Warnings: child death, anxiety, acute depression, disassociation, vomit.

(Unrelated, but hmu on tumblr if you want a pic of Jou's fiancee OC.)


Chapter Six - Gray - 1982

Jou remembers, quite vividly, Leomon dying by his hands.

Not underneath them, exactly but dying still and there being no knowledge in the world, no friendship, no higher power, that would have or could have saved him. He remembers how the lion spoke, so serene and painful, but determined to get the words out, for them. Sacrificing a few moments of bliss for a higher power, a greater purpose: Them.

Somewhere in his twelve-year-old mind, Jou had thought death was supposed to be that, not pretty exactly, but something you nobly accept because it had to come.

"Time of death," he murmured to himself as his co-worker began moving towards the next bed. "18:58." He scribbled it down on the clipboard, his gloves clean and his eyes set on the paper. He continued to note down observations, expression taut, shoulders up, moving clinically as he had been taught by his father and brother and teachers.

He made the mistake then, of going to close the eyes. The eyes were already closed, because the patient had been sleeping, small bony hands clenched around a stuffed animal still too tight. It's little cotton weaves were bent in, nails having dug into the 'skin' sometime during the night.

So small.

Jou doesn't really remember much after this. He must have gotten to his lunch break, because there was a small stain of (blood) sauce on the wrist of his coat. He must have gotten through his shift, because he has all of his things neatly organized in his bag, his scrubs in their bag and all, and he's suddenly, vividly aware of the train seats digging into his back, but he remembers none of it.

In fact, the only reason he's sure he got safely home, is that Mie, his fiancee, is staring him right in the face, concern creasing her brow and her blue eyes are fixed on his in a way he'd always liked before but now he can't remember why.

"What happened?" she asks in that stern way that's usually very grounding.

He blinks at her, baffled. "It was a rough day," he tells her. Because that was what happened, right? "The morning was worse, so I'm just happy to be home."

"Did someone die, Jou?"

Someone's always dying, he wants to tell her, he wants to cry out and spit out but he can't.

Data particles fly off into the grey, empty sky.

Countless flatlines echoes through the hospital floor.

He breathes a ragged sob in and throws up on his shoes.


Jou, this time, is aware of everything. His fiancee gently leads him to sit on the couch and eat (the sheer dirtiness of it was an itch on his spine but he lets it go today). He's aware of fumbling his pajamas on, of the nice scent of cinnamon and cloves she took with her from Britain that isn't lavender or antiseptic or rotting flowers at all.

She settles beside him, solid, warm, living, and Jou cries again and it's honestly embarrassing, but she doesn't say anything. Just lets him weep and look stupid and hopeless.

"We're not salvaging your shoes," she tells him and he laughs, wet and choking a bit. That's how Mie has always been. She's sweet, sure, very grounded, but she doesn't mince words. She doesn't pretend the world will be better than it is, and she doesn't pretend he's weak for things like humanity and allergies and anxiety. She just accepts it, and calls him out on what can be fixed instead.

It… doesn't always help. But he has friends to help with the rest of it.

"Gomamon would try," he says before he can stop himself.

He watches Mie's face shutter closed and then open up again as she shrugs and admits. "Probably. You make him sound like an optimist."

"He was." He pauses, corrects. "Is." If Gomamon dies he really will lose it.

"Don't force it, big guy."

Jou smiles a little more and drinks some water. He supposes that it's true, you can't cry and drink at the same time.

"You know it's always going to be like this, right?"

Her voice is that same, steady serene, and he's not really ready to hear the words she says, but that's probably why she's saying them. So he doesn't have to. So he can be hopeful and reliable and the steady rock who endures the awful things in the world, like his crest wanted him to. Like his crest said he could do.

Sometimes the Crests were wrong.

Still. Jou exhales, a shuddering breath and a sigh. "I know. This one was just… hard, that's all."

Mie nods and nudges the plate to his hands. It's informal, he can hear his father rolling over and screaming in non-existence, but he follows it anyway. He does need to eat.

And this food, it doesn't take like ashes. So he eats it and asks for seconds and cries again.

The next day, he goes to his shift, early, and changes his direction with his head. His hands do shake, but there are messages on his pager from his friends. Their mailbox has a care package from Mimi and Wallace.

Things go on, life goes on.


Jou is not okay.

He's not alone but he feels like he is and he's not okay.

Then Koushiro calls him for dinner and there's nothing in his schedule that lets him refuse.

He wants to though, and he doesn't know why.

But Jou knows that's bad. Knows what that looks like. Remembers his father when he'd been 17, trying to reconnect after years and years and life of scolding, disappointment and mistrust.

It grates on him to be even close to that. So he defies that terrible urge to sit at home and be a couch potato and says "yes of course" when he couldn't mean anything less.

And it's hard to feel bad, seeing his fiancee dressed up the way she is. Still formal, a dress that's probably older than Jou feels, but it fits her like gloves do his fingers and it's very nice and he-

He is floundering again.

She doesn't take his hand, but when his fingers find her leg she plants hers over his like no one is watching.

And Jou is able to breathe. It hurts a bit, like those first few days he'd been out of his inhaler prescription, but better. Basically. No other way to put it but that.

