Disclaimer: Digimon, its plots, characters and concepts are not mine. They're belonged to such people as Toei Animation, Bandai and Saban. All are being borrowed and will hopefully be brought back as they were. No profit is being made, so please don't sue. Any quotes from the Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux aren't mine either. The Ghost Roads idea was borrowed from the Buffy Trilogy, The Gatekeeper I think. It's not mine either. Any original characters and this fic are mine.
Daisuke knew this was a dream. It was simply too bizarre and surreal to be real. He was in a place of mists. The strange essence that was neither air nor liquid curled around him, grey fingers almost caressing him as he moved forward. He had no idea where he was. But still he walked.
The mists seemed to whisper to him as he walked, hundreds upon hundreds of voices that merged, fought, melded and argued in their haste to reach his ears first. Soon they were so loud and insistent that his ears hurt. When he slapped his hands over his throbbing ears and moaned at them to stop, they paid him no heed.
"Daisuke beware!..."
"Beware the dark man!..."
"He who may seem like an angel..."
"...may be a devil in disguise...!"
He groaned helplessly, begging them to stop, but his voice was swallowed up by theirs, and not a plaintive whisper was heard. He tore at his hair mindlessly, feeling as though he was going mad. Why wouldn't they stop? Why wouldn't they stop?! Flinging back his head, he screamed.
The voices stopped.
He fell to his knees in surprise. It took him several moments to gather the courage to take his hands away from his ears, large cinnamon eyes darting around the mists wildly. Hesitantly, he stood up.
Then a wonderful voice, a rich, smooth voice like coffee reached him. A voice that radiated warmth and tenderness and places he'd never seen. A voice that beckoned him forward before he even realised it.
"Come my Daisuke. Come and I will guide you."
He was moving before he realised he was, legs moving as if of their own accord. He wandered through the mists helplessly, wishing he had a light with him, or at least was walking towards one. Then... a light appeared.
He froze, feet stopping in their tracks. He stared at the winking beam in stunned silence. His first thought was that it was a trick. A few minutes of staring at it proved this was not so. His second thought was that it was a trap. But he wasn't sure. And he would never know for sure, unless he went to the light.
The voice came again. "Walk towards the light."
He walked towards the light.
His steps made no sound as the golden guide drew nearer and nearer. For some reason the wondrous light made him feel very sleepy, almost hypnotised. He yawned many times and had to literally scrape his knuckles back and forth across his eyes to prevent himself falling down and going to sleep. He didn't remember himself being this tired at the start...
He was so tired... His legs felt as if there was lead attached to them, they were so heavy to lift. His eyes were getting harder and harder to keep open. He couldn't stay like this for much longer...
As he came closer to the light, he realised it wasn't normal. It wasn't in a lamp or anything like he had first thought. The light was a part of the mists. It lit up the greyness in a brilliant radiance, emitting golden rays. It was calling to him... calling to him... He had to reach it...
He gasped as warmth coursed through him, when he stepped into the path of the light. It filled him, causing such feeling to rush through him. His knees buckled, but he struggled forward, deeper into the gold. It surrounded him, before brightening to unbearable levels. He screamed as he flung his arms up in front of his eyes, as it exploded around him.
When it cleared, he was standing in a ballroom. People swirled around him, women in their gowns that rippled and swirled around their slim bodies in rivers of colours, and men in their dress suits of black and shirts of white. All wore masks to hide their identity.
They danced around him, ignoring him until a woman in a gown of shimmering light-blue silk, gently pushed him forward from behind. He stumbled into the crowd and was quickly lost in the dancing throngs of people and colour, unable to find his way out.
It was difficult to find his way through it. More than once he was yanked into the dance, twirled and shoved around despite the fact he stuck out like a sore thumb. At last the dance ended and he was left standing on the dance floor, alone. Butterflies began to flutter nervously in his stomach as he looked around. All eyes were on him, watching him silently. He gulped.
Then he heard a faint murmur run through the crowd, before the large body of people parted before him, the murmur still faintly rippling, afraid and insistent. For he was coming! Daisuke felt his throat tighten as he watched, his brown eyes wide.
