Ash's Bucket List- Bury a time capsule.

Ash POV

I woke up the day after an exhausting family group therapy session with more energy than I'd had in a long time. Even when I had school to go to, I was never awake before 8am, but on this particular day, I was ready to take on any and everything and waking up late wasn't gonna cut it.

My first stop was the hot shower, where I plugged my iPod into its dock and proceeded to sing along to Justin Timberlake. There's nothing better than letting your frustrations out while listening to a good music. And it wasn't like I was being selfish or inconsiderate- dad was probably at his office already and Leaf had Hope awake at around 7am. Right now they were probably at one of their mother/daughter classes. Yeah, a class for 4 year olds.

After my much needed music therapy. I got out of the steamed shower, got dressed in my everyday clothing and walked to the kitchen to make myself something to eat and go over my list.

It was time to step it up with the list. Even though Sere and I had made incredible headway with it, some annoyingly persistent niggling feeling told me that I didn't have much time to waste. I didn't want to share my increasingly negative thoughts with anyone and I definitely didn't want to say a damn thing about my worsening headaches, so I just kept my mouth shut.

Pouring myself a fresh glass of apple juice filling it up till the very top. I frowned at my shaking hand.

"This bites," I muttered to myself. But today wasn't the day to feel sorry for myself. I had important stuff to do. It was time for me to suck it up, ignore the pain and get to business.

Feeling around in my loose pocket, I drew out my touch-screen phone and dialed the number for 'Time Capsule's Inc.' Like the name suggested, they were the go to guys if you needed a time capsule that looked like it was just part of the scenery. I found out about them a couple of days ago when I was Googling how to 'make' a time capsule and they seemed like the most interesting based company that specialised in time capsules. I mean, they made realistic looking hollow rocks and logs! How cool was that?

I made plans to pick up my fake rock at around lunch time in their Plaza office, hung up and dropped my list on the counter. Hopefully, by the end of the day, I would have knocked one more thing off of my list. And if Sere wasn't busy, maybe I could call her up to help me out and we could spend some time together.

I grinned to myself of the thought as I picked up a shiny green apple from the fruit bowl.

Sere. She was pretty special, and I loved the way her hair smelled. Like wild strawberries. Delicious.

I did a double take as dad strode into the kitchen, a news paper in his bare hand and his phone clamped to his ear on the other. Well, at least I was used to the phone part. But I thought he was already at work, usually he could hardly wait for the sun to rise so he could get out of the penthouse. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Morning," dad grunted. It took me a couple of seconds to realise he was actually talking to me.

"Hey, dad," I replied, biting into the juicy apple to hide my surprised face. Chowing it down.

Okay, what was going on? Dad never talked to me in the morning, unless it was to ream me out for not going to my therapy sessions or for missing a doctors appointment. I'd been scrupulously attending every single appointment since my expulsion, which was a pretty big deal for me, so it couldn't be a lecture about that. Usually I used every excuse I could come up with to get out of therapy, but for the past week or so, I'd been going without a single complaint.

Could be Sere's influence that was getting to me. She thought that therapy was the answer for everything, and I didn't want to disappoint her by letting her know that it was all pretty much bull****. You see what I would do, just to make this girl happy? More proof that I was turning soft in my 'old' age, but for Sere, I didn't mind at all.

Dad hung up on the person he was talking to, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing there. "Sleep well?" He replied to me.

This was starting to trip me out. Smalltalk? Between my father and Me? Never happened.

I nodded, wondering if Hope was putting something in dad's nightly brandy. "Yeah, I slept alright," I lied.

Actually, I tossed and turned for half of the night, eventually popping a Tylenol 3 to help me sleep. Yeah, the headaches had gotten so bad that I was being prescribed Tylenol 3. Yet Dr. Brock still didn't think surgery was a good idea.

"Good," dad nodded, clearing his throat. He glanced at me from across, opened his mouth abruptly like he was about to say something, then shut it again.

I took another bite of my fresh apple, tasting a hint of sour, suddenly wondering if the family therapy meeting Dr. Brock had ordered us to attend yesterday had actually affected dad.

It didn't seem like it at the time, mostly because he spend most of the hour long therapy session flirting with Nurse Joy, getting rejected every time he asks her out on a date which was pretty funny due to his flirty acts.

As soon as dad found out about my headache activated nausea, he dragged me straight to Dr. Brock, much to my surprise. Huh. What do you know, I got him worried. And here I was thinking that he hated me, especially after I got expelled.

I guess that goes to show how complex humans can be, huh? Anyway, that was when Dr. Brock suggested the group therapy to help us get through what he called 'Ash's illness'.

I think it was the Leaf angle that got him, when dad explained about how she freaked out on him. Ever since that day, she always comes and 'checks up' on me, bringing me little presents and asking if I want to play games with her. She was starting to act like my little shadow.

I think she was scared that if she left me alone, even for a second, something would happen to me. That was the main reason I agreed to go to last nights therapy, but it wasn't something I wanted to repeat.

