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Something weird was going on. Ash wasn’t sure what, exactly, but he didn’t like it.
On their way to the Orange League Championship, they’d run into a woman with a venomoth Tracey had been really excited about. He’d done his usual sketching, and then he’d sent out his venonat.
And then the woman had said something weird.
“You know, there’s an old belief that if two people have the same pokémon, they’re soulmates,” she’d said, leaning in close.
Tracey had chuckled nervously, taking a step back, and changed the subject as Venonat skittered to hide behind his legs. But when she’d offered them dinner, he’d cast a glance at Ash and Misty and agreed.
She’d asked Tracey for help in the kitchen and he paled, so Ash offered to help too, and Misty quickly did the same. Ash didn’t understand what Tracey was scared of and he wasn’t sure Misty did either, but they weren’t going to leave their friend alone.
The woman had accepted all of their help, but she seemed mainly focused on Tracey, standing very close to him and guiding his hands as he chopped vegetables. “Careful, pretty little thing. We wouldn’t want those nice hands of yours getting hurt.”
Little wasn’t a word Ash would ever think to use to describe Tracey, but he sure did look like he was trying to make himself as small as possible right now, like he was hoping he could disappear into the floor with enough effort.
Misty sidestepped to Ash’s side and whispered in his ear, “We need to keep an eye on her. Whatever’s going on, I don’t like it, and it looks like Tracey doesn’t either.”
Tracey was standing very still aside from how her hands guided his movements, pale and wide-eyed and sweating. Ash didn’t think he’d ever seen Tracey look so terrified.
Maybe they shouldn’t have come here.
Why had Tracey agreed in the first place? Did he not realize he could say no?
Misty was getting more suspicious by the second. This woman had insisted Tracey take the seat next to her at the table, and she might’ve been… flirting with him? But he sure didn’t seem interested. He mostly seemed uncomfortable with the attention, if not outright afraid of her.
“You’ve barely touched your food, sweetheart,” She said as she ran her hand down his arm. “A growing boy needs to eat.”
Her hand trailed lower and Tracey suddenly stood up and practically shouted, a panicked edge in his voice, “I have to go to the bathroom! Excuse me a minute.”
“Down that hall, to the left,” the woman said. “Hurry back.”
He headed that way, and Misty had a feeling he wasn’t going to be in any hurry to get back.
Beside Misty, Ash yawned. Could he really be that tired already? But come to think of it, she was tired too…
From the corner of her eye, Misty saw the woman slip a tiny vial of blue powder out of her sleeve, then empty it into Tracey’s drink. Misty looked over at her, instantly alert. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s grown-up stuff,” she said dismissively. “You’re too young to understand.”
“I sure understand Tracey isn’t interested in you,” Misty retorted. “So why won’t you leave him alone?”
“He’s a teenage boy,” she said. “They all want it, whether or not they want to admit it. I’m doing him a favor, really.”
What did she mean by it?
Whatever it was, she had a feeling Tracey was in danger. Before she left home, Daisy had sat her down and, with uncharacteristic seriousness, warned her about some of the dangers beautiful girls needed to watch out for—one of those warnings was if a stranger had a chance to slip something into your drink, don’t touch it again.
Tracey wasn’t a girl, but this looked like the exact kind of thing Daisy had talked about.
Tracey came back, giving Ash and Misty an apologetic look and pointedly not looking at their host. “Sorry, guys,” he said, returning to his seat and picking up his drink. “I—”
“Don’t drink that!” Misty and Ash shouted at the same time.
“Wh-why not?” Tracey asked.
“Misty saw her put something in it,” Ash said, pointing an accusing finger at the woman. “And she was saying some weird stuff about how ‘every teenage boy wants it even if they don’t wanna admit it.’”
Tracey looked between the three of them, wide-eyed, then took a step back. “Misty, Ash. We need to leave, now.”
The woman sighed. “I was hoping we could do this the easy way, but the hard way it is, then.” Casually, she tossed a poké ball into the air. “Venomoth, sleep powder.”
Tracey had stayed in the shower, water as hot as possible, until the hot water ran out (barely even thinking about how impolite that was), and then for a while after that, but he didn’t think he’d ever feel clean again.
It was incredibly difficult to fight off sleep powder’s effects, but he’d tried. He’d put up all the resistance he could to her touch despite the heaviness in his limbs, no matter how much she’d told him to stop fighting when he clearly wanted this. That there was no use pretending he didn’t with how his body was responding. That he ought to prove he was a man, that a real man would want it. That she was doing him a favor.
He sure didn’t feel like he’d been done a favor. He felt used and humiliated, and like his own body had betrayed him.
He could still feel her hands on him even as he sat alone on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel. The marks she’d left holding him down should’ve been covered up by the time he’d spent scalding and scrubbing himself raw everywhere she touched, but he’d swear he could still see them.
If only he had the skills to look after Ash and Misty like he should have as the oldest of their group. Maybe then he wouldn’t have taken the offer of getting them an actual meal so easily.
Who was he kidding? He’d never been good at saying no. He’d sure said it plenty of times last night, but what good had it done?
He heard a knock on the door and felt a rush of panic, until it was followed by Misty’s voice. “Tracey, are you okay? You’ve been in there for a really long time.”
Tracey wasn’t sure how to answer that. Finally, he said, “Not really, no.”
“Can I come in?” She asked, a gentleness in her voice that was usually reserved for Togepi.
Tracey didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to feel exposed again, but he didn’t want to be alone either. Misty was his friend, and he needed a friend right now. He got up to unlock the door and let her in, promptly shutting the door and locking it again behind her.
