Quintessence Chapter 1, a digimon fanfic

A/N: I finally decided to start posting the eternity work focusing on Takeru and Angemon's characters. Dark!Takeru fics are great, and I like the idea of putting Takeru against his fears and darkness (which IMO the series have never been able to do in the same degree as with the rest of the Adventure cast). As a deviation from the Dark!Takeru concept, I want to explore Takeru's character by making him face himself. So, time-travel abound folks! In addition, I hate when the partner Digimons don't get the attention and character development they deserve, so I'll try my best to give Angemon some agency.

Please, read and review! Cross-posted on Archive, where you can also see the tags. Trigger!Warning for depression, anxiety, addiction, past-violence, and themes of death and dying. If any of these makes you uncomfortable, please don't read and find another fish in the world of fanfiction. :) The rating, in general, is a tricky job. In Archive this fic is rated M due to the themes. Personally I feel that the ff rating is laxer when going through the content that has been rated either as T or M. I'm rating this as M here as well, but compared to the content, I would say there are many, many fics with more explicit content rated as T. But, better safe than sorry.

Prologue

Takeru wasn't typically the type to complain about little things. Facing numerous life and death situations under the age of ten, going months without proper food, and walking for mile after mile, had taught him, and all the other Chosen Children, to be content with their lives.

However, the experiences in the Digital World also made them all more prone to stress, knowing how easily things could take a change for the worse. It also put all the kids, now teenagers and young adults, into the difficult grey-area between humans and Digimons.

As the years had passed since the attack of 1999 and the more minor battles of 2002 and 2005 the division of opinions had become more apparent. Now almost everyone in the main capital area of Tokyo had an opinion over Digimons. Heck, even more and more people around the World had started to voice opinions for and against Digimons. And despite the best of efforts of Takeru's mother and Sora's father, Digimons were far from being understood as anything more than children's pets or murderous monsters. The opinions had become louder and sometimes impossible to ignore.

The situation affected them all, but Takeru felt particularly defenseless against the confrontation.

Takeru had always thought of himself to have a quite good sense of the news — most credit going to his parent's professions in the media. Other than that, he liked to read and take a note of the public discussion. Apart from the older kids, he wasn't as immersed with his studies thanks to his age, so he had more time to follow the newspapers and television.

Of course, behind his will to credit his discomfort for general awareness, there was an even greater and more profound need to keep everyone around him happy. To keep everyone from fighting. Thanks to his age, the Digital World had formed out to be quiet natural part of life — not to mention, that he couldn't fathom a life without Patamon. But now defending those parts of his life were framing him as a bad person. And he had all his life tried to become a good person, a good student, good at sports, well-mannered — someone who would keep his parents happy.

Somehow, these days, all those images he had set out for himself were being turned into dust for reasons he had hard time to relate to.

Takeru leaned against the wall, his school suitcase giving a dull thud as it hit the wall in his right hand. He breathed heavily, trying to control his nerves. To a person watching the only telltale sign of his thoughts would have been the tightening of the knuckles around the suitcase handle, and the slightly vacant, discerning look on his face. Digital World had left all the Chosen with another heritage of always trying to hide their feelings when under threat, to optimize the chances of keeping a cool head and waking up with one on the next day.

He had gotten into an argument with three kids of the neighboring class.

About Digimons.

And not for the first time.

This time the situation had almost escalated into a fist fight — from his side.

The last few months with a growing number of distortions between the worlds had not caused large destruction, but it had made Digimons a media topic, and the public opinions more vocal.

And it was hard for him. Hard to listen mumbled discussions week after week, loud "facts" and whispered rumors about these Digital Monsters. And rumors of him, as he had made some name in giving out his own opinions in these discussions, where the end result seemed to have been made beforehand. He was liked by a good fraction of the student's in the middle school, but the question of Digimons was starting to draw a rift between him and others. Still, he couldn't give in the question for a bit.

