Part Three: Hold On, Hold On


Butch had dealt with the Pokemon world's system of justice and law before on many occasions, but he had never seen it move as swiftly as it was moving now.

Trials and lawyers were unknown here, and Butch's guilt was confirmed by ballistics in less than 3 hours of his capture. The only delay in his sentencing was that the police Commissioner of Celadon City was on her yearly vacation in the Orange Islands, and would not return for two weeks.

This made Butch feel much better, because he was sure he'd be bailed out soon. Once the Boss had done that, well… Team Rocket had ways of protecting its members.

After all, how many Red Rockets had beaten murder raps? Team Rocket had always scoffed at the cops and their pitiful system of law, and Butch knew he'd soon be free.

However, after three days, Butch began to worry. After five days, Butch was very worried. After a week had gone by with no word from Giovanni, Butch was nearing panic and he begged to be allowed to phone his Boss. Much to his surprise, his request was granted quickly, and before long Butch was on the phone with Giovanni.

"What do you want, Butch?" Giovanni asked coldly.

"Well, sir, I was wondering when I could expect my bail." Butch replied.

Back in Viridian City, Giovanni's hand tightened around the receiver. "You can't." he snapped.

Butch was stunned. "Why not, sir?'

"I warned you and Cassidy that last time was the final time I'd bail you two losers out of jail. Besides, even if I hadn't said that, I still wouldn't bail you out!"

"But- But, sir…" Butch stammered.

"But nothing!" Giovanni roared. "You stole a J-R rifle, you tried to cover it up by submitting a false report- as if I don't know James' real signature from the thousands of accident reports he's turned in- and then you went a killed a cop in broad daylight! You're a fool, Butch. A damned fool. And there is no room on Team Rocket for fools like you."

Butch held the phone shakily. "What are you saying, sir?"

"I'm saying, so long, sucker." Giovanni replied.

"But, sir-"

"What?!" Giovanni thundered.

"What about Cassidy?" Butch asked, dreading the answer.

"What do you care?" Giovanni replied. He then decided that this conversation had gone on long enough. "Good bye, Butch."

Before Butch could reply, the phone was slammed down and the line was broken.

Butch looked at the ground and numbly hung up the phone and turned to walk back to his cell with the guard. He could hardly fathom it but the Team had let him down.

The next day Butch was gloomily sitting in his cell when he was told by the guard that he had a visitor. Butch made his way with his escort to the visitor's room and sat down at a small cubical. Across from him was a piece of Plexiglas with an empty seat in the next room. After a few minutes Cassidy walked in and sat down in the chair, her face full of fear, pain, and disbelief.

"Oh, Butch…" Cassidy sobbed through the small speaker system, barely able to face him. She looked as if she had been crying for some time and it pained Butch to look at her this way. It was all Butch could do to keep from crying himself. Finally Cassidy composed herself enough to look at him. "Why, Butch? Why did you do this?"

Butch looked at his partner through the glass. How lost and scared she looked…like that little girl he had seen sobbing into the belly of her teddy bear. She wanted an answer now, and Butch was hardly sure he could give her one. For what felt like forever, he had dreamed of telling her, of watching her smile and laugh at the humiliation of that fool Jenny, that Butch knew there would be no smile today, no Cassidy of the past. None the less she needed to know now. Butch took a deep breath. "That cop was the same one that shot out our tires last time, Cassidy."

Cassidy blinked at him, uncomprehending. "So?"

"So?" Butch repeated. "So I've paid her back. Now you can be you again."

"I don't understand." Cassidy replied.

"Cassidy, when that van turned over what happened to you?"

"I broke my arm."

"No. More then that. It hurt you inside, Cassidy. It made you doubt yourself, your ability as an agent. You even thought you were as incompetent as that fool Jessie."

Cassidy's face took on a shocked look. "But-But I was starting to feel better-"

"I know." Butch interrupted. "You were so brave and so strong when we had to do that modified duty crap. But I knew you wouldn't be alright until the favor was returned to that Jenny."

"So why did you kill her?" Cassidy asked, the fingers protruding from her cast tightening into a small fist.

"I didn't mean to." Butch answered. "That was an accident. All I meant to do was blow out her tire, break some bones, something like that."

"And now you're here." Cassidy stated.

Butch sighed. "Well yeah. That's the bad thing."

Cassidy glared at him angrily. "Dammit, Butch. What's the matter with you?"

"Huh?"

"Do you know why I was feeling better, Butch? Do you?" Cassidy snapped.

Butch looked at her blankly. "Wha- What?"

"I was feeling better because- Because-" Cassidy looked down at her cast. She looked back up at Butch with tears in her eyes. "Because of you, Butch. It was all because of you."

"What? How?" Butch replied, stunned.

"You were there for me, Butch. You were my hope. You were what got me through days of washing Jessie's unmentionables!" Cassidy's voice began to crack as she continued. "And now you're stuck in here. You can't be there to help me now."

"Cassidy, I only wanted to pay that Jenny back for what she did to you…I thought that might make you feel better…" Butch said desperately.

