Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ This Blood On My Hands ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. But the title I own (and I like it, too) and I own Lydia.

 

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WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother clicking on this story. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

 

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This Blood On My Hands

 

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Chapter 3

 

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Littleroot Town

 

The Game Over screen flashed against her face, bright in the dark room, glowing blue, green, red and back again, her character a dim, dead outline in the background. She registered it, or at least the colours flashing on her dull expression, but didn't seem to be able to work up the energy to press Start for another round, much less turn off either TV or GameCube.

 

She knew she was in trouble, possibly big. She could hear it in the strained quality of her parents' voices, floating through her slightly open bedroom door, chatting away the evening with the Birch's, Lydia, Brendan and his little sister probably crashed on the couch in front of the TV.

 

She pictured Lydia sliding in closer to Brendan on the couch, exchanging low words with him, letting out her low, throaty giggle that most guys found irresistibly sexy, his little sister completely oblivious, absorbed as she was in the moving colorful blobs called cartoon characters on the TV. She imagined her parents apologizing profusely for her behavior, saying they didn't know what had come over her when, in fact, they did.

 

And not only that, it was all their fault.

 

I hope they all get horrible diseases from each other.

 

Mae lurched forward, stabbing the Power button on the TV, unplugging the GameCube with her toes, not even bothering to save what little progress she'd made before getting killed. She tore her skirt from her waist, her blouse from her torso, throwing herself onto her bed, not enough energy to put on pajamas. I should probably warn Brendan about Lydia, she thought savagely, picturing her sister's torn, bloody corpse in her mind. Make sure no one else falls under the witch's spell.

 

Mae rolled over onto her back, reaching onto her bedside table for her cell phone, feeling the sudden urge to call someone. She opened it, squinting at the bright light, flipping through her contacts list.

 

Mom, Dad, Lydia, Professor Oak, Harry Oak… ick, why the hell do I have that asshole in my contacts?

 

She went to go press Delete, but her fingers froze on the keypad. She let out a growling sigh. “He's an asshole, but that doesn't mean I can delete him,” she muttered aloud. He's one of my only ties to Kanto, for God's sake! “Can't believe I almost did that.”

 

Her fingers froze again a little further down.

 

Ben.

 

The all-too-familiar swoosh of her stomach, the loud thumping of her heartbeat at the thought of calling him at this late hour—Would he mind? Would he care about me calling?—struck her, even before she remembered that Hoenn time was two and a half hours later than Kanto, and it would still be daylight there. But I only left a few days ago… would he want me to call? Even if it had been a few days, she had still only just broken up with him.

 

Well, I have to know how Roger's doing.

 

Taking a deep breath, sucking up her courage before it could leave her and her pride before it could get the best of her, she jammed her finger down on the Call button and pushed the phone up to her ear, squeezing her eyes shut as tinny rings emanated from the other end.

 

It was quite a few rings before the phone was picked up, a quiet voice pumping through the connection into her ears: “Hello?”

 

She let the word out all in one gasp: “Ben!” There was a long moment of silence, as though he was trying to remember something from far away. Then: “M-Mae?”

 

“Yeah! Hi!”

 

“Wow… hi…”

 

“No need to sound so enthusiastic; I can feel your joy from here.” The sarcasm was kind of lost from the fact that she had a huge, foolish grin on her face as she said it, a grin that she was pretty sure he could hear in her tone of voice.

 

“Sorry,” Ben said hesitantly. “It's just… this is kind of a surprise, Mae.”

 

“I miss you, too, Benny. Um…” Now it was her turn to become hesitant, her voice dropping about six decibels as she muttered, “How's… Roger?”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, how's Roger?”

 

“Oh! Um… she's fine. Perfectly fine. Misses you, but other than that she's doing great. Listen, Mae, I'm kind of… busy.”

 

“Oh.” She let her disappointment crawl into her tone; Ben would've heard it anyway. He'd been her best friend since she was six and he was five, and knew her better than anyone else. “All right then. Give Roger a hug for me, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

There was an awkward silence, long and tense. Mae played with the fringe on her quilt, feeling a bright blush creep up her cheeks at the realization that she was sitting on her bed in her underwear talking to her ex-boyfriend. She heard him clear his throat uncomfortably on the other end, pretty much the only clue that he hadn't died on the phone. Words tumbled up to her lips, flitting timidly around her mouth without finding quite the courage to come out.

 

“Look, Mae—”

 

“I'm sorry, Ben,” she interrupted him, twisting the quilt in her hand. “I'm really, really sorry about the way… we… turned out. If we hadn't have moved, I would never have—”

 

The dial tone hummed monotonously into her ear. She listened to it for almost half an hour before slowly closing her phone.

 

It took her a long time to fall asleep that night.

 

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“It is understandable,” Lydia said to her conversationally at breakfast the next morning, looking altogether much too happy, but at least dressed in somewhat normal clothes and little makeup. “I mean, what you practically said to him was `Sorry, we're over, but keep an eye on Roger for me, okay?'”

 

Lydia might have been a complete and total bitch and far too perfect, but she was the best person Mae knew to come to with this sort of problem.

 

“Yeah…” Mae sighed, shredding her toast. “But I apologized to him, right? How did that give him the right to hang up on me?”

 

Lydia shrugged. “He liked you a lot. Maybe he was hurting.”

 

Norman and Sherri had gone out early that morning, before either daughter was up, leaving a note telling them they'd be at the Gym all day. Happy though Mae was to put the yelling off until evening, she didn't like the fact that her parents had done this just to build up the dread and suspense. She sighed and lowered her head onto the table.

 

“If it makes it any better,” Lydia continued dubiously, rapping her self-manicured fingernails on the tabletop. “Growlie need to get up another couple of levels. If you want to give me a hand you can take it out past Oldale…” She let the sentence drift off.

 

Mae jumped up, dumping her uneaten but shredded toast into the garbage and her plate in the sink. “Not interested.”

 

Lydia let out a growl. “Mae, get over yourself.”

 

“Shut up,” Mae muttered, heading for the door.

 

“Seriously. Brendan's not gonna want you while you're acting like a self-pitying brat. You're giving my Pokemon a headache.”

 

“Who says I want Brendan?” Mae snapped. “He's all yours, remember? I have Ben. Besides, I think I have the right to be a little self-pitying. You got to keep yours.”

 

She noticed she was doing a lot of slamming doors lately.

 

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Had Ben, she thought to herself with a grimace, kicking at a patch of flowers as she passed it. You were forced to give him up, remember? Just like Roger.

 

Well, I suppose I am being a little too selfish.

 

It's not fair, though!

 

It was still early, about seven thirty, and there was no sign of any life except for lights in the Lab. The sky was overcast and grey, a light fog drifting among the trio of buildings. Mae felt a little shiver in the chilly morning that had nothing to do with the cold. It felt like a ghost town where someone had forgotten to turn off the lights.

 

She jogged toward the break in the trees, where the road was, not wanting to spend another second in this creepy place. Oldale Town seemed like a good destination, and she could at least explore there for a while for lack of anything else to do.

 

Maybe there'll be someone there I can hang out with.

 

Mae stepped over the invisible line between town and road, and immediately felt relieved. She looked back at Littleroot, a small grin forming on her face. Sure, she was only getting away for a little while, a few hours at most, but the fact that she was getting away at all was enough to lift her heart from her toes to her thighs, the highest it had been since she'd even learned they were moving.

 

She began walking jauntily through the woods, even feeling good enough to hum a little, tunelessly, following the sign that said ROUTE 103 OLDALE TOWN, pointing ahead.

 

Oh… I hope there are no grassy areas. I wouldn't be able to get through. Well, if there are ledges I can climb over them.

 

She recalled Lydia's far too happy look this morning, and frowned. What had her looking so pleased? Thanks to how she dressed last night, she's obviously in as much trouble as I am.

 

Then came that little voice that people heard at times like these. You know, the one that's really annoying, mostly because it's always right? Maybe, it said, she got a date out of Brendan.

 

“Most likely,” she answered it with a roll of her eyes. “Ick, it makes me sick how she can do that to guys.”

 

You should warn him.

 

“Of what? That his next door neighbor—who is an absolute knock-out—is just messing with his mind? She's beautiful, you stupid voice, he wouldn't listen to me.”

 

The voice didn't seem to have anything to say to that.

 

Mark one for Mae, zero for the voice.

 

“I think I'm schizophrenic. What do you think—?”

 

A scream echoed out, cutting her off. Mae jumped, freezing, eyes flicking around in alarm. Were there ghosts out there? Were there such things as ghosts? Could be a Ghost-type Pokemon… but I've never heard one make a scream like that.

 

She moved forward a cautious few steps, listening as the scream came again, sending shivers down her back. That was human.

 

She began to run, following the echoes of the scream, slow, oily fear slicking her footsteps. “Hello!” she yelled, as loud as she could. “Who's there?”

 

“Help! Oh, god, someone help me!”

 

She broke in on the scene: a knee-high, canine Pokemon atop a small man, pinning him by the shoulders, snapping at his face and throat. The man held its snout in his hands, screaming for help, just barely holding it back. Already his face and hands were covered in blood—his blood.

