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It Wasn't Supposed To Be This Way	By : SpiralBreeze Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female Views: 10426 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Eight

A cacophony of sudden harsh sounds penetrated Tracey’s ears, and he realized with startling reality that they were Misty’s sobs. Hastily, he made to disentangle himself from her but with horror his mind managed to register that he was still buried deep inside of her. He pulled his flaccid length out and swiftly tucked it back into his swim trunks as he carefully moved his body off from hers. He didn’t speak, he was afraid to, and all he could do was hang his head in shame as the red head rolled onto her side in a fetal position and cried. He wished to comfort her, place his hand on her back, soothe that broken body, yet he was the cause for her despair. I raped her. Complete and utter awareness dawned on him and tears came to his eyes as well.

“Misty, please... I’m sorry!” His voice cracked and above his head a Wingull called it’s name.

He looked down the beach, the sun was lower in the sky, but the visitors to the shore continued about their various leisure activities, oblivious to the young couple by the rocks.

“Misty, please, look at me!” He begged, his voice reaching a pitch that was high even for a gay man.

Her sobbing continued and Tracey’s heart seemed to plummet in his chest cavity, leaving the repulsive taste of bile rising in his throat.

“Speak to me... please...”

His hands shook as he tried to desperately think of what to do. How could he fix this? What could he possibly say to ease her anguish? One shaky hand reached for her shoulder but he thought better of it. Instead he pulled a towel out of his rucksack and covered her naked and trembling body. He pulled on his t-shirt suddenly hating his own nakedness and sat cross-legged diagonally from her on one corner of the beach blanket.

“Misty.” He whispered, partially hoping that his voice would fail to carry to her ears. Thankfully, she did not respond.

After what felt like a millennia (and could have been for all he knew) the sun was lower still, and even less patrons were on the beach, Misty sat up making sure the towel covered her. She did not look at him, her head hung and she tightened the pure white towel around her small frame. I should go. She wouldn’t want to see him ever again after this. He had violated every- he couldn’t even think of the right words to say, he ruined everything. She had every right to call the police on him, he would gladly turn himself in. He would rather be in jail than have to have a constant reminder of his sadistic deed.

“I’m going to get dressed.”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice.

“W-what?”

“Please... don’t look at me.”

“I-”

“Do- don’t talk to me.” She shuddered, her voice wavering from her previous weeping.

He opened his mouth to speak again, his lips forming a silent ‘o’ just as her lips had, it seemed, in another life time. The Watcher turned around, granting her wish, hiding his face between his knees. He could hear her stand and move closer to him, probably searching for her swim suit and sundress.

“No! No... oh God, no!”

He whipped his head up and around to see her sobbing anew, the towel wrapped around her body, she was looking down at one shaking hand, the fingertips of which were covered in blood. On pure adrenaline alone, he pulled his cell phone from his bag and dialed for an ambulance. Words rushed out of his mouth in a blur, and the operator asked him to stay on the line, he was now within inches from her crumpled form.

“She asked me to check your temperature.” He stated as calmly as he could.

She lifted her tear drenched face, faithlessness written all over it. He tried his best to ignore the look of pure hatred in her eyes and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and cheek.

“No, she’s not feverish, not clammy either- yes- she wants to know if you-” His voice hitched. “Have you felt... the baby move?”

She sniffled and nodded, her hands massaging her rounded stomach, tears still gently falling.

“Yes, she says she has- yes- thank you.” He placed the phone back in his bag and proceeded to gather her clothes. “She said that an ambulance will be here within the next few minutes.”

He handed her the clothes and turned away, where he allowed himself to break down, his shoulders shaking, as he swiped angrily at his shameful tears. If he had somehow hurt Misty’s unborn daughter, he would never be able to live with himself. He swore right then and there that he would take his own life, if he had harmed that baby in any way shape or form. He turned around again to face her when the sound of an ambulance was heard in the distance coming up Route 25.