Takeru managed to get his breath under control and took decided steps towards home and the portal to the Digital World. Koushirou had worked wonders with the Digital World for the last few years, and now they all could have their own home portal via their laptop or home-PC to get to the Digital World. It was the courtesy of the connection in Ichijouji's computer in 2002 that had helped Koushirou to establish the portals.

And not at the wrong time. The distortions between the worlds were once again unsolved. Takeru could see the telltale signs of a smaller distortion near an add-billboard half-a-mile away. Luckily the distortions were in most cases too small for Digimons to cross the cap, so he could continue his way home with his solemn thoughts. The crisp autumn air tingled on his face and the wind blew his unruly hair in random waves. Little by little he had given up on wearing a hat. At first, it had been the school uniform and the older he got, the opportunities to have time to go anywhere in regular clothes had become limited.

Patamon hadn't favored the change — and had made it uncharacteristically clear.

After arriving at home, Takeru took few fruits for a snack and refused to check his left elbow from the bathroom mirror. Even though the argument hadn't become a fist fight, the teachers who had come to take the argument apart had forced him to take a step back. In his irritation, he had taken a step too far and scraped his elbow into a brick wall. Takeru could feel how some of the skin had scraped off but he was still too irritated to face the outcome.

He considered of changing his long shirt to a fresh one from the cupboard but a trip to the Digital world usually forced him to put his shirt in the laundry or the stitch-and-saw pile anyway, so he might as well save some work.

For the third time in a month, he would be going to the Digital world alone. Of course, Patamon would be there to accompany him, but none of the other kids had free space in their schedules. Naturally, the situation went both ways and almost everyone had made a trip or two on their own or in small teams. The younger teams more often than the older Chosen.

The knowledge didn't manage to deter his frustration.

Patamon was waiting for him near the gate in one of the Digital World's forest areas. For Takeru, it was always nice to visit the Digital World, he could leave his normal worries, mostly, to the other side of the gate. Personal issues felt quite small in the scale of a completely another world.

Unfortunately, the most recent problems with distortions had proven out to be difficult to solve. Not even Koushirou had managed to achieve an understanding of the distortions in the course of a few months. The distortions sometimes opened pathways to the Human World but more often than not they just released energy. The energy itself was a neutral, even if an unaccustomed, factor. The problems began when random Digimons got high-energy spikes for digivolution to higher stages. Sometimes the transformation caused no issues, but in some cases, the Digimon in question wanted to try out their newly found powers, and solve old grudges with new vigor. Because of the unbeknownst nature of the distortions, and the risks it posed, the Chosen Children had tried to find the cause for the energy eruptions but so far with no luck.

Moreover, because the energy eruptions were random occurrences, the kids had few other options than to visit previous sites or unravel fights between Digimons.

On a positive side, the situations rarely required many Chosen-Digimon couples so they could take turns on when to visit the Digital World.

Today was no more eventful than last week, and after three hours Takeru and Angemon were forced to take a break and settle a figurative plan for the next visit.

The clock was closing in on 9 p.m. and Takeru knew he would have to head towards home if he even toyed with the idea of being able to finish his homework for tomorrow's classes.

In reality, he wasn't that keen to go home and face his own real-life problems.

He didn't know if he was that keen to stay idle in the Digital World either, but in some sense, it was simpler here with Angemon than thinking of the recesses of tomorrow.

Angemon seemed to have spotted his restlessness. Probably had spotted it the second he had emerged through the gate, but since his partner was who he was, Angemon hadn't made a note of it.

This made Takeru grateful on one end. He didn't want to open up about his problems at school. But on the other hand, the question didn't leave him alone. He didn't want to tackle the issue, he just wanted it to go away.

"I could come on Friday." Takeru offered, forcing himself out of his thoughts into something productive.

Angemon nodded, slightly longer than usual, contemplating on the underlying question. "Didn't you have a practice for the Saturday's game?"

"Yeah. But I can come after that. We only have the hall for an hour and a half anyway."

Angemon didn't take his offer first-handed but was never one to outright challenge him on such a minor issue. "You are not obligated to spend your every free moment here."

Takeru knew his partner well enough to know that Angemon wasn't asking for distance between them but for him to take better care of himself. The answer didn't manage to waver his decision. "It's okay."

"….for other's benefit." Angemon concluded after a pause.

This answer made Takeru take a step back from the conversation by averting his gaze and posture. He had been spotted.

He was not a person to open about his personal problems but when those things were already out, it was harder to push them down again.

He thought of apologizing for the others, that they were too busy. But it wasn't his job. They all made choices, just different ones, and he shouldn't have felt moral superiority by taking more of Digital Worlds problems on his own back. Despite this, the situation still bothered him.

Behind the question was a fear of something larger. Something he didn't want to face. Something that would have marked him even more as a bad person.

"Do you think…. do you think I'll visit here even when in High School?" The question wasn't uttered loudly but it was enough for Angemon to hear it with his sensitive hearing. It was a shameful question. In terms of asking whether you would still be a good person in the future even if you would do things you felt were wrong.

Takeru didn't dare to look at Angemon apart from a brief glance, but he could hear the small almost inaudible sigh from the angel Digimon. Angemon wasn't only one who had learned to read his partner over the years.

"Do you want to?"

It wasn't an accusation.

It wasn't a test of feelings.

It was a question of what he thought, what he wanted.

It was a question with an extremely easy answer.

"Yes. But I don't…. They all want to visit here as well. Almost every time I contact Yamato he brings up the Digital World. I think the others are the same but still… " Takeru paused to find the right words and courage to utter them aloud. "They just don't have the time."

Takeru stared at the horizon between the trees, pulling his almost constant thoughts into words. "High School is going to take more time next year. And University even more. Families. Job. I remember a few years back when mom always complained about not having the time to read a new best-seller. She didn't have time to read a book, and we… we are talking about traveling through different worlds. — Somehow it all seems so difficult." Takeru concluded quietly.

Against Takeru's fears, Angemon just listened, not taking any personal distress over the matter. Takeru had a sneaking suspicion that Angemon had deliberately stayed in his higher form a little while longer to have this conversation.

"Wanting to do something and wanting to want something are different things." Angemon began with his normal deep and matter-of-fact tone. "Just because the older kids say they want to be more involved in the Digital World doesn't necessarily mean that it would be the uttermost motive in their decisions. They might see it important and want to be that kind of people. But it might not mean that it's the most important thing for them in the world at the moment. You have all been very tied to this world's problems from a very young age. I think it's natural for them to want and try life outside of school and Digital World. Whatever path you want to follow is okay as well."

Takeru couldn't help his brown from furrowing when listening to Angemon's thoughts. How his partner could always put things into so plain boxes and be okay with them all. This was a question that had distressed him for months, that touched something very crucial in his identity. And he was just supposed to accept it as fine either way? Takeru wasn't the type to shout it all out at Angemon but he wasn't able to absorb the mentality either.

"So we just hope for it to all work out?"

The words came out a hint more bitter than expected but Angemon knew him, and the message he was trying to cross.

"Yes."

This time Takeru didn't answer, trying desperately to find an answer or response.

"Isn't that enough?" Angemon prodded calmly.

"And if it fails?" Takeru took a sparing look at Angemon, wanting for once to see the angel Digimon's eyes, see some resemblance of his own fears. "I can…. We can hope but… Mom and dad aren't getting back together. Yamato is going to move out to study soon. No matter how much I have hoped. I'd give anything to be part of a family again. But somehow… it isn't enough. With us…. I don't want to fail in that too. I can't. We are partners." Takeru uttered, his speech getting more emotional with every sentence, the words collapsing on each other in a jumbled mess.

Angemon took a step closer from his spot and moved his arms around the young teen, trying to offer support.

