As of today, (February 8th, 2008), I have been a member of for a full year. To celebrate, I wrote this story for all of you who have ever read my stories. Thank you for making it a great first year!

This story includes episode14 of Beast (but begins sometime before then)

As always, I do not own Rockman.exe.

Hold My Hand

Rockman quietly pushed his hand against the window floating in the air as if he could somehow push through it and reach beyond it. At first he would have said he was pushing against the glass, but then he realized he could not even do that—even the screen of his PET was beyond his reach. The active data that served as a window hummed and vibrated under his sensitive fingers: that he was sure a real window could not do…though he could never really know for sure because he would never touch a real window.

When he had first been activated, he thought that this separation between worlds would become easier over time; but now, a few years later, knowing that he would never touch the outside world, untainted by a Dimensional Areas, became a harder and harder reality. Back then, when he had first woken up to find Netto sleeping in way too late, he would have never known that being encased in a world of blue or green would only get seemingly unbearable because at that time he had no idea how strong and powerful the bond between him and his beloved Netto-kun would become. He could tell himself that being with Netto-kun at all times was enough, but in the end, it never really worked. He only wanted more than ever to hug the one he should rightfully hug. After all, Netto was his brother—and he could not even reach out and touch him.

"Rockman? Watcha doin'?"

Rockman whirled around in surprise. "T…Trill. I thought you were still asleep," he stated, turning an unnoticeable shade of red. He had let himself get caught and if Netto-kun ever found out… Well, he really did not need Netto-kun to worry about him unnecessarily.

Trill gave a huge smile. "Nope! So what were you doing?" he asked again.

Rockman smiled and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Ah, Rockman! You can tell Trill," the small yellow navi pushed.

"It was nothing, Trill. Honest," Rockman reassured.

Trill tilted his head, debating if he should believe him. He must of decided to because he smiled again and said, "Okay!" before running off. "Come on, Rockman! Catch me!"

Rockman took off after the child navi, playing the same game all older ones play with little ones of pretending to nearly catching the child but then barely "missing".

"Hey, Rockman?" Netto asked glancing over at the PET next to him. He heard the laughter of said navi and Trill coming from inside and not to interfere. "Never mind," he mumbled as he placed his head down on his math book., "I'll just take a break."

Netto listened to the laughter and wished he could somehow join in. It would be a dream come true to play with Rockman like that, but as it was, he would never be able to play tag with or even place a hand on his best friend. The closest he could ever get to his navi was by touching the smooth screen of the PET and Rockman doing likewise. He had never felt closer to Rockman than he had that day on the plane when they had reached out to each other, but the cruel barrier of screens had kept the moment from being perfect. Sometimes he felt closer to Rockman than anyone else, but other times he never felt farther from anyone. It was like having only talked to someone over the phone but worse because you could talk to someone on the phone and know that you could eventually meet them. But with Rockman, his best friend, his brother, he knew they would never, ever meet. The idea of being in the same realm was simply impossible. The prospect was nearly unbearable.

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He did not know if it would work or not, but he would not, could not, let Barrel and Colonel suffer defeat—after all, they had saved his life and were guiding them through this strange and bizarre world. He turned to his navi.

"Let's go, Rockman!"

"But Netto-kun, we don't…" Rockman protested.

"Plug-in! Rockman.exe! Transmission!"

It was a simple act—and one they had done a thousand times; but, by doing that simple act they accomplished what they had always dreamed of and one battle and Zoanoroid later, their hands were firmly grasped together. That handshake was so much more than a congratulation of a job well done—there had always been a way to communicate that. The communication now was so much more. What that communication was was, admittedly, not known. There were too many emotions running through them both: excitement, overwhelmingness, surrealism, but they took it all in with all they had. They simply absorbed the moment they had always dreamed of secretly: to be so close they could feel the warmth and strength of the other's hand.

Breaking the embrace would be far too soon after a lifetime of waiting.