“I’m sorry Misty.” He choked out the words through his sobs.

She was dressed now, the towel draped over her shoulders like a shawl, probably offering her some level of comfort that the Watcher obviously could not. The young woman said nothing and turned to the sound of the approaching ambulance. As Tracey blinked back his tears, he quickly gathered his things, thinking bitterly of the mermaid portrait as he folded his easel, and strapped it to his rucksack, tucking the drawing pad under his arm. The medical van was driving down the beach to their position, he knew they would at least be easy to find since they were the only ones this close to the rock formation by the cliff. Few words were spoken save for Misty explaining her condition to the EMT. The technicians helped her to sit on the stretcher and loaded her into the vehicle.

“Come sir, you can ride in the back with your wife.”

His brain barely registered what the man had said until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his body being helped up into the back of the ambulance. He did not remember the drive to Cerulean Hospital. His mind was thankfully devoid of the memory. His feet propelled him forward as they wheeled Misty’s stretcher into the emergency room.

“... possible miscarriage...”, was the only phrase his ears picked up and fresh tears flowed down his cheeks. It was all a haze as a doctor came and pulled off Misty’s bottoms, spreading her legs and inserting a speculum, pulled it out then replaced it with his vinyl gloved fingers, simultaneously palpitating her belly. Tracey’s eyes focused on the removal of these fingers, a thick pinkish fluid coated them and he cringed. That was his ejaculate on the doctor’s fingers tinted with Misty’s blood.

He watched as the doctor disposed of the gloves and covered Misty with a sheet, this time exposing her distended abdomen and preparing it for an ultra sound. Please let them both be ok! He prayed to whatever deities were listening, and shut his glistening eyes as the sounds of a fetal heartbeat were heard on the speakers. That drumming drowned out every other sound and Tracey focused on that wondrous noise, clinging to it like a life preserver. The doctor called to one of his colleagues to have a glance at the screen and the young man held his breath. He didn’t listen for words, instead read their body language. They seemed to be in agreement that everything was normal.

“You’re baby’s fine Mrs. Sketchit.” He realized he had only given his name, an honest mistake to which the red head said nothing. “You just need some rest, and we’ll continue to monitor the baby for a few hours as a precaution.”

A nurse came and strapped the fetal monitors onto Misty’s stomach and guided her to lie down. The next thing he knew, the doctor was within inches from him and placing a strong hand on his shoulder. He had to look up at him and all of a sudden he felt like a small child about to be reprimanded for doing something stupid.

“There’s no need to be so worried Mr. Sketchit, it’s alright to have sex during pregnancy, you did nothing wrong. The reason your wife had some spotting is actually very typical, and believe it or not we see it a lot. Because of the increase in blood volume in a woman’s body, there is naturally more blood flow to the cervix. Intercourse can sometimes cause the spotting you witnessed happen with your wife. She’ll be fine.” He patted his shoulder again, and then placed both hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “I’m guessing this is the first time it happened?”

Tracey swiped at his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, well, you did the right thing bringing her here. We’ll keep an eye on her and the baby for now, if it happens again after today just call her regular OB.” He took a glance behind him and continued. “I don’t know how much of a comfort this will be, but when my wife was pregnant with our first, I was exactly like you all nerves, all first time fathers go through the same thing, including doctors with advanced medical degrees.”

Tracey said nothing as the doctor walked away to tend to another patient, leaving him with his disquieting thoughts. He watched as they wheeled Misty into a curtained off section and debated if he should at the very least, sit near her, see things through, be the gentleman she used to know. He stood for some time contemplating, his rucksack still on his back, the drawing pad still tucked under his arm. How much longer would he stand there before someone offered him a chair, or asked him who he was waiting for?

The Watcher sighed and decided to sit in the chair that was next to Misty’s bed. He sat down, placing his things on the floor next to him, noting that the nurse had placed her belongings in a bag on the floor as well.

