Author's note: This story is the sequel to, or really just taking place after, "Mallet vs. Whip".  When I first heard this song on the radio, I could imagine all this so clearly.  I simply had to write it.  I also loved the song so much that I bought the CD.  It also helped me get the words right.  But anyways, I hope you like this fanfic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Team Rocket or the beautiful song "He's My Son" by Mark Schultz.

He’s My Son

            After the encounter with Jessibelle, things between Jesse and I went uphill.  That morning following my burning the whip, my two partners and I climbed into our hot air balloon and tried to track down the twerp trio.  Jesse and Meowth were discussing, or really arguing over, ways to capture Pikachu.  But I stood in thought.

            I was feeling a mix of new emotions.  Things I had never felt before….  Why did it seem like I was floating every time I looked at Jesse?  Why were all of my cares and troubles suddenly washed away?  Why did I have this growing need to be beside her?  I tried to blow it off, but I just couldn’t.  Was I sick or something?  Surely I couldn’t…no, that was impossible…  Wasn’t it?  I just couldn’t be…  But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced.  I was in love.

            “Looks like Team Rocket’s blasting off again!”

            Why can’t we win?  Just for once?  But oh well.  That day was just another to add to our long list of failures.  Soaring.  Sailing.  Finally falling through the air.  I landed in some bushes, and Meowth fell to a tree.  Jesse however, landed in the dirt, on her shoulder.  Right where she was still very sore from Jessibelle’s whip!  Slowly and painfully she pushed herself to a sitting point.  I rushed over and knelt beside her, putting one hand on her back.

            “Are you alright?!”

            She gave me a weak, tender smile.  “Yeah, I’m- ah!”  She moved her arm the wrong way and found herself holding it in pain. 

            I hugged her.  “I’m so sorry.”  I still felt like her injury was my fault. 

            She put her arms around my neck.  “I know.  I wanted to help you.”

            It was right then and there that we created a bond of love that would never perish. 

            Meowth jumped out of the tree behind us.  I heard him laugh and mutter, “It’s about time…”

            What can I say?  Three months later Jesse and my wedding took place.  She had two yellow roses arranged beautifully in her red hair that matched the yellow lining on her white dress.  The whole time all I could think was, “Man I love her…”

            But anyway, I just felt the need to explain that a little bit.  Now on to my main story. 

            It was about eighteen months after that when it happened.  By this time, we had finally given up on trying to catch Pikachu, but didn’t give up our career.  Still members of Team Rocket, the three of us actually got a little better once away from that twerp.

            Anyhow, at this time was when our son was born, very late at night….

I only got to cradle the little life for a short moment before the doctors told me something was wrong.  They took him away immediately.

Jesse, although very weak from childbirth, was still extremely upset.  She tried to protest, but I took her hand and said, “It’s okay sweetheart.  They’re professionals.  They know what they’re doing.  Everything will be alright.”  But I myself was not really sure. 

The next hour was an exceedingly long one.  I had my hands full just trying to keep my wife calm.  She kept saying things like, “What if something is extremely wrong?  What if he doesn’t make it?”  I kept telling her that it would be okay, but only to relax her a little.  Honestly, I was just as worried as she.  I mean, think about it…  This was our first baby.  We had failed at so many things in life.  I was terrified that he was going to be another one of those. 

This was also stressful for me because I was certainly NOT used to having to be the strong one emotionally.

Finally, a young woman doctor with light brown hair walked up to us.  “Hi, I’m doctor Sonia.”

“Where is my child?!” Jesse said impatiently.

“He’s in intensive care.  You see your son unusually suffers from migraines.  However, we still don’t know why.  We took a few X-rays, but have yet to examine them.  It is possible that he has a brain tumor.”

My body tingled with fear.  Jesse gasped.

“You can see him if you want.  Come with me.”

I helped my spouse to a wheel chair (her still frail of course) and we followed Dr. Sonia through a door.  The room on the other side had one wall made of glass windows looking into the waiting room.  There were at least 15 scattered about the area.  Most of them had a set of parents looking down at a child inside.  Not a single parent was smiling.  In fact, many were crying.

We were lead to a contraption near the glass windows.  Our son laid squirming and whimpering inside.  His tiny head was covered with short, deep red hairs that actually had a blue-ish tint to them.  The poor thing was in so much pain because of the migraines, that he just couldn’t hold still.  It made me want to hold him even more than I already had the desire to. 

On each side of the incubator, there were two holes.

“Go ahead,” Dr. Sonia said to us, “Put your hands inside.  Let him feel you.”

Jesse tried to stand, I supporting her.  “You really shouldn’t Jess.  You need to rest.”

Her only reply was a quick groan of objection saying that I shouldn’t try to stop her.  (Even though she didn’t have to stand up to reach the sides of the device, it gave her a better view of the boy.)

She put her hands gingerly inside.  One of her fingers slowly rubbed his soft cheek.  And, just for a moment, he stopped shifting to look up at her with sparkling, sapphire blue eyes. 

Jesse desperately attempted not to cry, but to no avail.  Tears came falling like rain.  All I could do was let her rest her head on my shoulder.  I also wasn’t used to her being this delicate (sensitively).  Usually she was so strong.

It’s hard to explain how we could love some one so much that we had known for such a short time.  We just did.  This was a connection that could pass even through the glass that separated us. 

That’s when I suddenly remembered something.  “Oh!  I almost forgot!  I aided Jesse back into the wheel chair and hurried away.

“James, where are you going?”

“To tell Meowth the latest!”

I went out the door that lead straight into the waiting room on the other side of the glass windows.  All pokemon outside of pokeballs were not allowed past this point. 

Meowth was sitting on one of the chairs.  I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was from boredom or worry.  But when he saw me, he jumped up.  “I heard about your son!  What’s the scoop?”

I glanced back into the intensive care room where Jess sat next to the baby.  The pokemon’s face dropped.  “What’s wrong wit’ him?”

“They aren’t sure yet,” I muttered.  “He might have a brain tumor.”

“Oh man…dis is serious.  Anything I can do to help?”

I headed back toward the room that already disgusted me with a sick feeling then looked back.  “…Hope.”

Jesse was trying to calm the little one down by placing her hands on him.  But the migraines must have been especially strong in that moment.  He would, or really could, not be serene.  I went to the opposite side of the incubator and put my hands inside, one on top of my wife’s and the other on the infant.  Somehow, he knew the touch of his parents.  We got him to be quiet for a short time.

This wasn’t fair!  Why did my newborn have to go through this?  He had barley even had a shot at life!  Why couldn’t it have been me?!

A full day passed.  24 long hours.  Jesse refused to eat or sleep, no matter what I did.  Always, always she stayed by our son.  Rubbing his back, holding his hand while he slept…just about everything she could do. 

24…going on 25 hours since this had all began; she finally fell asleep for about 30 minutes.  At last, I was able to let go of my emotional restraints.  I fell to my knees, shoulders shaking.

Meowth pressed his paws against the windows, not knowing what to do.

“Please..” I whispered, “Please don’t let him die.”

Down on my knees again tonight.

I’m hoping this prayer will turn out right.

See there is a boy that needs your help.

I’ve done all that I can do myself.

His mother is tired,

I’m sure you can understand.

Each night as he sleeps,

She goes in to hold his hand.

And she tries…

Not to cry…

As the tears…

Fill her eyes.

Can you hear me?

Am I getting through tonight?

Can you see him?

Can you make him feel alright?

If you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.

See, he’s not just anyone,

He’s my son…

Later, Jesse and I talked quietly, not wanting to wake him.

“It’s just not right James,” she sobbed.  “He doesn’t even have a name.”

“Then let’s give him one,” I said comfortingly.

She tried to regain her composer.  “Alright.  We’ve talked about names before.  What about Joshua?”

I considered this.  Jesse, James, and Joshua of Team Rocket.  Hmm….it did have a nice ring to it…  But no.  Two “J’s” was just right.  Three would be too many.  “No, how about…um…”

Meowth knocked on the window.  Standing up, I went into the waiting room.  “What?”

He said, “Awe, c’mon.  Doesn’t Meowth get a say?”

“What…?  How did you know we were thinking of a name for him?”

“I have my ways.  But if you’re gonna name the little guy, it needs to start with an ‘M’!”

I sweat dropped.  “I wonder where you came to THAT conclusion…”

I’m not sure if that’s what made a certain name come to mind or not.  But for months, Jesse and I had gone over hundreds of names.  One that both of us particularly liked was “Michael”.  When I looked up the meaning of it, this book said that Michael was supposed to be an arc angel.  They were strong, yet tender.  Now I could see just how ideal that was.

“Okay thanks Meowth.”  I hurried back into the intensive care area.  “Jesse!  I found the perfect name!  Michael!”

“Oh?  And why is that?”

“This little one is fighting the migraines very hard.  But yet, he’s still is so gentle.  He really is an arc angel.”

After a moment of thought, she gladly agreed, happy to have a title for a boy we weren’t even sure would live to see anything outside the hospital. 

I hugged and kissed my wife, promising her that no matter what happened, we were in this together.

A few hours later, as I slept, I dreamed about a toddler little boy with bluish-red hair and sapphire eyes.  He ran towards me shouting joyfully, “Daddy!”  I longed so much for this to be a reality, and I was enjoying the dream a great deal until I was awakened by the sound of Dr. Sonia’s voice.  She was speaking to a couple near to us.  Their baby, a girl, had had irregular breathing, but was now much better.  They removed the glass covering and lifted her out with great jubilation. 

Jesse, still being fairly weak, slowly walked up to Dr. Sonia.  “What about my son?  Over here.”

The young brunette check the number on our incubator then looked at her clipboard.  “Hmmm….  It’s the busy season.  Looks like we’re still reviewing the X-rays.  But we’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

My wife frowned angrily.  She grabbed hold of Dr. Sonia’s shirt and yanked her up to her face.  (I guess she wasn’t as weak as I thought.)  “My child is in there dying and all you can tell me is that you don’t have time to see what’s wrong with him!!”

“Ma’am, please.  We’re doing everything we can.”

Jesse was about to say more but I laid a hand on her shoulder.  After a moment of hesitation, she threw the doctor away from her and stormed back over to her chair beside Michael. 

Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep.

I dream of the boy he’d like to be.

I try to be strong and see him through,

But God who he needs right now is you.

Let him grow old,

Live life without this fear.

What would I be,

Living without him here?

He’s so tired…

And he’s scared…

Let him know…

That You’re there.

Can you hear me?

Am I getting through tonight?

Can you see him? Can you make him feel alright?

If you can hear me, let me take his place some how.

See, he’s not just anyone,

He’s my son…

I fell asleep with my hands on top of Jesse’s, which were on Michael in the incubator.  He had just received a heart monitor.  The hospital had not had enough to give him one until the girl that was next to us went home with her parents. 

It’s rhythmic beeping had lulled both to sleep.  (Yes, I know it seems like we slept a lot, but I was really only for one or two hours at a time.  We had many restless days and nights.)  But suddenly it stopped cold.  The deathly silence was what woke me.  As I realized that the monitor had ceased, my own heart skipped a beat.  I squeezed Jesse’s hands.

She awoke and yawned.  “What is it James?”  When she saw me staring in horror at the machine, she realized exactly what was wrong and gasped.  “No.  No!  Michael!  No!”

Can you hear me?

Am I getting through tonight?

Can you see him?

Can you make him feel alright?

If you can hear me, let me take his place some how.

See, he’s not just anyone…

Can you hear me?

Can you see him?

Please don’t leave him…

He’s my son…

“I’m sorry to alarm you.”

Dr. Sonia!  I hadn’t even seen her standing behind the heart monitor.  “I turned it off.  He’s doesn’t need it anymore.  It seems your son doesn’t have a brain tumor at all.  He just needs a few injections and some medication that you can take home.”

I could hardly believe it!  He was going to be fine!  Jesse was so happy  a tear fell from her eye.  The doctor at long last lifted the glass.  My bride immediately scooped him up and cradled him close. 

As soon as Michael got his shots and medicine, we went into the waiting room where an anxious Meowth begged to hold him. 

Jesse smiled.  “We’ve barley got to meet him ourselves, Meowth.”  Never the less, she bent down to let the pokemon see him. 

I looked back into the intensive care room.  A young father was watching us with a very sad, longing expression.  I gave him a sincere good-luck-smile.  He returned it to me, nodding his head in thanks.

I put my arm around my wife and child, happier than ever.  I knew that we were about to embark on a new and challenging task.  Parenthood.  But somehow, that did not scare me.  It greatly excited me.

To Be Continued…

Author’s note: Yes, this story will be continued, but I am still in the process of writing the continuation.  Then I will have to type it up.  So just hang tight.  “Generation K” is on the way!