"Butch, that Jenny didn't matter for crap! I know I'm better than her! What mattered to me was that my partner, my best friend, was by my side, was there when I needed him the most! It was a reassurance, Butch. An anchor. And I loved it." Cassidy stopped and looked at him. "And I loved you for it." She added softly.

Butch's eyes opened. She what? "You- loved me?" He repeated.

Cassidy looked up at him. "Yes, Butch. I did. I loved you for caring, for being there. But now-" Cassidy struggled to continue as she choked on her own emotion. "Now I don't know what to do."

Butch put his hand on the glass. "I'm still here, Cassidy. I'm still here for you."

Cassidy looked at Butch with the same look she had had in prison- The look of a lost, desperate child. "No, you're not, Butch. You're stuck here. You were my only support, and now you're gone!"

Butch hardly knew what to say. All he could do was look helplessly at his love and say, "I'm sorry, Cassidy. I'm so sorry."

Cassidy looked back at her partner. "So am I, Butch. So am I." She sniffled, and continued. "Do you know why it took me so long to get down here to see you?"

"Why?" Butch asked softly.

"Because I could hardly even look at your picture in my room without crying my eyes out." She said.

Butch looked at Cassidy sadly. He wanted desperately to make her feel better. "I'll be out sooner or later, Cassidy. The Boss will see to that."

Cassidy looked at him. "You're lying, Butch. Giovanni already told me he wasn't going to get you out." She said sadly.

Butch looked at her regretfully. "I know. I just wanted to try to make you feel better…" he began.

Cassidy looked at Butch with hurt and anger in her eyes. "Make me feel better?! First you get yourself thrown in jail and possibly face death to make me feel better. Next you try to lie to me so I can have my hopes destroyed if I choose to believe you. You certainly have a funny way of making me feel better, Butch Crandall." She said angrily.

Butch looked at her with pleading eyes and opened his mouth to say something. "No." Cassidy said suddenly. "Don't say anything. If you try to make me feel better again, it just might kill me."

Butch sat back in his chair, hurt and upset. His mind ran rampant with thoughts of what could have been between him and Cassidy had none of this taken place. Suddenly, Cassidy's voice brought his focus back to the cold reality that now faced him. "I loved you, Butch. I loved you so much. I just wish- I wish you hadn't done all this. All I wanted was to tell you. I wanted to ell you ever since we first got put on modified duty, but I was afraid. Afraid you- you didn't feel the same way." Cassidy looked at Butch again. "Butch, I need to know. Do you feel the same? Do you… love me?"

Butch stared at her. His mouth went dry and his throat tightened. More than anything, Butch wanted to yell, to scream at Cassidy that he did feel the same way, that he did love her, that he loved her with all his heart… but the words couldn't force their way out. No matter how hard Butch tried, the words would not come.

Cassidy lowered her head. "I see." She said softly. "God, I'm such a fool…"

Butch's mouth moved, but no sound came out "Cassidy…" he finally said.

Cassidy stopped him before he could say more. "No, Butch." She said, trying in vain to hold back her tears. "It’s all right. I appreciate your loyalty to me… You must feel one hell of a partnership to me to do what you did… I just had the hope that it was more than a partner's camaraderie."

Butch looked at his partner as his stomach churned. He hadn't been eating well this past week, as all the prison food tasted the same, like mushy glop. On top of that, he could hardly smoke, and now all this with Cassidy was tearing him apart inside. He only wished he could make her see…

Cassidy sniffled and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Well, Butch, I guess there's nothing left to say but good bye." She said, desperately wishing she could be her old, detached, cold self again. "Thank you, Butch…. For everything you did for me ever. You've helped me through a lot, and I'll never forget you." The tears came heavily now as Cassidy's facade shattered. As the tears fell down her cheek and hit the red "R" on her chest, Butch silently raised his hand and put it to the glass, his eyes begging her to press her hand to his through the glass.

Cassidy's mouth hung open as she sobbed. "I can't, Butch… I just can't… I'm so sorry… But I can't…" Cassidy stood to leave on shaky legs and backed away from the glass. "Please forgive me." She said quietly. With that, she ran out of the visitation room, trying hard to hide the fact that she was crying.

Butch lowered his hand without a word. "Time to go back, Crandall." His escort said. Butch nodded and numbly stood to walk back to his cell.

Butch spent the remainder of the week sitting in his cell thinking of Cassidy. She had left actually thinking that all he felt for her was a partnership bond, a mere friendship. How many times that week Butch had cursed himself for not being able to tell her the truth, he could not say. All he could do was think of how his dear Cassidy was convinced that her partner would die not loving her. It was a thought that haunted Butch day and night and kept him a wake more than any caffeine or nicotine rush he had ever experienced.

After the longest three days of Butch's life, the Celadon City Police Commissioner returned from her vacation cruise through the Orange Islands.

Shortly after her arrival, Commissioner Guenevere- A former Officer Jenny who was unusually tall and had bright red hair instead of the usual green, was briefed on the situation with Butch, his crime, and how the attending officers recommended the highest punishment available- death.

The Commissioner walked down to the cell to talk with Butch personally, and found him sitting in his cell silently, his eyes red and puffy from the lack of sleep mixed with his own private crying.

"Mr. Crandall?" The Commissioner said from outside the cell.

"Yeah?" Butch replied in a monotone, not making eye contact with the Commissioner.

"You have killed an Officer of the law. My second cousin, in fact."

Big surprise, Butch thought to himself.

"Right now, you face our worst penalty- death by execution. However, I am curious as to how you feel about your crime. Now, you claim that the murder was an accident?"

"That's right." Butch said.

"Was shooting at her an accident as well?" Guenevere asked, slightly amused by Butch's supposed plea.

"No, it was not." Butch replied, again in monotone.

"And why did you shoot at her?"

"I had my reasons." Butch stated.

"Was she chasing you?" Guenevere asked.

"No."

"Had she yelled at you?"

"No."

"So you were unprovoked?"

"No." Butch said again.

"Then why shoot at her?" Guenevere asked again, exasperated.

"Let's just say…. It was for a friend." Butch replied, avoiding her gaze.

The Commissioner sighed. "Very well, Mr. Crandall. From your responses, I think I can safely say that you not only fired those shots and killed Officer Morgenstern, but that you also have no regret for it. Am I correct?"

"Mostly." Butch replied.

"Where am I wrong?" Guenevere asked him.

"The part about regret." Butch said.

"So you do feel some regret, then?" Guenevere asked.

"Some." Butch answered.

"What about?"

"The fact that I was caught and now I'm stuck here in this hell hole instead of being out there with my friend." He said simply.

The Commissioner frowned. "I see." She said dully. "Well, Mr. Crandall, we'd all like to be with our friends. You, however, have made that impossible for some people- myself included. Since you freely admit your guilt and clearly have no regrets other than your current location, I have no choice but to declare you guilty and pass sentence on you." Guenevere motioned for the guard at the door to come closer and take note.

Butch looked up nervously and stared at the Commissioner. "In accordance with Celadon City Law 795, Article 43a, I sentence you to death by execution. Sentence will be carried out-" she looked at her watch- "in 24 hours. That makes the time for the execution 2:30 P.M. tomorrow." The guard scribbled the information down on a clipboard and passed it to Guenevere. She quickly signed it and passed the clipboard back to the guard.

"In accordance with the subsection clause of that law, you will be granted one last request to be carried out within the next 24 hours in the confines of your cell. When you know what you want that last request to be, let a guard know and it will be done if it is feasible. Do you have anything to say?"

Butch glared at her silently and shook his head.

"Very well." Guenevere said. "Sentence has been passed and will be carried out. Good-bye, Mr. Crandall." With that, she turned to leave and walked out of the holding area, leaving Butch alone to consider his fate.

The door to the holding area closed with a thud. The cells around Butch were empty, and all this time locked away was making him realize just what loneliness truly was.

Butch walked to the back wall of his cell and looked out the small barred window. Outside, the sun was shining and sky was a bright blue. A tear formed in Butch's eye. That world outside was full of life, full of love, full of happiness, and his world was full of death, emptiness, and regret. He was alone. He had taken a life, he was going to die, and worst of all, Cassidy didn't know the truth about how he felt. Suddenly, Butch had no fear of any afterlife… he was already in hell.

Butch spent hours that day and night sitting in his cell thinking. Thinking of Cassidy, of his impending execution, of what his last request should be. He couldn't leave his cell, so he knew it couldn't be to visit or call Cassidy. Besides, Butch knew that he would only freeze up again if he did get the chance to talk to her again. God, how Butch wanted to tell her the truth… Tell her… everything. If only he had a way to do it… a way he wouldn't choke.

Butch sat there for a few minutes before it hit him. The Commissioner had said HE couldn't leave his cell, but she had never said anything about not being able to send something out of the cell.

Therein was the opportunity. Butch knew what he had to do if he was to tell Cassidy how he felt. Butch stood and looked at the clock on the wall across from his cell. It was 9:00 P.M. He could hardly believe it had only been six and a half hours since he had been sentenced. It felt like it had been days. Butch walked to the door of his cell and pressed the button to call the guard.

The door to the hall way opened and the guard walked in. There had been a shift change since his earlier guard, and his guard was now an officer who was a rarity… a Jenny-brother, a male cop. The cop walked to the cell door. "What is it, Crandall?" he growled.

"I want a pad of paper and a pen." Butch said in a complacent tone of voice.

"What for? Gonna try to write a jailhouse repentance?" The cop laughed.

Butch glared at him. "The Commissioner has granted me a last wish. I want to write a letter and have it mailed as my last wish." He said flatly.

"Whatever." The cop muttered. He walked to a desk by the door and grabbed a pen and a legal pad. He then slipped them through the cell door to Butch. "Lights out in 30 minutes, Crandall." The cop said as he turned to leave.

"Whatever." Butch said mockingly, mimicking the guard.

The guard stopped and spun around to face Butch. "Listen, you slime sucking cop killer, if I had my way, I'd beat you to death right now with my bare hands. You just be thankful that Commissioner Guenevere believes in quick executions- even when the prisoner deserves much worse!" The guard turned back to the door and stomped out, closing the door with a loud slam.

Butch shot a murderous look toward the door. God, he hated cops. Taking a deep breath, Butch calmed himself and walked to his cot with the pad and paper.

The cot creaked as Butch sat down and took a deep breath. He put his pen to the paper. "Cassidy…" he wrote. No. Butch scratched it out. "Dear Cassidy…" No. Again, Butch scratched the pen over his writing, obliterating what he had written.

"My Dearest Cassidy…" No! Butch let out a growl and threw the pad of paper across the cell. He grabbed his head and sighed. Why was this so damned hard? Before he knew it, the guard stuck his head in the door again.

"Lights out, Crandall. Sweet dreams of tomorrow." The guard chuckled viciously as he hit the master switch that plunged the cells into darkness.

Butch sat there in the dark, staring straight ahead and never feeling more alone. Butch couldn't say exactly how long he sat there before he finally fell asleep, his dreams full of images of Cassidy sobbing in pain and desperation as he watched, immobilized and horribly unable to help or comfort her.

Butch woke early the next morning when the sun's first light shone through his barred window. Butch looked around the cell wearily, almost forgetting the fact that he was to die that day. He looked at the pad of paper, lying on the floor where he had thrown it the previous night. Remembering his need to write the letter, he walked to the pad and picked it up. He then walked back to his cot and sat down, pen in hand and ready to write the letter.

At 7:30, the hallway door creaked open and a Jenny walked in with a tray holding a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. "Breakfast." She said simply as she slid the tray through the opening in the bottom of the door into Butch's cell.

Butch looked up.. "Huh?" he said, dazed. The Jenny left without a word. Butch looked at the pad of paper and realized it was still blank. He had managed to spend almost 90 minutes just staring at the pad and writing nothing. Butch sighed heavily and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he picked up the tray and began to eat slowly. HE had been eating the same crap since he had arrived- this gray sludgy garbage that was mealy and tasteless. Butch had grown to hate the so-called oatmeal, but he had to do something to try to get rid of this block, this stone in his path that was keeping him from telling his love the truth.

When Butch had finished the small meal, he sat back on his cot with the pen and paper beside him and tried to think. Cassidy was so beautiful, so fragile, and so special to him… Just the thought of her, her long blonde hair, her smile, the scent of her favorite perfume (Gloom's Dream Number Nine), even that quiet snore he'd heard many times before… they could all conjure a tornado of emotion in him, a whirlwind of feelings for her.

God, how Butch missed her! And yet… and yet he still remained as he had trained himself to be for so long… devastatingly silent.

Butch was suddenly aware of the presence of two people. He turned his head and saw Commissioner Guenevere and a man in a black suit by her side. Funny, he thought, I never even heard the door.

"Well, Mr. Crandall, you know your execution is approaching. Have you decided on your last request yet?" She asked.

Butch's eyes darted to the empty pad beside him. "Er- I'm working on it." He said quickly.

"Very well." Guenevere said. "But bear in mind that he who hesitates misses out. Your sentence will be carried put at 2:30 sharp today, regardless of whether or not you have had your last request. Understand?"

Butch angrily grunted in reply. Guenevere rolled her eyes and continued. "I'll take that as a yes." Now, Butch, this is our prison chaplain, Mike Gerber. He's here to talk to you." Guenevere opened the cell door and let the chaplain in, and then closed the door and left..

Gerber looked at Butch and smiled. "Hello, Butch." He said in a kind voice.

Butch looked at him with his usual hard stare. "Hey." He said curtly.

"May I sit down?" Gerber asked.

Butch shrugged. "I guess."

Gerber smiled and sat down next to Butch. "Thank you." He said. "How are you feeling?"

Butch glared at him. "I'm gonna die in a few hours. How should I feel?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, Butch." Gerber said. "All I really wanted to know was if you wanted to talk about anything in particular."

"What, like religion?" Butch asked, unsure how to feel about the chaplain. He had no intention of discussing religion with him, and yet Butch felt like he should hold a kind of respect for Gerber nonetheless.

"Well, whatever." Gerber said cordially.

"Look, thanks but no thanks, OK? I'm not religious and I don't really wanna talk to someone like you." Butch replied coldly.

Gerber nodded. "I understand. But if there is anything you want to say- anything at all- I'm here to listen."

Butch's face clouded. "Well…." He said as he considered the situation. Butch had never felt a need for religion, for spirituality, for someone like Gerber to talk to, but this was different from anything he had ever experienced before. He had faced jail before, sure. He had even come close to death before, but he had never done it alone, never without Cassidy there to help him.

Now, death was staring him in the face, mere hours away, and he was stuck, alone, hurt, and angry. "Actually…" Butch hesitated. "There is something I'd like to talk about, but I dunno if you'd wanna hear it."

Gerber smiled. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked.

"It's not gonna be a repentance, a confession, or whatever it is you chaplains like to do."

Gerber's face clouded slightly, but his kind smile never faded. "Oh, that's all right." He replied.

Butch looked at him, surprised. Every religious type he had ever encountered before had been a condemning, fire-and-brimstone kind of person, and he had expected nothing less from Gerber. "Really?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." Gerber replied. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd be very happy with one, but you know, it wouldn't be right to spend this time forcing you into something you truly don't want."

Butch looked at Gerber thoughtfully. "OK." He said after a minute. "I have a problem. Some unfinished business."

"Go on." Gerber said."

Butch sighed. "I can't really go into details, but the reason I'm here- I mean, the reason I… killed that cop… was because of the way I felt about a friend."

Gerber looked at Butch. "I'm not sure I understand." He said.

"Well, it's a long story, but my friend had been hurt by that cop." Butch replied.

"Physically hurt?"

"And mentally." Butch said. "Given the way I feel about my friend, I couldn't just let that go."

Gerber smiled. "I suspect this friend is more than just a friend. Am I correct?"

Butch didn't know what to say. "Uhm, well, I'd like her to be… but she doesn't know it."

"Have you told your friend?"

Butch lowered his head. "I've tried." He said quietly.

"But…?" Gerber asked.

"But I can’t do it. I don't know why. I mean- I've felt this way about her forever, and I've never been able to tell her."

Gerber sighed and nodded. "Perhaps you're afraid she doesn't feel that same way?"

Butch felt the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but he didn't care. "But she does." He said. "She visited me here last week and she told me she does." Butch paused for a moment to brush a tear from his cheek. "And I was dying to tell her how I felt. I was burning to tell her. And I tried. I tried so hard and nothing would come! Not a damned word telling her about it! Not a single freakin' word!" The tears streamed down Butch's face now. Well, let 'em come, Butch thought. Why should I care if anyone sees it anyway? I'll be dead soon enough.

Gerber swallowed hard and put his hand on Butch's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Butch." He said softly.

Butch looked at Gerber again. The old chaplain was like nobody he had ever met. He was actually a person who didn't look at the red "R" on his chest and have his mind set on a judgement right away. Butch tried to pull himself together and wipe away his tears. "Anyway, I just know one thing about it all."

What's that?" Gerber asked.

"I can't die with her thinking I don't care, thinking I don't love her." Butch replied. "I mean, I'm not trying to hold onto any delusions here- I know I'm gonna die. But when they kill me today, all I want dead is my body. If I die with her thinking I don't love her, my heart and soul are gonna die just a surely as my body's gonna die."

"I understand." Gerber said.

"Anyway, I want my last request to be that a letter from me be mailed to her, with a message telling her just how I feel. But I can't get it down on paper, no matter how hard I try."

Gerber took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, Butch, I have to tell you that I've been in this situation before."

"You have?"

"Or really close to it." Gerber continued. "And you know what I've learned from watching it so many times?"

What's that?" Butch asked.

"That if you try to force it, try to make it a perfect message, even if you try to vent years of emotion like that, it just won't work. All you'll do is hurt yourself and probably never get your message through."

Butch looked to the chaplain for guidance. "So how can it be done?" he asked.

Gerber smiled. "Sit down and pour your thoughts out on paper. Let it go and just come from you."

For the first time in weeks, Butch smiled. He looked at Gerber, filled with gratitude. "Thank you." He said quietly.

"You're welcome, Butch." Gerber said. "would you like to be alone to write your letter?"

Butch nodded silently.

"Very well, then." Gerber said. "May you finish your task and rest in peace, Butch Crandall." With that, Gerber rose, shook Butch's hand, and pressed the call button for the guard to let him out.

A Jenny came to the cell, opened the door, and within a minute, both she and Gerber were gone.

Butch looked at the closed hall door and realized that he was feeling something he hadn't felt since Morgenstern had blown out their tires… peace. When Butch had first met Gerber, he had expected nothing but an uphill battle trying to get Gerber to leave him alone, but it had turned out that meeting the chaplain had actually been the best thing to happen to him since he had been teamed with Cassidy.

Once again, Butch picked up the pen and pad. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and placed his pen to the paper.

"My Dearest Cassidy, I can only apologize for not sending you this message sooner, but I never knew how to tell you what I have to say." He wrote.

Butch sighed and continued writing. "I received some help and guidance in prison, and I'm not quite sure what is going to finally be in this letter, but rest assured, my love, whatever follows comes from my soul and my heart."

Butch paused for a moment and took another deep breath. Hardly realizing he was doing it, Butch began to write a poem that flowed from his heart:
"The preacher came to me and he smiled, said sit and talk with me, rest and talk for a while.
Now, for once in your life, you're alone, and with one last wish, there's no time for the phone.

But I just gotta get a message to you,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on.
Just a few more hours and my life will be through,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on.

I told him I'm in no hurry, but I if broke her heart, I gotta let her know that I'm sorry.
And for once in my life I'm alone, but I have to let her know just in time before I go.

I just gotta get this message to you,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on.
Just a few more hours and my life will be through,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on.

You know I can laugh at death and it won't hurt,
but did you know it's your love that keeps me wearing this dirt?
Now I'm crying, but deep down inside, I know I did it to that Jenny,
And now it's my turn to die.

But I must get this message to you,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on.
Just a few more hours and my life will be through,
So hold on, Cassidy, hold on."

Butch's arm lowered, and he stared at the pad, amazed he had written these words. He had never written poetry before, and he knew these words were special, that they had poured from deep within him, that they were finally giving vent to the feelings that he had kept hidden from his partner for so long.

"My most beautiful partner, I am so sorry I waited so long to be able to tell you this. I know I can't be with you to watch you read these words and know your response-" Butch's eyes began to tear again. Sniffling, he shakily finished the letter… "But know that I always have and always will love you, even in death and whatever comes after this world. You have made my life worth living, Cassidy, and to you I am forever grateful. All my love, Butch.."

The ink ran in a few spots as Butch's tears fell and hit the letter. Quietly, he tore the sheet from the pad and folded it up. Clutching the note tightly in hand, Butch walked to the call button by the cell door and pressed it.

The door to the hallway opened, and a young Jenny who looked ver new to the force walked in. She eyed Butch cautiously, as if afraid of him. Obviously, she had not yet perfected that hard Jenny stare Butch had seen on so many cops before. "Yes?" she asked, her attempt at a hard tone barely masking her youth and inexperience.

"I need to see Commissioner Guenevere." Butch said.

"Regarding what?" The Jenny asked.

"Regarding my last request." Butch snapped.

"All- all right." The Jenny replied. She pulled her radio from her belt and pressed the button to talk. "Cell Guard 2 to Com 1."

The radio crackled back. "Com 1. Go."

The Jenny eyed Butch nervously as he held her in his gaze. "Com 1, I have a prisoner who needs to see you, please."

"Name?" Guenevere said over the radio.

"It's Butch Crandall, about his last wish." The Jenny replied.

There was moment of silence. "I'll be right down." Guenevere answered.

The Jenny glanced at Butch and quickly responded to her superior. "I copy, Com 1. Thank you." She looked at Butch again. "She'll be down in a minute." She said cheerfully, happy that her task was done.

"I can hear, you know." Butch growled.

The Jenny stammered slightly, her face flushing a bright red. "Well, er, right." She replied. With that, she turned toward the door to leave.

"Hey, Jenny!" Butch called. The cop turned back to face Butch again.

"Have a good time walking me to the chair later." Butch said venomously.

Jenny looked as if she was going to say something, the changed her mind and simply turned to leave again. Butch allowed himself a smile as he thought of how easily he had intimidated her, but he quickly wiped it from his face when he heard the door opening again as Guenevere walked in.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Crandall?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've got my last request." Butch said curtly. "Ah, good. What is it that you want?"

Butch pushed his letter through the bars. "I want this message delivered to Cassidy Parker, care of the Viridian City Gym." Guenevere started to unfold the letter, and Butch quickly added, "and it is to be read only by her. Absolutely no one else." Guenevere looked up and refolded the letter.

"Very well." She replied. "To be delivered to Cassidy Parker, care of the Viridian City Gym?"

Butch nodded, and Guenevere jotted the information down on an official-looking form she had on her clipboard. "This is your last request, then?" she asked.

"Yeah." Butch answered.

Guenevere passed her pen to Butch. "Initial here and it will be done." She said, lifting the clipboard to the bars. Butch initialed and signed the form and passed the pen back to Guenevere. "I must say I'm surprised, Mr. Crandall. Not many people would use their last request to simply mail a letter. This person, this-" Guenevere looked at her form- "Cassidy Parker must be very special. Am I right?"

Butch glared at her with a hard expression. "And what the hell is it to you, Jen?" he snapped.

For the first time since they had met, Guenevere was unable to keep her reaction in check. She glared back at Butch. "The name is Guenevere, Crandall. Get it right." She growled.

Butch smirked at her, not intimidated in the least. Guenevere composed herself back to her typical reserved nature. She glanced at her watch. "It's 12:45, Mr. Crandall. You have one hour and forty-five minutes until your execution. Would you like to see Chaplain Gerber again?"

Butch considered this for a second, but decided that Gerber had already done all the good he could do. "No." Butch replied. "I don't wanna talk to that religious freak. All I want is to be alone." He said in a nasty tone of voice.

"Suit yourself." Guenevere replied, her frustration with Butch showing slightly. She turned to leave, and the hall door slammed shut with an echo that resonated through the detention area.

Butch's hard expression faded as a tear came to his eye. He could see Cassidy in his mind's eye, reading the letter and learning the truth… and yet still being so alone. Maybe everything would have been better off if he had never penned the letter at all.

Butch looked around him. Death was almost welcome now, an escape from the depressing little slice of hell he had been stuck in for weeks. He felt sick to his stomach… sick of the situation, sick of his cramped cell, sick of the thought of his dear Cassidy being all alone. Idly, he wondered to himself if she had a new partner yet, but the image of Cassidy being teamed with someone else made Butch feel even worse. The tears came ever so steadily now as Butch collapsed to the floor and leaned against the cell wall.

Slowly, the blurry images and traces of light Butch could see through his tears faded and gave way to darkness as exhaustion overtook Butch and he fell asleep.

A field of flowers. Butch looked around, confused. How did he get here? Slowly, Butch smiled. He was free! The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the beautiful blue sky. In the distance, he heard something. A woman humming. Butch kept quiet and listened until he heard the sounds again. Upon hearing it, Butch recognized it in a second. It was the old Team Rocket anthem, "Rocket Dan Yo Ein Nei". He walked in the direction of the familiar tune, then started running when he realized that the woman humming was none other than Cassidy.

There she stood at the edge of the field, her back to him as she stared at the ground. Overjoyed, Butch ran to Cassidy as her humming filled his ears. When he was within one foot of her, however, he stopped. Something, some invisible force was keeping him from reaching her. Frustrated, Butch looked down at the ground and saw what Cassidy was staring at: a flat rectangular stone with carving in it. The carving was hazy and Butch squinted to read the inscription: "Here lies Butch L. Crandall, executed by the Celadon City Police for the crime of murder" Butch's face went as white as a sheet as Cassidy finished humming the anthem and said in a sad voice, "I'm coming, Butch. I'm coming, darling." Her back still to Butch, Cassidy pulled a silver handgun from the bag she had on her shoulder and placed the barrel to the side of her head.

Butch jumped up, suddenly able to move, and grabbed Cassidy as he screamed, "No!" Cassidy limply turned around, and Butch saw before him Jenny Morgenstern, her face cut and bleeding, her neck twisted horribly, and her arms bleeding from scratches and scrapes. Butch stared at her, shocked and repulsed. The sky turned blood red and nasty looking clouds materialized as Morgenstern grabbed Butch's throat and choked him, crushing his windpipe…

"NO!" Butch screamed loudly as he bolted upright from where he he'd been laying on the floor. He panted loudly as he looked around, realizing he was still in his cell. Three minutes later, the hallway door opened and Guenevere walked in with four cops, two Jennies and two Jenny-Brothers.

They approached the cell slowly but deliberately, and Butch looked up apprehensively. "It's time, Mr. Crandall." Guenevere said.

Butch's eyes went wide as the first Jenny lifted her key to the lock in Butch's door and turned it. Overcome with fear, Butch frantically scrambled to the back wall of his cell. Guenevere sighed and nodded to the other three guards, who moved to Butch. One took hold of his right arm while another took hold of his left arm. The third guard walked behind him, and the three cops lead him to Guenevere. The Commissioner looked at Butch with a face devoid of emotion.

Butch looked back at her with a heart heavy with remorse and fear, but knew he couldn't allow himself to show his emotion, his weakness. Somewhere in his mind, he could still hear the stubborn, angry voice of Agent Masterson… "I see fear, Crandall! Fear is emotion! Emotion is weakness! Weakness is the road to defeat! DO YOU WANT DEFEAT, CRANDALL?!" That voice, that sound from the past, forced him into the mode he had trained himself to be in since he had joined Team Rocket… a stony, silent mode.

Butch knew there was no escape, but he held his defiant, angry stare as Guenevere opened the hallway door and led the circle of guards, the two on either side of Butch still clutching his arms tightly. Butch swallowed hard as they led him down the hall past the other holding areas to the steel door at the end of the hall. Big red letters on the door stated clearly: DANGER: AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY.

The group stopped at the door, and Butch felt the grip on his arms tighten. He looked at the Jenny and the Jenny-Brothers surrounding him, and saw no traces of any kind of emotion.

They were like robots, really, mere robots carrying a piece of trash to the dumpster. In front of him, Guenevere selected the correct key and wordlessly opened the steel plated door. She led the group in, and closed the door as the guard behind Butch stepped in, closing the tight circle around the Black Rocket.

Bright florescent tubes bathed the room in a harsh light. Butch looked around at the cement walls and floor, and at the large dull gray colored control panel on one wall. His eyes then followed the heavy-duty cables from the control panel across the floor to a large red and yellow striped square painted on the floor. The square was surrounded by the words "KEEP CLEAR". At the center of the square, the electric chair sat silently, an imposing structure made of metal and wood.

The four guards led Butch to the chair and sat him down. The two guards who had been in front of him and behind him secured his legs in the restraints as the two who had held his arms secured them in their restraints. Butch's hard expression never faded, but if the guards had looked and listened closely, they would have seen the traces of tears in Butch's eye and the barely audible whimper that escaped through his clenched teeth.

Once Butch's arms and legs were secured, three of the guards stepped back silently as the fourth one pulled a metal cap down onto Butch's head and secured it with a leather strap under his chin. Butch recognized this guard somehow as the same Jenny- Brother who had gotten the pen and paper for him the night before. Though the Jenny- Brother didn't say a word, Butch could tell he loved this job, preparing this Rocket slime for death. Determined not to give the Jenny-Brother the satisfaction of seeing his fear, Butch tried desperately to keep up a hard front that would've made Agent Masterson proud, all while he sobbed and begged for his life inside.

The Jenny-Brother glared at Butch, obviously eager to watch him fry, and stepped back to join his fellow cops.

Guenevere stepped forward. "Butch Crandall, you have been found guilty of the murder of Celadon City Police Officer Jennifer Estelle Morgenstern. In accordance with the articles of Celadon City law, you have been sentenced to die by electrocution. Your last request has been granted, and your letter has been sent to Cassidy Parker in care of the Viridian City Gym. Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?"

Butch glared at his nemesis with eyes full of hate as he cried like a baby inside. "Hell, no." he growled defiantly.

Guenevere's lips tightened into a scowl for a second, then relaxed. "Very well. Rest in peace, Mr. Crandall." She said simply. She turned away and walked to the control panel. Her master control key was inserted and turned, and a shiver ran through Butch as the generators behind him hummed with building power.

Butch chewed his lip as sweat drops formed on his forehead. The guards who had escorted him in now stood facing him outside the danger zone as witnesses, their mouths silent but their eyes screaming for justice. Their faces were like stone as they stood there, ready to watch him die.

A shrill buzzer sounded as the generators reached full power. Out of the corner of his eye, Butch saw Guenevere's hand reach for the red master switch. Guenevere gripped the handle and pulled it down swiftly as she closed her eyes tightly.

Butch felt it in a millisecond. Terrible, jolting, burning, blinding pain as the immeasurable volts of raw electricity surged through every part of his being. Butch screamed savagely as his body was wracked with pain. His flesh burned and blistered in seconds as he felt his body die. He had wondered what it would be like, but he had never dreamed that the last few seconds of his life would last this long.

Now, another shrill ringing bell sounded from nowhere. Somehow, Butch registered the sound through the blinding pain, and realized that the ringing was not from the machine, the control panel, or the chair…so where WAS the ringing coming from? Butch's mind searched for the answer. Bells, bells, bells…bells of heaven? Hell? A death toll? No, those bells couldn't sound like this…somehow, Butch's hand broke free of the restraint of the armrest of the electric chair and reached to the source of the ringing. God, at least let me die in peace, he thought to himself as the damn ringing finally stopped. Butch returned his hand to the restraint and sighed.

It took Butch a few seconds to realize there was no pain now. Slowly, he opened his eyes, half expecting to be floating above his own corpse in the chair. But there was no electric chair. No Officer Jennies. No Commissioner Guenevere. All there was, was quiet ticking. Blinking, Butch sat up and looked around.

He was in his quarters in Viridian City. There was his bed, there was the mini- fridge, there was the six-pack of high caffeine cola…with five cans unopened. The first can sat there opened on the desk with only a sip or two missing.

"What the hell…?" Butch said to himself as he looked at his ticking alarm clock. It was 8:00 in the morning. The sun was shining through the crack in his blinds, and before him on the desk sat the paper he had been writing notes on for two weeks: "J-R Rifle, Jenny Morgenstern, Westwood Park 9:30 am (Sunday)…"

Butch's mouth fell open as he slapped his forehead. "I'll be damned…" He muttered to himself. "It was all…just…one…big…stupid…nightmare!" A thought popped into his head. Butch stood up and grabbed his keys from the desk. He walked to the door and opened it. Staring across the hall, he saw the brass nameplate on the opposite door: "Agent 556-BLACK ROCKET CASSIDY PARKER."

From the other end of the hall, Butch saw Mondo walking toward him briskly, hurrying to his duty in the weapons room.

"Good morning, Butch." Mondo said cheerfully.

Butch glared at him, growling something at the young Rocket as he hurried on his way. Once Mondo was out of sight, Butch slipped over to Cassidy's door and used his copy of her key (They had agreed as partners to have each others keys long ago) to open her door. Butch entered the room silently and closed the door without a sound.

Cassidy was just as he had left her the previous night, covered with her blanked and snoring quietly. Butch smiled, and removed his boots. He climbed into the bed and lay down beside her, placing one arm around her. Still asleep, Cassidy smiled and shifted slightly, positioning her body against his.

Butch lay there, wide awake and waiting for her to wake up. When she did, Butch knew what he would do…He finally had the strength to do it. He would tell her everything. He would tell her, hold her, and kiss her.

Butch looked out the window and saw a white bird on the tree branch outside. He smiled as he looked at it, and realized there was no longer any need in his mind for payback, for revenge, for anything but the chance to finally tell Cassidy the truth.

The bird flew away and Butch lay there fully at peace for the first time in years. He smiled, closed his eyes, and listened as the quiet sound of Cassidy's breathing filled his ears.

THE END