She was on her side sleeping or perhaps ignoring him, facing the opposite direction, innocent and angelic, hair fanned across the pillow just beginning to dry. He pinched the bridge of his nose and straightened in the chair. The rhythmic beat of her daughter’s heart was heard on the computer on the other side, and a print out was slowly gathering in length on the floor, displaying a series of diagnostics which he prayed meant everything was ok with the child inside her womb. He chanced a glance at her sleeping form again and hoped her dreams were at least free from worry. What could he say to her when she woke up? Should he stay, or go back to the Gym, pack his things, and hike back to Pallet Town? How many lies would he tell when he arrived? He was in too deep, and there was no turning back. One thing he knew for sure, he didn’t deserve such a wonderful woman, and neither did Ash for that matter.

Suddenly the cell phone in his bag came to life and he quickly retrieved and answered it.

“Hey Tracey, it’s Brocko, I’m here at the Gym, where’re you guys?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“Are Misty and the baby ok?” Concern was clearly evident in his voice.

“Yeah... she- we were at the beach and when she changed she noticed some spotting.”

“Ah, well, that can happen. She’ll probably wanna take it easy from now on, lay off swimming till the baby arrives.”

Tracey did not appreciate how much calmer the Breeder was about the situation than he was.

“Yeah.”

“How long do they want to monitor the baby for?”

Why does he know everything?!

“The doctor said a couple of hours, Misty’s sleeping now.”

“Tell ya what, I’ll come and pick you up, and we can come back to the Gym and unload everything.”

Tracey assumed he meant the catering equipment, so he jumped at the chance to perform some mind numbing task, as opposed to just sitting in the hospital waiting with his guilt.

“Alright, I’ll be at the front entrance.”

“See ya in a few.”

He closed the phone and gathered his belongings again. He let the Head Nurse at the Nurse’s Station know that he would be back when it was time for Misty to be discharged, and she promised to inform “his wife” as soon as she was awake. Tracey walked slowly outside and sat on a bench to wait for the Breeder. He needed to make a decision, he felt it best to distance himself from Misty, but he would do what he could to help save the Gym from debt, that much he knew. Since everything for the art exhibition was already underway, he would still have to go through with it. The portrait itself was another matter entirely. Would it remind her of-, he didn’t want to say it, surely it would? Who could he even confide in at this point? He shuddered at the thought of telling Brock, perhaps despite everything he would simply have to talk to Misty.

For the past month since he had arrived in Cerulean, they had shared an intimate relationship, despite his hesitance, despite Misty never wanting for him to actually penetrate her. Why had that been? Was it because he had had sex with men? It was the only answer that made sense to the Watcher. Misty had admitted to using a vibrator and she had allowed him to use it on her as well, so it wasn’t about hurting the baby. Maybe it was the fear that many woman had when faced with a bisexual partner. He had heard it before, hadn’t she asked him the question herself? Furthermore, he had answered honestly, he was more often than not on top.

The sound of a honking horn startled him, and he looked up to see Brock in a brand new Ford pickup truck.

“Long time no see stranger! Hop in!” The breeder called briskly.

In no time at all Tracey was seated in the passenger side seat, his bag securely at his feet and his drawing pad across his lap.

“Alright, let’s get a move on shall we?”

“Actually, do you mind if we stop by the print shop first, I need to drop something off.”

“Yeah sure.” He said as he maneuvered the vehicle out into open traffic. “Last minute picture for the exhibition?”

“Yeah.”

“So other wise how’ve you been?”

“Uh... just, getting everything ready for the big day.”

“Mmm.” They stopped at a red light, and Brock turned to look at his passenger. “Listen, she’s gonna be ok. I can hear it in your voice, you’re really worried. I know you wanna protect her, but let’s be honest, she’s Ash’s responsibility, and he’s gonna owe you one when he gets back, you let him know that.” The light changed and the Breeder’s truck drove on. “So where is this place anyway?”

“Uh, it’s a few doors down past the bike shop.” Tracey glanced at the console and sighed in relief it was just six now, so he had an hour before they closed.

The two friends remained silent until Brock stopped the truck in front of Cerulean Print Shoppe.

“Here ya go.” He shifted into park and turned off the engine. “So, you gonna let me see it?”

“I-”

“Come on Tracey, Misty told me it was a portrait of her in her mermaid costume. It’s not gonna spoil anything if I see it.”

“I guess I can’t persuade you to save it as a surprise?” Tracey chuckled nervously.

“What- let me see the drawing Tracey.” The Breeder spoke with the voice he reserved for Gym battles.

The Watcher sighed and shakily handed Brock the drawing pad. He braced himself for the next words out of the older man’s mouth as he flipped to the page he was looking for, which was not very difficult, as it was the first and only drawing. The Breeder whistled.

“Look Brock, it’s not-”

“Not what? Absolutely gorgeous?”

Tracey gulped and sunk low in his seat.

“I wont print it.”

“Hell yeah you’re gonna print it, this picture’s incredible!”

Tracey glared at Brock wide eyed and wondered if he just wasn’t seeing the fact that Misty was topless in the drawing.

“But-”

“Tracey, they’re called boobs, and it’s ok. I’m sure this is something Misty wanted to do, a lot of women feel liberated during their pregnancy’s, besides, this portrait might save the Gym, and that’s the important thing.”

“Oh.” That shut him up.

“You should be proud of yourself, you did a great job, and don’t worry, just between you and me, I’ve seen ‘em before, way back in the day I had to measure her for her first bra, just don’t tell Ash.”

“I... wont.” That was certainly something Tracey didn’t need to know.

“Yep, our little Misty mermaid sure has grown.” Brock punched his shoulder playfully. “Good thing you’re gay, otherwise Ash would set Charizard on you!” He continued to laugh and then handed him back the drawing pad. “Here, make sure they do it justice.”

Without another word, Tracey opened the door and carefully got out, clutching the drawing pad to his chest. He made his way quickly inside and was greeted by the elderly Print Master with a hug and a kiss on each cheek.

“Ah, Tracey m’boy! Is the portrait of your Sirena complete?”

“Yes, Signore.” He opened to the page and turned it so the Print Master could see. The old man gasped, pressing one ink stained hand to his lips.

“Che bella! Please tell me this woman, she is real yes?” He inquired as he searched Tracey’s eyes for the truth.

“You don’t recognize her? She’s the Gym Leader.” The Watcher asked, and suddenly the old man’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“Misty? My, my, my, she has grown. I used to see her sisters, but she only calls, and I deliver, I have not seen her since she was una bambina.”

“Well, as you can see, she’s gonna have her own bambina.”

“Are you responsible for her condition?” His voice was suddenly serious.

“No!”

“Ah, but you love her no?” The old man had a wicked grin on his face as he wagged one ancient finger at him.

Tracey didn’t answer and pushed the drawing into the old man’s hands.

“Ah, Tracey m’boy, you are a fool.”

“Signore Tappezzare, please don’t.” The Watcher whispered in his best Italian accent and wiped angrily at the tears which were threatening to spill from his eyes.

“It is no matter, I’ll have this ready for your exhibit.” He placed the drawing pad on a nearby table. “I look forward to seeing your work, I’ve invited many of my colleagues, they’re exited. With all these new technologies, there are few real artists, especially your age.”

The young man sighed.

“When can I pick them up?”

“I’ll bring them personally.”

“Thank you Signore Tappezzare, ciao.”

Tracey exited the shop with a wave of his hand, leaving the old proprietor to shake his head with fondness. A Meowth appeared from the back room, and wound itself around the Print Master’s legs and he bent to pet the Scratch Cat Pokémon’s head.

“Nya nya?”

“Ah Leone, Bacco, tabacco e Venere riducono l’uomo in cenere.”

To which Leone the Meowth replied:

“Nya! Nya, nyaaa.” And promptly began to groom his face.

