Disclaimer: I do not own any Digimon or any of its characters.

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Dilemma: Chapter Three- Unacceptable

Now that their house was in plain view, the older blonde was able to see two figures on the front porch. One looking happy and the other looking…well…not so cheerful. The boy quickened his steps. T.K had made it back before he did.

Probably ratted me out too. The bitter allegation entered his head before he could stop it.

"Cold up on the hill, Yamato?" It wasn't a question. It was more of an accusation.

Uh Oh. Dad must be really angry. T.K thought.

Usually it was just Yama or Matt. He preferred neither but settled with his English name, Matt. Only those closest to him were allowed say Yama.

I had better play it cool. "Uh Dad…how did you know-"

"Where were you?! Your brother had been searching more than an hour for your ass and then I find out that you were up on the hill relaxing?"

Yamato glanced sharply in his brother's direction at that comment.

T.K simply shrugged. That's what it looked like to me.

"That's not acceptable behavior, young man. Laziness isn't accep-"

"What he means is, we're glad that you're safe", the other figure interrupted. She glared at their father to emphasize the 'we' part, "And please watch your language around the boys".

"Marcia," Dad growled, "How many times can you defend their indecent behaviour? They-"

"Their? They?" T.K asked bewildered, "Hey! This time it wasn't me-"

"They", he continued, ignoring T.K's comment, "Have to learn to be responsible, especially Yamato…" he sighed, "I need to figure out what to do with my beloved sons…"

What a drama queen. Now I know where those boys get their charming sarcasm. I feel for them still though. Hmm…there has to be some way of settling this… Marcia thought. Then, she leaned over and whispered something into the older man's ear. She'd decided on a last second solution and from the looks of it, what she suggested wasn't pleasant. Their father was frowning.

Marcia, however, was smiling triumphantly.

"As punishment", she beamed, "You boys gotta take out the trash". She winked.

T.K almost took a step back. He was that surprised. Something was amiss.

What kind of punishment is this? Might as well send me to sponge down the car or wash the dishes or even clean my ro- Yamato stopped in mid-thought. His father's frown had slowly transformed into a mischievous grin.

Marcia pointed the boys in the direction of the backyard.

Dad continued to smile. It was a smile that said have fun kids. Think you could make it back before dinnertime?

That left Yamato confused and a bit worried.

But only a bit.

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"Your next mission…"

The brunet caught the file with one hand. Even bruised he had unusually fast reflexes.

"For your next mission", His uncle continued, "You'll be heading to Paris, in France. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at six. If you miss that flight I can't guarantee you'll be permitted to take the limo back. So make sure your ass is on time".

Not even squinting could help the brunet read the file in front him. Uncle warily glanced at his illiterate nephew. He turned back muttering something to himself. The brunet thought it sounded something like "pathetic". He also heard the word "coffee" as well.

Uncle stuck his thick fingers into the breast pocket of his suit and produced a small cell phone. "Everything you need to know is in that file. After you finish the job, call the fourth number on this phone and someone will come and pick you up. Clear?"

"Y-yes sir," the young man stuttered causing his uncle to cast a sharp glance in his direction.

Uncle eyed his nephew from head to toe, sensing the tenseness in the boy's muscles.

"What's the matter dear nephew?"

The brunet internally cringed as his uncle made his way over to where he was standing. He came closer and closer until they were face to face. The brunet remained motionless. He didn't even flinch when his uncle blew his sour-cream-and-onion-breath in his face.

Without breaking eye contact, Uncle's pale hand brushed under his nephew's nose. When he drew it back, there was a sticky red substance streaked across the finger that made contact with the boy's face.

Uncle let his eyebrows pose the question floating in his mind, again with the bleeding nose?

Uncle's hand continued to caress the spot under his nephew's nose, only succeeding in smearing blood all over his top lip. The other hand trailed down to the top of the brunet's jeans, fingering the bit of flesh exposed above his belt. He heard the boy's breath catch and ceased his movements. Then, he simultaneously hooked the phone onto his nephew's pants and made a fist around the boy's nose. In a matter of seconds, Uncle pushed back his head and forced a fat blue pill down his nephew's throat. He watched as his nephew struggled to keep his vomit down.

Good. At least he realizes that vomit only makes it burn more, Uncle thought.

Oh shit! The boy screamed in his head. He felt himself sinking.

His knees buckled under the weight of his exhausted body. Then, the first wave of pain hit.

And it hit hard.

Uncle's face wrinkled in disgust as he witnessed his nephew roll into a pitiful ball, shaking and shivering in agony.

Several minutes later the pain subsided. The only thing he could feel was the rippling cramps of hunger still plaguing his stomach. Truth be told, he hadn't eaten anything since the bologna sandwich the day before and he felt like there was a wave of static going through his head. For the moment, however, he was transfixed on the simple task of getting up. Food wasn't important now.

The brunet only got as far as his knees before he felt a harsh tug. His uncle had grabbed a fistful of his hair. As the brunet fought to keep his body completely motionless, the static in his head started to form words. Strangely enough these were familiar words,

'Weakness is not acceptable'.

Uncle smirked at his nephew's position. Head bent, kneeling on the linoleum tiles, just ripe for discipline.

But not right now, Uncle told himself, not today.

Ridden with shame, the brunet awaited his punishment…but none came. There's no way he had a change of heart, he thought. Instead, in a tone that was almost compassionate (considering his dreadful moods lately), Uncle told his nephew to relax. He buzzed Weiyn into the room and requested that he prepare a dinner for the brunet and ensure that he got a good night's rest. Then, Weiyn was dismissed.

Uncle turned his attention back to the boy in his grasp.

"Get up", he barked, "And make sure you're ready two hours before your flight. We're gonna train". Then, with the flick of his wrist, Uncle made a sign with his hand indicating that his nephew was dismissed.

The brunet had limped halfway out the door when he heard,

"Oh and one more thing…"

He winced as he turned to his uncle.

"Please don't fuck up this time".

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When they left, Uncle turned back to his office desk. He sighed.

He needed to think.

The smooth oak tickled the edges of his printless fingers. He sat back, letting the leather chair absorb some of the tension in his shoulders. When he felt comfortable enough, he began to think out loud.

"Yes…that's right Weiyn. Make sure that boy gets a good rest. I have big plans for tomorrow morning. I can't have my nephew getting all soft now, can I?"

Uncle suddenly popped out of his chair, reaching for his jacket. Maybe I'll go for some coffee after all.

Aloud he said, "Even if I have to beat it back into his head, I'll make sure he keeps the primary rule of this game in mind, weakness is not acceptable".

Uncle grabbed his keys and headed out his office.

"And never goes without punishment, " He added with a cold grin.

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