 

He saw her, standing there, frozen at the sight. “You!” he shouted. “In my bag! There are three Pokeballs! Please, help me!”

 

Mae didn't even think about it; she threw open the flaps on the back, grabbing a random Pokeball, tossing it up into the air in one smooth motion.

 

There was a flash of pale red light, a chitter; a small green Pokemon leaped out, facing the dog Pokemon, snarling in a tiny, shrill voice that was almost comical. It looked like a gecko, except standing on its hind feet. Its belly and under its chin was red, its eyes yellow with black slits, a thick leaf-like tail curling at the ends, three fingers and toes on each hand and foot.

 

What the hell is that?

 

She scanned it quickly, biting her lip. “Hey! You!” she called out to it—him. He looked at her in mild surprise, then back at the offending Pokemon. It had averted its attention from the man, pinning its ears down aggressively, snarling right back at the gecko Pokemon. “Um… Pound its head to knock it out!”

 

The gecko shot forward, unexpectedly quick, knocking its fists twice against the dog's head. It let loose a howl, shaking its head madly, then charged the gecko dizzily, throwing him back. Mae snatched him out of the air as he flew past her head, tossing him back into the battle. “Pound it again!” she shouted, adrenaline pumping through her veins, exhilaration making her pant. “Once more should do it!”

 

The gecko screeched, slamming both fists down onto the dog's face with all his strength; with a yelp, Mae clapped her hands over her ears. Little bastard's loud!

 

There was a moan, a soft thump, and then… silence, except for her soft pants and the man's soft sigh of relief.

 

“A-are you all right?” Mae asked him shakily, voice trembling, helping him to his feet.

 

He nodded, shaking brown hair from his eyes, taking his first good look at her. “Oh! You're Mae!”

 

“Um…” Mae crinkled her brow, staring back at him. “Professor… Birch!?”

 

“Eheh…” The professor ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly. “Well. I was out here looking for wild Pokemon and…” He gestured at the limp body of the canine. “Well, I guess I found one when that Poochyena jumped me.”

 

Mae flinched at the sight of it, turning away, picking up the dropped Pokeball, turning to the gecko to distract herself. “We didn't kill her, did we?” she asked, fingers trembling, dread replacing adrenaline. “In you go,” she told the gecko, who obediently vanished into the ball with more pale red light.

 

The professor shook his head, picking up the fainted Poochyena, placing her gently in the tall grass nearby. “No, just knocked it out. Wait—her?”

 

Mae stiffened. “Pokemon have genders,” she retorted. “Can't you tell?”

 

“Can you?” he shot back. Which meant no.

 

“Yes.” She handed the Pokeball back to him.

 

He took it, looking at her very thoughtfully. “Let's go back to my Lab, shall we?”

 

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“So, Mae,” Professor Birch said slowly, handing her a mug of tea, sitting her down in the chair across from him. “Tell me about this… ability of yours.”

 

“Um.” Mae took a sip of the tea, found she didn't like it, placing it down on the table between them. “It's nothing special, really. The—what do you call it?”

 

“Poochyena?”

 

“No, the other one.”

 

“Treecko.”

 

“Yeah, him. Well, I know he's male right at a glance. With most Pokemon, the males have darker colours and different markings from the females. On a female Treecko, I'd think her underbelly and chin would be a paler shade of red, and she might be emerald green rather than forest green. Also, it's just… obvious.” She shrugged. “I didn't even get a good look at the Poochyena or whatever, and I still know she was female. It's not that much of a big deal.”

 

“Actually, it's quite the contrary. It is a big deal,” the professor said, half to himself. “No one's ever been able to do this before, at least not that I know of.”

 

“Well, maybe your research is too primitive,” Mae snapped. “Have you studied Pokemon enough to know about their genders?”

 

“Of course,” the professor bristled. “I know they have genders, but for most people they have to look at their genitals first. You, however, don't seem to need to do that.” He scratched his stubble. “After all, it's `obvious,' right?”

 

Mae stood up sharply. “I think I should be getting home,” she told him waspishly. “Thanks for the tea. It was gross, but thanks anyway.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Birch stood up with her. “This is a scientific breakthrough! If there are more people like you—”

 

“Not as far as I can tell,” she sneered. “Shouldn't you be able to know, what with all your science?”

 

“At least let me give you the Pokemon you used as a thank-you for saving my life,” Birch pleaded.

 

“NO!” Mae shouted, bolting down the long room and out the door. Coming around the corner of the Lab, she nearly crashed right into Brendan.

 

“Holy shit!” he yelped, jumping backwards. “Hi!” She merely growled and brushed past him.

