Author's notes: Sudden inspiration stuck me and I decided to write this. It's very angsty and contains suicidal references. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, especially not a billion dollar company like Nintendo. I don't own Bette Midler either.

A Warm Place.

By Seveninchsprockets.

Jessie shivered.

It wasn't a cold night. It was the middle of spring, and the evenings were often quite mild and temperate. But despite this, Jessie still shivered.

God, she was cold. She could feel it, seeping through every pore and fibre of her body, the icy tendrils reaching out from somewhere deep inside her. She was always cold, so very cold. She could barely remember the last time she had felt warmth.

I am the captain,

And this is my shrine.

Lord of the manor,

See what I leave behind.

Trembling, she pushed herself out of her sleeping bag. Standing quite still, she surveyed the small clearing she and her comrades currently occupied. It was bare, with no real vegetation to be seen. It looked as though nothing had grown here for years. A small, bitter smile curved her lips. So, this is what she had conquered. This is what years of being owned by Team Rocket had brought her. A tiny, piece of the earth that had died years ago, along with her spirit. What a wasted effort.

River in flames,

cities on fire.

Yes, I'm a relic trapped in the wire.

"So old…" She thought to herself. "I feel so old…"

Hydrogen fuel.

It burns so clean,

throbs in the veins of my lover machine.

She is my wife,

Her mechanical heart,

Constantly serving 'till death do us part.

This was what being married to Team Rocket did to you, what it meant to be her lover. You could never have what you really wanted, or needed. And you would never be free, not until death carried you away on black wings. Jessie closed her eyes as tears trickled down her cheeks, as the force of her realization hit her square in the chest. She would never have anything better than this, because she had wasted her life and her love on something that would never love her back. What a wretched fool she was.

Now our glorious war draws to a close,

The yellow winds blow.

And I have to know…

A terrible pain struck her, somewhere right between her heart and her soul, and she gasped for breath. Falling to her hands and knees, she scrabbled wildly over to the group's shared provisions bag. Desperation filled her as she tore it open to empty its contents onto the ground. She could take it no longer; the coldness, the unfeeling machine that held her, trapped, in this empty place. She had to get out; she had to be free. She could no longer stand being a slave.

Something metallic clinked onto the ground, shining dully in the moonlight. Hope filled her, and she snatched up the cutthroat razor. She felt a pang of guilt that she was using something that belonged to James to do this. She would have asked him first, if that were possible.

"He'll understand..." She pressed the cruel, sharp metal against the delicate skin of her wrist. "He always did…"

Oh, Industry.

Whatever will become of me?

Soon the cullings will start,

Is it true we must part company?

Oh, Industry,

Whatever will become of me?

"Jessie?"

She froze, a mere moment away from achieving her goal. Looking up, she saw him, standing there. Staring at her. At the razor in her hand.

His voice was quiet. "What are you doing?"

Her vision became blurry as the tears ran freely again. "Turn around James. And walk away."

What have I ever done?

Where did I go wrong?

He blinked, and then straightened himself to his full height. She never had seen him look so strong. "No."

She gritted her teeth and hissed. "I said turn away, dammit! Or I swear I'll do it right in front of you, and you'll have to watch me bleed."

He said nothing. For a moment she thought he was going to do as she demanded, when he suddenly took a step forward. She shrieked in alarm and staggered backwards.

"Go away, James! Or I'll do it! I swear I will!"

He held out a gentle hand to her. "Give me the razor, Jessie. Please."

She choked back a sob. "No. Please, James…don't torture me like this. Just go."

"Jessie. Look at me."

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, turning it slightly away from him. His presence here was pure agony. If only he would just go away and let her be free…

"Look at me. Please."

But he was too powerful, the tone of his voice too mesmerizing, too commanding. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was standing only mere inches from her now, and she could see clearly into his face. His expression was eerily calm, his eyes compassionate.

"Why are you doing this?"

She shut her eyes again. She could feel herself beginning to crumble.

Joined at the end,

We number and die.

Be our gift to the world 'neath a phosphorus sky.

"Because I'm so cold, James. And I'm trapped, trapped in this place. And as long as I'm still here I'll always be in a cage, because I've wasted myself away and I no longer have the strength to keep fighting. I just want to be free, James…I just want to…oh, God…"

Our labour of love,

Was the truest of all,

But will I be forsaken after the fall?

"I've tried so hard, we've tried so hard. But it's for nothing, James. We'll never be free. I'll never be free."

Now our glorious war draws to a close,

The yellow winds blow

And I have to know.

Oh, Industry,

Whatever will become of me?

Nothing I've thought of love,

But the fire and the flood prophecy...

He said nothing for a moment, just simply stood there and looked at her. Then, with lightening quick speed, grabbed the hand that was holding the razor and forced it behind her back. She screamed, arching her back and beating at him with her free hand, but he caught that as well and pinned it to her side, restraining her. Tightening his grip, he squeezed until her fingers went numb and the razor clattered to the ground. She yelled furiously, angered at her loss, and thrashed wildly in his grip. Releasing her arms, he then wrapped his own around her in a solid embrace, pulling her against his chest and resting her head on the crook of his shoulder. She suddenly ceased struggling, a new realization hitting her.

She was warm.

Oh, Industry,

Whatever will become of me?

She began to cry again, and he gently supported her as he lowered himself to the ground, folding his legs underneath him and resting her there. Gently pushing aside an errant lock of hair, he whispered softly into her ear, her body tingling as he spoke the words.

"You're wrong, Jessie."

She looked up at him, her eyes misty with tears.

"You're free now. And nothing is going to take that away from you, from us. Not even Team Rocket."

She blinked, and watched as he reached up and tore the red emblazoned 'R' from his jacket. He flung it into the darkness, and looked at her for approval. She nodded, and did the same, finally discarding the hated symbol of her imprisonment.

Industry,

Charity,

Faith,

Hope.

And then she rested against him. Resting in the arms of safety and freedom. A warm place.

Industry,

Charity,

Faith,

Hope.

FIN.

There you go, my latest offering. The song was Oh, Industry by Bette Midler. I thought it suited this fic rather well. Please review and tell me what you think.

SiS.