*))O((*

After unloading the various catering supplies from Brock’s pickup truck, the two friends found themselves sitting in the apartment kitchen as the Breeder mixed a cocktail for himself before the pasta and sauce were done. They were waiting for word from Misty to let them know she could come home. As Brock sipped his drink almost carelessly, Tracey decided to have a straight shot of vodka in an attempt to calm his nerves. He wondered if Misty would even call him when she was discharged, and would he want to pick her up if she did.

“Tracey, you want another shot?” The Breeder asked holding the bottle of Gray Goose over his glass.

“Yeah... sure.” He downed the second serving, thankful for the dullness it left in it’s wake. Brock set the bottle down on the table, and took a seat across from the Watcher.

“I can see how stressful this has been for you.”

“Huh?”

“Come on Tracey, you shouldn’t be dealing with this! Listen, (he sighed) I called Ash, don’t tell Misty, I think she needs the shock, I invited him to the exhibit. (Tracey glared at him and took the bottle, pouring himself a third shot and downing it.) Mind you, I didn’t tell him she was pregnant, he’s gonna see that for himself. Those two are both so stubborn, they’re made for each other. It’ll be a big huge wake up call and then they can both get their acts together.”

As Brock continued on, Tracey’s mind began to drift. Yes, this is what he needed, to have Ash come back. Hadn’t he been saying that the past month? With Ash back he could go back to Pallet Town to his apartment in the lab, Misty would marry Ash, and focus on her family. This is exactly what he needed. Perhaps Brock should be named Godfather, after all it’s what Ash would want. Rather suddenly however, he wondered if the Police were on their way to arrest him for sexual assault charges. That’s what he really deserved. He stared at the clock on the wall, nearly nine, and still no word of her condition, surely she had woken up by now and told someone that the man they all assumed to be her husband was merely a pervert who forced himself on her and could have caused her to miscarry.

Brock was still nattering on about something when he decided to pour himself another drink. At least it was the good stuff, and not the cheap homemade Russian shit Professor Oak brought out from his liquor cabinet on occasion. He took small sips from this helping, letting the alcohol roll gently over his tongue, deciding to savor it, already feeling his head begin to swim. God, I’m such a fucking light weight. Perhaps he should have taken the cosmo Brock had offered to prepare him, such a gay drink, and yet that’s what the Breeder believed him to be. Did he even have an inkling that he was sitting across from a rapist? He desperately wanted to push those events from his memory but his body, the very necessity to have her for his own betrayed him yet again and the hated recollection kept playing over and over. Her soft wet salty skin, her deliciously perfect breasts, the very flavor of her was engraved on his taste buds, lingering, unable to be washed away by the drink. How could be possibly forget, the evidence of her pregnancy above his head and then under him as he thrust into her-

“Tracey your phone.”

“Huh?” He shook his head to clear it of this afternoon’s events.

“Your phone, it’s vibrating clear ‘cross the table, and it’s Misty.”

Misty. He slid the bar to the right to answer, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I’m being discharged now.”

“Oh.” What a stupid thing to say.

“Can you, come and take me home?” She sounded on the verge of tears.

“I-”

“Please.”

Brock glanced at him while he was stirring the tomato sauce, giving him a weird look.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes- is... is everything-”

“She’s fine.” The call ended.

Tracey wanted to throw the phone across the room and let it smash into a million pieces. He wanted to take the bottle of Grey Goose and drink the whole damned thing, and then smash the bottle over his head, then instruct Scyther to finally just end his entire miserable existence with one Slash attack. Instead he pressed the button on his phone to turn off the screen, and placed it shakily on the table top.

“It must be awkward for you.” The Breeder’s voice was sympathetic. “Don’t worry man, a few more days and Ash will be here. That SOB better propose too, otherwise I’ll make sure Onix gets him!”

Yes, he had forgotten, wasn’t that the whole point of Ash Ketchum Pokémon Master extraordinaire coming back? Misty needed to be made an honest woman. Choosing to ignore Brock’s solace, Tracey merely stood adjusting his swim trunks in a failed attempt to hide his diminishing erection, he was thankful that the Breeder’s attention was back on the pan of sauce, tasting for the final seasoning.

“I’m gonna go pick her up.” He stated simply.

“Wait, let me drive, she shouldn’t be-”

“I’ll get a cab.”

“Save your money, just let me drain the pasta.” He took out the keys to his truck and handed them to the younger man. “Here, go start the truck, and turn on the AC, she might be more comfortable with cooler air.”

“No.”

“What?” Brock nearly burned himself as he placed the pot back on the stove, water sloshing over and onto the burner where it sizzled to steam.

“I-” Suddenly he didn’t know what to say, the man in front of him stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed. He had to save himself from further suspicion. “You know how she loves the fresh air.”

“Hmm.” Brock turned back to taking the pot of pasta to the sink to drain.

The Watcher sighed and reluctantly obeyed the Breeder’s orders. Once he got into the truck and started the engine, he sat in the passenger seat as the AC ran cool but not too cold. He placed his face near the vent, letting his hair blow back and he began to feel slightly better. Misty had called. She wanted him to pick her up, maybe they could talk about what happened and- and what? Be friends again? Act as if it never happened, agree that is was just a stupid mistake?

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“What?”

Tracey hadn’t even realized that Brock had not only opened the door and was sitting down in the driver’s seat, but had already begun to drive the truck away from the Gym and toward the hospital.

“Uh-”

“Tracey, are you ok?” He asked with concern. “You know I think that seeing Misty all better will make you feel better, that and a good night’s rest.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled and kept his forehead pressed to the vent, his eyes closed, thankful for his headband, without it he would get an awkward and embarrassing series of indentations on his face.

In less than five minutes, Brock pulled up to the Cerulean City Hospital entrance, he turned off the engine and shifted the truck into park.

“You go, and make sure everything’s ok for her to leave.”

The Watcher nodded nervously and proceeded into the main lobby and finally to the emergency area where he found the red head sitting in a chair waiting for him, the towel wrapped around her shoulders like before. In her lap there was a clear plastic bag, which Tracey could see the contents of, a small squirt bottle, and approximately ten sanitary napkins. He hoped that the bleeding had subsided and she wouldn’t need the feminine hygiene product.

Misty stood when she spotted him, quickly hiding the plastic bag under the towel. Tracey didn’t say anything and waited for her to have the first word, but she didn’t speak. The pregnant young woman began to walk back the way the Watcher came and he was left to follow in her wake. She did not walk very fast and he observed that she was beginning to acquire a slight waddle to her gait. Once outside, she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed Brock leaning against his truck, handsome and carefree, arms crossed against his chest.

“Brock!” Misty shouted happily and practically threw herself into his outstretched arms. “I’ve missed you so much! How is everything?”

Tracey was happy to hear the change in Misty’s voice, but she still appeared bone weary.

“Look at you! I still can’t get over you’re actually pregnant! Can I?” He inquired as he lowered his hand to touch her belly.

There was a moment when she hesitated and tightened the towel around herself, which Brock didn’t seem to pick up on. As the Breeder placed his right hand on her stomach, Tracey felt himself growing angry, his fist balled at his side and he had to take a step back seething when Brock began to rub circles on the sizable swell. He watched the Breeder’s hands and her face, waiting to read into her real emotions. She didn’t seem to melt into Brock’s touch like she did when he did it. Good, he thought. Without warning, Tracey felt ashamed again. He was experiencing way too many conflicting feelings in one day. Just what the hell was he going to do? Wait until Ash comes back on Saturday and leave it all behind... leave Misty? Once again the young man felt royally screwed, in the course of a few hours, he had managed to completely fuck up his life, not to mention destroy one of the best friendships he had.

To Be Continued...
- 8
- 9
- 10
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It Wasn't Supposed To Be This Way