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A Dark Night	By : PokemonPr0nPal3000 Category: Pokemon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 30773 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A DARK NIGHT
by Pippy Pika
- - - - - -
Pippy’s note: this chapter was disturbing to research for. It turned my stomach a bit. This is a warning. Shit gets serious.
Thanks for all the compliments! I do a lot of research for my stories, always have. I feel personally it makes the story better and gives you more ideas in the process. Anyway, this chapter in particular took quite a lot of research before I was done, and a lot of drafts and editing, because we’re going into dark territory and I want to get it right. That’s one of the reasons it took so long.

Warnings: Brock’s still OOC. Who knew?

— — — — — —

Chapter Six: Last Gasp

— — — — — —

Dawn, fully dressed and foot tapping impatiently, poked at the bundle of blankets on the bed.
“Ash, please! I can’t afford to run late! If I miss the appeals—”
The bundle shifted, but didn’t answer. Dawn groaned.
“Still not moving?” asked Brock, yanking on his shoes. Dawn shook her head.
“No! Ash, come on!” She jerked at the blankets, but an iron grip held them tight. Ash was, at least, awake.
“Oh—Pikachu, do something!” she snapped, exasperated. Pikachu nodded and pushed its nose under the blanket. Ash moaned and violently shoved the creature off the bed. Dawn thought she saw a glimpse of a bandaged wrist, but it retreated into the safety of the blankets before she could assert what she’d seen.
Pikachu, more than a little hurt, began to spark dangerously. Dawn held out a restraining hand.
“Ash? What’s wrong?” She said it softly, like a doctor asking a patient what sickened them.
The blankets shifted.
“I’m…sick. Really…really…” A soft, infinitely bitter chortle; more like death’s rattle than laughter. “Sick.”
The word dripped with self-loathing and hatred, and Dawn floundered at how to react to it. She stared at Brock, who looked back blankly.
“Do you…do you want us to bring a doctor?” she asked. “Or, or, cold medicine? I might have some in my bag, from when I got sick the week before last. Maybe it would help—and you should come out from under there! If you’ve got a fever, blankets are only going to make you hotter! And—”
“Just let me alone, will you?!” Ash snarled, voice hoarse but furious. “Just go to your stupid contest and leave me alone! If it wasn’t for you—”
The words died as Ash’s brain caught up with his mouth. He pushed the blankets free of his head, revealing the scratches on his cheeks, the scabs by his mouth, the huge bruise over one eye. He stared at Dawn. Dawn didn’t move, but her eyes glistened with tears.
His face paled. “W-wait—”
Dawn turned on her heel and fled.
Pikachu glared at Ash and ran after her. Calls of “Pikapi pikachu!” echoed down the hall.
Brock picked up Dawn’s abandoned backpack. He turned and gave Ash a quick smile.
“Good job,” he smirked, and left, shutting door and lights behind him.
— — — — — —
“Dawn! Almost time,” said May, brushing her hair back and pinning the hat into place with two hat pins. She checked the veil one last time—it had to drape behind her dramatically and twirl whenever she moved, or what was the point?—then headed towards the door. She stopped when she realized her friend wasn’t following her.
“Dawn?” she asked, turning around.
“Big need to worry!” Dawn cried, brushing her hair frantically. May stared at the girl, who was obviously in an absolute panic.
“Oh, not again,” said a scratchy voice behind her. May turned and saw an orange-haired girl in a maroon tuxedo stride over to Dawn’s side.
“Help me!” Dawn whimpered, and covered her face with her hands.
“Here, give me the brush,” May ordered, and began to brush Dawn’s hair. She shot a questioning glance at the stranger.
“I’m Zoey,” the girl said, correctly interpreting the look. “You’re May, right? The Princess of Hoenn?”
“Huh? Oh, that. Yes.”
Zoey looked at Dawn. “You were just like this at your first debut, Dawn! Are you nervous?”
“I…”
Dawn stared at her hands. May saw her eyes glitter.
“Zoey, I saw a hot curling iron over there,” she said quickly, jerking her head in a random direction. “Will you fetch it for me? This screams curls.”
