Out Of The Ashes (A Pokémon Fanfiction) ~on Hold

Chapter 3: A Diverted Path

Chapter 3: A Diverted Path

"You what?!" Oak barked, incredulous. The Egg in his hands wobbled and he almost dropped it on his foot, catching it in a flurry of limbs at the very last moment.

"I re-applied for my license," Ash repeated slowly, peering closer at the Egg to determine if it had suffered any damage due to its impromptu tumble. Oak's face quickly underwent a ripple of emotions-anger, frustration, fear, and then worry, all in a matter of seconds. At last, he heaved a gruff sigh and deposited his precious burden on a heated plush cushion, its oblong end settled securely in an indent in the center.

They were standing by the Egg incubators, performing a daily checklist of their conditions, when Ash had nonchalantly confessed his actions taken the day before.

Now, the Professor mopped his face with his handkerchief and sat down on his lab chair with a weary grunt. "I don't know, Ash," he started uneasily. "Don't you think it might be a little too... soon?"

Ash felt his metaphorical hackles rise and pushed them down with difficulty. The sympathy and compassion had been welcome in the beginning weeks following the incident, but now such prevalent use of caution around him was almost too much. A flitting eye and a nervous smile only harshly reminded him of his mother's death, of just why people felt the need to act in such a way around him.

"Gary got his Pokemon and left a week ago," Ash pointed out, putting forth effort to keep his tone level and serious. "And I didn't see you holding him back."

Oak's eyes flicked up to meet his. Suddenly, the fluorescent lighting of the room seemed to illuminate every silver strand in his hair and deepen the lines in his face. A gloomy dullness drew over the Professor's expression like a curtain over a window.

"It's different and you know it," he said, his tone booking no argument. Seeing the Professor's less stalwart side, the aspect of the esteemed Pokemon Researcher that felt pain and sadness, only served to irritate Ash further. What did the Professor have to be sad about? Sure, he and Delia had been good friends and all, but it wasn't like he lost his mother. It wasn't like Gary had died in the raid or something.

"This is what I want," Ash pleaded, his tone cajoling. "You and everyone else say I need to heal, that I need to do something to-to get my mind off it. This is what I want to do! This is my way to heal!"

The Professor swiped his palm over his face again, scrubbing away the tired demeanor. A harder glint stiffened his brow; he looked up at Ash with quiet fortitude.

"Working yourself to the point of exhaustion so that you don't dwell on it is not healing," the Professor told him, "and I fear you would do just that if I let you go now."

"How would you know?" Ash protested angrily. His frustration was building as the conversation spun out of his control. Oak's decision could be read plainly on his face in the grim set of his mouth. Ash found himself experiencing the same red tide of helplessness that had consumed his every waking moment all those months ago.

"Aren't you doing it now?" Oak gestured with his arms, referencing the little miniature lab attached to the back of his house where they were currently arguing. "Helping me with every little project, reading all the Pokemon books I have, tending to the Eggs? You're in denial!"

"Denial?" Ash spluttered. He and Mary had gone over the stages of grief. He knew he wasn't in denial. He wasn't that bad. Right? "Are you serious? Maybe I'm just trying to learn everything I can to be a good trainer!" He paced in a circle, his fists trembling. "I don't understand. I don't get you-you and everybody else got upset when I stayed in the-in my room all the time, and didn't eat, and now you're upset when I'm trying to actually move on?!"