A/N: Hi! This depressing work was written based on a prompt/musing by clocky (on AO3) or jogress (on tumblr). Forgive my complete inability to post links, please. Enjoy :)
When Ken comes to the digital world, it is like being reborn.
The future spreads before Wormmon's eyes. His partner is here, with him. They are together, and Wormmon knows with certainty that this time their joy will not be fleeting. He goes up to Ken, looking at the boy he has loved so fiercely, and wonders what words can possibly be appropriate for this reunion.
Ken looks down at him. Then the boy's eyes slide up, appraising the lush growth of the forest. A slow, small smile curves over his lips. "Now," Ken murmurs. "This is what I call a game."
And Wormmon stops.
Because he does not understand. Not yet.
But he is afraid.
At first, Wormmon tells himself that Ken is young, and immature. It is normal, perhaps, for the children of mankind to throw tantrums when they are not obeyed; to insist that they are special, and different; to want to know everything.
To make their partners call them, 'Master'.
(Sometimes, he remembers a sweet boy in the desert, who laughed and tried to carry him with tiny fat arms, and thinks this is probably not true at all).
He talks to Wormmon often, though. There is that.
"Tell me about this place," Ken will order, and Wormmon always complies.
"It's beautiful," he might answer. "A very popular site for digimon to visit... the beach nearby doesn't have any rocks at all, and..."
But: "Not like that. How populated is it? Are the digimon strong? Is there anything special about it?"
"Special?"
Ken looks at Wormmon sometimes like he doesn't understand him. "Special," he emphasizes.
Wormmon doesn't know exactly what Ken is looking for. But he is searching for something, that much is always apparent. He wanders the digital world in an elaborate costume, and when he walks he often doesn't let himself be seen. "Not yet," he says, when Wormmon asks about this. "I'm not ready yet. Soon, though, everyone will know my name."
Sometimes, he stays in the real world for days at a time. He says he is experimenting. He also tells Wormmon, "Don't ask so many questions."
Then one day he returns, and takes Wormmon to an abandoned, barren place where no Digimon live. "We're going to build," he says. "I have an experiment."
Wormmon is happy. He knows that Ken is a genius. Experiments sound enjoyable; it could be fun, to share something like this with Ken. "Alright."
The building is not so pleasant. Ken is impatient with their slow progress. The tower – for that is what it is – goes up in fits and starts. Wormmon is not sure what the tower is supposed to do. Ken, when asked, looks at him with a blank gaze for a moment.
"Do," he murmurs.
"What is it made of, anyway?"
"Made..." Ken looks up. "...I don't have my notes," he snaps suddenly. "It's very complex, anyway. How do you expect me to explain it to you?"
"It was just a question."
"And I told you, I don't like questions."
"I'm sorry, Master."
Ken is soothed; he always likes being called 'master'.
When the tower is built, Ken looks at Wormmon. He is holding a case, and asks him, "Is there anything you would never do, Wormmon?"
"Lots of things, I suppose."
"Something you would never do, even if I told you to do it?"
Wormmon thinks about this. "...Hurt you, I suppose."
Ken looks at him. Looks at him strangely, for a very long time.
"...Alright." He opens the case. Inside, there is a black ring. "I need your help with one last part of this experiment."
"Sure, Ken."
Ken throws the ring.
Once, when Wormmon was called Minomon, he became trapped in the nest of a Dokugumon. The spider digimon had tangled him in dank gray layers of webbing, suffocating him slowly. He was blind, deaf, mute, and numb. Over time, as hours and days passed, his thoughts had slowed and stilled until he was living a bare half-life, unable to even comprehend his own suffering.
The ring is like that.
The ring is on his last body segment, but it's his head that burns. Through the ringing in his ears, he hears a distorted mockery of Master's voice: "Wormmon. Attack me."
And with no hesitation, he does.
"Sticky Net!"
Ken curses. He has never seen Wormmon's attack before; there has never been a need for Wormmon to be violent in front of him.
Wormmon rushes forward, slamming Ken to the ground. The boy lets out a shocked shout. "Wormmon, st - "
"Sticky Net!"
Ken's voice is cut off by a spray of webbing.
Then Wormmon is kicked through the air, sent tumbling backwards. Ken claws the webbing from his face. "Wormmon, I order you to stop!"
Wormmon freezes.
When the ring comes off, it's like webs being pulled from his thoughts with snaps and cracks, sudden and sticky and painful. Wormmon blinks into the light, and is almost blinded.
Ken... Ken is bleeding from the arm.
"I'm so sorry!" Wormmon cries. He jumps forward, arms flailing. "I'm so sorry, oh, I'm so sorry - "
Ken seems vaguely surprised. He brushes Wormmon away to pick up the ring. "The experiment worked," he says, seeming pleased. Then, he frowns. "But, what's that?"
Wormmon, sniffling, follows his gaze.
On Wormmon's last segment, where before he had been completely green, there is a brand. A dark circle – an imprint left behind by the ring.
"That wasn't in the notes," Ken mutters, annoyed.
Wormmon shudders. He curls in on himself miserably, and sits, trembling, while Ken inspects his 'experiment' for the rest of the day.
Ken insists on testing the ring on another digimon – a Kunemon they find in the forest. It works, but the Kunemon does not retain any stain when it is removed. This, it seems, is reserved only for Wormmon.
When he learns this, though, it is hard to be upset. He will bear it well, as a reminder. He does not know what Ken intends to do with these Dark Rings, but anything which can force him to hurt his partner is something to be feared. And Wormmon will never, ever forgive himself for this day.
Ken is right about one thing:
Digimon learn who he is very quickly.
Around the first spire, digimon are captured by the Dark Rings. From there, these slaves are forced to manufacture more towers, which they do much more swiftly than Ken and Wormmon alone could ever manage. Soon, in a similar manner, towers are springing up in rows all over the digital world, and Ken can walk for hours in any direction without seeing any creature lacking the familiar red-eyed glare worn by his conquered creatures.
"Oh, Ken," asks Wormmon. "Do you really want to do this?"
Ken doesn't answer. Ken rarely bothers to talk to Wormmon, these days; not when he has so many more interesting digimon at his beck and call.
But Wormmon can wait. Wormmon waited years for Ken to return. He can weather this, too.
He hopes.
When the digi-destined come, Wormmon can tell that Ken has mixed feelings. Anger, because, who would dare challenge him? And delight, because, finally. A challenge. Something to end his boredom.
It is sad, Wormmon thinks, what Ken does for the sake of entertainment.
'Sad' is perhaps not what word other people would use, of course. Wormmon wishes he could go to these digi-destined and try to explain to them who Ken is. Wishes he could tell them about the laughing boy who once hugged him and liked to draw constellations in the sand.
They would not believe him, of course. Wormmon does not really believe himself, sometimes.
"Look at those insects," the self-proclaimed Emperor laughs, watching the digi-destined on a screen from inside the comfort of his base. 'Insect' is his favorite insult, because Wormmon is an insect. "Crawling around, trying to find me – and what do they mean to do, if they get here?"
"Fight, I suppose," says Wormmon.
"And I'll squash them like the bugs they are." Then, Ken seems to realize what he's doing. "What, do you think I was talking to you?"
Wormmon says nothing.
"Get out of here. Get away from me!"
Ken kicks at him, and Wormmon scuttles away.
Sometimes, Wormmon is afraid that Ken will decide he is useless or make him leave forever. Ken never has a kind word for him now, not that he did even before the rings. But instead, Wormmon has an unquestioned place above the slaves, hated though he is. And Ken resents him, despises him, but also looks over his shoulder to be sure that Wormmon is behind him when he leaves the base.
He understands this though, because:
The boy-Emperor keeps Wormmon by his side constantly, though the small larva digimon is a useless fighter. Unable to digivolve due to the Ken's own black spires, he's relegated to the position of a sniveling and reluctant adviser. But – and this is important – he is a trustworthy one. Regretful, bitter, and doubting though he might be, Wormmon never works against Ken, even working under his own free will.
So Ken lashes out at Wormmon, testing this faith, this strange aberration of love. It will leave, eventually, the teen is sure; Ken just needs to know when, needs to find Wormmon's breaking point.
So far, he's still searching.
Ken's rule spreads rapidly and goes mostly unchallenged. This does not necessarily surprise Wormmon. It seems right, somehow, that his partner should prove superior to every other being in both worlds.
In terms of strength, at least.
They're surveying one of Ken's newest acquisitions when Wormmon sees a group of Pagumon being shepherded along in crowded rows. Soon, they'll all wear Dark Rings, and be added to the ranks of emotionless slaves under the Emperor's reign.
But for now -
One Pagumon at the end is crying softly. His puffy dark ears are scratched and bruised. When a Ring-bearing Gazimon stomps by he cringes back against another of his kind, and is rebuffed sharply.
"Oh, poor thing," Wormmon says aloud. Then he winces; Ken has little use for pity.
"Hm?"
But, Wormmon has already spoken; he might as well continue; "That Pagumon – oh, could I bring him with us?"
He expects a sneer – maybe a slap – and some derisive words. But the Emperor surprises him. "What do I care? Do what you want."
So the Pagumon comes back with them. He's the only other free digimon in the base. He can think clearly, move of his own free will, and act as he likes.
He is also, obviously, terrified.
"Why did you bring me here?" he whispers, once they are back at the base and Ken has left for the real world. "Why was I different?"
Because I noticed you, Wormmon thinks but cannot say. "I suppose you reminded me of myself," he says.
Pagumon is permitted to join him around the base, assisting in his duties. They check the inventories of supplies – and even Wormmon doesn't know what all the mysterious 'supplies' are, some of what Ken uses for the towers, but they are checked anyway – and carefully give orders to the workers of the base. Ring-bearing slaves can become inert and useless without orders.
"I don't want to be here," Pagumon says after a few days. "Can't I go home?"
"You don't have a home," Wormmon points out, and Pagumon does not have a response to this.
It is – nice, to have a companion. Pagumon quickly starts to understand that Wormmon does not mean to trick him. "Tell me about yourself," Wormmon asks, who has been inside the base far too long. "Oh, won't you tell me about the outside world?"
And Pagumon does, and does, and very carefully never makes any mention – any at all – of the Emperor.
Ken barely notices the change. Perhaps he does not even realize that Pagumon is not wearing a ring. Still, it hurts to have the Emperor throw Wormmon aside, and tell Pagumon, "Make him fit to serve me my dinner." As though this were not some new humiliation, being nursed by an aware, intelligent-eyed digimon just so Ken might have someone to lug him his meal.
Pagumon does not mock Wormmon. But he does seem thoughtful. "You don't have a ring," he says later, as they are preparing dinner. "You could leave, any day."
"I could," Wormmon says.
"Why don't you?"
"Because Ken's my partner. He's everything."
"But he's horrible to you."
"We're meant for each other, though. And he has goodness in him; I know it."
"You could leave," says Pagumon again.
"So could you."
"What?"
"None of the slaves have been ordered to stop you from leaving," Wormmon says. Pagumon blinks, like he hasn't thought of that. "But your village is gone, and you're alone, aren't you? Life isn't so bad – you just have to take the bad with the good."
Pagumon considers him.
Wormmon takes the meal to Ken.
And by the next morning, Pagumon is gone; Wormmon isn't sure why he feels surprised.
"I'm going to destroy them all," Ken whispers to himself, again and again, as though Wormmon is not even there. He traces the frozen silhouettes of the digi-destined on the screen. "Every last one of them..."
Wormmon curls up in the corner of the control room, staring out the window and trying to remember the child he once knew. For once, though, the memory has grown blurred and clouded, so he just pretends, instead...
Wormmon would like to say that Ken is especially cruel to him when he is in a bad mood.
This would imply that Ken notices him when he's in a bad mood.
More often, in fact, Ken rushes around the base, yelling and rambling and occasionally throwing things at walls – but not, usually, at Wormmon. Not unless Wormmon draws attention to himself by talking, or trying to calm Ken down.
...Which he frequently does.
Ken is his partner, is the problem. And maybe, secretly, Wormmon wouldn't mind if the digi-destined could knock down the control-spires more quickly, or even – in the best-case scenario – convince Ken to give up this quest for digital supremacy once and for all. But if Ken is upset, Wormmon will try and help. Of course he will.
Of course he will.
"Ken," Wormmon says, crawling closer to where his partner is staring, white-faced, at pictures of Agumon and MetalGreymon. "It's alright. At least we know the Dark Spirals work, right? You can make more and destroy the digi-destined some other day."
Ken's shoulders tense.
"Ken?"
"And how would I do that, do you imagine, Wormmon," asks Ken slowly. He is turned away, head bowed; Wormmon cannot see his face.
"...I don't..."
"Because I can't do much with rookies, you know," Ken continues. "I imagine I would have to digivolve them. Veemon and Hawkmon and the others. Right?"