Zoey sighed. “I don’t think we have enough time for that, but all right, if you want it…” As Zoey left to get the iron, May knelt so she was eye-to-eye with Dawn.
“This isn’t nerves, is it, Dawn?” she asked softly.
Dawn sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes.
“Something happened, didn’t it? You can tell me, Dawn. I can keep secrets, remember?”
“I…” Dawn hiccupped, and rubbed at her eyes again. “Y-you say things, d-don’t you?”
“Things?”
“When, when you’ve got a f-fever or s-something.” Dawn gulped, then continued. May wouldn’t know how to stop her. She was lost in her own world. “Sick. When you’re sick. Say things you don’t mean. P-people do that, don’t they?”
“Sometimes,” May answered softly.
“S-so, if you s-say something you don’t mean, it doesn’t mean anything. B-because you’re sick. It d-doesn’t, it doesn’t count. He didn’t mean it, b-because, because, because you say things. When you’re sick.” Dawn’s eyes were red; tears had started to fall out.
“What did he say, Dawn?” May said, a slight too impatiently. There was only one ‘he’ they could be talking about—she’d seen Brock with Pikachu earlier, and while they’d looked upset and brooding, they hadn’t looked at all ill.
Ash had been absent.
Dawn hiccupped again, and stared at the mirror hopelessly. “They’re all red now.”
May jumped up and quickly brushed Dawn’s hair into a neat ponytail. “You look fine, see? But, Dawn, what did he—”
“I found it!” Zoey cheered triumphantly from behind, making both girls jump. “Although I don’t think we have time to use it. It’s two minutes to curtain.”
“You’re right,” said May crisply, pulling Dawn free from the chair. She put her hands on the girl’s thin shoulders and stared straight into her reddened eyes. “Dawn, listen to me—no, don’t look down, listen. When you get on that stage you forget everything, got it? He’s not worth it!”
Dawn stared at her, shocked. “But…you—”
“He’s not the man I thought he was if he does this,” May snarled. “He’s not worth it. You do this for yourself, you do this to win—you don’t let anyone, anyone, stand in your way!”
Zoey stared between the two girls, well aware she was third wheel to a conversation deeper and darker than she wanted to know about. She wondered who ‘he’ was, and what he had done, and why Dawn looked so stunned at May’s words…
“C’mon, guys,” she said awkwardly. “It’s time to go.”
— — — — — —
“Ambipom! Spotlight!” Ambipom’s twin tail-hands glowed in anticipation of the next attack, and Dawn’s heart glowed right along with it. This was it! This was what had been missing all this time! All those weeks of pain, of hidden misery—all of that faded away in a moment as Ambipom successfully performed each move before the audience and judges. May was right. All she had to do was focus…that was it…focus!
“Focus Punch!”
Ambipom grinned and slammed its twin-tails into the ground, and Dawn almost laughed as the shockwaves shot across the pool, forcing the water to crash in graceful curves before the judges table. She knew now what she was feeling was not even joy—it was sheer adrenaline, pumping into every muscle with a vicious pulse that kept her smiling.
Dawn posed with Ambipom’s tails curving above her head, grinning widely, listening to the applause. She straightened, thanked Ambipom, returned it to its pokéball. And, even though the judges began to gush about how well she had done…
They had done that before.
Nervousness crept back as she fidgeted with the lock on Ambipom’s pokéball, and a familiar weight settled on her shoulders. She had performed…but had she won?
— — — — — —

May watched Dawn walk onstage on the display screen, fingers crossed, nervous for her friend. Dawn stumbled, and May flinched—then Dawn began the performance with a strong Double Hit-Swift combo. May studied Dawn’s face closely whenever the camera panned on her and not her Pokémon. Was she confident? Worried? Frightened? Had she taken May’s words to heart, or had she forgotten them?
Zoey noticed how tense May was. Her posture and tense expression said far more than any words could. What’s going on? she thought, but didn’t dare ask.
“You can do it, Dawn,” May whispered as she stared at the screen. “You can do it.”
“Focus Punch!” cried Dawn’s voice, made tinny from the tiny speakers. May and Zoey watched as shockwaves raced down the pool to crash in curving waves of water before the judging table. The roar of the audience was audible even through the television.
