Nancy Takaishi looked at the clock on the wall nervously

Author's Note: Behold, my chapter of Yama-Trauma!! This gives everyone fair warning! Lol. A little T.K. angst in here as well, but very little. I apologize for taking so long to post this, but with the recent tragedy going on, well you know…it's not something I can ignore. I've been watching the news non-stop the past couple of days, so writing hasn't been top priority, but I'm trying. My prayers go out to all the families and victims of this horrible act of violence. God bless America, heck God bless everyone! We all need it!

Rating: R, for violence.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I don't own Digimon. Sue me! *blushes* he he, just kidding.

Nancy Takaishi looked at the clock on the wall nervously. T.K. had been gone far too long to just take out the garbage. She bit her lower lip in apprehension, then started to make her way outside. She wouldn't be in the state she was in if it hadn't been for that letter she received the day prior. It was so strange, almost as if it had been a threat, but she was sure he was still in prison.

Nancy stopped in the driveway and clutched her chest. The evidence was all right there in front of her. The overturned trash can and the black tire skid marks leading up to her driveway.

"No." she squeaked, her voice catching in her throat. She ran hysterically back to the house. Bursting through the door, she rushed to the phone to dial the police, but before she could press any buttons a dreadful thought occurred to her. She immediately pulled out her phone pad and ran her finger down the list of numbers until she came to the right one. She dialed it with trembling fingers, then waited as it rang.

Malcolm Ishida, who had just been called out on assignment, was making his way out the door of his office when the phone rang. He turned back around on his heel and stood by the phone, debating on whether to answer it. It might be that caller again, he thought. He hesitated before finally picking it up.

"Hello?" he half way greeted, half way questioned.

"Malcolm?!" came the desperate cry on the other end.

"Nancy?" he asked in surprise. He could tell by the tone of her voice that something was definitely wrong. "What is it?"

"It's T.K.!!" she sobbed, trying with some effort not to scream.

"What about T.K.?" he said, concern growing in his voice.

"T.K.'s gone Malcolm! He took him!"

"Who took him? What do you mean?" he asked perplexed.

"I-I think it was…M-murphy." She choked.

"You mean…" Malcolm trailed off. The realization finally hit him. That's who was on the phone the other day.

"Where's Yamato!?" Nancy cried, she only used his full name in emergency situations. The phone went silent after that. "Malcolm!" she screamed into the receiver. This brought him back to his senses.

"Nancy, call the police." He said firmly, sounding more confident than he actually was. "I'm heading back to the house. Just call the police." He instructed her.

"Please!" she begged, "Please find Yamato! I don't want to lose them both!"

Nancy heard a click on the other end; she knew what she had to do now. Matt's father rushed out of the television station, ignoring everyone who shouted or tried to get his attention. He had more important matters to attend to. He hopped into his car, jammed the key in the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot.

T.K. sat motionless for a while, shivers creeping up and down his spine. He kept mentally telling himself that this was not happening. Mac bolted towards the scene of the accident, where the driver only stood dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open.

"What did you do!?" he snarled at the smaller man. Mac gave T.K. an icy glare. "You!" he hollered, pointing a single finger at the crestfallen teenager, "Get back into the car!" T.K. contemplated running, but at that moment he could not stand the thought of abandoning his brother's side. He quietly obeyed. Mac grabbed the driver by his shirt collar and chucked him back into the car. A crowd of concerned people began to gather. Mac ignored them entirely, and scooped Matt's body up in his arms. He was still breathing. The large man tossed him into the back seat as if he were a rag doll. T.K.'s brother landed right on top of him. He gently pushed Matt off of him and propped him up into a sitting position next to him. Even though the car had not been traveling very fast, it had only been going around roughly 30mph, it still managed to do some minor damage to his brother. When he had connected with the windshield, it opened up a large gash over his forehead. T.K. watched as the blood seeped from the wound and trickled down the right side of his brother's face. He was appalled at how his brother's body was carelessly flung into the backseat.

"Hey, be a little bit more careful!" T.K. yelled. Mac was in no mood to argue with the boy and crammed himself into the seat next to the unconscious Matt.

"Let's get outta here before anything else happens!" he sneered at the driver.