"Hope is not that we know things to end up automatically every time. Hope is that despite that seems impossible we still try to do the right thing and not lose faith." Angemon murmured softly.

After a few seconds, Angemon could feel the young boy to nod shakily against his chest and he let go.

Takeru took an unconscious step back out of the uncertainty he felt. For some reason, this time Angemon's words hadn't managed to calm his anxiousness. He nodded again, trying to make himself to accept the mentality, but somehow, deep down he knew that he would probably fall into a new fight before soon.

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Could it become easier when you witnessed someone at the gunpoint at the age of 8? When your partner was almost swallowed by monsters? Could you learn to live with the dread?

In those moments, it had been the adrenaline that enabled the saving of the world. To carry on and exceed one's limits.

However, that adrenaline was gone now.

Only the aggravated heartbeat, blood pressure, and dread remained.

And as Angemon watched the shaky rise and fall of the chest of Takeru's unconscious form, he knew that there was no promise of a resolution for the situation.

During a battle you always know that the situation is going to be resolved in one way or another within the next few minutes; the need for energy is short term. Now he had no idea how long he would, they all would, need to preserve their energy, and keep on fighting.

Angemon tapped his white-clad right-hand fingers once against the soft padding of the chair. More so as an unconscious gesture than an effort to make the time to go faster.

There was a fleeting thought that the dangerous near to death experiences should have made him more optimistic. He knew that Takeru was tougher than he looked.

Had always been a lot tougher than his tiny frame and young age had predisposed.

But this was different from those times. Takeru had never been put against himself, against his own fears. And when he had been tested against those aspects on the sidelines of larger courses of action, Takeru had not been as capable as with immediate danger. Whereas other Chosen had managed to grow slowly amidst adversaries and face their personal problems, the same thing couldn't be said about Takeru.

Talking about personal problems or admitting own weaknesses had always been difficult for the young boy.

Angemon couldn't say that he would have been more adept on the negative emotional aspects but for his benefit, the fears and darkness looming around his mind felt weaker by comparison.

Takeru was extremely pale against the bedspread — ill-looking. Takeru had lost weight, especially over the last few months, as the pain and anxiety had diminished his appetite. There were new lines on Takeru's face and the bags under his eyes and the slightly thinner hair added to his appearance.

Angemon took a glance at the two IV-bags and one blood-supply, just to compulsively check that they had not run dry.

Yamato, nor either of the bothers' parents had yet to reach the hospital.

This was the third time Takeru had been taken in in the course of two months and Angemon had a suspicion that the urgency had worn off with the visits. Not to mention, that Takeru had spent such a fair share of his young adulthood in the said hospital.

The urgency hadn't decreased on his behalf.

Angemon could still feel the same dread, the same finality as he had when Devimon had almost killed Takeru. Even if the event itself sometimes seemed to belong into another lifetime, the acute fear of losing Takeru had become deeply etched in his core.

Shou had briefly mentioned last time that they could talk about updating Takeru's med-kit and his expertise to be able to deal with the situation at home. Angemon wasn't sure if he wanted to proceed with the idea. Takeru hated hospitals, but the concept felt more closely to what humans called terminal-care than anything else. That it was no use of bringing Takeru to the hospital because no-one could really do anything. That Takeru's fate was to suffer.

The feeling of dread intensified. He hadn't never really known where he got his sense of right and wrong, just that it had always been a clear opposition. Good and evil were powers that he could have recognized eyes closed, even if the world was turned upside down. Takeru's suffering made him feel every bit of that wrongness. That Takeru being destroyed by darkness was an unmentionable injustice. With all his knowledge, Angemon couldn't explain the feeling, because even as a Chosen Child, Takeru's importance to the universal balance of life was small — only thing he did know was that it was personal.

Takeru was the definite last person in any world that Angemon would have opted for such pains but here they were. Again.

As the clock ticked in the opposite wall, Angemon couldn't escape the knowledge that he had known his choices might result to this.

That Takeru might not end up dead. That instead Takeru might end-up worse than dead.

And he had made that choice because he couldn't have made any other. Because he wanted to protect the boy. Because he wanted to savor the hope. Because he needed hope himself.

And somehow the small boy had taken up that challenge. Takeru had formed a solid relationship with all his past difficulties, had learned to look ahead and most importantly had wanted to grow as a person. To become a good person who did right choices. But now those choices were costing him far too much.

Takeru wanted to be involved in the Digital World, wanted to be involved with him, and refused to give into the darkness even with the expense of his own life. And they were all reasons why Angemon had opted to choose to be partners with Takeru. More than that, they were the lessons his actions had imprinted in Takeru.

And Angemon couldn't fight the dread that was overcoming him because of it.

In some distant sick way, he welcomed the torture of having to wait for Takeru to wake up and just watch how unsteady his partner's breathing was.

Hours went by with a few visits from Shou and the nurses. Takeru's mother had visited around 6 p.m. and Yamato and their dad around two hours later. It was an appalling wait. Miraculously the waiting was also an act he had somehow accustomed to over the years. It was one of those points where, after a few hours, the time seemed to slot into a steady routine, something they had survived previously. Being in the hospital under advanced care promoted the fake sense of control and advancement; they were actively contributing to a positive, visible, change. For a day or two, Takeru's condition was a straightforward problem that could be fixed.

Angemon prided himself to be adept at waiting. In some sense, he had always been waiting. The first time he had been waiting for the kids to appear in the Digital World. And again. And again. Spotted by briefer cycles of waiting for Takeru to come home from school.

This life seemed to consist of waiting for Takeru to wake up.

It was only after 2 a.m. when Takeru's heart monitor indicated for a stronger, faster heartbeat. Angemon allowed himself to fix his posture and touch Takeru's thin arm. As a fleeting thought, his muscles protested from the prior lack of movement but the rise in Takeru's consciousness override the thought almost immediately from conscious recollection.

"Morning." Angemon began quietly as a response to Takeru's almost non-auditory grunt. The light panel on the bedside-wall was on, more for Takeru's than Angemon's benefit but it lessened the surprise impact.

It took some time and raspy breaths for Takeru to open up his eyes and take a figurative glance at Angemon and their surroundings.

Angemon held Takeru's gaze steadily for a good five minutes before becoming assured that Takeru could actually take in information.

"You had a anxiety attack at home. Your lost consciousness. We've been at the hospital for about 15 hours."

Takeru's gaze wandered towards a distant spot at the end of the bed that Angemon couldn't see. Despite being awake Takeru was clearly having trouble taking in the information and situating himself into here and now.

The young man's right hand went tentatively right to his heart as if to feel the aftershocks from the heart attack. The prior one-inch movement of his left hand clearly signaled that he was even more disoriented than he tried to let on.

Takeru's gaze was still chasing for something unknown but transferred more consistently to Angemon little by little.

"What time it is?"

"2.14 a.m." Angemon answered, partially relieved to be on a more solid ground: facts and certainties that he could assure.

"Are you in pain?" Angemon continued by questioning steadily, resting his left elbow on his knee and leaning forward, closer to Takeru.

"A little." Takeru answered relaxing a little back to the pillows after having gained a somewhat adequate resemblance of his surroundings.

Angemon knew Takeru would turn down his proposition, but he had to offer to call in the nurse to bring stronger pain medication.

For a while the angel Digimon could just watch his partner, knowing that they both would probably go in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.

Takeru didn't say anything but there was something in his eyes that Angemon had spotted on passing glances during the last few months, but under the soft light and inside the hard white walls, there was something more prominently misplaced in Takeru's eyes. Takeru's gaze moved to him every once in a while but more so Takeru seemed to reflect himself against his surroundings; memorizing but feeling out of place at the same time.