May gave a sigh of relief as the judges began to praise Dawn. However, she couldn’t make her fingers uncross.
May wanted to win, but Dawn had to win. May didn’t know what would happen to the girl’s spirit if she lost.
— — — — — —
Dawn couldn’t look at the monitor as the results were announced. She had her eyes closed and her back turned, her fists clutching at her dress. It was childish, but she was ten years old, and still a child. She couldn’t bear to see if she had lost…
Oh, I shouldn’t have ever done this, she thought, clenching the dress tighter. I’m not ready. I’m going to lose…
“And these are the contestants moving on to the semifinals!” the announcer cheered. “See you tomorrow, folks!”
She had told May to tell her if she won, but she didn’t hear a sound. This was it, then…she’d lost. Again.
What was she doing here?
“Dawn! Dawn!” May cried, breaking Dawn free of her morbid thoughts. “Dawn, look! Look! Dawn, you’ve passed! We passed, all of us! We’re in the semifinals!”
Dawn’s eyes flew open, and she twirled around to stare at the screen. Her portrait stared back at her.
“I…I won…?”
Suddenly, Dawn was fighting tears. She had won. She won! She hadn’t failed! She won!
May seemed to recognize the girl’s discomfort, because she turned away quickly enough to not notice as Dawn rubbed away her tears.
“We’re all going out—that is, Zoey and Brock and Pikachu and me are all going out—to have a big dinner and celebrate,” said May to the air. “I want you to come…look, Brock and Zoey will be waiting by the front doors.” She paused, then said, “I’ve got something to do…I’ll meet you guys there. I know where it is.”
“Okay,” Dawn said wetly behind her, and May left her to compose herself. As she left the changing room she saw a sullen-looking boy with lavender hair walk in. He shoved her aside as he passed her; she glared, but after a moment shook her head. He wasn’t her problem. She had bigger fish to fry.
She knew what she was doing was wrong. She should be going with everyone to celebrate their victories and congratulate Dawn on her win. Instead…
Instead, she was walking off the elevator, unlocking the door with a stolen key-card taken from Dawn’s bag, turning the handle…
The door opened without a sound. May peered inside, but couldn’t see anything—the room was pitch black, with only a little sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtains. For a moment, she wanted to turn around. It felt…creepy, like walking into a vampire’s vault. Then she remembered Dawn’s face before the contest and pushed the door aside, shutting it sharply behind her.
The room was empty, the beds unmade and covered with mounds of blankets, and completely silent. From the bathroom, however, there was the sound of someone retching, painfully. May smelled something weird, almost acidic, waft from under the door. As her eyes finished adjusting to the low light, she heard the retching stop, the toilet flush, the sink run, and coughing. Finally, a thin form draped in loose pajamas leaned itself onto the doorframe, panting. May watched as it staggered onto the bed and buried itself under the blankets.
“Ash?” she asked. That couldn’t have been him, though. The pajamas had hung off the boy’s frame like a coat rack, and even in this lack of light the boy’s face had been too bruised and pale and thin to be his.
The blankets twitched. “D…Dawn…?”
“No,” said May, narrowing her eyes. “May.”
“Oh.” There was a long, thoughtful pause. Then, slowly: “Contest?”
May debated how to answer. A part of her was still furious with Ash, for telling Dawn whatever he’d told her that morning to make her such a wreak, but now the mothering part of her was beginning to worry about him. The sounds from the bathroom had been horrible. And he had looked so pale, tired, when he stumbled to the bed…
No! She had to focus.
“Dawn won her appeals, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said curtly. “No thanks to you.”
A soft sigh.
“I’m…gla—aaauugkk!” A heavily bandaged hand reached desperately for the bedside trashcan just as Ash pushed himself free of the blankets to vomit again. May backed away. The room stank of bile, but Ash couldn’t stop, even after several dry heaves. Eventually the spasms ended, and Ash, after a moment of rest, grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table and rinsed out his mouth. He spat into the garbage can, and rolled onto his back.
“C-can…B-Brock’s bag…over there…” May looked around and saw Brock’s backpack on a chair near the bed. She grabbed it and handed it to Ash, who began to paw around inside until he found a small bottle, where he immediately withdrew and swallowed two red-and-blue pills.