She looked at him in horror. “You look awful! What happened?”
“I tried to wash her off of me,” Tracey said miserably. “It didn’t work.”
“What did she do to you?” Misty always acted like she was as mature as could be and knew everything, but Tracey was suddenly reminded she was still a kid. She was innocent, she didn’t understand what that woman had been trying to do (had done) last night. But she’d still tried to protect him. She and Ash both.
But as he knew, it was incredibly difficult to fight off the effects of sleep powder.
“She… touched me, in ways nobody should touch anyone who doesn’t want it.”
Realization dawned on Misty’s face, followed by deeper horror. Maybe she understood more than he’d realized. “My sisters told me a little bit about that before I left home,” she said. “Tracey… I’m so sorry.”
Tracey opened his mouth to say it’s okay, but stopped himself. Nothing that had happened in this house was remotely okay. “Is Ash awake yet? We need to leave, and none of us should be alone in the open.”
“I’ll wake him up,” Misty said. “You get dressed. We’re getting off this island.”
Ash didn’t remember going to bed, but the next thing he knew Misty was shaking him awake. “Ash, hurry up! We need to get out of here now.”
He normally would’ve complained about the rude awakening, especially with how foggy his head felt, but he’d never heard that kind of urgency in Misty’s voice before.
And then he realized why he didn’t remember going to bed. “Is Tracey okay?”
“No,” Misty said. “She really hurt him. And we need to go so he never has to see her again.”
Ash didn’t have to be told twice. He was instantly up, grabbing his hat and nudging Pikachu awake too. As he was tying his shoes, Misty headed off somewhere else.
She returned with Tracey. He looked awful—big, angry patches of red covering his arms and what Ash could see of his chest and thighs, disappearing into his clothes, and a hollowness in his eyes Ash had never seen before. Whatever she’d done to him, it must’ve been really bad.
They wasted no time gathering their things and leaving.
Tracey didn’t speak, barely seemed to even breathe, until they’d made it to the ocean and climbed onto Lapras.
“Thanks, guys,” he said, voice so quiet and ragged Ash barely heard him.
“I wish we could’ve done more,” Misty said.
As Lapras started off, it looked back at Tracey with a concerned whine. Tracey gave Lapras a reassuring pat and a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Ash asked.
Tracey blinked hard. “I don’t know.”
“We’re here for you,” Misty said. “No matter how long it takes you to be okay again. We’ll protect you, and we’ll take care of you. Like you’ve been doing for us.”
“Yeah, nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again,” Ash promised.
Tracey didn’t respond, gazing vacantly at the endless expanse of ocean. “We should’ve filed a police report before we left. She’s not gonna stop at one victim. She’s probably done that before, she knew exactly how to… take what she wanted.”
His voice broke, and he drew his legs up to his chest with a shiver despite the sun shining brightly above them.
Ash went to put a hand on Tracey’s shoulder in comfort and Tracey recoiled so hard he nearly fell off Lapras, barely regaining his balance and wincing as he settled back into position.
“Sorry,” Tracey said. “A lot of places are really tender right now. Please don’t touch me.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Ash replied. “I should’ve realized, it looks like you got hurt really bad.”
“I hate to say it, Tracey,” Misty spoke up, “but you are really hurt, and someone’s gonna have to treat those burns and whatever else you did to yourself so they don’t get infected.”
“I know.” Tracey returned to gazing out at the water.
“Wait, you did that to yourself?” Ash was confused now. “I thought she did that?”
Misty gave Ash a swat. Did she know something he didn’t?
Tracey barely seemed to notice. “It’s complicated, Ash. Misty, can it wait until we’re on land again?”
“Of course,” Misty said. “Just take it easy for now.”
Tracey had barely eaten, slept, or spoken since they left that island. He’d allowed Misty to clean and bandage his injuries, and he seemed to be feeling a little better after that, but he still wasn’t himself.
One day, he’d ripped a page out of his sketchbook (Ash had a feeling which one), crumpled it up, and threw it hard into the ocean, then spent the next hour pacing in circles on the beach, kicking up sand. It was the most emotion he’d shown lately. He hadn’t drawn since.
He was like an empty shell of the person Ash remembered—gone was all his excited rambling, gentle teasing, unending curiosity, and warm encouragement. It had all been there just a few days ago and Ash already missed every bit of it terribly. He could tell Misty did too. She kept trying to cheer him up, coax him into conversation, or convince him to eat or sleep, with no success.
And Tracey used to go for all kinds of friendly contact—high fiving Misty when she found the courage to stroke Venonat, playfully elbowing Ash in the ribs when he made a really bad joke, pulling Ash and Misty into a protective huddle when a storm broke out across the ocean and they were far from any island, solid and steady even when nothing else was—but lately, he hadn’t reached out once and flinched away from any touch. He barely tolerated the amount of contact it took to change his bandages and reapply healing salve.
He looked exhausted too. His eyes were duller every day, and it seemed like he was already losing weight. But he refused to eat or sleep, always saying he couldn’t sleep or wasn’t hungry, even though that couldn’t possibly be true. He hadn’t eaten or slept in days, he was well past the point of needing to.
In their first couple weeks of traveling together, he’d gotten them in the habit of stopping for a nap every afternoon. He’d said that traveling through the tropics, resting during the hottest part of the day saved a lot of energy. He’d been right.
It was no wonder he had so little energy now, when he wasn’t even doing that.
The most contact Ash had had with Tracey in days was just changing out bandages—he and Misty took turns. Ash had never been the best at first aid, but he knew enough to realize Tracey wasn’t healing as quickly as he should’ve been. Even the worst of his injuries weren’t deep, they should be fading.
