Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or any of the other character except the one(s) I have created

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or any of the other character except the one(s) I have created. If I did then . . . well, that would be cool or prodigious or heck, if I feel like it, perfecto.

Author's Note: Ok, I this had to be written after I found out about all the digi destined's jobs and shudder marriages. Anyway, this is a collection of the beginning of stories that will eventually be tied together. It contains all the character's cannon jobs, marriages, and kids. However, the story is set several years before episode 50 (when we the viewers coughfanaticscough see them) so not everyone is married and/or has kids yet. A lot is speculation from what I've gathered from pictures of episode 50. I don't know the kiddies names (I've also heard they haven't been named period) so I made them up to I see fit. Also with characters who are married, but not with a "known" digi destined, I fixed them up – it's still a fan fiction after all.

A/N: Not all characters are included, but will be added on in Part 2. Please read and review!

*****

The wind blew through the park stirring up the early leaves of fall that have wilted to the ground. Their golden brown and red color glimmering slightly in the last rays of sun as dusk was ending and night settling in. Fall was early this year and everyone seemed sorry to see summer go so soon.

Taichi "Tai" Kamiya was walking home briskly from his work at the United Nations. His long black coat wrapped around his body keeping then icy winds away. His hair, a trademark from his younger days, now short and kept in order. Tai gripped onto the handle of his leather suitcase as the wind picked up with sun setting in the west.

In the distance, some children played soccer on a field – laughing and giggling in each other's company. But what made this scene even more heartwarming to the man passing by, was that these children weren't just playing with each other, but with their digimon as well. Tai paused for a moment to reflect. What he would give for a day where he could return to his youth and have Agumon at his side, not in battle, but just everyday life. But Tai had to feel fortunate anyway. The battles brought him closer to his fiery friend and caused a part of him to grow, to change, and to mature. Tai lifted his gloved hand up and without even looking to his side, stroked the top of the orange digimon's head. He had Agumon in this world now and forever. The digimon made a soft noise, almost like a purr. It was a reaction between the two for as long as they could remember.

"Come on Agu," said Tai in low, calm voice with a light smile spreading to his lips. "I'll make you dinner when we get home."

The pair continued on their path towards on old apartment complex in the distance. This was home. The building, unlike many of the newer structures, was composed of red brick with vines crawling up the sides. Tai moved in this building for solace, his haven. It was safe distance from work and anybody he knew. The digimon and human took the creaky lift to the 5th floor and headed towards their room.

The man dropped down on the couch with a thud exhaling a sigh of exhaustion. Agumon shut the door before collapsing next to his friend. Their apartment was a bachelor pad and Tai's obvious attempts at décor were seen. The battered couch, the wooden table, the dim lights, but of course a big screen TV. Posters of old soccer heroes coming loose off the wall and photos of friends and family scattered as well. Tai slowly took off his coat and discarded it onto the floor. Agumon rolled his eyes. Although Tai had matured over the years, his messy habits had stayed with him. The dinosaur digimon turned on the television as Tai prepared dinner. A few minutes later, an aroma filled the room.

"What's cooking Tai?" asked Agumon, although a little wary about the answer. Tai unfortunately inherited his mother's awful cooking skill.

"Mac'N'cheese" Tai pronounced proudly stirring the big bowl of yellow noodles.

"Did you remember the cheese this time?"

"Oh ye of little faith . . . " grumbled the man, "While you're diminishing my self-esteem, could you check the machine?"

"Gladly." Agumon clicked the answering machine with his claw.

"Hi this is Tai and Agumon, we're off doing . . . stuff, so we'll get back to you . . . soon? Right, well I know all you ladies want to talk to me, but just leave a message . . ." Agumon grimaced.

"We really need to change that message."

"Shut up." Beep, came the answering machine.

"Hello Tai, this is Stephen . . . I was working late at the office and noticed that we have some new issues on our hands . . ."

"That guy should learn how to relax," commented Tai. Agumon snorted.

"Please Tai, everyone knows it was you who was working all night on that Veggiemon crisis."

"Ok, the first issue is that Africa's summer is over and we can have the Seadramon returned, they did a great job watching out for any potential brush fires and managed to stop a few. The president expresses his thanks. Next, do you think you can arrange a fleet of Dremojamon? There was a series of cave-ins at Russian mines and over in the Arabic region oil production is low."

"How did you humans survive with out us digimon?" asked Agumon.

"We did all right, I suppose."

"Finally, the United Nations is holding their annual banquet for all diplomats and their leaders and I need you introducing the digital world. See if you can bring Genie? Genn? Jedi? That's all and be ready to work tomorrow." Tai sighed.

"Well it's going to be a long week." Beep, another message.

"Bonjour Taichi!" came the mesmerizing voice of Catherine- her accent very clear, "I hope to speak to you soon, its been a while since you visited me last. Well, actually I remember it quite well . . . under the mistletoe." She giggled as Tai blushed a deep red. Agumon prodded his friend with a claw. "Oui, oui. I know we are friends and I have a friend here to announce something to you . . ." Tai's ears perked up as he listened intently to the voice. "Tai, it's TK! Guess what? Cat and I are engaged!" Tai nearly fell over. He smiled broadly.

"Engaged?!" Tai remembered well that winter that both he and TK met Catherine. They saved her from some renegade digimon, but when TK flew to France for college and to start his writing career – he and Catherine became intimate.

"Yeah, I know it's kind of sudden, but we're ready and I've finally gotten a contract with a publisher so I figured it's the perfect time you know? Anyway, we're flying in a about an month for the engagement ceremony and we've already selected Cody for the best man and Kari for the maid of honor. They're my best friends and Catherine and Kari have become really close. Take care, and see you soon!" Tai shook his head and laughed. He would have to call up the lovebirds and torment them later. But, another message popped up.