 

“Mae!” she heard the professor call after her. “Mae, wait a sec!”

 

“Go to hell!” she yelled back at him, at them both, vanishing through her front door.

 

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“Um… Dad?” Brendan asked tentatively, tapping his father's arm. “What was that all about?”

 

“She…” his father muttered, eyes wide and round, staring after Mae. “She… she's brilliant!”

 

“Wha—Mae?”

 

Birch pulled his son into the Lab, closing the door gently. His assistant looked at them blandly before going back to his experiment, paying no attention to all the shouting that had been going on a moment ago. The professor led Brendan to the back room, sitting him down in Mae's chair, collapsing in his chair opposite. “She's brilliant!” he repeated in a whisper.

 

For the millionth time Brendan wondered if his dad had finally snapped. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd raved about someone: Norman, the Champion, even Brendan—though those rants usually didn't end well.

 

“What are you talking about, Dad?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

 

“Mae!” Birch sighed, eyes glowing. “She's a scientific phenomenon! She can tell Pokemon genders at a glance! Not to mention the fact that she's an absolutely brilliant Trainer!”

 

Brendan frowned at a tingle of jealousy pulling itself up his spine. “What do you mean?”

 

His father leaned forward, beckoning his fingers at Brendan's Pokeball holster. “Let's see one of your Pokemon.”

 

Brendan picked one out, releasing the Zigzagoon inside onto the table. It looked up at him sleepily; he scratched its ears.

 

Birch pointed dramatically at it. “What gender is that Pokemon?”

 

“Um…” Brendan looked briefly under its tail. “It doesn't have one; it's a hermaphrodite.”

 

“This is what Mae would have done.” Birch looked away, then glanced at the Pokemon for less than a second. “Hermaphrodite,” he said in a shrill imitation of Mae's voice. He threw open his arms, looking ecstatic. “She's brilliant!”

 

“You keep saying that,” Brendan told him, snickering, standing. “That's awesome, Dad, but I doubt she'd submit to testing. Anyway, I've gotta go, Mom wanted me to come home right after I gave you that Zigzagoon.”

 

“Thanks, son.” Birch gave him a grin, recalling the Zigzagoon to the Pokeball. Oh—here.” He tossed Brendan a different ball. “Give that to Mae, would you? She saved my life earlier today and I owe her.”

 

Let him try to give it to her. Maybe she'd listen to him.

 

“Right, Dad,” Brendan smiled, pushing the ball into the empty space on his holster. “See you later. Mom says don't get too wrapped up in work, she wants you home for dinner.”

 

His father didn't even reply, merely stared off into space, drumming his fingers on the side of his chair like he did when he was deep in thought.

 

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Mae paced around her bed, muttering furiously, throwing stuffed animals everywhere. “Who does that bastard think he is?” she snarled, flinging a giraffe at the clock, knocking it down with a crash. “Waltzes up to me expecting me to accept his Pokemon!? Sure, that Treecko was nice and all, but that doesn't mean I want him!”

 

Never again…

 

“I promised! And I don't break my promises! Well, not the ones I make to myself.”

 

She threw an alligator at the window, forgetting that it was open. She swore vehemently as it sailed through and disappeared. A surprised snort came up as Mae stalked to the window to check where it had fallen. Lydia's Ponyta looked up at her in dismayed outrage, nudging the stuffed creature with her muzzle.

 

“Do you mind?” Mae asked irritably. “Toss it back, would you?”

 

The horse-like Pokemon shook her flaming mane wearily, gripped the alligator gently in her strong teeth, throwing it up into the air. Mae leaned out as it flew up past her, fumbling with it as it came down, tossing it over her shoulder back into the room. She glanced back down at Ponyta. “Isn't the fog not good for you?” she snapped. “It being wet and you being fire?” The Ponyta looked around her in surprise, and snorted again. “Whatever,” Mae muttered, turning back into her room with a roll of her eyes at the Pokemon.

 

She clambered under her bed, no longer really that angry. Her chest hurt. She curled up around a pillow that had somehow found its way under the bed and pretended it was Roger.

 

Everything that had happened for days on end had hurt. Physical pain, emotional pain, it didn't matter. It still hurt. Riding in the moving van had given her a headache and cramps from falling asleep in it, sleeping in this new room all alone frightened her—though she'd never admit it in twenty lifetimes—Lydia's actions, her parents' actions, saving Professor Birch, talking to him in his Lab…

 

Looking back on the past two days, Mae realized without much surprise that the only time it hadn't hurt had been when she had written the poem, Rain. Those are the only times when nothing hurts, really. She could just barely see the bulk of the box with all her poems in it, silhouetted against the gloom of her dark room. She tapped her fingers against the floor, a small smile curving her lips at the sight, one of the first since she'd gotten here.