"I suppose, yes - "
Ken moves so quick that it startles him, spinning around and lunging for Wormmon. The worm scrambles back, shocked by a glimpse of madness behind the purple flare of his partner's goggles. "I digivolved Agumon, but not you," Ken spits. "And you say you're my partner?"
"I'm sorry, Ken, I just can't - "
Ken lashes out with his foot, catching Wormmon across the face. The larva digimon yelps and falls back, clutching his head. "You're pathetic!" Ken shouts. "You can't even stand up for yourself! What kind of digimon are you? Digivolve! Digivolve!"
Something in the room is shrieking. Shining. Wormmon catches a shimmering glow on Ken's belt.
He feels sick.
"Ken, Master, please - "
"Don't call me that!" he roars, and Wormmon doesn't even have time to ask which name he means before he's kicked sharply in the side.
"Get up!" Ken shouts. "Digivolve! I order you to digivolve!"
And Wormmon -
Wormmon is breaking, being split apart and remade. He catches a glimpse of Ken as he rises – the human stumbling back, shocked, arms rising in defense. Wormmon's body is stretching, twisting. Around them darkness pulses and shadows spread through the room.
This cannot be digivolution. This is something else.
But perhaps, a distant part of him thinks, Ken will be proud anyway.
Snimon turns to Ken and swings his curved sickle-arms. Then, everything goes dark.
Wormmon wakes in a slow fog. He has a vague memory. Ken, yelling at him; not so strange. Dark light. The digivice glowing. And Ken...
"I digivolved!" Wormmon perks up. He stumbles to his feet, shaking himself of fatigue. He looks around the control room, dimly registering the silence of the computers, the broken equipment. "Ken! Ken, I digivolved - "
He stops.
"...Ken?"
The Emperor's distinct cape is clearly visible on the other side of the room, covering a human-sized lump.
"Ken, get up," Wormmon calls, and limps over. "Ken..."
He crawls over. It looks like the ground around Ken is wet... "Ken?"
Ken doesn't move.
With difficulty, Wormmon sidles up to his partner's side, grabs an arm, and pulls the human onto his back.
Ken's front is mangled beyond reckoning. His clothes have been torn. Red flesh is laid bare all down his abdomen, shining with weakly-pulsing rivulets of blood. In his gut coils of discolored organs gleam through rips of skin.
Blood drips from Ken's mouth, frothing onto the floor. He tries to speak, and it splatters uselessly on his lips.
"Ken! Ken, no, no – Ken - "
At once, Wormmon realizes. Understands.
He did this.
"No, no, no - I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Ken is laughing quietly.
"Oh, Ken, no, no, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Master please - "
A black-gloved hand reaches out to touch Wormmon's side, trembling.
"I knew you would turn on me," the Emperor whispers.
"No – no, Ken, please - "
Ken smiles. "I knew it," he sighs. He slowly turns his head toward his partner. His eyes seem strangely soft; tears of pain slide down his cheeks. "But I – I - "
He stops.
"Ken?"
Ken is silent. His chest has gone still.
For a moment, Wormmon doesn't understand.
He hears something crack. He looks down; the black digivice, clutched in Ken's hand, is splintering. Fracturing. Suddenly, in one burst, it dissolves into a shimmer of data.
Something in Wormmon is falling away. Humans don't come back; they aren't reborn. He's heard this, before. Shuddering, he touches Ken. "...Ken?"
Warm. Still.
"Please, please get up."
What does it mean, to not be reborn?
It doesn't make sense.
"Please come back," Wormmon says. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
But Ken doesn't move.
And Wormmon doesn't, either.
The slaves wander away in the absence of orders. But the lights stay lit, and the base continues its ceaseless flight. After sometime – does it matter when? - there are voices and sounds in the halls. Familiar voices.
The door to the control room opens.
"I don't understand why it's so empty," says a girl. "If this is Ken's base."
"Yeah, and... wait, is that..." the voice stops abruptly.
"Hello," Wormmon says vaguely, from where he's watching Ken's waxen sleep. The smell of stinking flesh has long since overpowered every sensible thought, but... "You shouldn't be here. This place is restricted."
"Oh my god," someone mutters.
"He won't get up," Wormmon says. He slowly turns around, still keeping one eye on Ken. "How do you restart humans?"
One of the girls runs from the room; the Hawkmon follows her out.
The blonde boy is pushing back the short one, turning his head away. The Veemon's partner... That is Davis, yes? The leader. That one should know the secret, surely. And the Child of Light, with him.
