Well, you asked for it! Here’s chapter two. Thanks for the feedback so far. Glad to know people are liking it. I guess I must be doing something right, even if I have no clue what I’m doing. ^_^; I’m kind of guessing at names for cities and Pokemon and such, so if something seems wrong, let me know…in a constructive manner, of course. Flames are normally used to roast marshmallows, and I don’t pay much attention to them, anyway. Eh…as for those who have emailed me wondering if I’ll be making this into an AaMRN, I’m not really sure. This isn’t really about them. At least, not ONLY them. I might work with them a little, but if you’re expecting outright story focused mainly on them, you’re going to be disappointed. But I hope you’ll read the story, anyway. ^_^ You might miss out on something good if you don’t.

"Think you two can last the whole night without smothering each other with your pillows or something?" Brock teased as he and his two companions walked back to the Pokemon Center. It was eleven o’clock—time for lights out—and they had to get back if they didn’t want to get locked out of the building.

"Just keep him as far away from me as possible and he should still be alive in the morning," Misty replied smugly.

"Hey! If you hate me so much, how come you’re still following me around?!" Ash protested, glaring at her.

"Because you still haven’t paid me back for my bike yet, THAT’S why!" Misty howled, chasing him into the building with mallet firmly in hand.

Brock groaned. "Two years now, and they’re still singing that same tired old song. When are they gonna ‘fess up and just admit that they care about each other?" he asked a rather disgusted Pikachu.

"Pi," was the rodent’s reply.

After assuring himself that both his friends made it to their room—and after wrestling the mallet and any other blunt objects she might have possessed away from Misty for the night, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to use them on Ash—Brock made his way to his own room and quietly opened the door, mindful of its other occupant sleeping inside. It was dark; he could see a huddled form on the cot closest to the window, the light of a full moon shining in to bathe the small boy in silvery light. He smiled, walking quietly over to Johnny’s bed.

The younger boy was something of an enigma to him; Brock had the strangest feeling that he was hiding something, although he couldn’t figure out for the life of him what it was. But there was just something about Johnny that didn’t quite add up. Something almost…

Johnny stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep, and his low, slightly rough-sounding voice seemed strangely high-pitched and soft in sleep. Almost…feminine. Puzzled, Brock moved a little closer, certain he was hearing wrong. Johnny sighed and turned over, one hand flailing outward, and the moonlight illuminated his face and…hat? Brock smiled. Poor kid really must’ve been tired if he didn’t even bother to take off his hat, he thought amusedly, reaching out to pull it off the boy’s head.

A slender wrist shot out and grasped Brock’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and stormy eyes opened to fix intently on him, glowing eerily. "What do you think you’re doing?" Johnny hissed.

Startled, to say the least, Brock managed to stammer out, "Y-your hat was still on. I thought you’d be more comfortable with it off."

Johnny relaxed—slightly—and released his grip on Brock’s arm. "I’m fine," he replied shortly.

Brock raised an eyebrow. "Do you normally sleep with your hat on?" he asked suspiciously.

Johnny hesitated, then shrugged. "I get cold sometimes," came his non-committal reply. He crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. "Not," he added haughtily, "that it’s any of your business!"

Now Brock crossed his arms, as well, and smiled impishly down at the boy. "What are you hiding?" he demanded teasingly. "You’ve got a secret!"

To his surprise, the other boy’s eyes widened slightly, and he seemed almost startled. Then, "I…I don’t know what you’re talking about!"

"Then you won’t mind taking off your hat," Brock replied smugly.

Both hands reached up to clutch the hat. "Who died and made you my master?" Johnny snapped. "If I wanna sleep in my hat, I can!"

"Well…if you won’t take it off…I will!" Brock replied, reaching out to snatch the hat. Johnny, feeling a moment of panic, scrambled away from the older boy. However, as he was still tangled up in his sleeping bag, he ended up sprawled out on the floor, the breath knocked out of him.

"Ah-ha!" Brock crowed, sitting on Johnny’s legs, laughing. "So what’re you gonna do now?" he asked teasingly. "You might as well give up. I can be very determined, you know."

"Get off of me, you big oaf!" Johnny yelled, slapping at him with his fists. Brock merely laughed and grabbed one flying hand in his own, reaching out to snatch the hat from Johnny’s head.

The boy shrieked, arms flying up to cover his head…but not before a mass of long, white-gold hair tumbled out from beneath the hat and fell in a gleaming shower over his shoulders to pool on the floor around them.

Brock’s jaw dropped in shock, and he abruptly dropped the hat and scrambled away from the trainer backwards, crab-style. "Y-y-you’re a…a g-gi-girl!" he stuttered in amazement. And it was true. Johnny had seemed to him to be almost too delicate and too feminine-looking…and now with that hair as a dead giveaway…

"Congratulations, Sherlock. How’d ya figure that one out?" the young trainer muttered, pulling him—her—self free of the sleeping bag.

Brock’s gaping jaw snapped shut as he stared at the girl in disbelief. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And why are you going around pretending to be a guy?" He watched as she sighed and jammed slender fingers through the mass of wheat-colored hair. Wow, he thought dazedly. She’s…beautiful. Normally, by that time, he probably would have been simpering at her feet, as he did every other pretty girl he met, but the shock of it all still hadn’t left him, and right now his more sensible side was in control. There’d be enough time for simpering later. After he’d gotten some answers.

"Look," Johnny was saying in an annoyed sort of way, although he could sense that beneath the annoyance she was also afraid. "It’s a long story, and I really don’t feel like going into the details of it right now, okay? Besides, it isn’t any of your business!"

Brock blinked. "Well…can you at least tell me your real name?" he questioned.

A moment’s hesitation. Then, a sigh of resignation. "It’s Jael, okay? But if you tell anybody about this, you’re meatloaf! Got it?!" she snapped, fixing him with a fierce glare. "There’s a lot that depends on my cover not being blown, so you’d better keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!"

Brock’s lips quirked in an involuntary smile as he eyed her up and down. She was threatening him…and she barely even reached his shoulder. This was too cute. Johnny…er…Jael seemed to know what he was thinking, because her glare deepened and she added fiercely, "I may not look like much, but I could pound you to a pulp with one hand behind my back! Just you see if I don’t!"

He sweatdropped. "I don’t doubt that," he assured her, although he was still grinning. "You’re a real scrapper, I bet."

Her jaw tightened. "I also don’t appreciate being made fun of," she growled, getting to her feet and tugging her flannel shirt down over her pajama pants. And now Brock could see what she’d so carefully hidden before beneath the vest and the blue shirt, and a blush covered his face as he quickly looked away. How’d she manage to hide those? he thought with something akin to amusement. She wasn’t extremely…er…well endowed or anything—not like Officer Jenny and Nurse Joy were—but there was still enough there to have been a dead giveaway, had he bothered to look harder…

And that thought caused him to blush even harder. Womanly intuition never ceased to amaze him…

"So? Why are you going around pretending to be someone you’re not?" he pressed, determined not to give up until he found out what he wanted to know. That, and the further he strayed from his current train of thought, the better. At Jael’s exasperated look, he chuckled and crossed his arms. "Hey, I told you I’m determined," he added with a wink, unable to keep from flirting with her, just a little.

"Well, think about it, dummy. A girl…traveling by herself…I mean, it is only practical," Jael sniffed, tossing her hair.

"Doesn’t your Pokemon protect you?"

She blinked. "Shocker Blue? Of course he does!" She looked a little uncomfortable. "But Shocker’s a little…unusual. I keep him hidden when I’m in the city so I don’t attract unwanted attention."

"What’s so unusual about him?" Brock wanted to know. "I mean…besides the fact that you know he’s a boy."

"What is this? Twenty Questions?!" she almost yelled. "Look, I said all I’m gonna say on the subject and now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some packing to do!" She huffed an annoyed sigh as she began to roll up her sleeping bag. "This is exactly why I travel alone," she muttered under her breath.

Whether or not she’d meant for Brock to hear it, he’d never know, but heard it he did, and he raised an eyebrow. "Wait! Why are you taking off now? It’s the middle of the night!" he protested.

Jael shot him an incredulous glance. "Um…hello! I’m a girl…you’re a guy…and according to your friends you’re a skirt-chaser, too. Do you really think I’m spending the night here now? I’m not stupid, you know!"

Brock sweatdropped. "Eh…you have a point," he admitted sheepishly. "Not about the skirt-chaser part, of course, but…"

Jael merely rolled her eyes. "If you say so. But I’m still leaving."

Just then, before any more protests could be made, the door burst open and Ash and Misty came flying into the room, yelling excitedly. "Uh-oh," Jael muttered, eyeing the two teens, who were both still talking at once. "So much for my cover. Something tells me life’s about to get a whole lot harder than normal." She scowled. "Shocker, how do I let you talk me into these things…?"

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Heh. Bet you didn’t see that one coming. Well…you know what to do. ^_^