“You’ll throw it up!” May cried. Ash shook his head.
“It’s…fast,” he said softly. “Wh-when I c-can’t…it’s f-fast.” He burrowed back under the blankets, taking both the small bottle and a different bottle from the backpack with him. After only a few minutes the smell of bile grew too intense, so May grabbed a towel and picked up the trash can by the edge. She dumped it all in the toilet, flushed, then rinsed the trash can out in the bathtub and brought it back.
“You might need this again,” she said. She couldn’t say anything else for a while, because she had gotten a good look at him, and it frightened her. Finally: “Where did you…get those marks, Ash?”
There was silence for a while.
“I…got in a fight.” Ash sounded like he was carefully concentrating on each word.
“A fight?! When?!”
“There was…an’ I…I lost…”
“You’re not making any sense!” May snapped. “Was this fight why you snapped at Dawn this morning?!”
“Promised…no fights…” His voice took a dreaming tone. “But I, I, I couldn’t stop them, y’see…I’m sick…s-sick…”
May stepped forward to sit on the bed, and tripped. She yelped, then looked down at what she had tripped on. A Potions bottle. She picked it up, and read the label.
“Ash,” she said carefully, “this is a Pokémon Potions bottle, and it’s empty. Why?”
Another long pause. “Can’t…Pokémon Centers don’t…” There was a distinct slur in his voice now. “Use Potions.”
“You…you know Pokémon Potions are poisonous for humans, don’t you? You remember that, right?”
She didn’t know why she said it. And later, she would regret not pushing him further. As it was, the only sound he made was a noncommittal grunt.
“Dawn…didn’t mean…”
May had planned on coming in here guns blazing, ready to wreak righteous fury on he who had offended her and her friend. Now she looked at the pathetic form hidden under the blankets, and was filled with pity. Ash was doing his penance.
“I understand,” she said. “Please take care of yourself, okay? We all want you to recover soon.” Ash made a small murmuring sound—a thanks, or merely an acknowledgment?
Quietly, she left, shutting the door softly behind her.
Later, she would wonder why Ash hadn’t gone to the hospital, even if he didn’t want Dawn to know about the fight. Later, she would wonder why he was so woozy, so ill, if he had only taken human Potions.
Later, she would blame herself for not stopping it before it happened. Later, she would regret walking through that door, and not asking Ash exactly how many Potions he had had, and which species, and why he had chosen to take an antiemetic instead of letting his body finish purging the poison out.
But this was now. How could she know?
— — — — — —
Dawn began to change into her street clothes after May left the room, still in an adrenaline-flooded euphoric fog. She’d won! She’d been nervous, frightened, that in the end—but—no! She’d won! Everyone would be—Ash would be—so proud!
She knew it, because she knew he hadn’t meant what he said this morning. He couldn’t. People said things when they were sick, and Ash had sounded very sick. He’ll cheer up so much when he hears about this! she thought, giddy already at the thought of telling him. She was certain that he would be just as happy as she was now once he found out. In fact, she should go tell him now—!
Dawn finished dressing and started to fish in her bag for the hotel key—she’d learned to make sure to have everything before she left an area, as she’d become very forgetful lately.
“Where on earth is my hotel key?” she muttered, searching through the bag. She was just beginning to dump out its contents on a counter when she heard someone step into the room behind her.
“So, are you ‘her’?”
Dawn blinked and turned around. Her eyes widened and her body straightened when she saw who it was—that jerk, Paul!
“What’re you doing here?” she snapped, searching through the smaller pockets for the hotel key. She stared in dismay at the contest dress as it flopped off the counter and onto the floor. Now she’d have to fold it all over again! “Ash is sick, if you’re looking for him.”
“I bet he is.” He continued to watch her as she methodically emptied and sorted each pocket’s contents. Dawn bristled.
“Do you have a problem?! Go away!”
“I’m watching,” he said bluntly. “You look pretty useless to me, but I guess he sees something in you that I don’t. He seems to enjoy being around weak things. But that isn’t why I’m here.”