The car rolled over a bump and Matt let out a small groan. T.K. glanced over at his brother anxiously, hoping he would wake up. He reached out to touch Matt's hand and realized that it was twisted at a rather odd angle. When he picked it up to further inspect it, his brother flinched and mumbled something inaudible. From what T.K. had deciphered, he had mentioned something about it hurting. T.K. gently felt around his wrist to determine whether he had fractured it or if it was merely broken. As far as he could tell, it had been broken. T.K. guessed that it had probably occurred when Matt tried to dodge the moving vehicle. Seeing as there was little visible damage to the rest of his body, T.K. theorized that his head and arm combined, had sustained the full impact of the collision. He hoped his brother would wake soon. He had this terrible sense of guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. Looking at his brother's present condition, he wished he hadn't tried to take control of the car.

The trip seemed to last for hours. T.K. could tell that they were quite a ways from town. After a while, he slowly dozed off leaning up against his brother's shoulder. He awoke with a start as Mac jabbed him in the side with something cold. Without looking he could tell it was a gun. T.K. watched as Mac hoisted his brother out of the car. The teenager was led to what looked like a large abandoned warehouse.

"Keep going!" the driver hollered, violently shoving T.K. forward. He nearly lost his balance and fell over. He was ushered into the large building and forced into one of two empty chairs in the middle of the room. He gazed around warily, taking in all that lay before him. This proving to be quite a task, since the place was poorly lit, however, T.K. managed to make out a few recognizable objects. It was what you would expect to find in any old warehouse, minus the boxes. To his right, stood rows and rows of empty metal shelves. Directly in front of him, some hundred feet away was a forklift, and some sort of machinery with a conveyor belt. T.K. watched as Mac lazily placed his brother in the chair next to him, trying his best to arrange the boy in a sitting position. When he was done, Matt was slumped in the chair, his arms dangling at his sides, with his chin resting on his chest. T.K. looked at the wound on his forehead with concern. It was still bleeding. This reminded him of his own blood, which had dried up on his face and lips hours ago. He reached up to try and wipe some of the excess blood away, but to no avail. T.K. lightly tapped the end of his nose and winced. It had become very tender and was sore to the touch.

T.K. closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them this would all disappear. To his dismay, it didn't.

"The boss wants you to wait here." The driver announced. T.K. only stared at the ground in silence.

Slowly, a tall, dark figure emerged from the shadows. The boy's knees began to tremble slightly, and he tensed up in an attempt to make them stop. As the man stepped into the light, T.K. let out a small gasp, as he recognized the scar-faced man from the day before.

"Welcome." The man smiled, "You're probably wondering why you are here?" He asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

T.K. began to nod, but decided to answer with a more direct approach.

"Yeah! Why am I here?" he said defiantly, trying to sound as much like his brother as possible.

"I am so terribly sorry to have to involve you and your brother in such affairs, I mean the two of you had nothing to do with it, but…"

"Get to the point!" T.K. said impatiently, hoping this false sense of bravado would give him the courage he lacked.

The man's eyes narrowed and a scowl crossed his face, "Such disrespect!" He started to raise his hand, but stopped when he saw T.K. turn his head, anticipating the blow.

"I see you are a lot like your mother," he chuckled, "All talk with nothing to back it up."

"Go to Hell!" he shouted, having been angered by the man's last remark. This time, Murphy did not hesitate, and sent T.K. sprawling to the floor. The boy sat up on his knees shakily, and clutched the side of his face.

"That ought to teach you a lesson boy!" the man hissed.

T.K. stared up at the man, unable to mask the fear in his eyes at that moment. Murphy approached the young blonde, grabbing him by his shirt collar; he pulled him to his feet.

"Now sit down and behave yourself appropriately, or I'll have to do something not very nice to your brother over there." He said through clenched teeth, throwing T.K. back into the chair.

T.K.'s bottom lip quivered at the idea of Murphy harming his older brother. He sat in silence as the man continued his story.

"Many years ago, your mother and father helped the police to uncover a money laundering scheme of mine. It would have all gone perfect if they hadn't gotten in the way."

T.K. suppressed a laugh, as he compared Murphy's speech to that of one of the villains from the Scooby Doo cartoons. He was just waiting to hear something like, "if it hadn't been for those meddling reporters" or something of that nature.

Murphy immediately picked up on T.K.'s efforts to hold back a small laugh.

"So you think that's funny kid!?" he shrieked, "I was sent to prison for sixteen years! Do you know what it's like to have sixteen years taken away from your life!?"

