The fresh scent of evergreen met with the delightful aroma of baking cookies, clashing to create a most distinguishable, cherished smell. The once bright sky was now washed over a dull gray color, letting the flickering, pleasant hue of the crackling fire light the room as the late afternoon assuredly approached. The stereo made a swirling, spinning noise, and the record that had just ended with the melodious echoing of "Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas . . ." shot back to the first track, giving rise to the spirited jingling of bells.

It was the ideal setting for the perfect mood of relaxation, happiness, and amenity. A frame of mind that anyone could place themselves in, bask in with immense ecstasy and joy, and truly welcome the unmistakably wonderful feeling of the holidays. It was a time for tranquillity, a time for no worries and of repose, of nothing but sheer indulgence and quiet.

If only it were that way . . .

"What are you doing?! Get down!"

"No, I got it! Just hold me up, okay?"

"Ash, you’re gonna knock the tree over! Give it to Brock, please."

"No! I’m up here now, let’s just get it done!"

"Yeah, but the tree is tilting!"

"It’s going to go through the window! Get down!"

"But I almost got it! C’mon, support me!"

"No, get down! Let Brock do it!"

"Uh, wait, look . . . he’s got it."

"He does? Get outta here."

"See? Told ya I could get it up!"

"Yeah, but you almost killed yourself in the process."

"Nah, I didn’t . . . Pikachu, get out of the ornament box!"

"Pika!"

With a slight shake of her head and a deep sigh, Delia Ketchum smiled. It had been this way for the past half hour, ever since she and the three boisterous kids that had popped in for the holidays nearly a month ago had dragged in the seven-foot tree. First had been the ordeal of getting it through the patio doors, then to painstakingly get it to stand. She had helped with that, as she had done many years beforehand, but for the first time in what seemed like ages, she was not participating with the decorating. Ash, Misty, and Brock could handle that.

Not that she minded, however. With her favorite Christmas songs filling the air and performing the ever ambrosial job of making the cookies her son utterly desired, she couldn’t have been happier. The house was alive again, filled with laughter, screams, and excitement. Not to mention, of course, the pleasing sounds of Christmas: the bells, the songs, the swishing of the fir tree’s branches. Delia loved it all, and she was perfectly content as she listened to the tumult going on in the next room. If anything, that was the sound of Christmas.

As Delia plopped another glob of cookie-dough onto the umpteenth sheet, her son rummaged through an old turkey box full of tangled green wires. Ash yanked them out, and stared oddly at the ball of clinking, little lights in his hand.

"Nice lights," Misty commented, giving them a smirk.

Ash sneered playfully at her, grabbed for a loose end, and threw the remaining ball to Brock.

"All we have to do is pull," Ash replied confidently. "They’ll come loose."

Misty grinned, bending over to give her Togepi that sat on the couch a quick little tickle on his front spike. "This will be fun to watch, won’t it, Togepi?"

"Priii!"

Ash gave her a face, but it was harmless. "‘Kay, Brock, pull."

Brock did, and instantly the ball came halfway undone. Tiny knots still dotted along the wire, as did a huge clump in the center, but as the boys continued to prod at it, it was slowly getting there. Misty watched the whole thing with a taunting cock of her eye, ever so often flashing her pearly whites in an amused smile. Ash and Brock giggled as they tugged at the wire, letting out small cheers as each knot came out.

As the pulling resumed, Brock couldn’t help but give narrowing looks to the red-haired girl standing there casually, her arms crossed and her head bouncing back and forth to the lively, yet numbing repetitious tune of Jingle Bells. She was having too much fun witnessing this, he figured, and he nudged Ash’s leg with a swift twitch of his foot.

Ash looked confused at the action, but Brock just smiled as his attention turned to Misty.

"Hey, Misty, we could use your help," he told her, beckoning her over with a wiggle of his finger.

Misty laughed. "What?" she asked, cautiously shuffling over to him.

Ash was still unaware of what was going on in his friend’s mind, but he quickly caught on as Brock made the first pounce, throwing the loose strand of bulbs around Misty and yanking it tight. Misty let out a surprised, yet enrapt screech as Brock ran around her in energetic circles, pinning her arms to her sides tauter with every round. Ash began to laugh rambunctiously, and in a flash simulated Brock’s sneaky little prank.

They ran in opposing circles around the poor girl, who could barely handle her laughter anymore. Misty was all smiles as she struggled to escape the confounds of the Christmas lights, watching Ash and Brock spin about her.

"Guys! Cut it out!" she chortled helplessly, hopping up and down in place as it was the only movement she could make. "Let me out!"

"No way!" Ash sang, now beginning to skip around her, his tongue hanging floppily out of his mouth.

"You had to make fun of us," Brock lamented, shaking his head and looking disappointed.

Misty put on a playful pout and hopped some more. "C’mon, guys!"

But the torture further proceeded as Brock grabbed the plug of the lights, and thrust it into the wall socket. In an instant, Misty lit up with a sparkling array of reds, blues, yellows, and greens, inducing her to growl with agitation. The eruption of laughter from her two friends didn’t help it much.

"Aw, you look so pwetty, Misty," Brock gurgled, holding his face in his hands satisfyingly.