Dawn, having given up on the hotel key, simply began to pack everything back as quickly as possible. “Why are you here?!”
“I need to know about that bast—Brock.”
Dawn paused.
Miss Dawn, you remember me now, right? I need your help very much. I need you to tell me what you know about that young man you travel with—Brock Flint.
“Where did he come from? What excuse does he—why does he travel with Ash?” Paul continued, watching Dawn carefully.
Please tell me what you know, Miss Dawn. Any little detail. Even if you think it’s nothing, it means all the world to me.
Officer Jenny asked me that last night, Dawn thought, confused. “Why—why does everyone care about Brock?”
“Because he’s a—” Paul managed to stop himself in time. “Listen, girl, I need to know more about what he’s doing, or…”
For the first time, Paul lost his look of distain for the world. Instead, he looked almost—lost? Frustrated? Even—desperate?
Dawn wanted to tell him to leave, but his eyes held her back. For once, Paul wasn’t being obsessed with strength, or insulting anyone who disagreed with him. Right now…he looked upset…almost frightened…human.
“He…Brock’s from Kanto, like Ash. They’ve traveled together for a really long time, since Ash started training to be a Pokémon Master…Ash told me once Brock ran a gym in Pewter City, they met because Ash won his first badge ever from him. Brock’s with us because he wants to be the best breeder ever someday…that’s why he can cook so well! And he really likes taking care of Pokémon, I mean, all of our Pokémon are really well groomed because of him…”
Dawn realized she was babbling when Paul’s hard look returned.
“Anything else?”
Thank you very much, Miss Dawn. Is there anything else you remember? Please, try to tell me anything.
“No. He’s the same as he always was! He’s nice, and cheerful, and f-funny, and, and, he helps me when Ash gets—”
Paul’s pupils dilated. “When Ash gets what?”
And has Mr. Ketchum shown any odd behavior? Like…mood swings—does he go from happy to sad very quickly? Or does he get angry very fast? Has he been eating well, sleeping well?
“I…” Dawn’s eyes closed. “He gets pretty…upset sometimes, since That Night. He doesn’t laugh...and he’s always tired…and he doesn’t eat…but Officer Jenny said it’s normal for someone to act like this after something as bad as That Night, that’s why she was checking up on him—”
“Officer Jenny? There’s an Officer Jenny following this? Why hasn’t she done anything?!”
Miss Dawn, I think Mr. Ketchum may do something drastic very soon. I want to stop him before it happens. Please—
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Dawn screamed, both to Paul and Officer Jenny all over again. “Leave me alone! Leave us alone! We’re dealing with it! You will make it worse and he doesn’t need that! Go away!”
Dawn grabbed her bag and the unfolded contest dress and pushed her way to the door. As she passed Paul he grabbed her arm.
“Go ahead and run, girl,” he said softly. “But you’re only making it worse.”
Dawn fled.
— — — — — —
Ash’s stomach hurt, but he didn’t throw up anymore, thanks to the antiemetic pills Brock always kept in his bag for the times when Ash’s gag reflex kicked in once too often. Now at least he could keep the Potions down.
He’d lost track of how many he’d had, and forgotten which kind he’d taken. But, he reasoned in a drugged haze, it didn’t matter that much. The only Pokémon Potions they had were fifty or twenty-five pounds and under, and Ash weighed a lot more than that, even in his weakened state. So, it evened out, didn’t it?
His stomach still hurt, so he downed the rest of the bottle. The barbiturates in the Potion made the pain go away. His head felt fuzzy, but not in a bad way.
The bottle fell from his fingers.
He was so tired…and the bed was so soft…
What was wrong with taking a little nap?
— — — — — —
After dinner, May, Dawn, and Zoey decided to go back to Zoey’s hotel room and relax for a while. Brock didn’t care. He had to check on Ash anyway.
“C’mon, Pikachu,” he said, and unlocked the door,
“You missed a good contest,” he said as he flipped the light switch on. Pikachu, after a moment of hesitation, bounded to the bed, dodging empty Potions bottles.
“She pulled through. The judges loved it.” Brock wrinkled his nose. “Smells weird in here…”
“Pikapi?” Pikachu said softly, poking its nose underneath the blanket.