But then, there were a lot of them.
Ash could feel how tense Tracey was as he rubbed the salve into Tracey’s chest, and he tried to be gentle.
Ash wasn’t going to complain, but it was a little weird having to touch all these vulnerable areas on his friend—the wounds were worst on Tracey’s chest, arms, upper thighs, and lower tummy, for some reason.
What had happened to him? Had he really done this to himself, like Misty said?
Ash got the impression asking was off limits, and Tracey didn’t seem very open to questions—he had that empty, faraway look in his eyes again.
“Ash?” Tracey suddenly spoke up, voice so rough from disuse that Ash barely recognized it. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” Ash asked, as surprised by the apology as he was by Tracey speaking up unprompted for the first time in days.
“I failed you and Misty both,” Tracey said. “Maybe if I’d been better, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Don’t say that!” Ash was still confused about what had happened, but he knew there was no way Tracey deserved it. “I’m not gonna let you talk about yourself like that. Whatever that woman did to you, I know it wasn’t your fault.”
Tracey blinked, looking startled, but didn’t flinch. He lowered his gaze. “Maybe she was right though. Maybe deep down, I wanted her to do those things. Maybe that’s why my body didn’t reject her.”
Ash really didn’t know what Tracey meant by that, but it didn’t matter. He gave Tracey a hard glare. “Stop that! She wasn’t right about anything, I know you didn’t want what she did to you! I saw how scared you were! You’re smart, Tracey—think, would you be this shaken up about something you wanted to happen?”
Something shifted in Tracey’s expression. He seemed to think for a few moments. “I guess not. Thanks, Ash.”
Ash nodded, applying more salve and gently rubbing it into the damaged skin on Tracey’s thighs. He felt Tracey shudder, and wasn’t sure if it was because it hurt or because of the contact. “I just want you to feel better. I miss you, Tracey.”
Tracey didn’t respond for a little while. Then, softly, he said, “I miss me too.”
They were both quiet as Ash finished dressing Tracey’s wounds. Tracey seemed a little less spaced out though.
“All done. How’s that feel?”
“Better,” Tracey said, but he didn’t look better. His eyes were watery.
He suddenly made a choked noise. It took a second for Ash to recognize it as a stifled sob.
“Tracey?”
Ash barely had time to react before Trancey practically flung himself at him, arms tight around him, face buried in his shoulder.
“Hey…” Ash said gently.
Misty had been feeding the pokémon, but she rushed to Tracey’s side. “Oh, Tracey…”
Tracey released his grip on Ash and punched the sand hard. Over and over.
“Tracey, stop! You’re bleeding!” Misty took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “We’re here. You’re safe. You can cry as much as you need to, just please don’t hurt yourself anymore.”
It didn’t seem like Tracey had much of a choice, his whole body shaking as he sobbed into Ash’s shoulder. Like the dam holding all his emotions back had broken and now there was no stopping them from flooding out.
Ash didn’t really know what to do. Tentatively, he patted Tracey’s back. “We’ve got you. You don’t have to deal with this stuff alone, okay?”
This was a lot like those huddles on a stormy sea—but this time, Tracey couldn’t be the strong and steady presence holding them together and keeping them safe. They needed to be that for him now.
Tracey had finally fallen asleep slumped against Ash, too exhausted to avoid it any longer, his hand still in Misty's. Misty couldn’t say she blamed him for not wanting to fall asleep after what he’d been through, not wanting to be defenseless again, but she was relieved all the same to see him finally resting.
And that he was starting to feel safe beside Misty and Ash again. Even if recovering from what happened to him was going to be a long and difficult road (she couldn’t even imagine how much so), he wasn’t alone.
Still, Misty didn’t think she and Ash would be enough to get him through this. Ash didn’t even understand what had happened—it wasn’t Misty’s place to tell him (and Misty seriously doubted Ash knew or would understand what rape was, how deeply and violently their friend had been violated), and Tracey didn’t seem inclined to talk about it.
Ash looked over at Misty, uncertainty in his face. “Do you think he’d talk to my mom or Professor Oak or something?”
“I don’t know,” Misty said, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Tracey—though he was probably dead to the world at this point, in a deep, dreamless sleep. “But it’s worth asking him when he wakes up. I think Daisy would understand too, if he’d be less intimidated by her.”
Ash frowned and tilted his head in confusion, but didn’t ask what it was Daisy would understand. “I just hope he’ll talk to someone. What if he starves to death because he won’t eat anything?”
Misty hadn’t even thought of that, and the idea sent a jolt of fear through her. She was pretty sure it took a long time to starve to death, but… Tracey wasn’t getting better in a hurry.
His physical wounds weren’t healing in a hurry either, and the longer it took them to heal, the more time they had to get infected. And if they got infected, he could get really sick.
She didn’t want to think about what would happen then.
“I hope he will too.”
Tracey bit back a groan. He felt sick—cold despite the near-blindingly bright sun, his stomach cramping from giving into Misty and Ash’s pleading looks and making his first attempt at eating in days. His friends had worried enough about him already, he didn’t want to worry them again.
Lapras was moving steadily, taking them to the next island. There’d be a pokémon center there. He hadn’t slept in a bed since…
Suddenly he was retching over Lapras’s side.
“Tracey!” A hand touched his back.
“Don’t touch me!” The words came out as a feral snarl as he blindly pushed away whoever was touching him. He retched again.