The place they choose is cheap and small, even though Jou knows and Mie knows and everyone knows that if Koushiro had been born (in their time) thirty years from now he'd be so high up the ladder on his giant galaxy brain alone that these farts would be under his boots and the world would be a better place, but it's not and so he and the other two are saving yen coins and Taichi works longer hours in more countries than Jou has ever heard of. And they look too tired for fancy food anyway (Jou feels too tired to pretend he wants his healthy diet right now even though he loves eating it) and so he's more than happy to sit out of place in a small place and drink a little sake.

Meiko declines, gently, of course, but firmly and the hope in her eyes is unprecedented.

Jou, understandably, hopes for her, too.

They have small talk, more because they have to rather than because they want to. And when the food is in hand and they're about to share, Koushiro pauses and raises his hand. He leans in, and he says, "My coworkers made a portal."

Jou almost spits and Mie blinks. Because she knows, and she knows a lot because he couldn't lie to her, but she doesn't understand. "What?"

Koushiro grins at the look on his face, and the mischief is only here now because there's nothing left to lose and Taichi's a terrible influence on all of them. "Two of my coworkers, who have no concept of healthy work habits-"

"Hypocrite," Jou lobs at him with a feeling pulsing through his fingers.

"Called me this morning and said they got a spark of a portal. They aren't aware of where to, and they're crashed on the lab couch, but they managed it and I got a message from Hikari-san and Gomamon."

"... Holy shit." Jou stops and thinks about it, wipes the swear out of his mouth. "Gomamon? How?"

"According to him, she was visiting for ambassadorial reasons and he was telling her she wasn't supposed to be in the cold at the time." Koushiro smiles faintly, and Meiko keeps eating, rather placid, or bitter. Jou isn't sure, they really don't know each other as well as the rest yet.

"Still, they…" Jou looks down at his food and has never been more uninterested in nutrition in his life because Gomamon had been in reach. "They did it?"

"Yes." Koushiro sighs. "And I've tried and tried, for years. My computer just can't do it anymore without parts that don't exist yet."

"Or might never exist, the way you're going on." Mie's voice is light, not cheerful, but it sounds harmless in a way Jou knows that it's not harmless. Mie remembers, remembers more than he gives her credit and gods it's hard it's so hard to look at her and know that's also their fault. Their mistakes have always been larger than life, but here is where it stings more than it should.

But Koushiro doesn't pick up on this, thankfully, and continues on. "So that is what makes this so significant. It's still damaging to the veil-"

"I'm sorry, the what." Mie has to interrupt, and is met with a raised eyebrow in return from Meiko. Jou hides a smile in his chopsticks.

"That's the technical terminology they gave it," Koushiro replies, supremely nonplussed. He'd always been good at that. "We consider it what keeps our universes from crashing into each other. There are multiple worlds, imagine if they all fell together. Or even just two."

"Are data and organics not compatible?"

Koushiro brightens up so much Jou hides his eyes. "No, actually. You convert one way or another depending on the world you're in, at least in the case of the major two we have interacted with. Furthermore…"

Meiko waves a hand at Jou, smiling in that indulgent way that she's probably practiced on Mimi more times than she would care to admit. "It seems like she'll be a while," she says in that gentle voice of hers that's far too fond of the whole thing. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he says automatically, the sound of his voice hollow and his food tasting like soot and dirt.

"Liar," she says back just as fast, but with that smile. "You don't have to tell me… but is there anything i can do?"

Jou wants to tell her no, wants to tell her how bad he felt -still feels- over taking for granted something he'd lost and been able to snatch back, wants to demand to know what she thinks she can do, wants to tell her how he wants her ability to look and feel at peace when she should feel the least peaceful of all of them.

But Jou can't… say those things. Not because he needs to be seen as the truly adult, oldest, responsible one. They're all adults now, and they all are responsible for each other and other things. So it's not his to bear alone anymore either.

He smiles weakly and says, "Can we just try to make today a good day?"

She looks at him thoughtfully, then smiles and responds. "Did you hear Taichi failed his driving test?"

"Why is he even trying to drive?"

"It looks good to Americans."

Jou laughs and means it and can only imagine the man looking at a stick shift with nothing less than abject terror.

"Did he look at cars first?"

The look on Meiko's face is priceless, but she goes along with it, and eventually fold their helplessly argumentative and intelligent spouses back into the discussion.

And Jou feels all right, for once.

"You said," Jou says as they head towards the train, half the bill paid and the other half pocketed for a cheap ice cream he shouldn't have but is going to anyway. "That it's always going to be like this."

Mie nods, regarding him underneath her own glasses. "I did."

"I think you're wrong," he says after another thought. "Because if so that means nursing is going to be a lot of things, and you can't quantify that."

"Well," she responds after a few seconds. "That's because quantifying you would just give you a heart attack."

"That doesn't suddenly make you right."

"No," she agrees. "Just makes me a delight to be around."

Jou chortles at her. "Fine."

"It's going to be better," she says as they walk up the stairs. "And worse. And tolerable. We just can't predict when, that's all."

"Not very reliable."

"No." Mie grins. "But I can count on you to be."

Jou tries not to laugh, fails, and boldly takes her hand and squeezes it. She squeezes it back, and they head for home.