at the entrance and they never spoke to anyone but each other. They also never went near Ash which, if Gary hadn't also done so himself, he would've found terribly suspicious. They both appeared to be mournful though, the man especially so.

On the fourth day, when the afternoon visitation hours were winding down, curiosity got the best of Gary. The thinning crowd gave Gary the opportunity to not only see the couple better, but to hear what they were saying as well. He found himself ambling over towards them as surreptitiously as possible. He positioned himself in front of a large foam board; pictures of Ash covered every square inch. Ash as a baby, as a Pokémon trainer, Ash with Misty and Brock, Ash with Pikachu and there was even a very old one of Ash and Gary. As Gary looked at the board for the fifteenth time he discreetly leaned to his left to hear what the couple was saying nearby.

"I – still – can't – be- lieve –it," the man took a noisy breath between each syllable. His counter part nervously glanced around at the rapidly thinning crowd.

"Uggh, would you be quiet already?" She shoved the man off her shoulder forcefully and he stumbled backwards a few paces. Using his peripheral vision, Gary could see that the weird protrusion on his back was throwing his balance off, because he kept tipping and bowing in effort to stay upright. Unfortunately he lost the war with his own center of gravity and plopped backwards on his behind. He didn't get to his feet, as Gary expected, but stayed seated on the floor. He then proceeded to wipe his nose with his sleeve rather like a child might. His female companion shook her head in frustration.

"For goodness sake James, pull yourself together! You've been saying the same thing for days now. Enough is enough already. We're attracting attention as it is," she took a furtive sweep of the room to see if anyone had noticed the ruckus. After a moment or two of suspicious scanning she appeared to be satisfied that no one had noticed them.

"I don't care who sees," the man moaned pitifully.

The frustrated woman put two fingers on her throbbing temple. "Clearly." She sighed wearily. "Come on, get up. Visiting hours are ending."

He looked up at her with big, Deerling eyes. "Well, can we at least go to the funeral?" he sniffed.

Gary was surprised when he saw her slap the back of his head. "No, we cannot go to the funeral, you imbecile!" Her outrage was discernible as hushed as it was.

"You have no heart," he wailed rather like a sick Dewgong.

"How dare you?!" She said a little more loudly than she meant to. She glanced around nervously before lowering her voice. "How dare you? I've been here everyday, telling you everything's going to be all right. I've let you cry all over my new Silph & Company jacket. I even let you use beautiful my hair as a tissue! Well I've had enough. I haven't slept in days because of your incessant sobbing at night. This is where I draw the line. Now get up, we're going!" She grabbed his arm at the bicep and pulled him none-too-gently to his feet. She began to haul him towards the exit, but he refused to go.

"Jessie, no!" He wrenched his arm free. "I'm not leaving unless you promise we're coming back." He straightened the lapels on his jacket as if he were proud for standing his ground.

"I will promise no such thing. What if someone recognizes us?" The punctuated way that she said it intrigued Gary. For the first time in days he found himself not thinking about the way everything hurt.

"We're allowed to be here," he rubbed his swollen red eyes. "We shouldn't have to hide."

"You're right! Why don't we just announce that we're wanted criminals while we're at it." Gary's eyebrow rose ever so slightly at the word 'criminal'. It took everything in him not to turn his head to get a better look at these alleged criminals.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man shake his head. "I'm going straight after this. I'll never steal another Pokémon again," he vowed.

"I don't recall you ever successfully stealing any Pokémon ever," though it was snide, it was not said without a hint of amusement.

He didn't seem to hear her. "And I'll never touch a hair on that precious Pikachu's head."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh give it up, will you? You know you're low life scum, just like me." She nudged him playfully. "That's why we belong together."

"Would you two Luvdiscs hurry up? I'm dyin' back here!" Gary almost did a double take when he heard a third voice join the conversation. He stopped himself in time, but just barely.

"He's right," the woman acknowledged the third party. "Let's go."

Gary realized they were going to leave and he still hadn't gotten a proper look at their faces. For reasons he didn't fully understand he did not want to let that happen. He found he had an insatiable curiosity about these people and had figure out what they were doing here. After all, Ash had always been the epitome of doing what was right. Gary couldn't understand why there would be a pair of crooks here lamenting his loss. If there was some way I could just casually bump into them…

The thought triggered Gary to remember an instance where he was in a similar predicament. He remembered he was also trying to stage a run-in with a stranger, though the setting couldn't have been more different. He recalled being at a particularly well-attended party. The guests were a blur of every color and all Gary could discern was a red-headed woman stomping away. Deftly as an Ekans, he slipped through the crowd to see where she was going. He silently made his way into the house, and positioned himself near the back door. When he saw her coming he stepped out and she ran right into him. Gary remembered the way his drink flew in the air spilling its contents all over her.

He had arranged the casual bump that completely changed his life. After all, Gary was a master at maneuvering and manipulation. Yes, of course, thought Gary. That is who I am.

The realization had once brought him disgust. It contributed to his greatest downfall. His hubris and cutthroat attitude had lost him Misty and almost Umbreon as well. He had grown to first revile these qualities, and then once the depression had taken hold, he'd forgotten them altogether. During his long fall towards rock bottom that Gary had forgotten much of who he was. But the memory had incited something in him.

Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to keep manipulating people? He thought. I know I could, but isn't that what got me in trouble in the first place?

But this is me, Gary remembered. This is who I am.

I may have done some bad things. He reminded himself. But I'm not a bad person. I want to be myself, but I don't want to hurt anyone again. I don't want to be selfish anymore.

Gary's inherent urge to be contrary chimed in. But being selfish is who you are. You're manipulative and underhanded. Other people will always fall to the wayside.

He shook his head furiously. No. No, that's not true. I can use my ambition, I can use my strategic mind and I can use all those things that are fundamentally me to do something good. I know that I can. And I know that I will.

Gary's epiphany was interrupted by the sounds of bickering. Gary was instantly reminded of the situation at hand. The pair of strangers was still arguing about leaving and Gary had already decided they were not going to do so without going through him first. These people were criminals and he'd be damned if he was just going to let them go. Ash would've done the same thing.

He was going to use some trademark Gary Oak finesse to arrange a run-in with the mysterious twosome. He knew he couldn't just call them out – he had absolutely no proof and it would be highly disruptive on this most solemn occasion. All he needed to do was get a look at them; that way he could tell the police he had seen them if he were ever questioned.

Gary could see by the way that the way the woman was tugging on the man's arm and the way he was throwing all his weight to counterbalance hers that there was bound to be a slip. All Gary had to do was be in the right place at the right time when it happened.

"Come on James, we're leaving!" the woman insisted, yanking his arms one way.

Her male friend refused to move. "But Jessie –" he pleaded with her pathetically.

"No buts!" She hissed. "I said, let's GO!"

For added emphasis the woman pulled extra hard on the word 'go.' Just as Gary had predicted, the woman's grip on her partner's forearm slipped causing his misplaced body weight to go sailing in the opposite direction. Gary watched all this happen as if in slow motion. As the man stumbled backwards, Gary had enough time to casually step directly into his path.

Gary had all of a half second to brace for impact before he was completely bowled over by the other man. He felt his body somersault over itself; he noticed the red carpet of the funeral home was above him right before his head smacked against it. Although the incident couldn't have taken longer than two seconds, Gary felt like he was a sock in a washing machine. He seemed to spin over and over again, until finally, the jumbled mass of limbs came to rest.

When the world had come to a complete stop, Gary realized he was pinned underneath the other man, who, by the looks of him, was still woozy from the fall. Gary didn't have time to process any of this – a dark shadow that promptly fell over him immediately capturing his attention. He looked up to see the woman, towering over him, hands on hips, glaring at both he and the other man.

"Get up," she demanded of the man. She did not wait for him to do so though; she merely grabbed him and pulled him roughly to his feet. She was undoubtedly furious, but was by Gary's estimate, trying to save face.

Gary quickly leapt to his feet and brushed off the front of his jacket. He didn't want to appear over eager, but he was so curious to see what they looked like. After a sufficient number brushes, he finally looked up.

They were both older than he was, by what he guessed was a decade and a half. He couldn't help but notice that they physically resembled each other somewhat and wondered if they were related. Both had very pale skin and similarly shaped eyes and facial features. However, the woman's up turned eyes were a deep sapphire blue while the man's were a sage green. Her hair was a deep dark red, that was almost burgundy and his was an unnatural shade of violet. The woman appeared to be tall and slender, though it was difficult to say what the man was considering his hump was weighing him down (and, as Gary had just noticed, in a different place than it was before). And although they both look familiar he could not say for sure how he knew them.

"Why don't you look where you're going, kid?" The woman growled at him, as she draped the man's arms around her shoulders.

"My apologies, of course," Gary said in his most polite voice. "Can I – help you with something?"

"No!" She insisted. "As a matter of fact we were just leaving."

"Maybe –" Gary tried to stall for time, waiting for his memory to catch up, but this woman was not having it.

"Beat it!" She snapped at him, her blue eyes flashing. "Can't you see we're in mourning over here?"

"Yeah scram!" said another voice that Gary recognized as the one he'd heard before. He was now almost sure it was coming from the man's weird deformity. Both the man and the woman looked appropriately mortified as they exchanged glances.

"I'm sorry, but," Gary just had to know. "Did your hump just speak?"

"And what business is it of yours?!" The woman demanded in a voice that was much too loud for a funeral home. Gary noticed a few stragglers nearby turned their heads to look. The woman noticed too; she chuckled nervously and smiled at the passersby. Once they weren't looking, she turned her attention back to Gary, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"For your information," she said in a significantly calmer voice. "He's very sensitive about his…talking…hump…syndrome. It's devastated him since he was a child. Now look what you've gone and done." The man looked at her curiously right before she elbowed him hard in the ribs. He shrieked in pain and doubled over. Gary could see the blow had brought tears to his eyes which, judging from the smug way she smiled, was exactly what she wanted.

Gary honestly didn't know what to say. He was quite sure Talking Hump Syndrome was not a thing and she wasn't fooling anyone with those elbow-induced tears. However, at the risk of infuriating this obviously dangerous woman any further, Gary held his tongue.

"Of course," he played along. "I didn't mean anything by it, it's just – "

"Please!" She lamented, wrapping an arm around him. "Haven't you upset him enough?" She whisked him away towards the exit, whispering loudly 'there, there,' until they were out of sight.

Gary frowned. It was painfully obvious the man did not have a deformity at all and were just trying to get away from him. He was now sure he knew them from somewhere, but he couldn't figure out how.

He shrugged and felt the smallest of smiles grace his features. He was glad about one thing at least. The whole situation made him realize he was still Gary deep down. He remembered who he was. And he realized that that was okay - it was honestly and truly okay to just be Gary.

Finally, Gary Oak had forgiven himself.

That night when he returned to the Oak Mansion he sat down in front of his desktop computer and began to work. This, he thought while tapping away at his keyboard, is the way to apply ambition.

…

On the fifth day, the day of Ash's funeral, Gary knew he had to finally face him. Gary had managed to avoid it this long by the sheer will of his denial. If he didn't see the body up close, it wasn't like Ash was really dead. But he could see that denial was rapidly becoming a luxury he could not afford. Well-wishers were saying their last goodbyes and soon the coffin would be closed forever.

Gary looked at the watch on his wrist. It was 9:45 am, fifteen minutes before the service would end and Ash would be taken to his final resting place. It was time.

He wasn't sure how finally made his legs move; the thought of seeing Ash up close, pale and stiff made Gary's insides freeze like an Articuno's Ice Blast. Somehow he willed himself to move from his place in the back of the funeral home. He tentatively began up the aisle that had generous seating on either side. He didn't know if he'd ever been as scared of anything in his whole life. For some reason this was even more terrifying than his experience in the Viridian Gym. His body was quivering and his palms were sweaty. Was it just him or was everyone in the place staring? It took every ounce of will power in Gary not to turn around and bolt.