 

I remember filling three whole notebooks with poems about Roger, and twelve about Nelo…

 

“Except then I got Charmander to burn them for me…” she told the pillow quietly, burying her face in it. “Ugh…”

 

There was a light tap on her door; before she could even think about pretending not to be there, she rolled out from under the bed and opened it.

 

Lydia tossed her a small box wrapped in brown paper. “Something from Professor Birch,” she yawned. “Brendan delivered it. I'm going to go to Petalburg and do some training there; I'll be back for dinner, though.”

 

“Bye,” Mae said absently, closing the door in her face. She turned the square around in her hands ponderously, the paper crackling at her touch. “I wonder what it is…” she muttered, sliding a fingernail under the tape on one end.

 

“Hey! Mae!”

 

She jumped, whirling around, peering through her window. A familiar head was poking out of the window on the side of the other house. She knelt before her own window, putting the package down beside her, shooting him a strange look. “Brendan, what the hell are you doing?”

 

He gestured vaguely behind him. “This is my room. It's right across from yours. Cool, huh?” He grinned.

 

“S-sure…” Mae wasn't sure she was comfortable with a guy's window right across from hers.

 

Brendan jerked his chin at her. “Did you get the package?” At Mae's nod, he flapped a hand insistently. “Open it!”

 

“What's in it?”

 

“You'll see when you open it! And you can't give it back, because it's a present from my dad and he'll feel really bad.”

 

“Doesn't that go without saying?” Mae remarked, peeling the paper back from the plain white box. “Ooh, a box. I've been asking for one of these since I was four years old—”

 

“Just open the box, smartass, before I throw something at you!”

 

Mae rolled her eyes at him, pulling open the flaps on the small box and pulling out something round and heavy and horribly familiar. Bringing it out into the light with a growing sense of dread, she flinched and dropped it when she saw what it was.

 

“No!” she yelled across the tiny alley. “How many times do I have to say it? I don't want a Pokemon!”

 

“You can give it a nickname, if you want to,” Brendan told her, ignoring her protests. “Dad says he's indebted to you, so this is his way of paying you back at least a bit.”

 

“He'd be paying me back by leaving me alone!” Mae cried, throwing the box at him with all her strength, forgetting the Pokeball wasn't inside. Brendan ducked and the box glided over him into his room. “Why don't you people get it? Stop trying to make me go along with Pokemon! Never again!”

 

She turned her back on him, slumping down the wall, chest heaving, digging her fingernails into the carpet. The Pokeball seemed to stare at her accusingly, a vicious reminder of what she had lost.

 

“Mae…” Brendan said quietly, so she had to strain to hear him. “Why are you so afraid of them? They're not going to hurt you.”

 

“I'm not,” and her voice sounded thick even to her.

 

“Then prove it.” There was the soft thump of his window closing, and then nothing more.

 

The Treecko flashed out of the Pokeball without her permission, patting her foot with his hand, staring at her with black-slit eyes. “Go away,” she whispered to him. “I don't need you.” He chittered at her, in the seemingly strange and complex language of the Treecko. “I don't need any of you.” He growled, then suddenly lunged forward and dug his teeth into her shin.

 

She let out a loud yelp, leaping backward. He let go easily, staring at her smugly, licking his lips. “You like the taste of human, you little shit?” Mae yelled at him, holding out her hand. “Go ahead and bite me again, I'll just bite back!” She promptly squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.

 

He took her hand in both of his and… hugged it.

 

“Treecko…” Mae muttered, opening her eyes, watching him snuggle into her palm. “Just go back to Professor Birch, okay? Neither of us need each other, got it?” But it lacked venom.

 

He chittered again, scampering up her arm onto her shoulder, giving her a little slap on the cheek. Snap out of it, he seemed to say. She blinked at him, rubbing the sting of the blow from her face. “You just aren't going to leave, are you?” she sighed.

 

“Why are you so afraid of them?”

 

“I'm not afraid of them…”

 

“Then prove it.”

 

“I… can't.”

 

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A/N: There you go, dearies, chapter 3, and a bit of a cliff hanger, too! Wow, these chapters keep on getting longer and longer… This one was mostly to reveal a little bit of what Mae's hiding, and to introduce her ability, both as a Trainer and with Pokemon genders. Ben's gonna appear again later, I think, and I might put Roger in, but I dunno. I like Mae's Treecko, I think he's cool. ^.^

 

 

--Snowhearte