"I think we should forget about the other tree, Brock," Ash smiled. "Let’s prop Misty up in the window!"

Brock nodded. "Heehee, yeah."

"Guys!" Misty groaned, a wearied smile still pulling at her lips. She tried to shake free of the lights, first lightly and then violently, and limped, defeated. "It’s not funny anymore! Let me loose now."

Ash and Brock exchanged a look of question.

"Oh, I dunno, Misty," Brock shrugged. "Me ‘n’ Ash kinda like ya better this way."

"Yeah, we can torture you all we want, and you can do nothing about it!" Ash cried.

"Ooh, what is this?" With a pleasant rise of his eyes, Brock stooped down to scoop something out of the ornament box. Misty nearly gasped when she saw what it was.

Brock jiggled the spiky, green plastic plant in front of his eyes, grinning with every mischievous muscle his face contained. He showed it to Ash, who looked just as scheming as he did.

"Will this do, Ash?" Brock asked of approval, twirling the fake mistletoe around.

"I believe so, Brocko," Ash replied.

Bearing his teeth in an evil grin, Brock edged his way over to Misty, holding the dreaded plant above his head.

"Ack! Get away from me!" Misty screamed, laughing at the same time. She tried to jump out of the way, but the lights wrapped around her restrained her and she nearly tripped. Brock threateningly, slowly came at her. "No, get away! Brock, I mean it! I’m going to kill you when I get out of this! Keep away! Oh, c’mon, Brock! No! I swear, don’t you come near me! I mean it! Brock! Mrs. Ketchum!"

Delia had heard the ruckus from the kitchen, and with a grin, threw her cooking mitts down to the table. She entered the living room and leaned on the frame of the door, looking out at the scene, her arms folded in front of her. Brock stopped his chase and smiled, as did Ash, while Misty hopped around to face her.

"Mrs. Ketchum, help me!" she begged, bouncing around with more giddy pouts.

Delia couldn’t hold in her snickers as she saw the illuminated Misty, and waltzed into the living room. Misty’s eyes were wide with hope, finally glad that she was going to be rescued from the incisive torment. She followed Delia as she walked past her, giving Ash and Brock a nod.

"Look, guys," Delia said gently, "if you insist on doing something like this to poor Misty, you might as well do it right."

Ash and Brock grinned as Delia grasped a handful of shiny, glass ornaments from the box, proceeding to idly attach them to the wire encircled Misty. Misty’s eyes narrowed yet again as her stance as a human Christmas tree brought on more laughs from the two boys, as well as an amused chuckle from Delia. Stepping back to admire her work, she nodded proudly and patted Ash and Brock on the back.

"There you go, boys," she said. "That’s the way you do it."

Misty just grunted, while Togepi laughed gleefully. "Very funny."

Her devious work completed, Delia returned to the kitchen as the piercing dings of the oven went off, signaling that the cookies were done. Ash and Brock had finally relented and let Misty go, and they went right back to work on the tree. As she pulled out the sheet of golden brown cookies, Delia had to roll her eyes as the chaos continued.

"Ash, what are you doing? You don’t put the tinsel on first!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Are you insane? And you’re not even putting in on, you’re throwing it on!"

"It looks cool that way!"

Misty was laughing zealously. "Oh my God, you’re crazy! Hey . . . stop it! Ash, you put the lights on first! And then the ornaments!"

"Says who?!"

"I do! H-hey! Don’t throw the tinsel at me! Oh, that’s it!"

Ash’s laughter joined with Misty’s, and the house began to shake as the pounding of feet resounded.

"That’s it, Misty! Get ‘im!" hollered Brock, who had joined in on the chase, evident in the way the horseplay suddenly doubled in intensity. The laughing turned into screams of amusement, chasing, and playful roughhousing.

As a shove and the clunk of a body being pushed into the ornament box could be heard, Delia cringed. "Hey, calm down in there! I don’t want anything broken!" she shouted, though she was still smiling. It was just something she couldn’t help, as part of her even yearned to go in there and have fun, too.

"Ha ha, your mom yelled at you!" Misty ridiculed, her voice sounding garbled as a result of the guffawing.

The box shuffled again, signifying Ash had been the poor victim of that crash. "She did not, she was yelling at you!"

"No she wasn’t!"

"Yes she was!"

"No she wasn’t!"

"Yes she was!"

"Shut up! She was yelling at both you guys!"

"Pikachu . . ."

The commotion settled, but just as quiet returned and another batch of cookies was placed in a tin dressed with green and red napkins, the phone rang. Delia shook her head, wondering if peace and quiet were ever going to be the features of the night. It chimed loudly above the floating music, and throwing her hair back with a swish, Delia picked up the cordless and shoved it between her chin and shoulder.

"H’llo?"

"Hi, Delia." The temperate voice at the end of the line made Delia’s eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh my gosh, Professor, hi!" she replied, quickly throwing a glance out into the living room. Ash, Misty, and Brock were now calmly passing the lights to each other, wrapping it around the tree with careful precision. She slinked back into the kitchen and held the phone close to her lips.

"Did you get it?" she whispered stimulatedly, feeling herself become jumpy with anticipation.

Professor Oak chuckled at the other end. "It just came a moment ago."