“Anyway, you missed dinner,” Brock said, holding a bag up. It smelled of Chinese food. “I want you to eat all of it, you hear me? If you lose any more weight—”
“Pikapi?!” Pikachu nudged at Ash harder, its tone now more panicked. Brock paused, and pulled the blanket free.
Ash was curled in a ball, asleep, each breath a shallow gasp. Brock stared, and pressed his fingers against the boy’s jugular vein. His pulse was fast, erratic.
“Ash…Ash, wake up!” He slapped the boy’s face, but there was no response.
“Pikapi! Pikapi! Pi…ka…CHUUUUU!” Brock jumped back in time to avoid Pikachu’s Thunderbolt, but still Ash didn’t respond.
For the first time in two months, Brock felt lost, out of control. He had no idea what to do. If Ash went to the hospital, their relationship might be found out. But if he stayed…
“Pikapi! Pikapi! PIKAPI!!”
May appeared in the doorway. “Brock! What’s with the yelling…?”
Then she saw the still form on the bed, and froze, even as Pikachu’s cheeks sparked for a second shock.
“Stop!” Brock cried. “His heart’s already beating—you could make it stop, Pikachu!”
Pikachu froze, and the sparks disappeared. It nuzzled Ash helplessly.
“Pika…Pikapi…”
“I’ll call an ambulance,” May said shakily, stumbling into the room to reach for the phone. Brock said nothing. Instead, he sat down next to Ash and held one of his hands tightly.
“You idiot. What were you thinking?!”
Dawn stood behind them all, biting her knuckle, staring at the form on the bed.
Miss Dawn, I think Mr. Ketchum may do something drastic very soon. I want to stop him before it happens.
Leave me alone! Leave us alone! He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine! Stop asking me questions! He’ll be better soon so you leave us alone!
Dawn tasted copper. She looked at her hand, and realized she’d broken skin.
I understand. But the situation…Miss Dawn, it may be more intense than you realize. Please…
LEAVE ME ALONE!
“Dawn? Dawn?”
Dawn blinked and realized she was staring into May’s concerned face. May smiled weakly.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, leading Dawn into the hallway. “We’ll—”
“Leave me alone!” Dawn snarled, and pulled herself free. “What do you know?! Have you been here the past two months?! How could you know anything about anyone being okay?! Stop acting like you know more than me! All of you!”
May stood in the hallway, frozen by Dawn’s words. Dawn turned on her heel, darted back into the room, and held tightly onto Ash’s free hand until the paramedics arrived.
— — — — — —

I turned Potions into a controlled substance. You’re welcome.

About 36,000 people kill themselves in the United States each year. An estimated ten to forty times that number try to kill themselves but don't die, either because they don't really want to die or because they don't know how. When it comes to overdoses, now 95% of people who come into the ER on a drug overdose live. Yeah, 95%. (There go your dramatic overdose fanfics OH WAIT.) However, survival isn’t the same as livable; you can easily destroy your brain and major organs in many creative ways by simply overdosing on over-the-counter painkillers. Seriously. This is just Aspirin:
“Aspirin is an acid. It burns the gastrointestinal tract from the inside. It changes the blood's pH level. It sometimes makes the blood acidic, but it also accelerates the brains' breathing control center... thus makes the blood alkaline. Either way, it throws off the metabolic balance among kidney, lung and blood… it produces fever…The fever, in turn, if it goes on long enough to overheat the brain, can cause seizures. You can burn out parts of your nervous system…Aspirin also carries a high risk of gastric hemorrhage. Occasionally people on aspirin overdoses become deaf or develop a ringing in their ears that doesn't go away.”
Tylenol is equally destructive in different ways, but Aspirin in particular gives me nightmares. Anyway, Potion contain barbiturates, which has their own lovely little list of ‘Do Not Want’; I covered most of its overdose symptoms in this chapter, and the rest will be mentioned next chapter. Note a person can build up a tolerance to barbiturates, and it’s a common addiction. Ash already had an addiction to Potion barbiturates at this point, just because Brock uses them on him all the time, but even if you have a tolerance you can still overdose (and people often do).

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A Dark Night