"Sup Tai – its Davis. Just wanted to let you know that Maria is out of town for her art conference or whatever, so it's just David and I. David just turned four and I gave him something that you'll be familiar with, so just calling to ask if we can pop in for a while. I've heard about TK and Catherine's engagement – another ball and chain! Ken and Yolie should be on their honeymoon, give me a buzz. Later." Tai pondered for a moment of what Davis could be referring too, he would call the younger man later. Tai chuckled. It was hard to imagine Davis as a father. He recalled the maroon haired man as a pre-teen: so reckless, so passionate, so very like himself. Davis proved to be a leader and a good friend. Tai turned away and was about to sit down to his bowl of macaroni when the final message came through.

"Hi Tai . . . it's Matt." Tai stiffened and turned towards the machine.

"Matt?" he whispered. It was strange to hear the voice of the man he used to know so well. His voice still had its light tone that reminded Tai how much he missed talking to his friend. But any conversation now brought a pain to his heart . . . the pain of betrayal. It had only been a year since they last spoke, but it seemed like eternity now.

"Look I know it's been a while, but I really need to talk to you. This is important to me . . . and Sora. Please just come by our apartment. You don't even need to call. I really need you right now man, I – I – just come." Tai stared intently at the answering machine. A short message with no real meaning. Typical Matt. He couldn't help noticing the urgency in Matt's voice.

"Are you going to call?" asked Agumon getting straight to the point. Tai didn't reply. He walked over to his bookcase and cast his eyes on the collection of photographs. There were some photos from childhood. A picture of going to summer camp on that fateful day. Graduations, parties, dances, whatever . . . all lined up on the wooden shelves. He finally spotted the photo he was looking for on the top shelf. He took it down and stared intently at the picture.

It was a photo of Matt, Sora, and himself eating ice cream together when they were teenagers – about a few weeks before the digital world reopened. Tai recalled those times when the original digi destined relied so heavily on each other for support after the separation from the best friends they could ever have – their digimon. Who else could possibly understand? When group of people go through an incredible experience, a bond is form that will always be there no matter what.

Tai fingered the edge of the frame and gave a half-smile. He remembered that five minutes following the picture, an ice cream fight ensued. He would never forget how long it took him to wash all the ice cream out of his big mop of a hairstyle. Tai self-consciously pulled his hand through his hair.

"What do you think they would say if they saw my hair?" asked Tai softly, half-jokingly. His eyes still remained focus on the picture. Agumon raised his claw and gingerly touched his companion's leg.

"Maybe you should ask them," replied Agumon with hopeful eyes. "You can't keep ignoring them forever and pretend it never happened." On the last few words, Tai's body seized up and his grip tensed around the picture frame.

"But I want to!!!" he screamed spinning around, blinded by tears, and smashing the photo against the wall. The glass shattered, the frame splintered, but the picture inside remained intact. Tears rolled down Tai's cheeks as he clenched his fists trying to smother down the forgotten agony in his chest. Agumon stepped back, his eyes downcast. Tai was stubborn and heartbroken. He was one that could never forgive and forget. The digimon quietly picked up the remains of the photo and disposed them in the garbage before retreating to the bedroom. He closed the door, but he could still hear the tears splashing on to the floor.

Agumon picked up the receiver and dialed.

*****

"Da-ad!!! I'm hungry!"

"David, later."

"But Da-ad!!!" The little maroon haired boy clutched his stomach to emphasize his starvation. Davis rolled his eyes and turned toward the little boy.

"What part of later don't you understand?" David continued to pout.

"Auntie Jun always gets me something to eat."

"Auntie Jun spoils you rotten."

"She says I'm her favorite nephew."

"David, you're her only nephew."

"That makes me special!" The little boy struck a triumphant pose that Davis couldn't help, but to chuckle at. He bent down and ruffled the little boy's spiky hair. David giggled.

"Dad, stop!" He giggling grew louder as Davis began to tickle his son. He suddenly swung the little boy over his shoulder and promptly carried him off.

"Put me down!" he cried with a bright smile.

"Can't. We're late." Davis took off on a run, which only caused David to laugh harder.

"Demi-V!" he shouted, "Help me!" A blue digimon suddenly scurried out of an ally way where he had been consuming leftovers from the back of a restaurant.

"Davy!" the little digimon squealed frantically hopping after the father and son. Suddenly realizing he couldn't keep up with the pair, he cried out for help.

"Daddy!" A huge "whoosh" sound was heard and a large shadow hovered over the ground where the Demi-Veemon hopped along. Ex-Veemon lowered himself to the ground and reached down with one of his claws to gently scoop up the tiny digimon. He gave a toothy grin to his son before putting on a small burst of speed to catch up with their human partners.

David looked up from his dad's shoulder and grinned at the sight of the two digimon he knew so well. He laughed and waved his hands in the air hoping he could attract their attention.

"Yes! A rescue!" he exclaimed before poking his father's shoulder. Davis turned his gaze and gave a mock gasp at the arrival of Ex-Veemon.

"Oh no!" he cried out exaggerating his expressions. "I've been followed!" He slowed down until Ex-Veemon was directly over him. Davis continued to play with his son.

"Egads! I'm going to fall!" Davis oh so cornily cried. As David gave a shout when his father fell, Ex-Veemon grabbed onto the man and brought them onto his back.

"Sheesh Davis," grunted the large, blue digimon. "Putting on a few extra pounds?" David and Demi-Veemon laughed while Davis grumbled. He lightly punched his digimon on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't talk," he rebuked. "I saw you scarfing down those Ding-Dongs and Twinkies yesterday." Ex-Veemon chucked loudly as he flew up to a higher altitude. Davis turned towards his son. "This is the only way to fly." He tilted his head and allowed the wind to moved through his hair. David looked over Ex-Veemon's shoulder at the ground. His face paled a bit.

"Whoa . . . w-w-e're high . . ." He clutched Demi-Veemon a bit tighter, who seemed to be equally scared. The little boy stroked under his companion's chin. The digimon gave a blissful sigh in the boy's lap. David turned his gaze to the digimon he was riding on and back to his own.