Angemon couldn't help the small bitter smile. In moments like this, he felt he could understand every single thought in Takeru's head. Some people could do that with the right amount of eye-contact but they had become far more adept on reading each other. In the back of his mind, the cost of that loomed as unacceptably high but on the other part the cost was irrelevant. At this moment, it was only the two of them. Inside a busy, University-level hospital with thousands of people, in middle of the night, it was only two of them in a very sterile, very quiet, room. It was far beyond those questions and propositions people usually make for the other party to go and get some tea or refresh one's mind so that the caretaker could try and refill some energy for the next day. There was no time, no place. In some way, the life they should have been living instead of this place was as it was never even meant to exist. Angemon knew, they both knew, that it would come out as a looming shadow again once the sun was up and the nurses and visitors were coming and going. But once all that was gone, there was only them.

Angemon could sense the slight faltering of Takeru's mood as the young human clearly needed a connection to something else than hospital walls and IV-tubes. Angemon replied by moving his hand to stroke the inner side of Takeru's right arm. The touch might have eased Takeru's mood, but for the angel Digimon it brought back the dread. In some distant thought he would have wanted to cry for the wrongness of it all, the guilt for it all, the guilt for deep down knowing that he would have made all the same choices.

Maybe it was easier like this. To take things as they were.

"Will they release me tomorrow?" Takeru asked weakly, managing to break the silence despite the evident extortion in his voice.

Angemon felt a wave of mournfulness, knowing that he was forced to give the answer his partner least wanted. "I think they'll want to keep you for observation for a day or two." Angemon concluded gently, the indulging apologizing tint of his tone softening the note for Takeru.

The human was too tired to give a pointless argument, his gaze once again losing its focus.

They were both silent for over ten minutes before Takeru took an unsteady breath and tried to cover from Angemon's gaze by shifting his own gaze downward.

"Does it hurt?"

It was a soft question. A question Angemon had readied himself to hear at some point.

Dying.

Angemon had to take a contemplative glance over the bedspread — not to elude the question but to reflect it, because at the moment, they had all the time in the world.

Takeru had asked only few weeks prior whether he knew what happened to a Digimon or human after death. Having an intuition that being an angel type Digimon, Angemon might have some clue of the matter — at least something more than he did. Ken and Wormmon's death a few years back had given an indication of that. But Angemon had politically refused to answer. It was long ago that Takeru had learned that the angel type Digimons' had their moral code of conduct they wouldn't step out of. It just one of those things he needed to accept. Had always wanted to accept. In some sense from the very beginning Angemon had held this magical aura to him that he still, over fifteen years later, didn't want to break.

Angemon stroked Takeru's arm, feeling the skin under his thumb, the alive flesh and bone of a young man who had become almost another part of him.

"You know I have never really died. " Angemon rebutted sympathetically, offering the slightest tint of humor they both could share despite the situation.

The tone change in Takeru's eyes told that Takeru took in the quip. Moreover, Takeru didn't remark Angemon's rebuttal or try to repeat the question. Takeru knew that Angemon wasn't the type of person to readily change his mind; and if the angel Digimon didn't answer to the first inquiry, he most likely wouldn't answer for the fourth attempt.

Angemon dared to leave the question unanswered, foremostly because he didn't have a clear answer. But more than that, he knew Takeru wasn't really asking whether dying hurt. The implication of the question having much heavier weight than the question itself.

They held eye contact for a long time, and during those moments Angemon's feeling of dread evaporated.

"I think we'll be okay." Angemon settled, in the end, softening his tone and leaning closer to Takeru.

"You know or you hope?" Takeru asked, the humored stab in his voice once again challenging his partner's steadfastness despite his obvious tiredness.

"Hope." Angemon concluded, the resolution in his voice rising up to the challenge. Yet, the sympathetic purse of lips, told Takeru that beneath the meaningless banter, Angemon fully acknowledged his stance.