A/N: First off I need to apologize for how late this fic is. I have no real excuse I just got distracted with other stuff. Anyway I had a lot of fun writing this chapter because I didn't really give it much thought. I just sort of sat down and let it write itself, but because of that it kind of lacks unity. I'm hoping it will be enough to get you interested, despite, how poorly it's written. But like I said I had fun writing it, so maybe you'll have fun reading it.

Let me remind you that this is the second part in a series. The first fic is Prisoner of The Night. This fic will follow the basic concept of the first fic, only the plot will be on a little wider scale. The other Digidestined will actually play a part in this fic, some more so than others, and Gabumon will have his time to shine as well.

Oh and just as a fair warning this fic will contain angst and torture, of course if you read Prisoner of The Night then you already know this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon… or do I? (the world will never know)

The Last Sway of The Pendulum

Part One: Still A Prisoner

The thoughts of a prisoner- they are not free either.

-Alexander Solzhenitsyn

Darkness has many forms, but none more revered than the form of beauty. Just as the endless night sky is venerated from a distance, so are many shadows admired from the good people still embodied by light. There is no lonelier position than to be one of those cast into the dusk and gloom. To be shut out from the light, is to be shut off from the world. Those free from the burden of darkness gather under the halo of light, basking in its warmth. They know they are accepted. They know that they are free.

The concept of being chained to the shadows is so alien to them that when they encounter one who is chained, who is imprisoned by darkness, they are almost overwhelmed by astonishment. They run to the edge of their sanctuary. They come to the place where illumination ends and darkness begins, and they stare into the night. They watch those moving among the shadows, and they think how beautiful and mysterious. A part of them wishes that they could hold such power. That they could be admired from a distance, but to be revered is to be alone.

It is impossible for those living in the light to understand the sorrow that comes with living in darkness. Few are held in darkness' coils. Few are chained to tenebrous rings. So darkness holds on tightly to the few lured into its grasp. Alone one could never free himself from the lurid prison, alone one could never defeat his oppressor. Darkness is strongest when you are alone.

So it is when you are alone that the black spirit of depression settles upon you. It all reminds you that no matter how far you run, darkness will always find you in the end. For the night hath a thousand eyes. And dawn never finds a prisoner of the night.

Please some one come and find me. Please some one come and wake me up.

He ran under the canopies of trees, passing through the brush, gaining small scrapes as he whipped past the thicket. The mud below clung to his bare feet, causing him to stumble as he ran. But these obstacles did not stop his mad race. He fought against the dangers of the forest, refusing to allow them to hinder his escape. He had to get away.

Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?

The questions circled his mind as he continued to run. His lungs had begun to burn with the exertion of his pace, and sweat dripped from his redden skin, falling like tear drops to the muddy earth below.

It didn't matter to him that his bare arms and the lower part of his legs were suffering tremendous abuse for the brush in the forest. Nor did it matter that he could barely breathe from the strain of his run, all that matter was getting away. He didn't care what it took, he had to escape it. The sight of it caused his heart to pound with fear. The smell of it caused his stomached to twist with painful knots. The sound of it was torture in his ears. He had to get away from it. He had to escape.

Why is this happening to me? Please let me go…

He whimpered and pleaded, but it was no use, he was still trapped with then the forest. He was still running from the object of his deepest fears.

With determination he pushed forward, leaping over obstructions and fighting against the mist. The thick gray mist hung in the air clouding his view, and he began to wonder if he was going in the right direction. The doubt only increased with each step, but still he did not slow his pace.

Livid gray light beamed in front of him, and a since of victory lifted his spirit. He was almost out of the forest. Perhaps this meant he had escaped. Perhaps this meant that it was far behind him.

He traversed through the mist, his goal was now in sight. With a defiant grunt he pushed his body harder and ran to the edge of the forest, then stumbled clumsily into the clearing. At last he was free of the maze of decaying trees and suffocating mist.

He slouched over, completely exhausted, and placed his shaky palms upon his scraped knees. He could feel the breeze upon his bare skin, wrapping gently upon him. He shuddered from the cold of the open air as it touched his sweaty flesh.

His vision had clouded, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse. But soon his body began to recover from the run, and his pulse slowed as his heart and lungs were no longer required to feed an excessive amount of oxygen to his muscles. As his pulse slowed his hearing returned, and quickly his moment of victory ended. The fear returned, and the panic crashed upon him as his mind processed a single thought.

I can hear the waves.

Startled, he lifted his head and looked around. To his horror his ears had not deceive him. He was standing on a beach of ashen sand. Somber clouds hung low in the sky, threatening to rain down icy drops of tainted water at any minute. And stretching out before him, endless and infinite, was an ocean of black water.

No! No… please no…

He was in a panic. His mind now racing as quickly as his body had moments again. Tremors of fear and fatigue set in, and his tired legs at last gave out, causing him to fall to the sand below. He was upon his knees, shaking, tears welling in his eyes.

He had run for what had seemed like hours. All he wanted to do was escape it, and yet no matter how far he ran, each time his path led him back.

The waves washed up upon the ashen sand as if beckoning him to its icy depths. He looked on in amazement. The water's call was so enticing. He could hear the wind whispering in his ear, encouraging him to take those steps and enter the ocean. It would be so easy if he just gave in. The ocean offered to wash his pain away. The ocean offered him peace. The ocean would give his life meaning and purpose again.

But it's all a lie. This is all an illusion. Someone please wake me up!

He begged, but no one heard him. He was alone and at the mercy of darkness.

Soon the ocean itself grew irritated with his refusal to comply. Its irritation led it to use a new method of persuasion. The ocean no longer had patients for its prisoner's rebellion. It was time to remind the boy that he was not free. It was time to remind him exactly why he was so afraid of the black waters.

What's going on?

The ground began to rumble beneath him. His gaze shot to the earth in front of him. The sand was stirred by the shaking of the ground. The ocean moaned and rumbled in furry, its agitation with the boy grew with each passing moment. The black brine began to swish, and the waves grew high and baneful. The water lashed upon the shore ,like a whip upon bare flesh, splitting the sand as it moved.

In this world of weariness darkness is sovereign and the prostrate are its puppets. Normally these puppets are easily controlled. There is no need to beat them, or chain them ,or tie them to strings, their own self loathing brakes them. Isolation, sorrow, and anger binds them to darkness. Much of the pain they endure is self inflicted. They could fight their way out of their prison. Nothing barred them in. They could defeat the darkness and step into the light, but fear held them back.

Fear keeps many captive, and he was no exception. Fear alone bound him to his misery. But unlike the other prisoners, his fear was not of the darkness, it was of the light. He feared what was alien to him. He had been burned by the light and was now scared and calloused. In his eyes he was ugly and misshapen, but in the eyes of darkness he was perfect.

The water swept up upon the shore, overtaking the boy on the sand. He had no time to react. No time to even think. The waves rose like a stroke of impending death. The brine's icy hand grasped its victim then pulled him forcefully into its hold. He tried to prepare himself for the blow by taking a deep breath of the toxic air around him, but it was of no help. The black water rushed around him and spread over him like the angel of death, then all was dark.

He felt the cold salty water stinging his skin, while an unseen force pulled him mercilessly down. He tried to struggle against the power causing him to sink, but his attempt was futile. The ocean had him, and he was at its mercy. The black depth proved this by tossing him around, forcing him to open his eyes. Instantly a sharp pain shot into his head as the water began to gnaw at the blue orbs. He gritted his teeth as the pain began to over take him. His body was beginning to grow tired from the fight against the waves. The temptation to just give in and let the darkness consume him was overwhelming. He had suffered at this ocean's hands for many nights, now the many blows dealt to him had beaten him down, making him wish that it would all just end, so that he could be left in peace.

What do you want from me? I have nothing to give. Why do you want me?

But the ocean knew this was not true. The ocean knew its own child. The boy was breaking. Just as water slowly erodes stone, so was the ocean slowly destroying the boy's spirit. Soon he would not have the strength to fight. Soon he would return to where he belonged, but it was not time yet. There were still some preparations to be made before the child could be welcomed home.

Just as he was beginning to give in, just as he let go and began to sink willing into the blackest depths of the world, that was when his suffering ended. The water pulled back, splitting so that open air formed a clearing.

There he was floating in the darkness with walls of black water encompassing him. His soar eyes blinked a few time as he tried to clear his vision. He wasn't certain what was happening, he had never gotten this far before. Now he was floating with the water around him. He could see the ocean's floor below.

I didn't think it had a bottom.

He looked down, still terrified by his situation. It felt as though some phantom was holding him so that he would not fall. He tried not to let his fear over take him, but it was difficult to resist. He knew he hated this ocean, he knew he feared it, and yet he could not remember why. It was as though a chapter in his life had been ripped violently from his memory, leaving large scars in its place.

He still carried the scars. They were large and hideous to behold. The ocean knew exactly where these scars were. It was slowly reopening them, forcing the boy to endure the pain of their making all over again.