"I wish Demi-Veemon could digivolve," he mumbled. Davis turned his head sharply to his son.

"Never," he began, "wish for that." David cocked his head to the side in curiosity and looked at his father.

"Why Dad?" Davis laid his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Davis, you remember when Demi-Veemon was Chibimon, right?" The boy nodded his head. "And it wasn't till a year ago that he digivolved?" Davis nodded again. "Son, there is a special connection between you and your digivolve. A bond that is unique. You share feelings and emotions. When something happens to you, it happens to him." David's eyes opened a little wider.

"Really?" Davis gave a nod and placed his hand on Ex-Veemon's back. He closed his eyes and his face relaxed. At the same time, Ex-Veemon did the same. A slight glow surrounded the digimon and digi-destined. When David removed his hand, the glow vanished.

"Wow," was all the boy could manage to say.

"I can feel Ex-Veemon. I can feel his emotions and he can feel mine."

"Is that how you digivolve?"

"Yes and no. Ex-Veemon digivolves when I am experiencing something very emotional or powerful. He also digivolves if I'm in trouble. He can sense it." He looked at his son, but David still seemed confused. Davis gave a sigh.

"When Chibimon digivolved last year, can you tell me when it happened?"

"Well," began David slowly, "I got my tricycle."

"Weren't you scared?"

"Was not!" Davis smirked.

"Hu-huh." He poked his son.

"Maybe a little." He folded his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought. "I think I tried riding it, but I fell down."

"Then what?"

"I – I didn't want to ride it again." He gazed at his digimon snuggled in his lap. "But I made myself get back on, because I promised Chibimon that I would take him for a ride." David made the connection. "And then he digivolved!"

"You see, what you did took Courage and Friendship. You faced your fear of riding you trike and went through an act of friendship. Your efforts allowed Chibimon to go to the next level." He pulled his son close and wrapped his arms around him. "Time will show how much Courage and Friendship you have to spare." The father and son rocked gently in the wind looking out at the horizon together. David curled into his father's arms. He respected his dad so much and loved the way they would play or talk. He learned so much from being with his dad. David's fondest moments were listening to the old days of when Davis saved the digiworld all by himself . . . well the other guys helped. But he was proud anyway.

"Dad, when did you become so smart?" David asked with childlike innocence.

"It's a grown up thing." David sighed peacefully.

"One day I want to make a difference like you," he whispered.

"Soon," murmured Davis, "Soon."

*****

The airplane flew steadily over the blue ocean. The passengers aboard relaxed in their seats feeling no need to be concerned about any turbulence. Some travelers slept while others busied themselves to kill the ten-hour flight. But everyone was in a cheery mood. After all, this was a flight to Paris.

A young woman groggily opened her eyes as she awakened from her slumber. For the past two hours she had been comfortably sleeping in the leather recliners of first class. She sat up and stretched her limber body as best she could in her cabin. As she bumped her elbow on the side of the plane, she resisted the urge to cry out so not to disturb the occupant next to her. Planes were definitely not made for the tall.

Occupant isn't quite the word I used to describe him, she thought turning her gaze towards the young man beside her. More like lover. She lifted up her hand and adjusted the gold band on her finger. Or husband. She gave a blissful sigh as she snuggled into her seat.

"Mrs. Ichijouji," she began to wonder out loud in low voice. "Mrs. Yolie Ichijouji . . ."

"You don't have to change your last name . . . if you don't want to . . . " came a gentle voice from beside her. Yolie gave a small gasp before looking over at the handsome man she believed was still sleeping. Ken's eyes were still close, as if he was pretending to be asleep; his indigo hair hung softly around his face. Yolie smirked.

"I thought you were still sleeping," she said.

"I am."

"While carrying on a conversation?"

"I'm sleep walking."

"You don't sleep walk."

"How do you know? I could be an avid sleep walker, but you're asleep when I happen to be up and about."

"After all the bed rocking we did last night, I figured you would be drained." Yolie whispered in his ear. "Tell Mr. Emperor since when did you become that good . . . what exactly did you do with that whip of yours?" Ken abruptly sat up as his cheeks turned the lovely shade of pink. Yolie giggled at her modest husband.

"Gotcha," she smirked with satisfaction. "But I am sorry if I did wake you up."

"I've been up for a while actually. I was kind of . . . I like . . ."

"Ken, we're married. Spit it out."

"I like watching you sleep." Ken continued to blush. "Your hair kind of does this cute thing and your mouth hangs slightly open. I think . . . I think it's cute." Yolie smiled. She loved how Ken was so shy and embarrassed so easily. It made everything so much fun. She pushed the armrest the separated them up and slide over into his arms. She relaxed her head under the crook of his chin.

"Am I cute when I'm awake too?" she said looking into his violet eyes.

"No," he replied as he stroked her long purple hair. "You're beautiful." Ken's mouth easily found Yolie's as they shared a deep kiss. His hand griped the back of her neck and his tender fingers began to massage her soft skin. Yolie let out a small moan delighted with the attention she was receiving.

"Oh that's the spot," she murmured ceasing her kissing to turn around for Ken to give her back proper therapy. She let out a happy sigh.

"You have too much tension Yolie," said Ken griping onto her shoulders, working them back and forth. Yolie nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, the office hours have been killing me . . . ooh a little harder there . . . I'm surprised they even let me off for our honeymoon."

"Well you are the best programmer they have." His fingers slipped under her shirt for better grip as his hands performed an extra touch there too.

"Ken!" Yolie hissed in surprise and amazement (and total turn on). "We're on an airplane! A public airplane!" Ken's lips returned to Yolie's as he gently worked down to the base of her neck.

"I am the famous Ken Ichijouji," he murmured. "And whatever Ken wants, Ken gets." While still holding onto Yolie, Ken lifted his arm to the compartment above and pulled down on a cord to release a curtain to surround their seats. Yolie's mouth gaped slightly.

