Fanfiction Faces of the Mountain [from my Fanfiction account, Darkford]

A/N: a story I posted on my fanfiction account. I think I'll post fanfiction here sometimes, but only if it's complete.

This was it.

Ash took a breath of the frigid air and curled his fingers tightly around Pikachu's back, gripping him to make sure his friend wouldn't be lost in the blizzard. His first friend was determined to see the journey through on Ash's shoulder, and Ash didn't dare stop him, though he'd extracted a promise to let Ash put him in his Pokéball if he fainted. Pikachu, well-trained as he was, however, was still going strong. He was sort of proud, in a way, between worry and determination.

He was eighteen now. He could still barely believe he'd been travelling for eight years - nearly half his life. When he'd come back, for his eighteenth birthday, he was surprised to have his mother send him off immediately.

Mount Silver, his mother had said, is where you'll learn what it means to be a champion, Ash. I want you to go there before the league, and please stay safe.

So he did. Who was he to ignore his mother?

A sudden gale flared, and Ash hesitated a moment before continuing his trek, sinking footfalls into the soft, ever-falling snow. Thankfully, he'd long since gotten used to the cold, or else he might have considered turning back or finding an easier way.

He had to give it to this mountain, it sure was hard to climb.

Then - a shape. It wasn't snow; it was brown, a warm chocolate brown, and as he got closer the shape cleared out into a wooden house. There was a smoking chimney, so someone was living there, for sure. He felt a burst of tentative relief - hopefully, they wouldn't mind him dropping by on his way up. Pikachu let out a happy chirp at the sight, and pointed excitedly, chirping something which long experience told Ash meant there were electric types around - powerful ones.

Ash took off his hat and shook it out, dislodging a pile of snow, before putting it back on his head. He rapped twice on the door and stepped back, nervously stepping from foot to foot to keep the cold from inching up his calves.

There was the sound of footsteps, the tap of sneakers on a wooden floor, and the door creaked open, whining from lack of use.

And his face stared back at him.

It had been a normal day on Mount Silver.

The howling wind grappled at his windows and teased its way through his floorboards and his chimney. Only the hot fire in the fireplace kept it from being ice cold inside the cabin. His Charizard kept the place toasty whenever he pushed himself too hard, grumbling about stupid trainers and even stupider Pikachu. Pika, for his part, seemed not to care that Charizard regularly insulted him - the hardened electric type had long since given up his age-old arguments with the bulky fire type.

As the years wore on in Red's self imposed exile, the number of people who managed to get to the top decreased. It had been eighteen years, after all, nearly half of his life spent at the top of the mountain after winning the league - and his fame had surely waned, after all that time. As such, he got few visitors these past few years - a champion once came up, calling herself Cynthia, and they had a nice chat, and another boy had ridden upon a Pokémon he'd never seen before, which had been a pleasant surprise, but they hadn't returned after that first visit, and life had fallen into a boring routine.

Sighing, Red was just about to finish his tea and head to bed when a solid knock resounded on the door. Immediately, Pika looked up from his place curled up in a small bed in the corner, and he watched with interest as Red carried himself to the door, fueled by sheer curiosity.

He opened the door, and his face stared back at him.

At first, Ash wanted to believe that perhaps one of the questions he'd left unanswered was finally coming to a close.

The man was certainly old enough. His body showed his age not in wrinkles or in his hair (though it had a sprinkling of wintry white), but in his eyes, and the way he simply held himself as if he were older. And even as Ash stared, a Pikachu ran in and hopped onto the man's shoulder, peering curiously at Ash's own companion. It was like looking into a mirror, staring at his own reflection, just many years older and wiser than he.

His eyes darted hopefully back to the man's eyes. He seemed surprised, definitely surprised, and there was a mixture of regret and shock in there, too. The man raised his cap and blinked, bewildered, it seemed, as Ash was.

"Um, hi?" Ash tried.

"Pikachu," Pikachu greeted equally. The other electric mouse responded with a greeting chirp.

When the silence continued, Ash added, "I'm Ash, Ash Ketchum. From Pallet Town. And this is Pikachu! We were hoping-"

"I'm sorry," the man said abruptly.

Ash frowned. The cold wind picked up, and he could feel it clinging to his face, gripping his insides tightly. "What... what do you mean?"

"For not being there earlier," the man continued, sighing wearily. His Pikachu made a gentle, soothing noise, and a rumble of agreement - Ash recognized it as the voice of a Charizard - sounded off in the background, deeper in the house. "You... was your father there for you? He was... I expect he was my father, too."

Ash relaxed. So he wasn't Ash's father. He could deal with brother much more easily. Definitely. Absolutely... Probably. "I... he left, on my sixth birthday," Ash admitted, shrugging. "I never really knew him."

The man snorted bitterly. "He did the same to me, as well," he explained. "Same day, too, my sixth birthday." He pressed a hand to his face and exhaled, looking somewhere between upset and self-hating, his eyes turned down as if to glare at his own feet. "Gods, this is awkward, kid. I can't believe it. He did it again. I have a brother."

"I didn't know I had a brother either," Ash agreed, sending a hand nervously to his neck. "I always thought it was just Mom and me."

There was a short silence. The blizzard seemed to calm a bit, now, counter to the whirlwind of emotions in Ash's stomach. The snow was falling arrow-straight from the sky, rather than spinning or raining in from aggressive angles. It was the gentle counter Ash needed to how raw his own throat felt, choking on words he needed to say.

"Let's battle," he offered gamely, into the silence.

The face which was his own grinned, then laughed. With a smile, he twisted his cap backwards - something so much like himself that Ash couldn't help but grin back.

The boy is smiling.

That, more than anything, is what Red notices first about his clone - the first thing he notices as different. While Red stormed up Mount Silver at eighteen somewhere between teary and enraged, the boy standing before him is smiling like a beam of sunshine - an entirely different warmth than the burning heat of rage which kept Red warm when he got to the top. Otherwise, there isn't much different; they both have their father's face, but the boy has someone else's cheeks - no doubt his mother's - and is ever-so-slightly shorter than Red was at his age. He's bulky, built for adventuring, sure, but he's also got that clumsiness which means he hasn't stopped growing just yet.

Red's pretty sure it's irrelevant. Doppelgangers, however rare, can be found, and do exist - and there are even more that look similar. Red's face, while well-known, isn't exactly uncommon, after all...though, even as Pika runs in and hops onto Red's shoulder, he thinks there aren't many who both had Pikachu starters.

Still, he tilted his cap to get a better view of him, even as the boy greeted him. "Um, hi?" the awkward boy greeted.

His Pikachu also waved a paw and greeted them with a friendly "Pikachu." Pika chirped back, and the boy seemed to grow worried. Did he not know Red's reputation...?

"I'm Ash, Ash Ketchum," the boy continues, pulling another smile seemingly from nowhere, and Red's world breaks. The howling wind, the bite of the cold, the boy's voice - they're all drowned out for a perfect moment.

Another Ketchum. But mother didn't keep the name, and He didn't have any relatives. So - another kid. Another Ketchum. He's about the right age... it's the only way this makes sense.

Dear lord. May Arceus forgive me if I'm wrong, but...

"I'm sorry."

Ash stops in his tracks. Red is chilled to the bone; the change isn't sudden, but it's there; a new wariness, a small frown, the way his Pikachu gives him a calculating stare.

"For not being there earlier," he hastens to clarify. For missing your childhood. For being a coward. For everything.

There's a soft croon in his ear, and Pika, lovely as Pika is, thwaps him on the back of the head. He doesn't even react, nor does he even twitch when Charizard makes a rumble of agreement from within the house, where Red is fairly sure he's sticking his tail in the fire. Ash still looks confused, a bit worried, perhaps even shy, a striking contrast to the personality and exuberance Red knows from their brief time standing in the doorway. "You... was your father there for you?" He asks, daring himself to hope. Maybe this kid - his brother! - wasn't subjected to a childhood like his, worrying for his mother and aiming himself at a dead-set revenge. Red knew from experience that both of those only led to heartache. "He was... I expect he was my father, too."

Instant relief washes over Ash's face. His happy demeanour returns easily, as quickly as taking a breath, and he's smiling again - a bright and happy smile, which Red thinks is a great thing, even if the kid is still hopping from foot to foot like a nervous soldier. "I... he left," Ash admits, shrugging his shoulders as casually as he can. "On my sixth birthday." Red crushes the desire to become furious for Ash, despite knowing that, if their positions were reversed, he would surely want someone to be angry. "I never really knew him."

Red tries. He's not sure, now, what to feel. He's happy, sort of, that the impact his father left on Ash seems to be nothing close to the impact he left on Red and his mother. Despite this, Red has to share it - there's that pull, the awkward smile, the kind face which seems to tug at the teenager which never really left him.

He huffs. "He did the same to me, as well. Same day too," He mused. "My sixth birthday."

It garners little reaction but sympathy. Somehow, Red kind of expected something stronger, but he can't expect that of a stranger. He cups his face and tries to think over his racing thoughts. Stop this, Red. He's not you, no matter how much he looks like it. He's happy, see? Don't ruin it. "Gods, this is awkward, kid. I can't believe it. He did it again. I have a brother." and boy, was that strange to think. His own head was a warring entity, stuck between companionship with a fellow 'victim' and a burning self hate, screaming for him to make his father suffer- but no.

The kid smiles nervously, reaching to the back of his neck just like Red used to when he was nervous. "I didn't know I had a brother either. I always thought it was just Mom and me."

So he had his mother. Good.

Red didn't really know what else to say. Why now? He'd never planned on coming down the mountain, if that was what Ash was here for. Probably not - Ash didn't recognize him at all, and his dad certainly had pictures, as did his poor mother. The storm seemed to stop and watch as the silence stretched on, two boys on opposite sides of a door - but too similar for it to just be ignored.

"Let's battle."

The words. The perfect words to break any silence. Red could feel himself smiling, a helpless reaction which he had no desire to stop. He couldn't help it; the smile, the face, it was all him - him at his happiest, at his best. It was somehow just like looking himself in the eye, and something bubbled in his stomach. He couldn't help it.

He laughed.

The door was faded.

It was different. Somehow, up on a mountain, you can forget that time changes things. Sure, the trees withered and grew, the snow fell, and the world moved on, the seasons changed the length of the days and the time changed the light, but he hadn't felt it until this moment.

Red gulped.

Ash patted his shoulder, shocking him out of his thoughts. "Don't think about it too much," Ash advised. His Pikachu voiced agreement with a firm nod and a stern 'Chu!'. "You'll be fine, Red. I promise."

Red shakes his head, but he smiles nonetheless. Up until a few days ago, he'd figured the days of whimsy promises were behind him. Now, though, it somehow makes sense for Ash to make them. There's a strange trust between them, and Red decided on that first day to capitalize on all the time he had left.

Steeling himself, he follows Ash up the stone-laid path, past the picket fence and the small, well-tended gardens. He knows he shouldn't, but part of him wishes that the Mr. Mime Ash talked about answered the door instead, just to give him a little bit more time to prepare.

He's just not sure how long 'perpared' will take.

Ash gives him a mischievous smile and shoved him gently towards the door - just enough to force Red forwards, until his hand is close enough to touch the doorknob. His hands are clammy, sweaty and uncomfortably warm in a way they haven't been for years.

"Go on," Ash encourages him. "She'll love you, I promise."

Red takes the dive. His hand seals his fate, securing itself on the metal and twisting firmly, and the door gives way easily, as if it's well used. Red looks up -

and there she is.

She's older now. There are lines where she's frowned, and lines where she's screwed her eyes shut. Lines where she's bit back tears and lines where she's cried. But most importantly, as she turns around from talking to the woman who Red presumes is Ash's mother, she has lines where she's smiling.

Smiling at him.

Smiling.

Red takes a deep breath, and dared himself to look his mother dead in the eye.

"I'm home."

A/N:

My computer broke. I got bored waiting for it to be fixed. Have fun with the oneshot I wrote on my laptop.

Edit1: Fixed some spelling and formatting mistakes which cropped up due to not being able to see what I was writing. I'm sorry, you laptop you, but sometimes I really wish I could write on my desktop instead...