Now he was beginning to relax, to accept his situation. There was nothing he could do. The darkness held him tightly, and he had neither the strength nor the desire to fight it, and this was all the ocean needed. Once it felt the boy had accepted his fate, it released him. Without warning the phantom holding him let go, and he began to fall. The ocean's floor grew closer, and the boy screamed in horror as he approached the bottom. The sharp rocks pointed towards him like the many spears of an enemy army. The floor grew closer, the rock grew closer, the end was coming.

He awoke panting and shaking as though his very life was being sucked out of him. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt weak and nauseous. His trembling hands rose slowly to his sweat-soaked face. Shamefully he buried his face in his clammy palms, wishing to shut out the dark room around him. Tears welled in his quivering eyes as he recalled the events of the dream, which only seconds ago was plaguing his battered mind. This was the sixth time this night hag had crept upon him. At first he resisted the images. At first he fought defiantly against the demons of fear and depression, but soon his strength began to give out. Now the devils walked freely amid his thoughts, pounding him with powerful blows every time he tried to push them out.

He was almost disgusted by his own show of weakness. Here he was, alone in the dark, weeping into the night like a helpless child. The very thought of how demeaning and pitiful his quivering was embarrassed him. No one would see him like this, curled up like a frighten animal hiding from some predator, but that did not help him feel any less lowly.

He remained as he was, curled into a defensive ball, too weak and dizzy to rise from his bed. A chill caressed his skin, but he did not move. He simply lied there, allowing the cold to reduce him to shivers.

Why should I get up? I suppose I could greet the dawn… but if I were the one to welcome the new day, the sun itself would probably be so disgusted with this example of the human race that it would probably sink back into the night. It would leave the rest of the world shrouded in the very darkness that is haunting me. And who am I to condemn humanity to such a fate? All though it would be nice not to have to be alone in the shadows anymore.

Warily he opened his eyes and peeped through the spaces between his fingers. His face was still buried miserably in his clammy hands, this defense concealed his shame from the phantoms in his room. He didn't want to look helpless, even if there was no one to see him, but he also didn't feel strong enough to fully remove his hands and rise from his bed.

I could just stay here all day. The curtains are such, so the darkness will remain in and the light will stay out. Dad won't notice if I stay in bed all day. He probably doesn't even know that I'm here right now, that is if he's home at all.

His mind began to wander, as he allowed the darkness in the room to drag him off to forlorn thoughts. His defenses were now fatigued, and he could no longer fight off memories with usual contemplations about the day to come.

He began to think of the ocean. He began to recall the way the water felt upon his skin and the way he felt within it. He began to remember that there was a sense of accomplishment that came along with drowning in those depths. A part of him felt complete within those tormenting nightmares. He felt as though something he had sought after his entire life had simply been given to him, making his tedious quest obsolete.

It was those feelings that he feared the most. He knew deep within himself that he should hate that ocean without question, and yet he could not break free of his longing for it.

It was like walking in that cave with Gabumon. Darkness was all around us and yet we could see. Suffocation weighed upon us and yet we could breathe. Emptiness consumed me and yet I never felt so fulfilled. Gabumon told me that he had almost lost me within that tunnel, but now I'm begging to wonder if he didn't loose me. Now I'm begging to wonder how much of me came out of that cave.

The sound of birds chirping outside caught his interest, and he slowly removed his hands from his face. It was still early, the sun had yet to rise, but already the world was awakening. With little motivation he too decided it was time to get up. Tediously he pushed his blanket fully off of his body, then sat up.

If I stay in bed all day I'll either fall back to sleep and dream again, or I'll stare at the ceiling and think. Neither of those sound very appealing.

He reminded himself as he stretched and yawned, before throwing his feet on the other side of the bed. His bedroom was pitch black, not a single sign of light was within, but that didn't matter. He always left his room clean so finding his way from his bed to his bedroom door would not be difficult.

Without thinking he rose to his feet and walked slowly across the carpet to his bedroom door. He placed his hand upon the door knob and turned, ignoring the squeak coming from the door's rusted hinges.

The squeak of the door was only another reminded of how unkempt the apartment was. His father never had time to attend to the apartment, and he was still just a child, lacking the skills and knowledge necessary to keep their home together.

Now he stumbled slowly through the darkened hall, wincing as he noticed the silence was just as unbearable in the hall as it was in his own room. The silence and darkness dominated the entire lonely apartment, it had ever since the divorce. He had grown so accustom to it that he rarely noticed it, but there were days when it would all come crashing down upon him, reminding him of how alone he truly was.

Finally he reached his destination, the bathroom. Gratefully he pushed the door open and entered the small room. He flipped the light switch on behind him then walked over to the white sink. He didn't bother to look in the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his own face, for he was certain that both grief and exhaustion had taken their toils upon his youthful features. Instead he kept his azure eyes upon the light blue tile floor. Once he reached the sink his gaze shifted up to the faucet. Thoughtlessly he twisted the faucet, and cold water poured from the spout.