T.K. instantly regretted his actions. Murphy signaled to one of his men, who came trotting over.

"Yeah boss?" came the familiar voice of Mac.

"Wake him up." He said pointing to Matt. T.K.'s heart flooded with fear, and he shot out of his seat, but was held back by a pair of strong hands.

"Please don't hurt him!!!" T.K. pleaded, near tears. "I'm sorry!"

Mac lumbered over to where Matt was sitting and began to shake him violently.

"Wake up, you little shit!!" Mac screamed at him

Desperate tears rolled down T.K.'s cheeks, as he pleaded with the scar-faced man to make the larger man stop.

"Please! Stoppit!" he cried, jerking back and forth in his captor's grasp.

Murphy smiled at the young boy's evident fear. T.K. did not stop shouting until Mac pulled his broad hand back and slapped Matt across the face with it. He flinched as Mac's hand made contact, producing a loud smacking noise, which made T.K.'s stomach lurch. Murphy raised his hand for the large man to cease.

Matt's eyes slowly, but surely began to open. The world was a blur to him, except for a large figure looming in front of him. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn't, for this caused his ears to ring. He could feel a throbbing sensation across his face, and wondered where it had come from.

"Good morning Yamato." Murphy said sarcastically. "Sleep well?" he asked as he rubbed his hands together.

"Wha-?" Matt groaned, his throat was dry and it hurt to talk. He swallowed a few times before continuing. "W-What happened?" he said groggily, ignoring the slight discomfort that seemed to originate around his forehead.

"Matt!" T.K. cried, still struggling to break free from whoever was holding him.

Upon hearing his brother's voice, Matt's senses came rushing back to him.

"T.K.?" he said, tilting his head towards the sound of his brother. Matt saw the man holding his little brother in a tight grip and stood up to try and help him, but the minute he brought his hands up, he painfully discovered his broken wrist.

Matt winced and his knees buckled. He fell to the ground cradling his injured arm.

"Matt are you okay!?" T.K. questioned apprehensively. Abandoning his struggle for the moment and admitting defeat.

Matt took a couple of seconds to compose himself, and then stared up at his brother.

"I'm f-fine T.K. I'll be alright," he lied, hoping this answer would satisfy his little brother.

"Awww, how touching." Murphy mocked.

Matt turned his attention to the scar-faced man he hadn't noticed when he first awoke.

"You again?" he said heatedly, "Who the hell are you and what do you want!?" Matt demanded.

"You'd be wise to leave the question asking to me. Lest you want to suffer the same punishment your brother has!" he growled.

Matt was never one to back down from a threat, and being the stubborn person that he was, invited injury to fall upon him.

"What do you mean? If you laid one finger on my brother, I'll kick your ass!" Matt yelled, looking to T.K. for any sign of injury. His younger brother quietly shook his head, warning him not to push this guy too far.

"I admire you looking out for your brother like that." Murphy said coolly, walking over towards Matt. "However, I will not excuse such insubordinate behavior. And besides, Yamato…you lied to me yesterday. I do not tolerate liars." He smiled sadistically. Matt threw up his good hand to shield himself from any oncoming attack, and T.K. could only watch in horror as Murphy reached down and grabbed Matt's broken wrist, squeezing it in his palm.

Matt let out a wail of pain. It was a sound that T.K. had never heard his brother make and his heart suddenly felt as though it were being stabbed by thousands of sharp knives. He wanted this cruel attack to stop now! Matt crumpled to the floor, curling into a semi-fetal position, and tried in agonizing pain to liberate his hand from Murphy's vice-like grip.

T.K. mustered up all his strength and managed to tear free from the man that held him. He lunged towards Murphy, knocking him off his feet and back into Mac. A final yelp was heard from Matt before the three tumbled to the floor. A few of Murphy's men quickly rushed over to help him up and to restrain T.K.

T.K. peered around the man that was restricting his movement, trying to see his brother. Matt was still lying on the ground. His entire body was shaking, as he held his injured limb. The throbbing went from the palm of his hand up the length of his arm.

"Let him go!" Murphy ordered his men. They released the younger blonde, who immediately ran to his brother's side.

"Matt?" he questioned timidly, as if the faintest sound from his voice would bring more pain to the afflicted area of his brother's body. He had never witnessed his brother this way. His teeth were gritted and his face had become a bright red from fighting back the excruciating pain that had engulfed his entire left arm. T.K. could hear him sucking air in through his teeth, in between sobs. He placed his hand on Matt's head, and gently caressed his silky, blonde hair.

"Don't worry Matt, I won't let him hurt you anymore." T.K. said soothingly. He wrapped his arms around his brother in a protective hug and glared up at the scar-faced devil smiling back at him.

"You bastard!" he muttered, presently surprised at himself for that remark, it was the only time he could recall using such harsh language.

"Take them to more suitable accommodations." He said, flicking his wrist off in one direction. Several thugs swooped down upon the two brothers, and hauled them off down a long corridor. T.K. did not resist, seeing as they were taking great caution with his brother. They were brought to a small room. After both of them had entered, the door slammed and they could hear it being locked.

There were no windows in the small room, and T.K. guessed that it was an office at one time. There was a desk and some cabinets, but nothing else to speak of. The two of them sat on the floor huddled in one corner of the room. T.K. drew his knees up to his chest and sighed.

"How's the wrist?" he asked.

Matt ignored the question, just as he had been ignoring the pain. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"A warehouse. I'm not sure where, but it has to be a few miles from town." T.K. replied.

Matt slowly brought his knees up to his chest as well, and gently placed his injured arm over the top of his knees, keeping it perfectly straight.

"Did they tell you why?" Matt questioned again.

"He said it was because of something mom and dad had done."

"What?" he inquired.

"They got him arrested for money laundering." T.K. replied, "I'm a little sketchy on the details."

Matt concentrated on the injured wrist. It had begun to turn black and blue underneath the skin.

"Does it hurt much, I mean just sitting there?" T.K. shyly asked.

"Guess I won't be playing guitar for a while." Was Matt's only response.

Matt was acting awfully cold towards him, T.K. thought. Maybe it was because he knew that his injuries were all T.K.'s fault, the younger boy wondered. A wave of regret instantly washed over him again. He started to say something, but stopped when he noticed Matt probing around his forehead.

"You gotta pretty bad gash there." T.K. commented. "I think it happened when you hit the windshield…" he trailed off, not wanting to remember the incident.

After a moment or so of silence, Matt finally spoke up.

"You okay?" he asked, noting the dried up blood under T.K.'s nose.

"Better than you." He smirked, his face immediately turning to a frown when his smart little remark had no effect on the older boy.

Another minute of awkward silence passed between the two boys when T.K. finally asked, "Matt…are you…mad at me?"

Matt looked at him and sighed. "Not anymore really, there isn't a purpose now." He replied.

"But were you mad at me?" he prodded.

"Yes!" Matt stated coldly.

"How come?" T.K. asked, expecting the answer to be that he was responsible for the accident, but to his surprise, that's not what Matt answered at all.

"Why did you lie to me? Why couldn't you tell me the real reason you couldn't see me today?"

T.K.'s breath caught in his throat. He hadn't thought that Matt would be that upset over it. He figured his brother had more important things to do than hang out with him anyway.

"It was mom," he started, "she got this letter, and…she was upset. So she told me I couldn't go out. I honestly wanted to see you, but I was afraid to tell you the real reason I couldn't go. I thought…maybe you'd get mad at mom…or maybe me." he added, staring down at the pavement.

Well Matt, you did it again, he thought. You acted like a total jerk! Oh gee, there's a surprise! You deserve being hit by that car, his inner voice scolded him.

"I'm sorry squirt." Matt mumbled, this apologizing stuff should be getting easier, after all, he had done it enough times.

"It's okay. As long as you're not mad at me anymore." T.K. replied.

"No, I'm still mad," Matt sighed, "just not at you."

T.K. smiled, "Don't be so hard on yourself. Come on, let's figure out how we're going to get outta here." He said in a cheerier tone.

At least Matt could always count on T.K. being full of hope. That's why he had the Crest of Hope. It seemed like nothing could bring his little brother down. He pushed aside the pain that had inflamed his wrist, and gave T.K. a slight smirk.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

Yay! Another chapter completed! =) Thanks to everyone for all the great reviews! I didn't think this story would be as popular as it is. Well, hope you enjoyed this one, I'm hoping to get the next chapter up soon, but I always say that, maybe this time I'll mean it. lol.