"Please," Wormmon says. "We won't bother you again. Please."
Davis just looks down at him. His mouth opens, then closes.
The Child of Light steps forward. She slowly kneels down, and she does not look at Ken. "Wormmon," she says. "I don't think you understand."
"No," he says, because of course he doesn't. "I don't know how to help him."
"You – you can't, Wormmon," Davis protests. He is breathing fast.
"I'm his partner."
"But he's gone," the Child of Light says. "You know what that means, right? He's beyond helping."
"How did this happen?" Davis asks.
Wormmon stiffens. "I'm going to help him," he says. " - I have to."
"Wormmon..."
"Hey," says Veemon. "Why don't you come with us?"
Gatomon nods. "We'll help you," she says.
The girl adds, "We'll take Ken, too. Back to his parents. We'll take care of everything, Wormmon. Alright?"
Take.
Take Ken?
Take Ken.
...
They're going to take Ken.
They're going to hurt Ken.
Wormmon only has one response to that.
"Sticky Net!"
Veemon leaps away, startled. The majority of the net hits Davis, who sputters and wheels back. For a moment, Wormmon is shocked by his own actions. This – humans should not be involved. That is how Ken -
"Vee Headbutt!"
Yes, good. Wormmon rolls aside, taking the hit as a glancing blow and spinning around.
"Veemon, stop it!" Davis snaps.
Wormmon shoots out another net, which Veemon tears apart. Then he slams forward, knocking the lizard to the ground.
"I don't think he's going to stop, Davis!" Veemon shouts.
"We'll make him," the Child of Light insists, and the blond boy comes sprinting back into the room.
Soon, Nefertimon and Pegasusmon join the fray; but they don't want to fight. They have golden nooses. They're trying to take him away, away from Ken, from his partner. This cannot be tolerated.
The towers are gone. To protect his partner, Wormmon should be able to digivolve... Why is he not digivolving?
"Davis!" Veemon shouts, flying back from another barrage of Sticky Net.
Finally, Davis can't seem to take it. He whips out his own digivice, and suddenly Raidramon is in the lab.
"You can't win," the Child of Light says.
But he can try.
He fights. Raidramon beats him back – gently, at first, but roughly when needed. A Thunder Blast to the abdomen makes Wormmon's solidity waver. It has been a long time, since he was Minomon...
He fights. He shoots pinecones at Raidramon, who seems unsure what to do. He launches himself at the storm-digimon, then, when he catches movement from the side of his eye, wheels around and attacks Nefertimon.
A stray paw-swipe, and he is Leafmon.
"Bubble Blow!" he spits. A purple bubble slowly floats over to Raidramon, and pops harmlessly onto his leg.
"Great," Davis says. "Are we done, now?"
"Please stop," the Child of Light whispers. The leader looks at her, puzzled. "Oh, please stop."
"Bubble Blow! Bubble Blow! Bubble Blow!"
Raidramon stares down at him. Leafmon pants, then bounces forward, smacking against the digimon's side in a vain body-slam. It does nothing. "Hey, are you alright?" Raidramon asks. The larger digimon glows briefly, then resettles as Veemon.
"I – Bu- Bubble..." Leafmon weakly bounces forward again. Again. Again...
Pixels start to float into the air.
"Hey! Stop! Stop!"
"You can't have him," Leafmon whispers. "You can't hurt him."
"We won't! We won't!" Veemon cries.
"My Ken... My Ken..."
Veemon turns into Chibimon. The little blue digimon bounces forward. "Please stop," he begs.
Behind them, the humans are silent, and Ken is mute and still on the floor.
"I'll fight until my partner tells me to stop," Leafmon says, and launches forward again.
Chibimon takes the hit.
But it is Leafmon that glows softly, and vanishes into a gentle burst of data.
II.
Leafmon shudders, curling his leaf over himself. The sight of the digi-destined in Primary Village is disconcerting. He doesn't know why, but they make the things that do not exist seem more tangible. They recall to his mind the scents of rotted flesh that other digimon can't smell, and the shadows of darkness that sink across the sky.
Sometimes, especially when the young girl walks by, Leafmon thinks of an ocean. A huge, black ocean. He thinks he can hear singing there, from a voice he should be able to know.
Maybe it's someone from a past life... Someone he knew. Someone he loved?
When he is stronger, he will find that ocean, he thinks.
One day.