He washed his face, allowing the cool water to break up the sweat that had collected upon his skin. After feeling the water run down his face and drip upon his bare chest, he turned off the faucet and placed his hands upon the sink. His head was lowered as he used the sink for support. He was beginning to feel more alive, more aware of the world around him, and less conscience of his own demons. With relief he closed his eyes, allowed himself to be lulled by the sound of running water.

I thought I turned the water off?

His pulse began to race, he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. His breathing changed from slow relaxing breaths to quick desperate pants.

Please no… please just let this still be a dream.

He begged, hoping beyond hope that he was still asleep or simply hallucinating. But the sound did not go away. He could hear the water rushing down like a tiny water fall. He whimpered, keeping his eyes shut tight. The possibility that he was just hallucinating still remained, but it was slowly being ruled out as he felt darkness creep over him.

He felt all those feelings coming back. Depression, fear, loneliness, anger. They all rose within him, shutting out all rational thoughts. His shaking hands gripped the edges of the sink, as he tried to remain on his feet. He wanted to simply fall to the ground and curled into a ball again, but that defense had proved to be futile in the past, so he doubted that it would work now.

The rushing water grew louder and he shuddered as he felt a chill caressing his bare skin, biding him to open his eyes. The darkness was beckoning him, and he could no longer resist its request.

Fearfully he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting the sink below. Instantly his fear turned to bewilderment. Black water was slowly filling the white sink. His confused eyes slowly followed the path of the water in search of its source. The water was not coming out of the facet, but was flowing from above.

His eyes rose until they met the mirror above the sink. As he looked into the mirror he saw his nightmares played out before him. It was like looking into a window with a whole other world beyond it. Within his bathroom mirror he saw the dark ocean, its waves crashing a spilling into his sink. He could also see the dark clouds hanging low in the sky, like misery hanging over a widow's heart.

This can't be real! It's just a dream… please let it all just be a dream.

He shut his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the ocean. He just wanted the image to go away. He just wanted the nightmare to end, but the nightmare was real, and reality does not bleed away as fantasy does.

The sound of the waves only seemed to grow louder the longer he kept his eyes shut, but it was not until he felt the cool of water splashing upon his bare feet that he opened his eyes again. The water had filled the sink and was now spilling over onto the bathroom floor.

Panic stricken, he fell back against the bathroom wall, wincing as his bare back met with the metal hooks on his towel hanger. The hooks sent a jolt through he shoulder blades, which spread through his body in an unnatural way. His pain seemed to amplify, knocking his breathe out and draining his strength finally, unwillingly he fell to his knees.

The water remained contained within the bathroom as it slowly closed in on him. He felt as though he was suffocating, but that did not defeat his will to fight. Wishing to escape the water, he backed away until his sore shoulder blades hit the wall behind him. Now he had no where to go. The wall was behind him and the water was around him.

The level of the water was barely an inch deep, he could have easily walked through it and escaped into the hall, however, his fear kept him from rising off the floor. All he could do was pull his knees into his chest in hope of delaying the inevitable contact with the black water.

The water was so close now. It covered the bathroom floor like the growing shadows of dusk covers the defenseless world as the sun slowly surrenders to night. His mind went blank of reason, and all he could do was shut his eyes tightly and cry out.

"Please just go away!"

His voice rang through the empty apartment, rising above the sound of the spilling water. After his voice died away he expect to hear the water still rushing down from the mirror into the sink and then onto the floor, but to his surprise no such sound was there.

A part of him was skeptical, not wishing to give into false hope, but another part of him wanted to know for certain that it was over. Loathing what could possibly greet him, he slowly opened his eyes. Instantly his nerves grew calm as he realized that the water was gone.

Despite the joy that washed over him, he felt no sense of triumph. He knew now that these dreams were no dreams at all. He knew now that something was truly calling him.

I thought I was free once I left that cave, but now I know that I am still a prisoner.

~*~*~

Well there you have it, the first part ,of the second part, of a three part series. Please be brutally honest, I need to know what you do and do not like so I know what to do in the future. Oh, but as far as my horrific spelling and grammar skills go… well I am trying to improve, but I think I'm getting worse.

I know this chapter was a little dull, but it should pick up in the next chapter. I don't really know what I'm going to do in the next chapter, but I think I might have Tai make an appearance. I'll just have to see if it will work. In the mean time you can help give me a little direction by letting me know what characters you want to see a lot of in this fic, aside from Matt and the villains, who will be in here a lot simply because the plot demands it. Anyway thank you for reading and please review.