Once he’d brought up everything in his system and blinked his vision clear, he noticed Misty clinging onto Lapras’s shell and looking at him, eyes wide with shock and fear. He realized what he’d done—practically attacked her for trying to comfort him—and felt a stab of guilt. He pulled his knees up to his chest with a shudder, shutting his watery eyes.
“I’m sorry, Tracey.” Misty’s voice sounded far away, even though she was right there “Can you look at me? It’s okay.”
Tracey opened his eyes and had to fight the instinct to immediately shut them again. The sun was too bright. It made his head hurt. He looked over at Misty—he could still see fear in the way she was looking at him. She’d never looked at him like that before. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Misty said. “What’s wrong?”
Tracey didn’t know how to answer. How could he explain that even the thought of that woman had him falling apart? Was he overreacting? All she’d really done was touch him (over and over and over in the most intimate places while demeaning him with words he barely recognized). He shook his head, then rested it on his knees in defeat.
“Tracey?” Misty’s voice was quiet, tentative. “Can I touch you now?”
Reluctantly, Tracey nodded.
Misty’s hand was gentle on his back, running down his spine and back up. His eyes filled with tears again and he tried to blink them away, but they just kept coming, and Misty definitely noticed. With her other hand, she touched his cheek. He flinched at the contact and barely noticed when she flinched back too. “You’re burning up! Why didn’t you say something?”
“Didn’t want to worry you again,” he said miserably. “I’m supposed to be looking after you two, not the other way around.”
“Hey,” Ash spoke up. “We’re friends, Tracey. We can all take care of each other. You’ve done plenty, and you need us right now, and that’s okay.”
“Ash is right for once,” Misty said. “Stop worrying about being a burden, okay? You went through something horrible and you can take all the time you need to feel better.”
Tracey wished he could believe them. He was sure they meant it, but that only made it worse. They were too young for this to be their problem, their responsibility.
“Take it easy, okay?” Misty said gently. “Once we get to that next island, we can find a doctor and get you something for that fever. You’re gonna be okay.”
Tracey nodded mutely. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to fall apart in private so his friends wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces.
He wanted his mom—he hadn’t had that thought in years, and rationally he knew she wouldn’t be helpful. She’d probably say he brought it upon himself by taking off into that dangerous world, that she’d known he wasn’t strong enough to fend for himself, that she’d warned him what people would think if he kept showing so much skin, but he’d just been too stubborn to listen.
A sob tore itself from his throat. He took a breath and tried to stifle the next one. He did not want to do this to Misty and Ash again.
It was too late. He heard Ash’s voice beside him. “Hey…”
“Don’t touch me,” Tracey managed to say.
“I know,” Ash replied. “I won’t, but I’m here for you too. It’ll be okay.”
“We’ve got you, Tracey,” Misty said. “No matter what, we’re here for you.”
It had seemed like Tracey was starting to get better, but now Ash was more worried than ever. Something was seriously wrong.
Sure, Tracey had gotten angry before, but Ash had never seen anything like how he’d reacted to Misty touching his back without warning. Maybe it had been the fever confusing him, but… it didn’t seem like that was all it was.
Ash hadn’t thought a person could sound like that.
Even now, there was hesitation in how Misty adjusted the cold cloth resting on Tracey’s forehead. Misty and Tracey were really close—Ash couldn’t imagine how bad Tracey probably felt about lashing out at her.
Tracey stirred with a whine.
“It’s okay,” Misty soothed. “Take it easy. You’re safe.”
“‘S not okay,” Tracey replied miserably.
“Shh. Just rest.” Misty ran her hand through Tracey’s hair, her fingers working out tangles with practiced ease. “You’ll feel better once your medicine’s had time to work.”
Apparently too exhausted to argue, Tracey went quiet again.
Ash felt a little like he was intruding. But when he’d tried to leave earlier, Tracey had grabbed his hand and asked him to please stay.
Ash couldn’t say no to that. Tracey didn’t ask much of him.
Tracey… what could’ve done this to him?
Tracey’s breathing slowed again, giving way to snores. Ash never used to think he’d miss that sound, but he had. It was a relief to hear it again, even with the occasional whimper in between.
“Mist?” Ash had to ask. “Why’d he react to you like that earlier?”
Misty frowned, like she was thinking something over, before answering. “You know how Pikachu hates being put in his poké ball? Think about how he’d feel if someone forced him into one. How scared and upset and trapped he’d feel. That’s how Tracey feels.”
“Oh.” Ash still didn’t really understand what had happened, but that was all he really needed to know. “Poor Tracey. You think he’s gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Misty said. “I hope so.”
Through his feverish haze, Tracey barely processed what Misty and Ash talked about at his bedside, but he knew they were there, and it was comforting. He didn’t want to be defenseless.
He shivered, and Misty carefully adjusted his blanket. He’d caught snatches of conversation about infection, and stress and starvation and lack of sleep weakening the immune system, and assurances from his friends that they were here for him and they weren’t going anywhere, but otherwise the days passed in a confusing blur as he spent most of his time lapsing in and out of fitful sleep.
He never slept very well or for very long. He’d wake with a start and barely manage to remind himself where he was, that those hands on him weren’t real, that she didn’t know where he was anymore. Misty or Ash, if not both, were always there, and he regretted that his young friends had to see him like that as much as he appreciated that they made him feel safer. He’d eventually pieced together that they were eating and sleeping in shifts, always making sure he wasn’t alone.
Misty reached out like she wanted to comfort him, but always stopped herself. Was she afraid of him now?
“I’m sorry, Misty.”
“I’ve already told you, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Her tone was fondly exasperated, as if she’d told him this more than once before. Had she?