"How did you . . . when did you . . ."

"Airlines frequently have celebrities aboard and make adjustments for them – such as these drapes. I merely made a request and they followed through." Yolie pulled away from Ken's willing arms to face him.

"Sometimes you are just too much," she said with mischievous grin. "What am I going to do with you Mr. Ichijouji?" Ken batted her lightly on the nose.

"I don't know Mrs. Ichijouji . . . " he paused at the sound of the words. "Mrs. Ichijouji . . . Mrs. Yolie Ichijouji . . ." He beamed at Yolie. "You're right. It does have nice ring to it."

"Of course. I'm always right."

"If Hawkmon was here he would argue with you," replied Ken inching his face closer to Yolie's.

"Too bad he's at Izzy's missing all the fun," returned Yolie bringing her eyes to meet his.

"His loss." Ken's nose brushed Yolie's ever so slightly.

"Oh shucks." Yolie's lips hovered in front of Ken's. He frowned for a moment.

"Get to the point and kiss me already," he bluntly stated. Yolie blinked in surprise.

"Wow Ken. I never imagined you as aggressive." His eyes flashed briefly.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me Mrs. Ichijouji," Ken purred in her ear causing Yolie to giggle. Her hands moved to his indigo hair and stroked through it with affection. Ken tossed his hair just to spite Yolie.

"Are you sure you want to rub your hands in my greasy locks?" he asked. "It's not really at its best. I'm all out of Herbal Essence."

"I've got the urge," she cooed continuing her hand movements.

"An orgasmicly experience . . ." Ken trailed.

" . . . or so the bottle says," she finished. Her eyes lit up. "Lets." Ken leaned back a bit.

"Are you sure? I mean we don't have to . . ." Yolie held up a finger to his lips.

"Spoil me," was all she said and Ken knew he was at her mercy. Without another word Yolie came out from behind the curtain and walked calmly to the lavatory. Ken counted to ten before he followed suit. He walked up to the door he saw her go into and rapped on it. The door opened.

God . . . I love being married to this woman . . .

*****

The bright lights of the TV studio shined down upon the studio audience. The members talked amongst themselves in anticipation for the show. Suddenly, the stage manager signaled the crowd that it was time. He cued the cameraman, the sign flashed "applause", and the hostess entered wearing a pink pinafore.

"Hi!" rang out the pleasant voice, "I'm Mimi and welcome to 'Sweets with Sincerity!'" The audience applauded loudly with few shouts here and there. "Thank you! Thank you! And for those of you new to us – this is Palmon!" The plant like digimon curtseyed and then did a little twirl.

"Hello!" Mimi smiled to her friend before returning her attention to the camera.

"Now then, today I have a real treat for you all. It's a recipe my mother gave to me and I think it's fab!" She and Palmon moved to the kitchen set behind them. As Mimi spoke, Palmon brought forth ingredients.

"This is a dish that could be definitely used for dessert or even dinner. It's fried rice with whip cream and cherries!" The audience made sounds of amazement. Mimi giggled. "First you need your fried rice. I'd go with planer type of rice instead of something with a lot of spices or flavor. That's what the whip cream and cherries are for!" Palmon placed a bowl of pre-made fried rice.

"Ta-da!" The audience laughed in response.

"Next, your whip cream. If you use the type that comes in a can, then you're asking for trouble. It's too frothy and has no real taste. It's just ick! I prefer to make my own." Palmon this time placed a bowl and whisk on the counter. Mimi looked at the bowl and then at Palmon.

"What's this she asked?" sweetly, but with a slightly harsh edge.

"That's what was back there Mimi," Palmon replied in her innocent way. Mimi's face fell.

"You mean nothing was pre-made? No bowl of whip cream there for me?" Palmon shook her head no. The young woman looked off the set to the stage manager, who only gave her a shrug. Mimi growled before pushing up her sleeves. "Guess it's the old fashion way." Mimi turned to the audience.

"Ok, well I'll show you how to make Mimi's special whip cream them!"

"Let's kick it up a notch!" cheered Palmon. Mimi looked at her friend.

"Huh?" Palmon blushed a bit.

"I just always wanted to say that . . . "

"Moving right along . . . for my whip cream you'll need a whip and some cream!" The audience groaned at the bad joke. "All right, all right, but you need some cream, sugar, and some vanilla extract. Cream does take a while to make and allow a while to chill. So, after your ingredients are in your bowl . . ." Palmon poured the items in as Mimi instructed. "You mix!" She produced a whisk triumphantly. The audience awed in amazement.

"But," interrupted Palmon holding up a claw to silence the crowd. "Mimi prefers something else . . ."

"Exactly!" Mimi disappeared behind the counter and second later she emerged with a gigantic motor mixer with three beaters attached. The machine growled and puffs of smoke shot out.

"I like to call this baby the Mean Mixer 500!" cried Mimi pulling back on a toggle to rev up the motor. "It has five settings from fluffy to puréed to aqueous."

"Aqueous?" questioned Palmon. Mimi turned to the camera.

"For those of you who failed chemistry or would have except for this friend of yours kept bugging you and bugging you to study. And you invited him over just to get friendlier. But, no!! All this friend wanted to do was study, study, study. 'I have to get into Med School Mimi!' and 'Don't you want and education Mimi?' I swear one day I'm going to hurt you J-"

"Mimi!!!" shouted Palmon. Mimi thwacked herself in the forehead and gave a smile.

"Whoops! Little ol' me forgot where I was for a second!" She cleared her throat. "Aqueous is the state of a compound. It's not gas or a solid, but it's not a liquid either. Acids are like aqueous. Hydrochloric acid, sulfuric acid, and so on . . . I wonder if they can bake properly in a cake . . ." Mimi gave a small sadistic smile.

"Oh Mimi!" said Palmon with a tone of uneasiness, "You're so funny!"

"But I –"

"Moving on!"