Grabbing a mug from the overhead cabinet, Dad turned to the coffee machine and stood there for a minute, fiddling with the various buttons and knobs. I perched myself on the bar stool, watching curiously in sight. This wasn't how his morning was supposed to go. He has strong coffee from Costa every morning, not homemade! Why was he screwing his routine up so much today?

After several more minutes of watching dad, who obviously had no clue what he was doing, I felt bad.

"Need any help with that?" I offered to help, standing up to my feet and waiting for the initial fierce pounding in my head to settle to a dull roar before I walked over to where dad was standing.

Dad turned around to face me, a sheepish look on his face. "Oh, yeah, sure. I can't quite figure out how to work this," he said, also sounding like he couldn't quite believe that I knew how to work it.

I walked over to the coffee machine, pressed the required buttons and made my dad a fresh, steaming cup of strong coffee. The looks of it was old but the taste was so bitter that it would rust your throat.

"Here you go," I said affably in an easy way, trying not to yell 'in your face' as I handed him the hot mug. My hands around the glass surface as heat came from it. 

"Thanks, son," he said, taking the mug, which was good because I would have dropped it due to the hot burning my skin.

Did he just call me son? He hasn't done that in- ever! What the hell is wrong with him!?

An awkward silence ensued as I resumed back to my seat on the bar stool, taking a sip of my apple juice, downing the liquid that made my throat all wet from dry.

Dad came to join me, sitting down opposite me as he nursed his java. His eyes fell on Gary's old notebook and he picked it up like the nosy bugger that he is.

"What's this?" he asked motioning me to the notebook. See, I told you so.

"It's my bucket list," I simply replied, deciding not to queer the deal by saying something along the lines of 'none of your business'.

It was obvious that, for whatever reason, dad was trying his best to be nice to me today. The least I could do was return the favor. Dad rarely showed an interest in what I had to say or do, so this was all new to me.

Snorting derisively, dad's eyes flickered across the page reading every paper on the book. "Are you still on that? Doesn't the fact that I've got the best Neurosurgeon in Kalos to operate on you mean anything to you?"

To my very own surprise, he sounded hurt, like I had insulted him in some way by continuing to work on my list even though I had Dr. Brock taking care of my health.

"It does mean a lot," I said with feeling, swallowing hard. "I just- I want to be prepared for whatever happens."

Dad's eyes flicked up to my face. "You're not going to die, if that's what you're trying to say," he told me, sounding gruff.

I shrugged, not wanting to get in to a fight by asking him how he could be so sure. I knew the mortality rates for aneurysms, and they weren't really that promising. But this was the exact kind of negativity that I didn't want to deal with, especially this early in the morning.

"If that's true, at least I'll have done a lot of the things I've been wanting to do for a long time," I replied carefully, not wanting to rock the boat.

Dad grunted again, reading my list more carefully. Suddenly, he chuckled out loud as I stared in surprise, he was now starting to freak me out. Looking up at me, he waved the notebook. "Mile high club, huh?" Was that a glimmer of respect I saw in his dark eyes? "I guess you really are my son, after all."

I bit my lip to stop myself from saying 'was that ever in question'? Of course it had been in question, according to my grandfather on dads side. Dad had been gunning for a DNA test as soon as I was born.

"I guess," I muttered through my teeth, staring at my own hands that was placed on my knees. There he went again, always making a snide comment here, a mean remark there. Just like Calem. Negativity ruled their lives.

Well, I had my positive little star, a star called Sere, and I didn't want any part of their negative energy.

"Is your little friend still helping you with your 'bucket list'?" dad asked, making air quotes as he said the words bucket list. Like he thought it was a joke to me, instead of being the most serious thing I'd tackled my whole life. And what the hell was up with this 'little friend' nickname?

"Yeah." I nodded affirming.

Dad rested his elbows on the hard table, leaning forward getting interested in this father and son conversation were having. "So whats the deal with Miss Yvonne anyway?" he asked curiously. "She your new conquest or what?"

I stared at him, running a hand through my uncombed spiked hair. "She's not a conquest," I simply replied shortly.

"Then why the hell would you go from Miette to her?" dad asked, sounding as though he really had to know. "I mean, she's a looker, but despite that, isn't she a downgrade?"

Great, now he was going to pull out the snob card and start arguing about her because she didn't come from money.

Putting on my blank face, I asked, "Why? Because she's poor?"

Dad blinked a few times. Looking uncertain for the first time in years, he finally replied, "Okay, yes. That's what I meant to say, I suppose. You should know that Ketchum's don't usually date people of such – low class."

I shrugged. "Maybe the Ketchum's are about to get less shallow."

Well, it had to start sometime, right? Hopefully Leaf would follow that route and stay humble instead of turning into a shallow airhead.

Snickering, dad said, "Are you talking about you?" He seemed amazed and I glowered darkly at the granite table top. "Since when did you turn into Mr. Humanitarian?"

Evenly, my voice not betraying the anger sweeping through me, I said, "Since never. I just used to be closed minded. Now I'm not."

Dad gave me an assessing look, then bared his teeth in a knowing grin. "You're just hanging out with her to piss me off, aren't you?" he exclaimed, amused. I shook my head mutely, frowning as he continued. "Yes you are, but it'll get old. Everything does with you, Ash. You have a short attention span. Must be a gift from your mother, because you sure didn't get it from me." He laughed at his own wit as my hands clenched tightly on my lap. When was he going to understand that anything I did didn't revolve around him?

"Not in this case." I replied. Keeping my attitude cool as Ice.

Dad stood up straight, picking up his newspaper from table. "Mark my words," he intoned, shaking the paper dangerously close to my face between my eyes in sight, "I know you pretty well."

"Not as well as you might think," I muttered, feeling heated as dad strode out of the kitchen and on his merry way leaving me all alone.

Guess he wasn't truly satisfied until he managed to ruin my mood and get under my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I stretched out my arms. I just needed to relax. He was just bull****ing, that much was obvious. And he must not really know me that well, because I wasn't hanging out with Sere to piss him or anyone else off.

I was hanging with her because she was understanding, kind, beautiful and had the most kissable lips... The last one wasn't a great reason to be spending time with anyone, but it was true.

Feeling defiant, I picked up my cell phone and dialed her number. Waiting for her to reply until it finally answered.

"Hey Ash! What's up?" She replied in my ear through line.

I leaned back against the table, closing my eyes and letting Sere's sweet voice wash over me. "Nothing much. What you getting up to today?" I asked, hoping against hope that she would say nothing and I'd have her all to myself for the entire day. That way, I can get to know her better.

"I have to go to work today," Sere replied. The disappointment that ran through my body was intense.

Running a hand through my dry hair again, I said, "Oh. Okay."

"Why, what are you planning on doing today?" Sere asked curiously.

I shrugged, my list thrown carelessly to the side. Working on things without Sere wasn't that much fun. When she wasn't around I missed the way she shivered when I touched her by accident, the way she made up little bits of information then acted like it was the gospel truth, the way she giggled when I said something funny- I just missed her, period.

"I just wanted to finish up with the time capsule," I said without much enthusiasm.

Sere gasped. "Ash, you better not be working on burying that time capsule without me! I've always wanted to send a message in a bottle," she said wistfully and I smiled. "This is my only chance to do something like this!"

"Well, you said you're working today, so..." My voice trailed off.

"So?" Sere sounded indignant. "I only work until 1pm! If you can wait till then, I'd really love to be a part of this."

Now that was what I liked to hear.

"Why didn't you tell me you only worked till 1?" I griped playfully, my good mood restored.

Sere giggled. "You didn't ask. So, can I bring something to put in the time capsule?"

Nodding desperately, I replied immediately, "More than one thing, if you want. Like maybe a favorite t-shirt, memento, a keepsake. You know, something that means a lot to you that you'll look at when we open the capsule in a few years and remember the memories associated with it."

"Okay. Do you have your memento's ready?" I could hear a laugh in her voice on the phone, like she was trying not to make fun of me for using that word.

"Hey, I'm bringing the word memento back," I protested with a wide grin on my face.

"I'm not doubting that," Sere snickered.

"I've pretty much got everything I want to put in the capsule ready and waiting," I continued. "Oh, wait a second. You know what?"

Sere giggled again. "Sounds like the start of one of your crazy schemes," she said.

I snorted. "I don't do crazy schemes."

"Ash. You took the P.A. Room hostage. You're certifiable." She said which got me thinking way back at school where I apologised to her of the situation for my plan.

Switching the phone to my other ear, I grinned ruefully while tapping my finger on table in Rhythm. "Okay, so maybe I do go a little overboard sometimes-."

"*Cough*- 10 detentions- *cough!*" Obviously Sere was just trying to be perverse.

"Sere..." I groaned out her name.

"Fine, I'm done teasing you." Her voice turned faux attentive. "So What should we do?"

Her message in a bottle comment had caught my attention and I leaned forward, eager to tell her my plan.

"We should write letters to each other, seal them and put them in the capsule."

There was a short pause. "Like homework?" Sere asked finally.

"Well, no." I rolled my eyes.

"Sounds like homework to me." She didn't sound too enthralled by the notion. "What kind of letters?"

"You know, what you think of me now, how you'll remember me in the years to come, stuff you think I should change, that kind of thing," I explained, warming to the idea. "It'll be fun!"

And so, thankfully, did Sere. Or maybe she just heard the excitement in my voice and didn't want to burst my bubble.

"Lets do it!" Her voice turned sly. "I can think of a lot that I can say about you."

My interest piqued. "Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked as a smile crawled all over my face.

"You'll have to find out when we open the capsule," Sere replied primly, sensing a sly smile from her.

"You Teaser."