[attr="class","mittag"]

Ashley Shepard

[attr="class","mitmain"]

Kepler’d been on the edge of his seat the whole night. He had about twenty different devices set up to comb the Rocket radio waves, waiting to hear news of what was going on. A mess of nervous energy, he didn’t even need his beloved caffeine to keep him awake.
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He’d managed to pick up part of a broadcast by Ashley Shepard and got to the part about ‘heavy damage’ being sustained before he’d lost his mind. Sick with nerves and fear he spent the next few hours in an anxiety-filled loop between puking and sheer destructive impulses. They were going to have to buy new pillows. And maybe a new microwave.
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It's seven hours, 32 minutes, and 16 seconds in when he gets the Message-- it's faded, and scratchy, and it comes in and out, but he does hear it.
[break][break]I... I'm okay. Promise.
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And he's holding his fucking radio transceiver and sobbing.
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I... I've seen enough of this hell for one day. I've done some things I can't take back. I've tried to get over last night, but it's hard to do it alone. It's so hard--
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"I'm right here," he sobs, rocking back and forth, but he can't reply because the signal's not strong enough. "I'm right here, I'm right here--."
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I'm so tired, Kep. I just want to sleep... but I can't come home yet.
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"Why not?!" he wails.
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Love you. Be home soon.
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And, alone in their apartment, Kepler crumbles.
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Eyes red and body squeezed dry of tears, hours later, he finally, finally, finally, finally gets a text from Ash’s number and he’s given himself heartburn from being sick with worry that he doesn’t even hesitate:
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Meet me on the beach.
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“What beach?” he says, and his voice is raspy and broken and he's tripping over himself running around to find a teleporting Pokemon. He holds the phone in both hands and screams at it: “WHAT BEACH, SAWYER?”
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Ding.
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“Slateport Beach.” He reaches a shaky, trembling hand towards Pluto. “S-slateport beach!”
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Pluto just stares at him.
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“Wh-what are you waiting for-- oh for the love of everything that is FUCKING holy--!”
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She doesn’t know teleport so eventually she just scoops Kepler up and flies him there.
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It’s not a particularly good beach day. The dawn is hidden behind a gray sky and a cool shroud of mist overlays everything. But it doesn’t stop Kepler from wriggling free of Pluto’s arms and charging through the cold sand in his bare feet towards a remarkably familiar-looking silhouette against the horizon flocked with smoke-colored clouds.
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“Ash! Ash, Ash, Ash!”
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He skids to a stop, kicking up a spray of sand, chest heaving, and he wants to reach out and grab but he sees all the bandages on his boyfriend’s face and he pauses, hands hovering.
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“A-ash, are you-- okay?” Even though he knows that he isn’t, knows that he can’t be; he doesn’t want to make anything worse. "I got your message. I know you're not okay but-- but where can I hug where I won't-- re-break you?"
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And of course there's going to be a conversation and Kepler's going to get to the bottom of what's gone wrong but he's so incredibly grateful to see Ash alive, breathing, and standing on his own two feet that he could scream and thank all the gods he doesn't believe in.