His cloak swirled around him, dark as night and acting as if it was a human being itself. It framed a tall man, with pale skin, soft-looking ebony hair and eyes as green as emeralds. He wasn't dressed entirely in black as Daisuke had expected from looking at the other men, but was wearing a velvet shirt of a dark, dark red. A red so dark it seemed almost black.
Daisuke thought he would faint.
His footsteps were silent as he walked towards him, and Daisuke literally felt like he couldn't breathe, as he stared at him. When he stopped, they stared at each other, eyes unreadable and emotions twirling frantically in emerald and cinnamon depths. And then the man reached out and took hold of Daisuke's hands. "Dance with me," he whispered, and before the redhead could react in any way, he was.
"Dance with me forever my love," he crooned, as they whirled around. Daisuke began to feel dizzy, as the world dissolved and melded around him, and everything became distorted. "My pet, my sweet. Be mine. Be mine and dance with me forever."
Something was taking over Daisuke, something he couldn't understand. But he wasn't afraid, no, instead he was excited. Something new and strange was happening, and he was determined to enjoy it. There was no point in being afraid.
"Your answer," came the caressing whisper, as lips touched his neck in feather light kisses.
Daisuke whimpered, and with a great effort, spoke in a hoarse voice; "Yesssss..."
His eyes closed.
His eyes opened, as Daisuke sat straight up in bed, his heart hammering in his ears and panting. Cold sweat clung to him, and he found himself suddenly very cold. He gathered his blankets around him and shivered, even though his room wasn't cold.
"D'suke?" The sleepy voice made Daisuke look down, as Chibimon crawled up beside him and nuzzled his hand. "Are you okay? You weren't sleeping well -- you nearly kicked me!" The unintended accusation in the blue digimon's voice cracked a smile on Daisuke's face, as he reached over and brought his partner to his chest.
"I'm sorry Chibimon," he murmured, rubbing the little digimon absently. "I just had a bad dream, that's all." As if proving this, he shuddered.
"Why are you cold?" Chibimon wondered. "It's nice and warm in here!" Confusion lit up the gentle red eyes, as he looked at his human.
"A bad reaction, that's all," Daisuke murmured, as he dropped Chibimon down onto his pillow, and dropped down beside him again, pulling the blankets up near them. "'Night Chibimon."
"'Night D'suke," his digimon replied groggily, and after a few seconds of snuggling into the pillow and blanket he fell asleep instantly.
Daisuke, on the other hand, did not fall asleep so easily. He lay awake for a long time afterward, staring up at the ceiling. The streetlights were reflected from the window onto the wall and if one looked close enough, they could see the worry glimmering in Daisuke's soft brown eyes.
"Just a bad dream," he whispered to himself. "That's all it was. That's all it was." Whispering this quietly to himself over and over again, he fell asleep, but it was not a calm slumber. A green-eyed devil hunted him now, in swirling mists that wanted to capture him...
Was it just a dream?
A little way away, another boy couldn't sleep. Takeru tossed and turned restlessly, before propping himself up on one elbow and thumping his pillow vigorously. This did little to appease him however, as he let out a heavy sigh when he lay down again.
His thoughts were full of a certain redhead and the secrets he had given him. Takeru couldn't help but feel sorry for Daisuke, even though he was mad at him too. Daisuke had had no right to put such pressure on him and force him to keep all those secrets. It wasn't fair on anyone, least of all him!
What should I do? he thought miserably. His own digimon slept on, blissfully ignorant of the troubled thoughts his human silently harboured. Should I keep my promise to Daisuke and not tell the others - or should I keep my duty as a Digidestined and warn the others? He sighed, dragging his knuckles across his eyes hard. And do I take Yamato's advice and tell Daisuke about my feelings for him, or do I play it safe and keep them to myself?
He had absolutely no idea and mulling over them right now wasn't doing him any good. In fact it was just making things worse. Turning over, Takeru came to a decision. Tomorrow... I'll figure it out all tomorrow. Things always look better in the day anyway.
With this in mind, the Keeper of Hope closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep.