"Hi, Gary?  It's me."

I nod, not needing a name to identify this voice, even with all the confusion clouding what's left of my mind.  Of course, since the person in question is talking to me over the phone that nod doesn't do much good.

"Gary?"

I lick my lips before replying.  They're starting to crack.  "Yeah, I'm here."  It doesn't really sound like me when I talk.  More like an old tape recording of...

"Gary?" the voice once again intrudes on my thoughts.  It's actually a rather welcome distraction.  "How are you?"

I have a strange urge to laugh and cry, both at once.  Ultimately, I can't do either.  I just sink to the floor, my facial muscles contorting silently into all sorts of horrid expressions as I attempt to say something in response to that inane if tentatively spoken question.

I fail utterly.

"Gary?"

Well, at least I'm not going to forget my own name at this rate, not like...

"I'm coming over, okay?  I'll be there in just a few minutes."

I nod again before I realise what I'm doing, and when I do I find I can't dredge up the energy to attempt anything else.

"I'll be right over.  Stay right where you are, okay?"

I nod again, not caring anymore how useless an action it is.

"I'll be right there."

He's repeating himself an awful lot.  Then again, it probably wouldn't sink into my skull at the moment if he didn't repeat himself constantly.  Hell, I'm getting to be as bad as...

"Bye."

The phone clicks in my ear.

"Bye."

I bend forwards until my face almost touches my knees.  The phone is still in my hand, as though he hasn't hung up.  The only reason I notice this is because the cord stretches to its limit, and starts to drag the machine off the table.  The vase next to it topples over first, while the phone itself teeters on the brink.  There's glass and water everywhere around me.  And orchids, too.  His orchids...

One of my hands automatically reaches out to the closest of the fallen flowers.  Its petals are smooth against my fingers, but at the same time very distant from me.

I feel so... detached.  Like I'm not real, like I'm moving in a dream that I can't wake up from.  I know it's not a dream, though.  My fingertips offer proof that I'm still alive as it brushes against a shard from the vase.  I feel the pain, see the blood - but the pain numbs too quickly, and the blood dilutes in a pool of water.  The cut will heal shortly, and soon be no more than a memory.  Just a little memory...

I don't want to remember; but I don't want to forget, not like...

"Gary?  My, how you've grown, boy!"

I wish I had grown.

I wish...

"Gary?"

I find myself blinking into chocolate-brown eyes.  Ash's eyes.  They're dark and sombre at the moment, edged in red; that's rather unusual for him.

He's prying at my hand.  I belatedly realise that I'm still holding the phone.  I can't seem to let go on my own, but he manages to loosen my grip enough to take it out of my grasp.  He urges me to my feet, and I follow him blindly through the house, leaving a trail of watery footprints behind me for part of the way.  Next thing I know, I'm curled up on my bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Alone.

I don't want to be alone.

I screw my eyes shut, grab my pillow, and curl even tighter against it, smothering the meagre tears that seep from my eyes in its softness.

I can't stay like this forever.  I know that.  The clock beside my bed relentlessly drives home the fact that time has not stopped, that the rest of the world is still continuing on with it existence.

So must I.

Abandoning the comfort of my room, I make my way through the second storey of the house, wandering aimlessly down each corridor, peering into each room.

This place holds so many memories for me; not surprising considering that I've lived here most of my life.  I can't really remember a time when this wasn't home, actually.  I never knew my mother, and my father is little more than a blur in my mind.  One of the clearest memories I have of him is when we first came to live here, with...

Grandpa...

My eyes are closed.

I make an effort to open them, but it still feels as though I'm not looking at the real world but at some facsimile of it located deep in my consciousness.  I want to go back to my room, lie down and pretend that this morning never occurred other than in my dreams, but my mildly abused fingertips and the dampness I know my pillow holds are stern reminders as to the truth of the matter.  Nothing I say or do can change it now.  I have to face that inevitability; delaying it is a pointless exercise.

A slight movement catches my eye, and I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror at the end of the hall.  Clothing rumpled, hair a haystack, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed - it's hardly the best I've ever looked, but it suits my mood almost to perfection.

Running my hands through my hair a couple of times I make my way downstairs.  A quick glance down the corridor as I descend shows the absence of the glass and flowers I'd left strewn across the floor.  Keeping my footfalls as soft as possible, I confirm my suspicions by peering into the kitchen.  Ash is sitting at the breakfast table, nursing his pikachuu in his lap.  Normally Ash's shadow is as energetic as Ash himself; following that reasoning it's not surprising to see they're both currently as lively as rocks, and I don't mean the geodude variety, either.

I watch for a few minutes as they sit there in a silence that slowly erodes the few nerves I've managed to build up.  I can't face him.  Not right now.  Instead, I slip past the doorway down the hall and out the backdoor, being careful not to let is slam shut as I'm usually wont to do.

Outside, I abandon myself temporarily to the fresh air and countless sounds that inundate my senses - a stark contrast to the quiet of the house.  I let these sensations wash away the eddies of thought in my somewhat conscious mind, and let my feet wander where they will.

I don't get very far before I'm almost knocked to the ground by Arcanine's enthusiastic greeting.  Falling to my knees beside him, I have to smile as he licks my face and nuzzles at my neck and chest.  His exuberance touches upon the aching hole within me as he draws back to peer at me quizzically, his head tilted to one side.  He whines anxiously as my vision begins to blur.

"Grandpa's dead," I tell him.

Dead.

There are so many euphemisms for death, it's like people don't want to face up to the resolution of life.  Passed away.  Left this world.  Kicked the bucket.  It doesn't matter how you say it, the actuality won't change.  Grandpa is gone.  His body may still be lying there somewhere in that hospital, but everything that made him who he was is missing now.

At least, it's missing from his body, I think...

I don't want to look to see if it's true.  I feel guilty about that, but these last couple of years he's just faded away so much, it's hard to remember the vibrant man he was just a few years ago...  I don't want to recall him seeming worse than the last time I saw him...

That's another thing I'm feeling guilty about.  The last time I saw him was five days ago.  Five whole days.  I only visited him once in that hospital, when May was there every single day.  Even Ash and his mother visited Grandpa more than once, and they'd been in the Orange Islands when we called the ambulance...

He knew it was the last time we'd see each other in this life.  I'm almost certain of it.  Hell, he was on the verge of crying when I left.

I should have stayed; but seeing him so helpless...  It had taken four people to move him into the hospital bed, May told me.  I'm sure he must have hated that.  He never liked being dependant on people, as he was at the end.

More guilt.  I'm relieved that it's finally over.  It seems so sudden, even though it's taken so long.  It's hard to believe that he won't be there in the morning to offer comments on how the pokemon are looking today, and what should be done for this or that one...

I'm going to have to run this place alone, now, I realise.  That thought scares me, and dredges up still more guilt.  It's not that I can't do it - I've been practically running the ranch for the better part of three years, now.  Ever since moving beyond the bounds of the house proper became an arduous task for Grandpa.  We converted one of the downstairs studies into a bedroom for him at that point.  The windows looked out over the various corals, so he could always keep an eye on what was going on.

He would always keep an eye on me.

I know he trusted me, but just knowing he was there gave me a kind of failsafe: I knew he wouldn't let me screw up anything too badly.  He almost fell out of the window yelling at me one time when he disagreed with my tactics for treating a shy, wounded tangela...

He'll never shout instructions at me again.

Sighing, I shake my head, patting Arcanine's neck to reassure him.  I don't think he buys it, but he backs off enough to let me start walking again - walking back to the house.  This time I don't bother about keeping quiet, and the door slams shut on its springs behind me as I stride down the hall to the phone.  I hear Ash's quick-paced footsteps on the floor above as I press the 'play' button on the answering machine once again.

Whirr. Click.

"You've reached the Oak residence.  We can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message and we'll get back to you sooner or later.  Probably later, knowing Gramps."

"Gary!"

Laughter.

Beep.

I can see from the corner of my eye Ash almost tripping down the stairs in his haste, and hear his pikachuu chittering excitedly, probably at the roughness of the ride on Ash's shoulder.  He slows at the sound of my Grandpa exclaiming my name in chastising tones.  I almost press 'pause' - but there's no 'pause' button capable of encompassing reality.

"Gary, it's me.  I'm at the hospital.  Grandfather just... he just..."

Sob.  Exhalation.  Inhalation.

"I tried to call you... before, but I guess you're out with the pokemon.  I'll send someone around, if I can't make it back soon.  Love you."

Click.

There's a touch on my shoulder as the sound of May's voice dissipates.  I turn my head to look in Ash's direction.  I can't really say I'm seeing him, though.  He's little more than a blur, along with the rest of the world.  I blink my eyes repeatedly, but in the end have to resort to scrubbing the excess moisture away with the backs of my hands.

"I need to go shopping," I say.  He blinks at me.

"Shopping?" he queries automatically.  "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay," I reply.  "But we've hardly got any food in the house, and people are going to start coming by..."

Paying their respects.  It makes me wonder how much dead people appreciate being thus respected.

"Oh," he says, surprised.  Then determination fills his tone: "I'm coming with you."

It's not like I'm going to say no.  If nothing else, I can use an extra pair of hands to carry stuff with, but more importantly -

I don't want to be alone.  I'd like to be with Grandpa's pokemon, but that would leave May shouldering too much of the burden of consequences, I feel.  Ash at least knows me well enough not to bother me needlessly - and I know he misses Gramps, too.

Grabbing my keys, I head out the door, refusing to yield the keys to Ash.  I'd rather have to think about driving than just sit like a good little passenger right now.  It isn't long before we're screaming down the driveway towards Pallet Town's centre, and  -

I brake rather precipitously in front of a flower shop.  Ash barely has time to wonder what I'm doing before I'm in and back out again with my bundle of orchids.  He doesn't say a word as I hand them to him, merely frowns down at them, his face crinkling as he blinks rapidly to hold back his tears.

I don't cry.  I turn on the radio and keep on driving, planning out snacks and meals for the coming week as we go along.  After all, life goes on.

Even when it doesn't.