“You’re afraid of me,” he said. “What she did turned me into a monster. I’m… I’m no better than her if I’m hurting you guys.”
“Tracey, don’t be stupid,” Misty said. “You couldn’t be a monster if you tried. The only monster is the one who did this to you, and you’ll never be half as bad as her, understand?”
Tracey wished he could believe what Misty was saying. “She ruined me. If I think too much about it I… I want to do terrible things. Not like what she did, but…”
He couldn’t read Misty’s expression. “Tracey,” she finally said, “I think you need to let yourself be angry more often.”
Tracey wasn’t sure he understood what Misty was telling him. He felt like how angry he was was burning him up from the inside. The things he wanted to say and do to that monster, how viciously he wished he’d fought her off. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve bitten and scratched and put up the fight of a feral beast, he should’ve made her bleed. Why hadn’t he? Why had he given up and let her take him in every way she wanted?
Oh, right. She’d drugged him with sleep powder.
Still, he found himself feeling as furious with himself for letting it happen as he was with her for doing it.
He punched the mattress. It didn’t hurt enough. He punched the wall. It was sturdy, built to hold up to pokémon’s power. It hurt. He punched it again. And again. And again.
“Not like that! You’ll hurt yourself!” Misty grabbed his wrist—no escape, no way to fight back, she had him now—and he jerked away, barely stopping himself from turning his fist on her. He needed to run. He struggled to his feet. His whole body was burning. His limbs felt heavy. He made it a few steps before his legs gave way, and arms were around him.
No! Not again! He thrashed as he tried to escape her grasp, tried desperately to free himself, tried to call for help.
Nobody’s coming to help you, baby. Your little friends won’t be waking up until morning with the dose my dear venomoth gave them.
Do you honestly think they’d still defend you if they could see you now?
You’re mine tonight.
“Tracey! Take it easy, it’s me!” She’d never called him his name. She’d called him sweetheart and baby and pretty little thing and then she’d called him worse things. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t here. He went limp with relief
He heard a gasp before he was eased to the floor.
“Let’s sit down here for a while.” He had just enough clarity now to recognize Misty’s voice, sounding a little out of breath. Of course it was just Misty. “You’re lighter than you were before—too much lighter—but you’re still bigger than me.”
He felt a hot rush of shame. He’d put up that pathetic attempt at a fight against his friend. “Sorry about that.”
“Stop apologizing!” Misty was fully exasperated now. “How many times do I have to tell you you’ve got nothing to be sorry for?”
His eyes stung and he blinked hard. He buried his face in Misty’s tiny shoulder—he’d barely realized she was still holding him steady.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Misty said gently. “You didn’t hurt me, promise. I’m okay. Do you want me to let go?”
He shook his head against her shoulder. He didn’t think he could stay in one piece without someone holding him together.
And Misty wasn’t pinning his limbs to keep him in place until he lost the strength to put up a fight. Her hands didn’t touch the most intimate areas of his body, instead resting unintrusively on his back.
She was warm. He closed his eyes, utterly spent.
The door opened. “Guys? I heard shouting, is everything okay?”
Tracey couldn’t find the energy to raise his head, but he could answer Ash’s question: “No.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Ash said, and Tracey heard him settling down nearby. “We should just skip the championship and head back to Pallet Town.”
Tracey found the strength to bolt upright and look at Ash in sheer surprise. “Skip the championship?”
Ash nodded. “After everything, it just… doesn’t seem all that important.”
“No, Ash.” Tracey didn’t want to do that to him. “You worked hard. You deserve to see it through.”
“You’re having a really bad time, Tracey,” Ash said. “We should get back home. You’ll be safer there, and there’s grownups you can talk to about what happened.”
He had a point, but… “If you give up on something you worked hard for because of me, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
“There’s other leagues,” Ash said. “There’s only one you. It’s okay, promise.”
At his side, Pikachu squeaked an agreement.
“Ash is right,” Misty said. “You’re our friend, Tracey, and you went through something terrible. You’re what’s most important right now.”
“Besides,” Ash said. “You’re not the one who did anything wrong.”
Ash was right. But that didn’t make Tracey feel any better. “Please just think about it a while longer, okay?”
Ash sidled a little closer to Tracey. “If that makes you feel better, okay, I will. But I don’t think I’m gonna change my mind.”
“It’s not like you’re in any shape to travel right now anyway,” Misty pointed out. “Take it easy, Tracey.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about anything except getting better,” Ash said. “That’s all that matters right now.”
Ash gently pressed the back of his wrist against the side of Tracey’s face. He managed to stop himself from flinching, but Ash still looked worried.
Tracey couldn’t muster up the energy to tell Ash not to worry. He curled up on the floor. It was pleasantly cool.
Misty gently guided his head to rest on her lap, running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let himself be soothed by the motion. Misty was the first person in years to do that, and nobody had ever worked the tangles out of his hair so gently.
He finally gave into his exhaustion and let sleep take him.
Misty was relieved to see Tracey slowly recovering—at least physically. His fever eventually broke, and a couple weeks of slowly reacquainting his body with food had at least made it less prone to rejecting anything put into it, even though he still didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Little by little, he was getting some of his strength back, and soon they were off again.
A little of Tracey’s spirit seemed to return too. He spent less time gazing vacantly out at the sea, and even smiled once in a while. It was a relief to see him playing with Togepi like he used to, and to hear Togepi happily chirping in response.
Still, they hadn’t changed course. They were heading for Pallet Town.
Sometimes Misty caught a sadness in Ash’s expression whenever he thought nobody was looking, but he remained insistent that the championship didn’t matter anymore. And when Ash looked at Tracey, who seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders at the prospect of safety, he smiled softly and then his expression hardened into protective determination.
Ash might not be able to understand the details, but he knew as well as Misty did that their friend needed this.
Presently, Tracey was gazing out at the ocean, looking not vacant, but deep in thought.
Carefully, not wanting to startle him, Misty sidled a little closer to his side. “What’s on your mind, Trace?”
Tracey shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just… wondering what’s going to happen when we get to the mainland, I guess.”
“That’s easy,” Ash said. “We’re gonna see my mom, and then bring the GS ball back to Professor Oak, and then we’re all gonna have dinner together.”
“Professor Oak…” Tracey murmured, sounding less excited about the man than she’d ever heard him sound. The Tracey she remembered from before that terrible incident would be ready to explode from excitement at how soon they were going to see Professor Oak.
Maybe he wasn’t improving as much as she’d thought. His hands, once always steady, were shaking.
“Are you scared of meeting him or something?” Ash asked. “You don’t have to be. He’s a really nice guy, he used to take care of me all the time when I was little. He’d take me and Gary out for ice cream. There’s nothing scary about him.”
Tracey nodded, but didn’t relax. “If you say so, Ash.”
On their way to the mainland, Lapras had reunited with its family, and Tracey found he was at least grateful one good thing had happened for someone. Even if it meant saying goodbye to a friend.
They had made it to Pallet Town, and Tracey should’ve been excited to be meeting Professor Oak soon—he’d hoped to ask Professor Oak to hire him as an assistant, had written down months ago what he wanted to say and rehearsed it night after night after Misty and Ash went to bed—but that was before…
He was different now. Dirty, damaged, weak, scared. Professor Oak would probably be disgusted with him, how he’d just let that terrible thing happen and admit you liked it, you little slu—
“Tracey!” Misty’s voice brought him back to the present. She held out her hand. He took it and squeezed—firmly, but not enough to hurt, remembering her hands were smaller and she was smaller—and she matched the pressure. The sensation grounded him. “Breathe, Tracey. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here, and Ash is here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”
Tracey held back a bitter remark about how they hadn’t been able to stop it from happening the first time. That wasn’t their fault. They’d essentially been drugged, just like he was.
It was just that somehow he was the only one that had come out ruined.
The burns he’d given himself trying to wash her off the morning after had left scars in intimate places, places his skin had once been soft and sensitive. He wondered if they’d ever fade, or if anyone he allowed to touch him years into the future would have to see the traces of what she’d done. What he’d done.
Maybe they were ugly enough that nobody would even want to touch him again. At least maybe that would keep him safe.
———
Tracey wasn’t going to ask to be Professor Oak’s assistant. He’d been terrified to have the professor even look over some of the notes he’d taken on pokémon he had encountered journeying with Misty and Ash. It felt like too much. It all felt like too much.
And then the professor asked to speak with him in private.
And then he discovered a new level of fear.
He still said yes. He kept a hand on Scyther’s poké ball, just in case he needed the protection. But Professor Oak smiled calmly.
“Take it easy,” Professor Oak said. “I just wanted to ask you about a couple of things, if you don’t mind. Have a seat.”
Tracey sat down. Professor Oak sat across from him. A respectful distance between them. “What was it you wanted to talk about, Professor?”
“First, I wanted to tell you what I thought of your work, since I didn’t get the chance to earlier,” the professor said. “It’s excellent. You have a keen eye and a skillful hand, on par with researchers twice your age. You’re a very talented young man.”
He felt himself flush at the praise. “Wow, uh, thank you, Professor.”
“Of course,” Professor Oak said warmly. “I do have a question, though. You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with it, but I wanted to check in on you. How are you, really? Ash and Misty have been telling me for weeks that you weren’t feeling well, and I haven’t seen you relax for a second since you got here. Did something happen?”
Tracey didn’t know how to answer those questions. “I… I’m getting better, I think.”
“That’s good,” the professor said, though he didn’t look like he entirely believed it. “Now, I have another question for you. Would you by any chance be interested in becoming my assistant?”
“Becoming your assistant?” Tracey wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly.
Professor Oak nodded. “You’re a very intelligent, capable young man with a good heart. No matter what you’ve been going through, I can see that hasn’t changed.”
Tracey was too stunned, too overwhelmed to speak. Did he really think that?
“It’s okay if you need some time to think it over,” Professor Oak said. “It’s a big decision, I know.”
“Yes!” Tracey finally found his voice again and it came out louder than he intended. More quietly, he added, “I’d be honored to work for you, Professor.”
Professor Oak smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, let’s find Ash and Misty and head for Delia’s. It’s almost dinnertime, and you look like you could use a good meal.”
Tracey tried to enjoy the peaceful night, the comfort of Ash’s home, the familiar sound of Misty’s steady breathing nearby, the pleasant heaviness of being fuller than he’d been in a long time, but anxiety kept him wide awake.
Ash’s rival, the professor’s grandson, was headed to Johto, and Ash definitely wanted to chase after him. Misty would want to go along with Ash, and they had their friend Brock back. Their friend Brock, who hadn’t exactly called Tracey incompetent right to his face, but hadn’t been far from it.
And Brock was right—Tracey couldn’t cook, wasn’t a strong battler, didn’t know how many supplies they needed to not run out before they reached the next inhabited island, and had walked right into danger when a woman with a venomoth and a million red flags offered him a way to take care of his friends.
It was probably only a matter of time before Professor Oak realized how useless and incompetent Tracey was too and changed his mind about the job, and then what would Tracey do? He’d promised Misty and Ash he’d be okay if they wanted to leave. He didn’t want to hold them back anymore. He just hoped they were right and he was as safe in Pallet Town as they said.
And he hoped they would call, that they wouldn’t forget about him even though someone better had taken his place.
“Tracey?” Misty was awake now. “I know you’re awake over there, I don’t hear you snoring. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just… thinking, I guess.”
Misty moved to lie beside him, close enough to speak in a whisper. “Is what Brock said earlier bothering you? Don’t take it personally, he’s just an idiot sometimes.”
How had Misty known? “He’s right, though. I’m not good at that many things, I’m not smart enough to stay out of danger, I’m not strong enough to protect you and Ash, or even myself. And his cooking is way better than mine.”
“Tracey…” Misty offered her hand. Tracey took it. “You’re good at plenty of stuff, but you don’t have to be the most useful guy in the world to be worth something, okay? Me and Ash stuck with you all that time because we like you. You’re our friend. All you ever have to be is you.”
Tracey nodded, trying to believe it. He tried to focus on the warmth of Misty’s hand in his, her thumb running along the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”
“We’ll miss you too,” Misty replied. “I know I’m going to miss having a guy with manners around as soon as Brock sees a pretty girl.”
Tracey did not like the implications of that. “What? Are you sure you’re safe with that guy?”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” Misty said, giving Tracey’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “He’s embarrassing at worst. Probably makes some people uncomfortable, but otherwise he’s harmless. I can rein him in easily enough.”
“If you say so…” Tracey didn’t want Misty to think he didn’t trust her friend, or her judgment. “I’m just being paranoid, sorry.”
“After what you went through, I understand,” Misty said. “Are you really sure you’ll be okay if we go?”
“Yeah, I will,” Tracey promised. “Don’t worry. I’m safe here, right?”
“You are.” Misty squeezed his hand again. “Ms. Ketchum and Professor Oak would never think of hurting you, and they’ll make sure nobody else does.”
Tracey hoped she was right. “You can go back to sleep, you’ll need your rest if you’re leaving tomorrow. Promise you’ll stay in touch?”
“Of course,” Misty said. “I know where to find you, after all—Mr. Professor Oak’s Assistant, you’d better be so proud. Do you want me to stay beside you tonight?”
“I’d like that.”
Misty inched a little closer and Tracey closed the small distance between them, letting Misty tuck her head under his chin. Tentatively, her arms wrapped around his waist. It didn’t make him feel trapped.
“I love you, Tracey,” Misty said. “Don’t doubt that for a second, okay?”
“I won’t,” Tracey promised. “I love you too.”
Finally, entangled in his friend’s warmth, he felt safe and at peace enough to fall asleep.
———
Sam worried about Tracey sometimes. They’d been working together for a few months now, and Tracey showed incredible work ethic… maybe a little too much. He’d throw himself eagerly into any task, and it seemed all he ever wanted to do was work. Sam knew that behavior very well.
It was the behavior of someone running from something.
But any attempt at prompting him to open up just made him close off more, insisting he was okay and making Sam wonder which of them he was really trying to convince. To his credit, he seemed much stronger, healthier, and more confident than he had been when he first arrived in Pallet Town, but still, it was troubling.
Tracey didn’t seem unhappy, at least. Even if he worked too hard, he seemed to enjoy the work he did, his time with the pokémon, and life in Pallet. He smiled and laughed and talked with great enthusiasm, gesturing wildly when he was especially excited.
But sometimes he recoiled away from the smallest touch, sometimes he had intense emotional outbursts out of nowhere, and sometimes Sam caught a glimpse of what looked like scar tissue in places no child should be so badly scarred.
It seemed Sam was catching a lot more glimpses lately—Tracey had hit an impressive growth spurt, and didn’t seem to have noticed yet that his every casual stretch exposed a strip of skin that looked alarmingly like it had been burned. Sam didn’t want to embarrass the boy by pointing it out, but Tracey was definitely going to need some new clothes soon.
But that was a topic for later. Right now, they had work to do.
Working with pokémon had certain risks. Sam had taken countless attacks over the years, and Tracey was already accumulating his own record, but Sam never would’ve predicted the move that would have the worst effect.
Tracey had gone to break up an argument between a butterfree and a vileplume, and gotten caught in the crossfire of what looked like sleep powder. Sighing, Sam prepared himself for having to carry his young assistant to bed, but Tracey seemed to be having an unusual reaction to the attack.
“Not again!” His voice was sharp with panic and he paced in a frantic circle. “Nonononononono… please no.”
Sam had never seen anyone, human or pokémon, be agitated by sleep powder, but that seemed to be what was happening. He took a step towards Tracey, ready to attempt to calm him down. “Tracey, it’s okay—”
“Stay away from me!” Tracey practically snarled as he backed away, wild-eyed, and Sam was taken aback by both the harshness in his usually soft voice and the raw, primal fear his behavior indicated.
What had happened to him?
Sam had seen this kind of behavior before—though usually in cornered, badly injured pokémon—and he knew how to handle it. He made no moves to get closer as Tracey shook his head and wobbled on his feet, clearly struggling to fight off sleep powder’s effects. Holding out his hands to show he held no danger, maintaining a gentle, soothing tone, Sam said, “Easy, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Why, because you’re doing me a favor?” Tracey’s voice was laden with bitter fury even as his words started to blur together. “Favors don’t… don’t… leave people ruined!”
Tracey was not talking to Sam now, he realized, but a memory of something far worse. That sounded like…
No. Sam didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to believe such an unspeakable thing had happened to this sweet young man, this child.
There were no words to soothe a hurt like that.
“Tracey,” he tried. “It’s me, Professor Oak. Not whoever hurt you. I promise you you’re safe.”
Tracey’s response was too slurred to make out the words. He took one final, staggering step back, then dropped. Sam rushed to catch him.
He was out cold. Amidst his deep, slow breathing, he whimpered.
“Don’t worry, sapling,” Sam murmured. “I’ve got you. Nobody is ever going to lay a hand on you again under my watch.”
Tracey woke with a start, heart racing. He looked around wildly in an attempt to figure out where he was.
He recognized colorful bookshelves crammed with sketchbooks and battered paperbacks. Pale green walls. A slightly cluttered desk where a perfect little glass marill rested for inspiration. The real Marill on the bed with him, pressed protectively into his side.
He was in his room. He sighed in relief.
His desk chair had been moved, and Professor Oak sat in it at his bedside. “Good to see you awake. How’re you feeling?”
His head felt a little foggy from the induced slumber, he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his insides were in knots, but other than that? “I’m okay, I think?”
“That’s good,” Professor Oak said. “I was worried. You got caught in some sleep powder, and I’ve never seen such an adverse reaction to it before as yours.”
Oh no.
Hazy memories of what happened before he passed out flooded his mind, and he felt a tidal wave of shame crash over him. The professor had seen firsthand how broken Tracey was now. He probably wouldn’t be allowed to stay much longer. Where would he even go? “I’m sorry, Professor. If you want to fire me, I can pack up my stuff and find somewhere else to live tomorrow.”
“Fire you?” Professor Oak said, sounding like he hadn’t even considered the idea. “I won’t be firing the best assistant I’ve ever had. I’m just concerned for you. You don’t have to tell me any details, but I’d like to understand what brought that on so I can help.”
Tracey knew he couldn’t hide this forever. It was time to come clean. To finally take charge of something after letting his autonomy fall to the wayside for so long.
“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but… I was scared. I don’t think you’re gonna look at me the same.” Tracey took a deep, shuddering breath. “When I was traveling with Misty and Ash, something… happened. There was this woman with a venomoth, and she… she… did things to me. She had her venomoth use sleep powder on me so I couldn’t fight back. I’m pretty sure she laced our food with it too. And I let it happen. I walked us right into it. And it’s been months but I still feel so dirty and so angry that she ruined me and it’s my fault.”
By the time the words were all out of his mouth, he needed to take a second to catch his breath. His chest heaved. He didn’t want to see how Professor Oak was looking at him now.
“Tracey…” Professor Oak’s voice was startlingly gentle. “That isn’t your fault. That could never be your fault, and I would never think any less of you for it. You were drugged and assaulted, and you’re not ruined, you’re hurting.”
“But I…” He blinked back tears. He was not going to cry right now. “She said it was obvious I wanted it from how my body responded, whether or not I wanted to admit it. My body would’ve rejected her if I didn’t, right?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” the professor said patiently. Tracey could’ve sworn his voice wavered a little. Why? “Our bodies respond to stimuli in certain ways regardless of how our minds and hearts feel about it. It doesn’t mean you wanted it or enjoyed it, it just means you had an instinctive reaction.”
Tracey finally had to look at him in surprise. He’d never heard that before. “Really? Is that really true?”
Professor Oak nodded. “Of course. Now, with that in mind, tell me. Does it make sense that you’d be this upset about something you wanted or enjoyed?”
Those words sounded familiar. “I guess not. You know, I think Ash asked me the same thing.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but you should listen to Ash,” the professor said. “That boy can be surprisingly insightful.”
For the first time in a long time, Tracey let out an amused snort. “I’m pretty sure Misty said something like that at least once.”
“Those two are good kids. I’m glad you found each other.”
Tracey thought of Misty and Ash’s dedication to calling at any opportunity, how they always asked him how he was doing and shared their own stories. Misty filling him in on how her tambourine practice was going and asking if he’d started drawing again (he finally had), Ash telling him about all the bug-types in Johto he’d never seen before and a pokémon called smeargle that he’d love, Ash sending the heracross he’d caught over so Tracey and the professor could study it, Misty sending an absurd amount of chocolate (part of her winnings in a competition—she’d told Tracey she sent him the biggest share), how clear it was that they thought about him often. “I’m glad we did too.”
The professor smiled. “Now, how about some tea to settle your nerves, and once you’re feeling better, we take some more notes on that heracross Ash sent?”
Tracey couldn’t deny he was excited about studying Heracross—he didn’t know why the professor had asked him to document this specific pokémon so thoroughly, but he’d been enjoying taking very detailed notes on the rare bug-type’s behavior, preferences, and routines—but right now there was something more pressing on his mind. “Do you really believe it wasn’t my fault?”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Professor Oak said. “An adult chose to hurt you, that could never be your fault no matter what you did or didn’t do. And I know there are no words that can make it okay, but I promise you as long as I’m alive and you’re in my care, it will never happen again. You’re family. I’ll protect you, and if there’s anything at all I can do to make you feel safer, I’ll do it.”
Professor Oak had never been wrong about anything, as far as Tracey knew. Which meant he couldn’t be wrong about this, could he?
Tracey’s eyes stung, and he tried to blink back the tears building behind them again. He sniffled.
“Tracey, my boy… come here, if you want.”
Professor Oak opened his arms. Tracey hesitated for only a moment before falling into them, letting himself be enveloped in warmth. The professor was soft, but solid. Steady.
“That’s it,” he soothed. “It’ll be okay, take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Tracey finally believed it.