When he finally reached the casket, Gary swallowed all his reservations and looked inside. He didn't know what he had expected. He may have expected some gruesome bruises or cuts. He may have expected paper white skin and vampiric-like features. What he did not expect was for this body, this thing, to look exactly how it had in life.

If the young Pokémon researcher had not known better he would have said Ash appeared to be sleeping. His face looked peaceful – another surprise considering the sudden events that had transpired before his death. Gary wasn't sure what had possessed him to do so, but he reached out and touched Ash's hand. Although it was cold and devoid of life, Gary felt oddly comforted by it.

"Hey buddy," Gary said quietly as though it would disturb his friend. "It's me. Your old pal, Gary."

"I don't know if you can hear this, wherever you are now, but I just wanted to tell you – well I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry." His throat tightened painfully as he fought every urge to cry. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way I teased you constantly. I'm sorry I never treated you with you respect. And I'm truly sorry I doubted you. You always said you were going to be a Pokémon Master and that's exactly what you did.

"I've always envied you, you know? I'm sure you didn't. I don't even know if I knew myself. But, you really had some good things going. You had friends and a loving mother and beautiful, intelligent woman to call your own. I don't have those things. My mother has been gone so long I can barely remember what she looks like. Friends? Well if you don't count the people who only stuck around for the money and the convertible that really only leaves you. And of course, I've never made breakfast with a woman, let alone made a life with one.

"More than anything, I'm sorry I ever tried to take her away from you. I'm sorry about the life you could have had with her. I'm sorry about the children you'll never meet. And all the weddings and all the birthdays and all the holidays that will never be. I'm so, so, sorry.

"But I want you to know that you've done some pretty amazing things with the short time you had. You saved Umbreon, did you know that? He was dead. I know he was. And you brought him back. I'll never be able to tell you what that meant for me. He's not like he was, and I blame myself for that, but he's alive. For some time, I have existed solely for the purpose of seeing him become well. I still have hope. You have made me hopeful. You always believed the impossible was possible.

"In a way, you gave me a reason to live when I had none. Whether you meant to or not, you saved me, Ash. I only wish I could've done the same for you."

Gary bowed his head and finally stood. He reached under his shirt collar to extract the pendant he'd worn everyday since before he could remember. He lifted the cord over his head and held in his palm. The talisman resembled a traditional yin yang symbol, only where it was white and black, Gary's was green and yellow. The Pokémon researcher never really investigated the meaning of this deviation, but it always brought him comfort to know he had it.

With a heavy heart, Gary placed the strand around his dead friend's neck. "You need this more than I do," he told Ash. "Wherever you're going, I hope it brings you peace."

The young Oak returned to his spot in back of the funeral home as quickly as he could without drawing a lot of attention to himself. He hadn't cried yet, but he was not willing to push his luck any further. He sunk into a chain in the very back and sighed wearily, almost in relief. The burden of his guilt felt ever-so-slightly lighter. It felt cathartic to say all these things to Ash finally. If he believed in some kind of karmic retribution he might've said he had just done some small penance. It wasn't enough though; he knew that it was still too little, too late.

Gary watched as Ash received his final visitors; first the venerable Sam Oak, who was remarkably composed for a man who had lost a protégée and a son. Gary knew he was being strong for Delia who had probably not stopped crying since Ash's had taken his last breath. She was so devastated and inconsolable that Gary did not even had the opportunity to speak with Sam more than once or twice during the services.

After Sam followed his grieving wife, whose fresh tears were dripping into the caskets as she said her final goodbyes.

Finally came Misty who, although was not crying, had the look a woman who was appropriately devastated.

He realized how few words exchanged with the grieving mother and fiancé. On the first day, he offered his condolences which they both politely accepted, but it became too much for Gary when Delia pulled him into her arms and whispered, "He always thought of you like a brother." After that he knew he needed to keep his distance. He didn't attend the dinners or the get-togethers that took place between Ash's most intimate family and friends. He didn't join their commiseration. Even at the urging of his grandfather, he declined. He just did not have the strength for it.

It had been difficult to say no, especially since he so desperately needed to speak with Misty, now more than ever. But he knew it wasn't the right time. Gary worried it might never be the right time. Misty spent much of those days conversing with friends and family, making the rounds, accepting everyone's deepest sympathies all while struggling to keep the tears from flowing. She'd sometimes excuse herself, in which Gary knew she went somewhere private to cry. When she'd return she'd go back to being dutiful, even though no one expected it of her.

Gary knew that what he wanted to tell her needed to wait. So wait he did.

She was the last one to kneel in front of the coffin. Gary noticed she had lingered there longer than the administrators at the funeral home would've liked; they were already taking the flowers and waiting, none too patiently, for her to move so they could take the body as well. But Misty would not be hurried along for anything in the world.

Gary could see her lips moving as though she were talking to him. Even from his seat way in the back, he felt he could hear what she saying. One of her ivory hands reached up to caress Ash's ashen face and the other took a hold of his cold hands. When she had finally said her peace, Gary saw her kiss her fingertips lightly and press them to Ash's lips. Gary noticed her struggling to get to her feet at that point and realized she must have succumbed to tears. A nearby Brock was by her side in a moment and helped her to a seat in the front row.

Gary watched grimly as the lid began to close. He realized with some anxiety and sadness, if would be the last time he ever saw Ash's face. Ever. Gary felt himself lean forward a little; he wanted to remember what Ash looked like. He took a mental picture just before the lid closed, sealing Ash Ketchum inside forever.

The coffin was loaded into the Hearse while close friends and family were invited to ride inside. Gary, as Ash's step-brother or step-nephew (he was never really sure how they were related now) was invited to join, but Gary declined. He knew he wouldn't be able to listen to Delia's weeping and sit in silence next to Misty for the entire car ride. Not while knowing Ash had been put in a box, in the trunk, like he was a bag of groceries.

Gary instead took a seat in his red convertible and joined the Funeral Procession. Gary knew it would be madness as soon as he stepped into the parking lot. There were cars everywhere – in every parking space, on the street, in nearby driveways. He was sitting in his parked car for nearly forty minutes before there was room enough to back out.

When he finally did join the long procession, it was not much better. He estimated the cars probably stretched for at least two miles and completely gridlocked to boot. What made the situation even more exasperating was the Pallet Town local cemetery was not even six miles away. What was easily a ten minute car ride was slowly turning into a day trip.

Gary hated traffic. He'd always hated traffic. Even when he wasn't on a time crunch, he loathed to sit in amongst other parked cars when he should be speeding by at seventy miles an hour. What made it worse was he did have somewhere important to be, which meant waiting in his car was even more insufferable.

Finally Gary couldn't take it anymore. He pulled his car over to the shoulder, got out and proceeded on foot.

He was surprised to find after a moment or two that he could hear footsteps behind him. He was quite sure it would be Officer Jenny, telling him he could not park his vehicle on the shoulder. However, he was surprised to find instead dozens of other people had pulled their cars over behind his and exited their cars. They had all chose to walk with him.

"Ash would've appreciated it," he heard a woman say behind him. "He walked everywhere. Every step of his journey was on foot." And Gary couldn't help but agree.

Even though he was walking briskly, it took him nearly forty five minutes to arrive at the grave site. Still he was glad with the route he had taken. Not only were there still cars trying to find their way into the parking lot, but there was something uplifting about arriving on foot, with a troop of people at his back. It was like he had led them there. He had led them to Ash.

A sea of black clad figures swarmed a little Pallet Town cemetery and Gary could see it was going to be a tight squeeze. He was sure that the ceremony had already begun at this late hour, but as Gary approached the throng he heard the tittering of anxious, tired people. "She's waiting for everyone to get here," he heard someone say. Gary somehow knew immediately they were speaking of Misty.

The young Oak was perfectly content to stand on the outskirts of the crowd. He was okay with not seeing the box where his friend lay. He was okay with not hearing the words that could never do him justice. He was okay with merely being present. That's why he was surprised to find that some of the other guests were not.

"You there," he heard a voice call to him. He turned to see an old woman pointing her bony finger at him almost accusingly.

For a moment, Gary just stood there unblinking. He felt oddly startled by the interaction. He realized barely anyone had spoken to him besides his grandfather in weeks, possibly months. It was so peculiar to see a person actually address him.

"Yes?" he said after what seemed like a prolonged silence.

"You're Gary Oak," it wasn't a question. For half a second Gary felt cold terror coursing through his veins. Everyone in Pallet Town knew of their rivalry. You have no right to be here, he imagined the old crone saying. All you ever did was pick on that boy and you have the nerve to show your face? He imagined other faces in the crowd, features lined with disgust at his presence. Other voices filled with contempt. A hand on his shoulder; I think you better go now, son.

What if they kick me out? He panicked. What if I incite a mob?

"You should be up there with your grandfather." The torches and pitchforks melted away. In their place were the faces of concerned and decidedly not bloodthirsty mourners.

"Huh?"

"What are ya deaf?" she took a step towards him. "Sam Oak, he's lookin' fer his grandson. Ain't you him?"

Gary wasn't sure what to think. All his life he'd wanted to stand out, but today he would have done anything to just blend into a crowd. "Well…yeah but – "

"He's right up there," Gary turned to see a man, roughly his own age, pointing helpfully towards the sagely Professor.

Gary shook his head. "Oh that's not n – "

"He was asking if anyone had seen you," Another woman, this one in her mid-forties, supplied. "He seemed worried," she added with a tone of concern.

A dumbfounded Gary tried again. "I really don't – "

"Go on, now," the old woman took her cane and poked it into the crook of Gary's back. The point of it was hard and insisting and Gary saw no other choice than to take a step forward. Maybe if it had just been her, Gary would have just done a quick side step and walked to another area. However, in a matter of a few seconds every face in the crowd was gently nudging him, hands on his shoulders and the small of his back, encouraging him to the front.

As the strangers ushered him forward he felt strangely guilty. What did he do to earn a place near Ash, anyway? All he'd ever done was taunt and tease him. All these people had arrived before him, yet it was he who was being given precedence. Gary knew, even with his questionable set of morals, that this didn't seem entirely fair.

Once Gary had been escorted towards the front of the crowd he realized just how many people had come. An enormous semicircular ring had formed around Ash's casket and stretched nearly the entire length of the cemetery. The coffin was in the center surrounded floral arrangements of every shape and sort. A gilded frame was perched on an easel with Ash's portrait inside. Gary spotted his grandfather on the other side of the circle with his arm around Delia who was quietly crying into a handkerchief. The older man looked up and spotted Gary, looking relieved. Misty was close by; Pikachu was perched on her head and Brock was to her left.

For all the tears Ash's mother had shed and all the words Misty had whispered, there was no one in the cemetery that had looked worse than Pikachu. Pikachu and Ash did absolutely everything together. Pikachu was the best of all Ash's best friends. The little electric mouse looked like it was dead inside. Its once black, shiny eyes appeared soulless and empty now. That fluorescent yellow fur had lost all its luster. Gary had seen only one creature look this way before and that was Umbreon. He shivered.

Ash's other Pokémon didn't look too great either. They lined the area behind the casket, joined by the Pokémon of Ash's loved ones. Gary immediately recognized Ash's Charizard, its long neck bowed in respect and Ash's Bulbasaur near the front. He also recognized a number of other Pokémon including Misty's Golduck and what he presumed to be some of her other water Pokémon nearby. A colossal Onix towered beside the other Pokémon and a contrite Geodude floated nearby. Behind them were dozens of other Pokémon who were grief-stricken, just as their trainers were.

After quite some time, a clergyman surfaced from the crowd. By the looks of him Gary guessed he was meant to officiate, though the Ketchums were, by his knowledge, never particularly religious. "I thank you all for your patience," the man said in a surprisingly loud voice. "At the behest of Ash's loved ones, we have waited for all of the guests to arrive. I think that we can begin now." He cleared his throat a little before continuing.

"I'm sure everyone here could tell you a story about Ash. I'm sure everyone here could tell you of his kindness, his bravery and his love for people and Pokémon. Of course, if we did that, we'd be here for a very long time, indeed." There was a small murmur of obligatory chuckles that Gary guessed the orator was looking for. "So, without further ado, I'm going to turn it over to someone who has known Ash for a very long time."

The clergyman did a quick bow and excused himself. Gary was relieved that he wasn't doing the eulogy. He didn't seem to know Ash very well at all.

Everyone watched with bated breath to see who would be delivering the final tribute to their dead hero. Gary's eyes were drawn to movement when he saw that Brock removed himself from Misty's side and took his place next beside Ash.

Gary didn't know Brock all that well. He had only seen him a handful of times and spoken to him even less than that. He knew that he, Ash and Misty were best friends and that Brock had been a little bit love crazy when it came to beautiful women. Gary wasn't sure what Brock's eulogy would be like.

The world-renowned Pokémon Breeder took a long, melancholy look at the casket and ran a tan hand across the lid. "I admit, when I was asked to do this, to speak to you all, I had my doubts. It's the hardest thing I've ever done or ever will do. How do I tell you how much I admired Ash Ketchum? How do I tell you when you've all been witnesses to his unyielding light? How do I shrink a decade of memories into a speech that can last no longer than a few minutes? Well the truth is I can't. I can't tell you everything he has meant to me. I can't tell you everything he gave me or everything he taught me. There isn't time enough on Earth or words enough to express these things.

"What I can tell you is that Ash was my brother. Ash was my friend. Ash was my teacher. Ash was my student. Ash was my rock. He was many things. Yes, He was a Pokémon Master. But he was also, before that, just a trainer. He was a son. A goofball. An idealist. A novice. And he was almost a husband. It is these things that we will remember. Because the best thing Ash did was love.

"He loved people and he loved Pokémon. Never have I seen a man love as much or as he strongly as he did. He loved his Pokémon enough to free them back into the wild, to give them better lives. It was hard, but Ash always did right by his Pokémon. Even when it broke his heart to do so."

Brock was about to say more, but was silenced when a large shadow fell over the grave sight. Instantly, the hundreds of guests were alerted to a mysterious newcomer and looked to the sky for answers. But what they saw could not have been more unexpected. It was not an ominous solar eclipse or, as Brock initially suspected, the dastardly shape of that all-too-familiar Meowth balloon.

In the sky, on feathered wings of beige, rode in Ash's Pidgeot; its plumes of red of gold waved in the wind like a banner. Behind it, an enormous flock of flying Pokémon was in its wake. Hundreds of Pokémon, Pidgey and Pidgeotto, Fearow and Spearow, Butterfree and Beedrill all swarmed the cemetery. Gary noticed as they got closer, some were even carrying other Pokémon on their backs. The most noticeable of these Pokémon was Ash's Squirtle, riding Pidgeot like a General leading a battalion into war. The rest of the Squirtle Squad flew on some nearby compatriots and had removed their sunglasses as a sign of respect.

Pokémon seemed to fill the sky for miles. The crowd could only stare in awe at the spectacle. From the flock, Squirtle and Pidgeot descended to the ground and landed nearby Brock. Following them was one Pokémon that was not noticed before. Brock and Misty gasped, the only two understanding the significance. Out of the crowd emerged a Butterfree with a yellow ribbon wrapped around its neck.

Ash's Butterfree had finally returned.

The elegant flying Pokémon let out mournful chirps as it looped down from the sky. Its yellow ribbon wasn't its only distinguishing characteristic; it was also massive for a Butterfree. Its wingspan rivaled a Fearow, it's antennae as long as celery stalks. It gently glided towards the ground, its huge wings like giants sails, where it landed beside Pigdeot and Squirtle.

When it was clear that the remainder of the winged guests had arrived, Squirtle climbed off of Pidgeot's back and approached Brock. "Squirtle, squirt, squirtle, squirt!" the Pokémon said to him. Brock nodded to it as though he understood. The Squirtle removed its sunglasses and bowed its blue head. It walked forward on its short legs and stopped in front of the coffin. It offered a few variations on its name, which everyone knew to mean a heartfelt goodbye to its former trainer. Then Squirtle reached up, extending its body as far as it could go and placed its sunglasses on the casket. Gary was surprised to see the water Pokémon almost seemed to have tears in its eyes. It backed away and joined its companions.

Next to approach was Pidgeot who had flowery wreath in its beak. The giant bird carefully laid it atop the casket and cawed loudly for all to hear. All the Pidgey and Pidgeotto responded back with an equally mournful lamentation.

Finally came Butterfree. It gracefully pushed off the ground and into the air. Once airborne it circled Ash's coffin, doing an almost sorrowful dance as blue powder fell from its wings. Gary knew it was sleep powder; Butterfree wanted Ash to sleep peacefully.

When the Pokémon were finished with their touching tributes, the lacrimation in the tiny cemetery had increased tenfold. Gary noticed with some surprise even Lt. Surge, who was amongst a crowd of other gym leaders, was bawling like a baby. The strangled voices of the various guests around him said things like 'they loved him that much,' and 'it's so beautiful.' And for once Gary did not feel the sentiment was overdone. It was a truly beautiful display.

But what got him the most was the look on Misty's face. He could read her lips from across the grass; "They came." She kept saying it to herself, over and over, probably so softly no one around her could actually hear it. He felt the familiar itching of his eyes that begged for moisture.

Brock regained the crowd's attention. "Ash was so beloved by all, the Pokémon have found their way to him, to offer their final farewell."

"I don't have to tell you that Ash Ketchum will be remembered always. His presence is with all of us right now, I can feel it. Every time you look into the eyes of a Pokémon, you are with Ash. Every time you are selfless, you are with Ash. Every time you treat a stranger with kindness, you are with Ash. And every time you fight for what you know in your heart is right, you are with Ash. He was all these things and if you keep these ideas close, he won't be far behind. Thank you."

Brock bowed his head, signaling the end of his eulogy. He opened his jacket coat and pulled something from the inside. It was small, but Gary made out the object easily. It was a Boulder Badge, the Pewter City Token, gray as slate and faceted like a jewel. Gary felt a wave of nostalgia flood him. It was the first badge he had ever received and, he was guessing, the first one Ash received as well. The first stepping stone on a lifelong dream.

Brock placed the badge besides Squirtle's sunglasses. He said something, but Gary couldn't hear what it was. The Pokemon Breeder stepped back, gave one final nod of the head, and rejoined the crowd. The clergyman reemerged and addressed the crowd in his booming baritone.

"The service is now coming to a close. We ask that you join us at the Oak Mansion for food and company as we celebrate the life of this man, who touched our lives so profoundly."

There was a silence stretched for several minutes afterwards. Every person and Pokémon remained still, thinking about Ash, praying about Ash, and saying their own goodbyes to Ash.

Then, there was the sound everyone dreaded to hear. Gary looked up from his clasped hands to see that the casket was being lowered into the ground. A Voltorb-sized lump formed in his throat. His childhood friend and rival was in there. Gary thought of him, all alone, under mountains of dirt and his eyes began to feel freshly moist.

While everyone continued to live, eat, dance and love above him, Ash was condemned to lie under the ground.

Forever.

...

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: This was a rather difficult chapter to write as you can well imagine. I'm sorry it took me awhile.

I know the end of the last chapter was a bit of a shock perhaps. I had been trying to leave hints in the last three or four chapters, but perhaps they were too subtle. If it makes anyone feel any better, Ash did not die for the purpose of Gary and Misty being together. Also, I do apologize if this story has seemed at all misleading to Pokeshippers. However, I would've thought that it was obvious this story was more about Egoshipping. That being said, it was never meant to be conclusively either, hence why it is not provided in the summary.

That's all, and I hope if you are still reading that you enjoyed it!