"Well, now you mix!" cheered Mimi inserting the massive mixer into the bowl. She pulled the toggle and a huge roar was heard. The bowl spun around on the counter as Mimi held onto the mixer with one hand, and the bowl with the other. Whip cream shot out at the audience, but Mimi didn't seem to care. She grit her teeth and kept going.

"Mimi!" cried Palmon. "The whip cream! It's done!"

"Five more seconds . . ." growled Mimi, her eyes glued to the bowl.

"Mimi please! Think of the dish! It'll be ruined!"

"Three more seconds . . . " The mixer was violently shaking on the counter and the beaters were clocking at least 60 mph. Sparks popped out of the mixer frightening the audience. The metal was turning red from the amount of stress it was under. Smoke could definitely be smelt now. Palmon gave a gasp before jumping behind the counter for protection. As the machine screeched in pain until Mimi suddenly shouted –

"Done!" The mixer abruptly turned off, went back to its normal color, and became quiet. Palmon shakily got up from her hiding space. The audience straightened themselves in their seats.

"Wasn't that fun?" Mimi cried with enthusiasm. Everyone nodded his or her head slowly. Mimi giggled, but then stopped suddenly when she noticed a strand of her auburn locks out of place. "Oh my!" she gasped, "It seems I went a bit over the edge! My hair is quite a mess." She put the strand back. "All better!" She shoved the bowl in Palmon's face. "Have a taste!" Palmon looked at Mimi with uneasiness.

"I don't know Mimi if I . . ."

"Taste!" growled Mimi.

"Tasting!" Palmon immediately dipped her claw into the bowl scooping some whip cream. She slowly tried the concoction. The studio was tense. How was it? What if Mimi's cooking went bad? The horror! After a minute went by (an eternity to hard core Mimi cooking fans) Palmon finally had an answer. "It's yummy!" Everyone smiled in relief. Some of the audience members who were splattered with the cream tasted some off their shirts or even the studio chairs. Mimi clasped her hands together, delighted with her cooking.

"Now we can move on to the strawberries!" Everyone flinched and ran for cover as Mimi calmly took out the Strawberry Setter 300 and set to work.

It wasn't long until the show was done and Mimi bid farewell to her fans. The lights and cameras were turned off and put away. The crew swept the studio and went over the next episode's plans in a staff meeting. Meanwhile, Mimi utterly exhausted retired to her dressing room with Palmon staggering behind her. She opened the door and gave a sigh.

"Another day, another show . . . right Palmon?" The digimon just gave a wordless nod. Mimi happily sat down at her vanity. The room was pink, of course, with a couch, mini-fridge, stereo, and . . . Mimi stuff. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

"Come in!" Mimi cheerfully called.

"Great show today Meems," greeted Annette, her assistant, coming in with a briefcase in hand followed by a Floramon wearing bifocals. She gave a smile to Palmon before taking a seat on the couch beside her.

"Thanks Annette," replied Mimi before resuming taking off her makeup and brushing her hair.

"Let's go over things shall we? We have some important things we need to discuss." The paused to take some papers out. "Ok, first things first is that your show is doing well for its first season. You have buyers from the Food Network of course, but a few other stations like KPBS want it for their morning slots. You know, with the soaps. Anyway, that covers the memo from Kirk up in managing. Next, can you maybe get away from some of the Japanese dishes? You're playing to an American audience. Be diverse. Try Greek maybe?"

"But that's what I cook. Those are my specialties . . . diverse? I'll work on it."

"Great! Finally, publicity. Some of the women's magazine are interested in a front cover or maybe an article. They're calling you the next Martha Stuwart."

"Martha who?"

"Nevermind." She looked down at her papers again and then at her Floramon. The Floramon looked at her clipboard and gave a nod. "Ok, that's it then! See you next week." Mimi looked startled.

"Next week?" Mimi asked puzzled. "I thought I was granted a vacation. I'm going to Japan to visit some friends. I talked it over with – "

"Sorry Meems," interrupted Annette, "I canceled your vacation. There's no way you can fly to Japan, not with your schedule anyway. If you want your show to make it you can't allow time to go goof off with friends. You're going against top shows here!" She moved to the door. "Once you're a name, you'll have time for your friends. But first you have to make it to the top." She left with Floramon trotting behind crisply. Mimi slumped in her seat.

"No Japan?" asked Palmon weakly.

"It seems that way," mumbled Mimi moving over to the couch. Palmon gave her a hug.

"It'll be fine," Palmon soothed.

"I know, but I really wanted to go. I haven't been there in ages. I miss everyone!" The sat for a moment in silence, before the door opened yet again.

"Hey there Mimi!" greeted a handsome blonde man.

"Michael!" cried Mimi brightly throwing her arms around him. The two embraced warmly. A second later Betamon crawled through the door.

"Betamon!" cheered Palmon giving him a smile and a little hug. Betamon blushed.

"This is for you Mimi," said Michael handing her bouquet of lilies along with other various flowers mixed in.

"Thank you," she took his hand and led him to the couch. "How are you?"

"I'm all right . . . traffic was murder." Mimi laughed.

"Is it any other way in New York?" Michael chuckled.

"No, I suppose not." Her looked into her eyes for a moment. "I've missed you Mimi." He grasped her hands gently.

"I've missed you too Michael. LA is too far away."

"That's the actor's life I suppose. Runs in the family." Mimi smiled.

"Thank God for your dad's plane," she said softly leaning in. "I don't know how I would have made it not seeing you."

"Ditto," he replied moving in to kiss her. His lips met hers and they passionately kissed. Her arms moved around to his back to brace herself. He gingerly rubbed her shoulders with his thumbs. It really had been a long time. When they finally broke their kiss, they sighed simultaneously and sank into each other's arms.

"Michael," said Mimi turning to face him. "I can't get time off to go to Japan."

"What?" he asked, "But I thought you talked it over with your producer." Mimi looked away.

"Well, Annette said I didn't have time for it." Michael frowned.

"I don't like that woman," he began.

"Oh Michael. I need her help! She's very organized and I really want this show to work. You know it's for my mom . . . since she's gone now . . . and it's for me too! I enjoy it so much! I've done everything: modeled, designed, saved the world . . . this is just another adventure!" She blinked and sunk into the couch. "God, I sound like Tai." Michael nodded sympathetically.

"You miss them a lot, don't you?" Mimi nodded. He kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, it'll all work out."

"Palmon said that too." Michael smiled.

"Well, she's right." Mimi gave a happy moan.

"You're the best, you know?" Before Michael could respond Mimi kissed him again and began to move her weight onto him. He wrapped his arms around her and slowly began to untie her apron. His hands moved slowly up her back. She moved her lips onto his neck while feeling his chest. They still didn't get enough time to be together as another knock interrupted them.

"Mimi! Production meeting in five!" came the voice of Annette.

"I really don't like her," muttered Michael unwillingly sitting up. Mimi giggled as she slid into his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Michael," she said warningly. He kissed her again.

"That's what I love about you," he said as he showered her with kisses. "You're so friendly and willing to accept people." Kiss. "Sincere." Kiss. "Beautiful." Kiss. "Gorgeous." Mimi giggled again.

"And plus I saved you some digi dollars," she snickered. Michael smirked.

"It worked didn't it?"

"On Yolie it did." He cocked his eyebrow. "You asked her out."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's because I thought you were with that Joe guy." Mimi looked away sadly.

"I wanted to be." Michael looked at her apologetically.

"Oh Mimi," he said, "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm fine." He sighed.

"Any regrets?" he asked. Michael had to know. Joe was her first love after all. This was the guy he had been jealous of for years. She paused and then looked at him intently.

"No," she finally said, "Joe was good friend and always will be. We went through a lot together. He's my best friend. But I love you Michael." She kissed him. Michael mockingly wiped his forehead.

"You had me worried for a second," he said. Mimi teasingly jabbed him in the side.

"Get over yourself, stud." She looked at her watch. "You better get going." He nodded. "I bet Annette would have a field day knowing you were in here."

"Yeah, I could see her playing it up for publicity."

"I love the secretiveness about our relationship," she whispered seductively. "It's so . . . so secret." Michael rolled his eyes.

"Duh, Mimi." She jabbed him again. "Ok, I'm going." He kissed her. "Dinner tonight?"

"As always."

"Luv ya."

"Ditto." He moved to the door and jostled Betamon out of his cozy position with Palmon before finally leaving. The girls gave a blissful sigh as the door jerked open harshly.

"Was that Michael LeBlanc in here?" Annette demanded breathlessly. "The movie star?"

"Michael who?"

*****

"Code red! Code red!" came a stern voice over the speakers. "We repeat this is a code red!" The men in the barracks moved quickly to their stations with grim looks on their faces. They put on headsets and gave thumbs up to initiate their procedure. There was no room for screw-ups with these professionals.

"Come on Ishida!" shouted one of the men to his blonde haired coleague. "Let's go!" The young man grunted hearing the phrase, but pushed it aside. He had a job to do. He sprinted to the cockpit and set to work.

"Ok fellas," he started in a serious tone, "We have an interior collapse on the right side that isn't a scrape, but more like an amputation. That meteorite pelted us big time. I need Parker down there with James for backup. You guys have 10 minutes to fix it or else it's a bumpy landing on Mars." The men gave a quick nod and bolted for the corridor.

"What about the engine?" asked Sampson, "We don't have enough power to land with out it." His eyes narrowed.

"Can you take care of it?" asked the blonde captain. Sampson rolled his eyes.

"I can't because I have to take care of an injured crewman." His face tensed. "It's your call though . . . I can abandon the crewman or fix the engine . . ." His voice indicated the obvious testing of the other man's leadership. The blonde's breathing became a little harsher.

The team or a member? We need that engine, but I can't do that to a friend. An explosion came from the side. A pipe had burst.

"Get those Gazimon on the pipe!" shouted Ishida. He turned to the digimon at his side. "Gabumon, take care of the engine!" Sampson was taken back.

"What? A digimon?" he cried. "You know he's not authorized to do that!" The blonde ignored him.

"I trust him." He looked to his companion. "Can you do this Gabu?" The digimon stared into his long time companion's eyes. They held that same intense sparkle, but now they were pleading to him."

"Yes," was all he said before running towards the engine.

"I hope you know what you're doing," gritted Sampson. Ishida could only nod and keep his focus on landing the shuttle. The capsule was speeding towards the planet at an intense speed. They needed that engine to level the shuttle out or else a severe impact would occur – one that could shatter the shuttle and all chances of making it back to Earth . . alive.

"One minute to impact," recited the speaker.

"Get that engine on line!" roared the blonde through his head set.

"Done!" came the reply.

"You're running out of time Ishida," growled Sampson. The countdown was coming. Their speed finally began to decrease with the help of the engine, but power was quite low. Ishida gripped his hands on the controls. His arms were shaking trying to level out the shuttle. It was simply going to fast. More smoke and sparks were appearing. The cockpit was vibrating from the intensity.

"Power is almost gone and we can't go to backup," shouted another crew-member. Ishida felt his breathing becoming harsher. His body seized up. He could not panic here, it could only mean collision.

Oh God, we need power! But from where?

Ten seconds . . .

Not life support, maybe from another engine?

Seven seconds . . .

What am I doing here? Leading them like this, there are too many decisions! What if I do the wrong one? People's lives are in my hands. I decide their fate!

Three seconds . . .

This mission is one catastrophe after the next! I can't choose which path to take with out carefully considering the outcome, but there is no time for that!

One second . . .

I'm not a leader. I'm a failure.

"We're going to crash!" screamed Sampson. Ishida closed his eyes and braced for impact.

The lights came on.

The lights came on, the shuttle stopped shaking, the gases disappeared, and the alarms shut off. The simulation was over.

Ishida winced as he stood up. He looked over at Sampson who shot him an icy glare. The two silently walked towards their commander who was waiting for them with a stony expression. The eight astronauts lined up along with their digimon ready to face the older man.

"Where's Gabumon?" said the commander in a stern voice.

"Coming!" piped up the wolf like digimon jogging over as quickly as possible. His husky body and fur slowed him down considerably compared to the nimble Gazimon.

"Gabumon," began the commander, "I would think you would know that we must be agile enough so we are prepared for emergencies."

"Yes sir, I know," replied Gabumon in defeat. The man surveyed the digimon briefly.

"I am advising that you might want to drop a few pounds if you want to help rather than hinder." Gabumon gave a sigh while the Gazimon snickered unpleasantly.

"Now where shall I start," said the commander glaring at the team. "Other than the fact that, that was a horrible simulation! People, where were you in there? You've had training for eleven months for this mission! Eleven months! You go up in six! Don't you realize how vital this mission is? You can't screw around like a bunch of punks! This is not what our space program is about!" He paced briefly and lowered his voice.

"In six months you are docking with other astronauts from around the globe. We are going to accomplish what no other team in history has done . . . you are going to land on Mars. This is the next step in space aviation and for perhaps the world. If we are able to land, there is a possibility to colonize. But the way you just crashed in your simulation shows you don't have the responsibility we need to carry this mission through!"

"Sir," interrupted Sampson stepping forward, "We understand our objectives as a whole, but" he gave a sideways glare at Ishida, "some individuals don't seem to comprehend those objectives." The commander nodded.

"I understand what you're saying Sampson, but I'm not changing the command line. There is still time for change – for better or for worse is up to you."

"But sir," the man protested.

"In your place!" barked the commander forcing Sampson to oblige. "I will deal with you individually. You can see my report later and there is homework tonight." There were a few groans. "Yes, you need to issue your own reports as well – twenty pages . . . minimum. It's time you analyze what your role is in the team." He looked at them all once more. "Dismissed." The group began to disperse with their digimon.

"Yamato," called the commander to the blonde. "I need a word with you." Matt sighed and returned to his commander.

"What is it you wish to speak with me, sir?" asked Matt.

"Relax," said the older man. "Yamato, you made some . . . interesting decisions up there. You sent a digimon to do an unauthorized repair job, you picked the right crew members for the wrong jobs, and you basically killed everyone in that simulation." He gave a sigh. "Your leadership skills are obviously lacking."

"I know sir," began Matt, "but let me explain . . ." He was cut off.

"No, son. No, let me. I'm sure you and your team know very well why you were picked for the Mars landing mission. You all excel in training and classes – the cream of the crop. You are what all astronauts strive to be individually, but as a group you fall apart. A team needs a leader to hold them together. A leader who can make quick decisions and someone everyone has faith in. If you can't trust the leader, then you don't have a working team." He looked at Matt. "Am I making myself clear?"

More than you'll ever know, thought Matt.

"Yes sir." The commander gave a rare small smile.

"Good," he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Listen Yamato – Matt, you have the qualities of being a leader, but you spend too much time debating over your own decisions. The leader also needs to have faith in himself. I think you're lacking that faith." He gave him a pat on the back and walked away. "Think about it."

Matt stumbled off down the hallway to the lockers. His head bowed in self-pity. He loathed how he handled responsibility. How he couldn't hold on to it or use it well. His team had no respect for him. There was no way he could lead them safely to Mars.

Matt slumped into the locker area. The other guys had already taken off, most likely for the nearest bar. He could imagine their remarks about his performance in the simulation.

"Nice job Yamato," sneered Sampson – full name Jeff Sampson, appearing from behind a locker.

"What do you want?" snapped Matt slamming his locker door shut.

"Don't be angry with me Mr. Leader just because you screwed up the mission."

"If you want to be leader, why don't you just say so?"

Matt why are you arguing with me? If you want to be leader just say so . . .

Get out of my head Tai, Matt thought trying to shake the past from his mind.

"You can't hold this team together and you know it," said Jeff. "Who in their sorry mind would want to be led by you anyway?"

Yeah right, like I would want to lead this sorry group. If you guys want to go on it's fine by me . . .

What's wrong with me? Matt desperately thought. Since when did I become a leader? I'm not Tai . . . I'M NOT TAI! I'M NOT TAI!!
"I'm not Tai!!" screamed Matt. Jeff took a step back.

"You're what?" Matt's eyes widened.

"Uh . . I'm tired! I don't have time to deal with this!" He quickly grabbed his duffel bag and ran to the door. He needed to get out of there. The thoughts in his head were sounding more and more like Tai. Leadership, friendship, courage . . . images of the past were taunting him.

"I thought I was over it," he mumbled to himself, "I was eleven . . . that was along time ago. I'm a different person now."

No you're not.

Matt froze in his tracks. His vision blurred slightly. He grabbed onto the wall for support. Tai's voice was echoing in his mind with every word.

No you're not. You're the same jerk you always were. Everyone else changed, but not you. Matt, bearer of Friendship. Tell me Matt would a "friend" lead his friends to their own death like that?

"It was a mistake . . ." whispered Matt. "A simulation . . ."

That's for sure. A mistake to ever make you leader. You thought you could handle the responsibility – a laugh. They don't trust you, as a matter of fact no one should. I can't believe I trusted you . . . you were my best friend Matt.

"I'm sorry," whimpered Matt.

Sorry?! Sorry?! How is that going to help Matt? Matt, you took her from me! You knew how I felt about her! And then you hid it from me! I thought you trusted me Matt like I trusted you!

"I'm sorry Tai!" shouted Matt groping blindly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Why are you sorry Matt?" came the gentle voice of Gabumon. Matt blinked and pulled himself off the wall.

"Huh? Nothing." Gabumon cocked his head sideways.

"Why were you saying 'Tai'?" Matt averted his eyes.

"I wasn't."

"I swore I heard . . ."

"I wasn't, ok?" snapped Matt. Gabumon looked hurt.

"If you say so," he meekly replied.

"Let's just go home," muttered Matt.

"Whatever," mumbled Gabumon.

The car ride home was long and silent. Troubling thoughts plagued both digimon and human. Preparing for the mission to Mars had definitely taken its toll. In about two hours, they finally arrived at home. They lived in a little town house that looked slightly shabby from first glance, but on the inside it was cozy. Matt's very decent paycheck as well as a sizable nest egg from his rock and roll days contributed to the comfortable living.

Matt walked in the living room and automatically kicked off his shoes. He carelessly dropped his bomber jacket over the railing before making his way over to the kitchen.

"Sora?" he called out. "Sora?" His eyes wandered to the kitchen table to find a note laying there. He picked it up, it was from her all right.

Dear Matt,

Had a meeting to discuss plans for next season's designs. Will probably go very late. Make yourself dinner, I shouldn't be home later than 1am. Bi is with me and sends greetings to Gabumon.

Love, Sora

Matt looked over the note and crumpled it in his hand. I thought these days were over, he recalled bitterly. Lonely nights as a kid and even as a teenager was something he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with as an adult. A married adult.

He walked over to the refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients. Cooking, it took his mind off problems he was dealing with. That's how Matt became such a good cook. Cook, don't think, he commanded himself, get your mind off it . . . flour, salt, sugar . . . Tai . . .

Matt banged his fist down on the counter in rage. How could he be burdened by so much guilt?! When would the torment end? It wasn't enough that life at work was becoming increasingly horrible, but his head was plagued by thoughts.

It's been a year! It's been a Goddamn year! He walked out on us – I should have nothing to feel bad about. His call! His damn call!

"Matt," said Gabumon softly. "Matt, what's wrong? Please tell me."

"Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you shaking?" The digimon's voice was becoming more urgent and concerned. "Talk to me, Matt . . . you're my friend."

"Things . . ." Matt choked out, "Things are changing too fast for me." Gabumon gave a nod of encouragement. "I mean last year I got married, have a job I feel I can make difference with, but at the same time it comes crashing down! My job is becoming a living hell, I lost contact with my best friend, and Sora . . . Sora's . . ." He broke down crying. Gabumon was taken back greatly. He hadn't seen Matt cry like this since the digital world.

"Matt I know things must seem like they . . ." He searched for the right word. "suck" Well, it fit the best. "but its your decision how to handle it. Don't you have faith in yourself?"

"I need to talk to somebody who understands," Matt managed between sobs.

"Tai would," said Gabumon quietly. "He's your best friend Matt! You've known him for years!"

"I know . . . I know," Matt replied. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Gabumon, I called him last night."

"You what?" The digimon was thrown completely off. Matt nodded.

"I called him and left a message on his machine. There are a lot of things that are bothering me right now. We need to talk."

"Wow," said Gabumon thoroughly impressed, "You sure can act like an adult sometimes." Matt gave a chuckle before ruffling Gabumon's fur. "Does Sora know?"

"I think, for now, it would be best if she didn't know," Matt said. He gave a yawn. "God I'm tired."

"Me too. Crashing a simulation takes a lot out of you." Matt smiled.

"I'm afraid I have to agree."

"Hey Matt – did you catch Sampson earlier?"

"No, what did he do?" Gabumon started giggling.

"I caught him being – attacked - by the Gazimon! They were shocking him with their electric attacks after they caught him stealing some candy out of the vending machine!" Matt laughed loudly. "That's why his hair was so frizzy!"

"Gabumon, you sure know how to make a guy feel better. Come on, you don't have to sleep on the floor tonight."

"Matt, I've never slept on the floor." Matt sighed.

"It's a joke."

"I knew that."

Later that evening . . .

Sora entered her house exhausted. Who knew fashion meetings could go so long? Her arms were weighed down with papers and fabric. Even poor Biyomon struggled to fly – the girls were certainly very tired. Sora surveyed the room.

Jacket thrown on railing . . . Matt's home . . . oh, no Matt's been cooking, this can't be good . . .

After knowing the young man for years and falling in love with him, Sora could pick up troubled signs with ease. She remembered over the course of their relationship that when they broke up briefly, she could come to his house to find pies, cakes, chicken, anything from a cookbook prepared. For a gag gift she bought him a pink apron, but unfortunately it became frequently worn.

Poor Matt, Sora thought coming in the kitchen to put the food away. She took time to clean her house and be a loving wife. Even though she had a career of her own, she wanted to make sure that her house vibrated love and friendship. After cleaning up, she collapsed in her recliner and Biyomon swooped into her lap. She put her feet up and gave a sigh of satisfaction.

The young woman had matured with grace since her adolescent years. Her hair curled smoothly had her shoulders and her eyes still held the same warmth. She felt content with her life, but one thing bothered her. She rubbed her stomach as she glanced over photographs hanging on the wall. Without even looking she grabbed a framed photo and brought it to her heart.

It was the ice cream picture.

Sora's had a heavy heart. How she longed for it to be the three of them again, best friends in the world. She needed Matt and Tai, the men her life. Sora needed their support after loosing Biyomon and when Mimi moved to America. Although Tai would always remain her childhood friend, Mimi would always be her best friend. It was a tough goodbye.

Out of the corner of her eye Sora noticed a flashing on her answering machine. Lazily she clicked the button and immediately her eyes opened wide.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"Hey. . . it's Tai."

*****

To be continued . . .

Author's Note: Wow! This took me a while to write! Gosh, I haven't submitted anything like this in a while. Anywho, in Part 2 we'll check up on Izzy and Joe as well as continue viewing how Matt and Tai are coping. Finally, AP tests are over! Yahoo! ahem Please read and review! sniff Last episode on Saturday . . . how I'll miss them so.