"Yes!" Delia beamed, clutching her fists. Relief, as well as happiness, swept through her. "That’s great!"

"And wait till you see it," Professor Oak said, sounding almost as excited as she was. "You’ll be so pleased."

Delia could hardly contain herself any longer. A smile stretching from ear to ear, she twitched. She had waiting enough, that was for sure, a month or so to be exact, and now that the arrival had come, she didn’t want to hesitate a moment later.

"I’ll be over in one minute," she mumbled into the phone.

"Really?" Professor Oak sounded surprised. "You want it already?"

Delia’s face wrinkled. "It’s two days before Christmas!" she exclaimed. "Sure, I do. I mean, it’s mine, right?"

The professor laughed. "I suppose that’s true. Though it won’t be for long."

"I know," Delia replied. Suddenly, another dinging of the stove sounded, and her head shot up. "All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just need to get these cookies out, okay?"

"I’m not going anywhere," he said reassuringly, his voice in a calming tone. "Take your time."

Smiling, Delia pulled the stove open to be met with a powerful blast of heat and the aroma of freshly-baked cookies. "Okay," she answered. "See ya soon."

"Bye-bye."

"Bye."

Pulling the phone out from under her chin, Delia turned it off, and set the last pan on the stove. She hopped about the kitchen on her toes, taking care of one thing after the other in a hurried fashion. She wanted to get out, wanted to get to Professor Oak’s. Her heart raced, and to her, nothing was going to get done fast enough for her to get out of there. With a sigh, she scraped the last cookies into a plate to set on the table, which the kids would no doubt devour in no time, tore her apron off, and sprung to the living room.

"Hey, Mom," Ash grinned, tilting his head as he watched her grab for her coat. He was crouched down near the base of the tree and adjusting the last string of lights. "Are the cookies ready? Where are ya going?"

"Oh, just to Professor Oak’s for a moment," she replied, zipping her coat up. "I’ll be home before you know it. Cookies are on the table."

"Why you going there?" Ash asked, giving her a puzzled look. He dropped the lights, much to Misty and Brock’s agitation. Misty clearly showed hers by giving him a forceful shove forward. Ash didn’t seem to pay attention.

"I’m getting a Pokémon license."

Ash narrowed his eyes at her. "You are not!" he giggled. "No, why are going there?"

His mother took a deep breath. "We don’t have enough lights, so I’m going to steal some off his bushes," she answered, already opening the door to leave.

"Mom!"

"All right, all right," she grumbled, facetiously aggravated. "We’re going to discuss how to get you to quit training and get you back to school. There, ya got it out of me. Can I leave now?"

"Mama!"

Delia rolled her eyes. "Ash, give me a break! Professor Oak just has something for me that I have to get, okay? What’s the big deal? Goodness, you’re nosy."

Ash blushed, slumping relaxingly. Delia smiled, pulling her gloves on in preparation for the nippy weather outside. "Just keep working on the tree, all right? I want it to be really pretty."

"We will," Misty replied, then giving Ash a sneer. "If someone would cooperate!"

Ash turned to her and scowled. "Hey, I’m cooperating! You just don’t appreciate a good tree-decorator when you see one."

"Well, I would if I did see one," Misty retorted, crossing her arms. She shook her head disgracefully, grinning. "Putting tinsel on first!"

"Hey, cut me some slack!" Ash tried to defend himself. "I haven’t decorated in two years."

Brock stuck his head out from behind the tree where he had been adjusting the window-facing lights. "You know, we could get a lot done if you two would stop bickering about every little thing and actually help me here. I’m the only one doing work!"

"You are not!" Misty shouted, spinning around.

"Hey, I put the star on top!" Ash protested. "Whaddah ya mean you’re doing all the work?"

"Well, I am!" Brock glared. "At least I’m not the tree-decorating enforcer and I’m not the one insisting on bringing out Pokémon to help us!"

"Tree-decorating enforcer?!" Misty fumed. "Why you--"

Sensing another rage, Delia spoke up quickly and soothingly. "Look, I think you’re all doing a good job. It’s looking nice. I’m happy with the way it’s coming along. Nobody’s a tree-decorating enforcer, and no Pokémon, little boy!" she added firmly, pointing at Ash with a knowing look. Ash sweatdropped and scratched the back of his head. "Just have fun with it, okay?"

The three smiled humbly at that, and Delia nodded once. "I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please behave yourselves and be careful." She emphasized the sentence with a deep whisper, holding out her hands restrainingly.

When they nodded slowly, she gleamed satisfyingly. Slipping out the door and into the cold afternoon, she bundled her coat around her snugly and began the walk to Professor Oak’s preserve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold was barely diminishing as Delia walked on, burrowing her face into the collar of her coat while her ponytail blew coarsely in the blustering, frigid winds. She didn’t mind the cold, though. She was brisk in her motion, part of which was to get used to the weather, but mostly because of the excitement that she just couldn’t shake. The thought of what was awaiting her kept a smile firmly planted on her face and her legs moving faster and faster to get to the preserve. The image of Ash’s face lighting up with surprise and joy made her even warmer, wondering if she could possibly wait for Christmas morning. She could almost sense his reaction upon opening his gift, one that Delia didn’t have a problem deciding on, though the decision itself had some thinking to go along with it. It had been a tricky situation, but she knew it was possible, and with the aid she’d received, she could only hope for the best. And the best had come. Now, as Professor Oak’s house loomed in the distance, her anticipation flourished.

Delia was pleasantly surprised to see Professor Oak standing out on his front porch, waiting for her arrival. She smiled and waved upon making eye-contact, and he did the same. The sweeping front lawn between them, Delia began to jog to the house as Professor Oak began to laugh softly.

"Couldn’t get here fast enough?" he teased as she approached him, huffing and puffing from her sprint, large puffs of steam shooting from her mouth into the wintry air.

She nodded, her words swallowed as she fought to catch her breath. Licking her dry lips, she straightened up and managed a chuckle, pushing her tendrils out of her eyes.

The professor grinned patiently as she gathered herself, wondering how something so little could get someone so excited. She was certainly hyped up about this, which was understandable, seeing as how she had been so serious about this since the beginning.

"So . . . do you have it?" Delia finally asked, bringing her gloved hands up to rub her flushed, cold cheeks.

Closing his eyes and smiling, Professor Oak brought the object out of his coat pocket and watched Delia’s eyes glisten. She did a little hop and extended her hands, to which he deposited the bright red and white ball. With as squeak of pure delight, Delia grasped the Pokéball in her hands. It was slippery along her gloves, but she held it tightly, staring at it with utmost amazement.

She looked up with a smile. "I can’t believe you got it," she said astonishingly, shaking her head. "You have no idea what this does for me."

"I’m so glad," Professor Oak nodded.

"Thank you so much," Delia exclaimed, a look of gratitude washing over her glossy brown eyes. "I know how much you worked to get this for me."

Professor Oak dismissed it quickly. "Oh, it was nothing. There are plenty of Houndoom breeders out there, but the tricky part was finding the best." He smiled broadly.

"Oh, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble!" Delia groaned gently, grasping the precious object -- her little boy’s Christmas present -- protectively to her.

"None at all," he replied. "In fact, it was kind of fun -- like a challenge. I really found out a lot about these Houndoom breeders, also. Some were really impressive, but others . . . I just wasn’t satisfied with the way they were raising them, you know?"

Delia nodded. "Well, you know more than me. Why do you think I asked for your help?"

He shrugged, then laughed. Professor Oak watched Delia as she rotated the Pokéball carefully in her hands, gazing at it fondly.

"So . . . is it really in this thing?" she asked, cocking her eye.

"I sure hope so," Professor Oak replied, brushing his hair back. He then smiled and nodded softly. "Yes, it is. I checked, don’t you worry."

Delia continued to stare at it fixedly. "Well, I’ll take your word for it. Just seems so weird that such a big creature could be in such a tiny little ball."

"Houndoom aren’t really that large," said Professor Oak.

"It looked big in the picture," Delia mumbled, recalling the picture Professor Oak had shown her. It was not her decision ultimately to get Ash a Houndoom for Christmas. She wasn’t sure what she had wanted, and naturally felt that the professor was the best person to consult with in that matter. When asked what she wanted, Delia had simply requested a "really nice" Pokémon, one that was strong, beautiful -- one that Ash would love to have. It didn’t take long for Professor Oak to suggest the powerfully built canine, with its striking black coat and poignant battling qualities. He knew right away that Ash would flip over it.

"Would you like to see her?" asked Professor Oak, his voice rumbling with mystification.

Delia looked shocked. "It’s a her?"

"Yup. I did have a choice between the male and female, but I’ve heard that the males might be aggressive. I figured you wouldn’t want that for Ash."

Delia shook her head. "You know me well," she snickered. "No, that’s perfectly fine."

"Wanna take a look?"

Recoiling, Delia ground her teeth. "I dunno. I think we better keep her in there for now. I don’t know if I’m ready to see this monster I’m giving my son."

"Heh, it’s hardly a monster, Delia," sighed Professor Oak. "I’ve had her out since she’s arrived. Beautiful creature. And very calm, I might add. I would have imagined Houndoom to be a little wild, but surprisingly she was quite the opposite."

"So she looks good?"

Professor Oak closed his eyes easily and nodded. "More than good. You have an amazing Pokémon there. Ash is going to be thrilled."

Beaming, Delia took a deep breath. She squinted a bit nervously, pursing her lips. "So . . ." she trailed off apprehensively, shuffling the slippery ball from hand to hand, "how much did it come to?"

She braced herself quite visibly, causing Professor Oak to chuckle softly. Though she didn’t publicize much on it, he knew she was concerned about the price of such a valuable creature. She may not have wanted to make a big deal of it, but he knew better. Professor Oak had also looked for a breeder who was willing to compromise, to find the best Houndoom he possibly could for the most reasonable price. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been difficult.

"Don’t worry," he reassured her. "I think it was very reasonable."

"You didn’t go over four hundred, did you?" she cringed, preparing for the answer. Professor Oak’s soft face told otherwise.

"Nope," he replied. "It came to three twenty."

Delia’s eyes rose in stupefaction. "You’re kidding?!" she exclaimed. "Three twenty? You told me that they came three fifty the cheapest!"

"Well, that’s what I thought!" he replied outrageously. "It’s funny what you’ll find out there. Look at that, you got a wonderful Pokémon for a fabulous price." He smiled slyly. "Ain’t I great?"

She laughed. "You sure are! Oh, my . . . wow."

"Does that make you happy?" Professor Oak asked, his voice peaking with daintiness.

Looking up at him, she nodded. "You have no idea. Oh, this . . . this is going to be the greatest Christmas, I just know it!"

"I’m sure it will be."

Delia fell silent for a moment, staring at the Pokéball once again in her hands before stuffing it into her pocket delicately. "I’m just so happy that Ash is finally home for Christmas. Two years I haven’t had him here. That’s why I want to make everything perfect."

Professor Oak nodded. "It’ll be perfect. You sure are going to make Ash’s day on Christmas."

"I hope so."

"Oh, please," Professor Oak gently scowled. "I wish my mother had given me a Pokémon for Christmas when I was Ash’s age! And a rare one like a Houndoom to boot! He’s going to worship you."

"Oh come on, it’s not that great."

"I’d beg to differ," Professor Oak said, lightly jabbing her shoulder with his finger. She laughed and shrank away, retreating her face back into her coat as another vicious wind blew, its bite hard. Her eyes shut and she shivered, causing Professor Oak to smile compassionately.

"You should be getting home," he told her gently. "It’s going to get really cold soon."

Delia brought her chin out from her coat. "Yeah, I really should, you’re right." She turned her head towards the direction of her home. "Besides, I should make sure my house is still standing."

Giving her a face, Professor Oak uttered a confused laugh. "Huh?"

Delia giggled. "Oh, those crazy kids! They’re at home decorating the tree right now, but it’s amazing they haven’t killed each other yet."

"Rowdy?"

"I think they’ve had too much eggnog," she muttered, shaking her head. "They have more fun decorating themselves."

"Well, I could still use some help with my decorating," said Professor Oak. "Tracey’s already fed up with it. Maybe you can send them over when they’re done by you."

Delia rolled her eyes, shooting him an incredulous smirk. "Please, you don’t want them by you right now," she laughed loudly. "Though I won’t mind getting rid of them for a second. I could use a nap."

Grinning, Professor Oak reached up to rub his temples. "I thought Brock and Misty were going home?"

Delia nodded. "Yeah, but not until Christmas morning. They’re going to stick around for Christmas Eve."

"That’s nice," Professor Oak said. "Tracey’s doing practically the same thing, but he’s leaving tomorrow. He told me to tell you that he might stop by later, by the way."

"Just what I need," Delia groaned playfully, "more kids at my house!"

"He’s got presents, though," Professor Oak babbled enticingly, winking.

"Well, in that case . . ."

They laughed, just as a cold wind whipped around them yet again, instantly rushing Delia back to the warmth of her coat. Giving each other wild, similar looks, that clinched it.

"Better get home." Professor Oak shooed her away with waves of his hands.

Delia nodded, half her face still hidden behind her coat. She brought her mouth out momentarily. "All right. Bye, Professor," she said. "Thanks again."

"Any time," Professor Oak replied, winking. "Glad to be of service. Now get home to those kids."

"‘Kay," Delia mumbled, her face sunken into her coat again. "And Tracey’s always welcome, you know that."

"I know. Have fun," he called out as she made her way away from the house, a bit of tease in his tone. Delia flipped around to give him a playfully crass glare, then continued on her way, her beloved prize gripped ardently in her hand, deep within her pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Delia found herself jogging the remaining hundred yards back to her house, the cold finally getting to her numbed limbs. She wanted to get into her warm home to relieve herself of the wicked cold, and not to mention get her little Houndoom to a safe, cozy place. She wasn’t sure where she was going to keep the ball, but she knew she needed to put it in a secure, inconspicuous place. Ash had always been a present snooper, so she needed to be careful about where she chose, ruling out all her other previous hiding places.

As her house drew near, all lit up with vibrant white bulbs strung from the roof and along the fence, she pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket, making sure the Pokéball was easily hidden from sight. She didn’t need Ash catching a glimpse of the familiar red and white and become the nosybody that he was. The cold hit her warm hands with a blast and she quickly rushed to the door, grasped the knob, and let herself in.

The Christmas music was still floated pleasantly throughout the house, just as she had left it. The warmth surrounded her immediately, and her eyes closed as she basked in its sweet relief. The smell of the cookies, seemingly much stronger now, floated up her noise and made her mouth water and her appetite for the treat grow. A strong sense of pure happiness cascaded through her at that moment, and with a deep sigh of rapture, she shut the door with a gentle slam.

"H-hi Mom," came an almost inaudible voice.

Opening her eyes with a smile, Delia looked towards the direction of Ash’s voice, waiting to see the sight of a brightly lit, beautiful tree and her overly active kids surrounding it with handfuls of ornaments and tinsel, possibly a cookie being munched on in their mouths. As her eyes settled on three dismal, withdrawn looks, however, the smile slowly fell.

"Hi . . . Ash . . ." she uttered, a look of concern sweeping to her face. The words had barely tumbled out of her lips, which pursed.

Ash, Misty, and Brock stood before her, much different than she had left them not half an hour ago. They were not smiling and jumping around restively anymore. They were stone still, their heads hanging just slightly. Their mouths were pulled into unhappy, slightly apprehensive frowns, and Misty was biting at her lower lip. The hunched over shoulders, along with their other attributes, Delia hardly noticed as their indisputable expressions of pure guilt, brought on instantly by their eyes, stirred her uneasily the most.

The look was most strongly coming from Ash, who was standing a little bit more closer to her. His innocent, puppy-dog eyes burnishing into hers made Delia’s body droop, and she swallowed uncomfortably.

"What happened?" she asked, the inquisition coming out in a distraught breath. She titled her head, imagining just what could have possibly occurred in that short time she had left them alone.

A short, nervous exchange of looks took place before Ash looked back at her, gulping softly. His hands, which had been behind his back since she had come in, carefully emerged, his left one gripped gently into a small ball, which Delia’s attention immediately fell upon. Speechlessly, Ash opened his fingers to reveal an ornament -- a broken ornament -- lying in his smooth palm, its detached pieces clinking together fragily as the boy’s hand shook.

It was not just an ornament, Delia quickly discovered to her dismay. Her eyes widened upon noticing it, and she hesitantly reached out her hand to collect it.

"I’m sorry," Ash mumbled as he dropped the preciously delicate pieces into her hand. "It was an accident."

Delia didn’t say anything as the pieces fell into her hand, the pieces of what used to be a small, glossy white Rapidash ornament. Its legs, which had previously been molded into a dramatic, gallant pose of a full gallop, were now missing two of its counterparts, which were settling into the crevices of her palm. It had been her Rapidash ornament, the one she had received from her grandmother at a time she couldn’t even recall. She had been young, and among the countless number of ornaments she had gotten over the years, this one had been different, her most treasured.

Wrenched of words, Delia simply stared at her ornament in her hand, her mouth agape. Her Rapidash . . . her favorite, broken -- ruined.

"It was an accident, Mom," Ash squeaked again, his voice timid. "We . . . we were just hanging ornaments, and . . . and I took that out and I was careful with it, because I know it’s yours, but it must have just slipped off the branch or something . . ."

Delia couldn’t believe it. Closing her eyes momentarily, she then looked up gently, but disappointingly at Ash. "Oh, Ash," she sighed. "I told you to be careful."

Ash hung his head. "But -- but I was careful."

"It’s true, Mrs. Ketchum," Brock said. "We were being careful, it just . . . I saw it, the branch must not have been sturdy enough."

"Yeah," Misty agreed quietly. "I’m sorry . . . Ash -- Ash told us about that ornament. How it was yours as a kid. I really feel bad."

Delia could only nod her head glumly. Her eyes fell back down at the Rapidash in her hand. Its lustrous body shone in the dim light, the red bow still tied tightly around its neck. Out of all ornaments . . . why this one? Why did this have to break? She quickly bit back her tears and clutched her hand closed.

"Mom, I’m really sorry," Ash apologized again, coming up to her. She looked down into his brown eyes, truly sorry, truly hurt. "It just slipped off the branch. I tried to catch it, but -- but I couldn’t. I’m sorry."

Licking her lips, Delia nodded. She rapidly shook herself of it internally, and decided to put on a smile. "No, honey . . . it’s okay," she replied, her voice shaky but all the same gentle. "It was an accident."

"But I’m really sorry," Ash moaned.

Delia reached out and cupped his chin in her free hand. "It’s okay, though. Really."

Ash was silent for a moment, and looked down. "You’re not mad, are you?"

"No, sweetie," she answered swiftly, shaking her head. She managed a chuckle. "Accidents happen. I know. There’s nothing we can do about it sometimes."

"Can you fix it, Mrs. Ketchum?" Misty asked, her eyes rising in concerned quandary.

Sighing, Delia looked down at the ornament again, picking up the minute glass legs of the Rapidash in her hand. They were so tiny, so brittle. There was no way it could be mended, she knew it. "No, Misty," she replied. "I don’t think so."

Misty’s face fell, but no more than Ash’s did. He couldn’t help but feel entirely guilty for it, even if it had just been a careless accident. They had not been wild at all after Delia had left, settling into decorating the tree seriously but contentedly. It was not as if they were tossing the ornaments around, but Ash had been the one to take it out of the box Delia kept it in, slipped the hook over it, and attempted to pin it to a good place in the tree. Each time he recalled seeing the ornament fall to the ground and smash into pieces, he shuddered.

"I feel really bad, Mom," he spoke up again, watching his mother stare despondently at the Rapidash. "You can break one of my things if you want."

His culpability and willing to sacrifice made Delia snigger, giving him a benevolent look. "Ash, stop it. I told you, it’s fine."

Ash tried to his hardest to smile sincerely. "All right."

"Now, go back and finish that tree," she said. "It’s looking really nice. You guys are doing a great job. Just . . . make sure the branches are sturdy before you put the ornaments on, okay?"

They muttered in agreement and returned to their work, while Delia shuffled her way into the kitchen, the broken ornament held tightly in her hand. Her coat had not even been taken off yet, but she didn’t notice. She reached the counter and leaned against it, bringing her hand before her and reluctantly opening it. She gaped at it for a while, feeling her eyes wash over with tears, not heavy enough to fall. It was nothing to get angry over, since it had been an accident, but it didn’t eradicate the fact that it would never be the same again.

Delia was brought out of her dampened silence as the ringing phone sounded again, more surprisingly as the cordless was right beside her. Not taking her eyes off the dismembered glass creature in her hand, she picked up the phone, switching it on, and greeted the caller, much more morosely than previously.

"It’s me again, Delia." A laugh.

Delia smiled wanly, exhaling softly. "Oh . . . hi, Professor Oak."

He picked up on her mood immediately, pausing. "Delia, are you all right? What’s the matter?"

"Nothing," Delia shook her head, managing a non-convincing laugh. It sounded terrible, to say the least. "It’s okay."

"No," Professor Oak replied, his tone quavering. "You don’t sound okay. You were fine two seconds ago. What’s happened?"

Delia ran a hand threw her hair, biting her lip. She didn’t need to burden the professor with her petty problems, but his voice was persistent.

"Nothing . . . just . . ." She shrugged. ". . . Ash broke something while I was gone."

"Uh-oh," he replied, sensing trouble afoot. Delia knew this, and quickly filled in.

"No, it’s nothing bad."

"It’s not? You sure sound upset," protested Professor Oak. "What did he break?"

Glancing down at the once-beautiful ornament in her hand, she sighed. "An ornament of mine. I’ve had it since I was . . . oh God, I must have been three or four."

"Three or four?" he replied, in shock. "You are upset, don’t tell me you’re not. That sounds like something valuable to me."

"Well, I guess I am," Delia finally gave in, shrugging. "I mean, I can’t get too worked up over it. It was an accident. They said it slipped off the branch and I believe them, but . . . I don’t know why it had to be this one."

"Mmm," Professor Oak mumbled. "What was it?"

"A Rapidash," she answered, smiling.

"Oh!" He sounded sympathetic. "Rapidash have always been your favorite, haven’t they?"

"Yeah," replied Delia, setting the pieces down on the counter. "You knew that?"

"I think you’ve told me that before. That really is a shame," Professor Oak lamented.

"It’s all right," Delia found herself saying again, wondering at the same time if she was really being truthful. "So, um . . . what were you calling for?"

Despite her still gloomy tone, Professor Oak continued quite perkily. "Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you one last thing about the Houndoom."

"Oh." Delia pushed the thought of the ornament out of her head and pressed the phone closer to her ear. "That reminds me! It’ll be okay in the Pokéball till Christmas morning, right?"

Professor Oak chucked at the other end. "I can’t believe you just said that. I was calling to tell you not to worry about Houndoom till Christmas. I felt you might have been concerned, and that I should have said something."

"Thanks," Delia smiled. "Say, how did you know I had a question?"

"Oh . . . I don’t know," he laughed in reply. "Figured you’d be worried about that, though. So, just so you know, the Houndoom ate a lot here before you came for her, so just make sure Ash feeds her immediately on Christmas morning, and she should be fine."

"She won’t be hungry?"

"No, no," Professor Oak answered. "As long as she’s in her ball, she’ll be resting and she won’t get too hungry. Besides, Christmas is closer than you think."

Delia beamed. "One more day! Say, I can wrap it, right?"

"Of course you can," he answered. They fell into silence right after. "So . . . are you going to be okay?"

The thought of the ornament came back to Delia, but as her face sagged, she continued to smile. "Sure. Things happen. It’s not the end of the world."

"True," he agreed solemnly. "I’ll let you go then. Have a nice night, Delia."

"You, too," she responded. "Buh-bye."

Delia hung up the phone, placing it back onto the counter. Inside, she could hear the kids bustling around the tree silently, calmer. That was a comfort, if at all. Throwing one more forlorn look at her Rapidash lying on the counter, she sighed, and decided to put it out of her mind. Unzipping her coat, she made her way to her room to deal with the Houndoom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Give me some of that, would you?!" demanded the frustrated, red-headed girl. She gripped hard onto the long blue blanket and ripped it toward her, desperately trying to cover her bare legs. Her opponent, his creamy fur puffing sharply in the cold air, pulled back at it.

"Not on your life!" he shot back, digging his rough claws into the fabric. "I’m cold here, too, ya know!"

"Who cares?" Jessie growled, flashing the Pokémon a vicious snarl. "You have fur! That’s your blanket! I don’t have fur, so give it to me!"

"No way!" Meowth fought back, not ready to give up the blanket’s meager warmth.

"Give it, Meowth!"

"No!"

"Will you two please stop?" a gentle, almost fed-up plea sounded. James looked over his shoulder from where he squatted, a pile of tiny twigs and other kindling beginning to glow a deep orange. "I have the fire going."

"Finally!" Jessie exclaimed agitatedly. She pulled one last time at the blanket, this time detaching it from Meowth’s desperate grasp. The Pokémon tumbled head over heels, got up, huffed, and scowled at her.

Jessie wrapped the blanket around her legs, allowing a relieved smile to spread across her face. She dragged herself over to the fire and seated herself before it. James scrambled over and sat closely beside her, pushing his legs against hers in an attempt to beat the cold.

"This has got to be the coldest day yet," she mumbled, shivering. She held her hands over the fire.

"The fire should get bigger soon," James replied. "I brought a lot of sticks. We’ll be warm in no time."

Meowth made his way softly to the fire and plopped down opposite them. His large eyes stared wantonly into the blaze. "Forget about da fire. I just wish we had some food to cook on it."

Jessie and James mumbled in agreement, their attentions brought on to their aching, empty stomachs. It had been a while since they had eaten something satisfying, and as they sat there penniless and without food, they could only slump dejectedly.

It was Christmas Eve, and the evening sun was setting steadily in the cloudless sky. Despite the lovely day it had been, the cold air engulfed them further, beating furiously at the fire with its blustering winds. Team Rocket had followed Ash, Misty, and Brock here, all the way from the western regions of Johto. Although they had not encountered their adversaries for a few days now, they knew certainly where they were abiding. The Ketchum residence flickered brightly through the narrow gaps in-between the bare trees, a short distance from where they had set up camp.

"Look at it over there," Jessie mumbled to neither one of them in particular. James and Meowth’s heads rose and gazed over at the warm house, all dazzled for Christmas. The tree glowed brilliantly through the patio doors. "It’s so pretty, isn’t it?"

"Mmm," James nodded, his eyes melting into the inviting, pleasant sight. It brought nothing but remorse, however, as he could easily match the sadness in his partner’s shaky voice. "Sure is."

Jessie shook her head. "Why do they deserve that?" she asked drearily, though she knew the answer in her heart. It still needed to be asked, though. "Why can’t we have something like that?"

Meowth shrugged. "And dat’s not all. Dose kids have a nice dinner and warm beds, too." He sighed. "I don’t know why we can’t have dat, Jessie."

"If only we had a little bit of money," James lamented softly, his voice distant. The wind howled over their heads. "Aren’t we supposed to have gotten some sort of Christmas bonus? We have other years . . ."

"It would be nice if we actually got a paycheck," Jessie huffed, downheartedly snuggling into the blanket. She moved her legs closer to James’, yearning for more warmth.

"Don’t count on it," Meowth’s voice drifted. "The only thing we’re goin’ ta be doin’ is watching dose kids have a nice Christmas while we sit out here and freeze."

Jessie gritted her teeth, her eyes not leaving the house. She saw no movement coming from the window as she had earlier. At times she could even here the bustling action and the Christmas music that had lasted throughout the day. How she wanted it . . . how she desired it. It wasn’t fair. Then again, what had been fair to them lately?

"What way is this to spend Christmas Eve?" she asked, drawing the attention of her teammates. "I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to watch them have a good Christmas. I want a good Christmas."

James looked at her sadly. "I wish we could have that, Jessie."

Jessie shot him a look, breathing heavily. "And why not? What makes them get all that stuff while we get nothing?! It’s not fair."

She glared back at the house again, biting hard on her lip. Her eyes narrowed in rigid concentration. She brought the blanket up to her chin, barely feeling the heat of the fire. It wasn’t enough. At that moment, as it had repeatedly throughout the day, her stomach rumbled, eating at her sides. As her engrossment deepened, so did her anger and her envy.

"It makes me sick," she spat, the fire gently lighting her recoiled face. "While they’re in there stuffing themselves, we’re sitting out here hungry and cold."

"And broke," James mumbled in addition.

"That doesn’t matter," Jessie growled. Suddenly, she stood up, letting the blanket fall to the ground. She pointed at the Ketchum residence and stiffened. "I bet you they’ll have extra food, too. You know the twerp’s mother! She probably has enough to feed an army!"

James and Meowth’s faces simultaneously lifted.

"Not enough for all of them to finish!" James chimed.

Meowth raised his paw into the air. "And we don’t need a lot!"

Looking determinedly at the home before her, Jessie beamed, but her voice was still firm. "That’s right, Meowth. And I say that we should take advantage of all that extra, uneaten food, don’t you think? They’re only four people, after all. Wouldn’t want anything to go to waste now, would we?"

"Sounds good to me, Jess," James smiled.

"What do you have in mind?" Meowth asked, though he seemed to already grasp Jessie’s intention in the way his face bunched with excitement.

Jessie looked down and cocked her eye at the Pokémon. "Heh, what do you think, Meowth?"

"Oooh!" James gleamed, hopping up and clutching his fists. "Are we going to break in? Are we, are we?"

Jessie closed her eyes and grinned. "Well, we can’t certainly walk up to the door and ask nicely, can we? It’s a shame that can’t be, but there’s always another tempting option."

"At last," James declared, his eyes glistening with tears. "We’ll finally be getting the delicious meal we deserve!"

Jessie chuckled. "Perhaps even more, James."

"Huh?"

She shrugged confidently. "Maybe tonight we’ll be walking away with some scrumptious food and a Pikachu in a stocking."

"Dat’s a Christmas gift I can’t pass up!" Meowth laughed. "Hehe, I’m in!"

"Me, too!" James exclaimed.

Jessie laughed again under her breath. "We’ll get our good Christmas, I’m sure of it. Someone special is going to be visiting those twerps tonight, and it isn’t going to be Santa Claus . . ."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .