Malcolm Ishida took the stairs two by two as he raced up to his apartment

Author's Note: Well, here it is! The next chapter of Vengeance. As an added treat I am posting two chapters! You can thank the reviewer JJ for this little suggestion. ^_^ Now don't get carried away and start asking me to post 2 more chapters or 3 for that matter. lol. This is probably the only time I'll do this for this fic, cuz I've become rather busy lately with work and other such things. Anywho, hope ya like!

Rating: Gee, I really don't know. I'll say PG-13.

Disclaimer: Please see chapter one if you have any questions regarding me owning Digimon.

Malcolm Ishida took the stairs two by two as he raced up to his apartment. Dreadful thoughts skipped through his mind, making him panic all the more.

"God let him be there!" he whispered under his breath. The older man stopped suddenly as he reached the top of the stairwell. His heart skipped a beat, as he gazed down the hall towards the apartment he and Matt called home. The door had been hanging by one hinge, and was left wide open. Malcolm cautiously made his way towards it, fearing that whoever had broken the door was still in the apartment. He silently crept into the front room, carefully stepping over upturned furniture and broken glass.

"MATT!" he called, cupping his hands over his mouth. "YAMATO!!" He expected to find his son severely beaten or stabbed and left for dead, but instead all he could find was an empty, thrashed apartment. Some small feeling inside of him was thankful for at least that. He bolted out of the apartment, leaving the door to swing on its hinge, and began pounding on the doors of his neighbors. None of them had heard any sound of a struggle or had seen Matt since earlier that morning when he went to take the trash out. They did, however, confess to seeing a large, black vehicle parked outside the complex.

Malcolm raced downstairs and into the street. He darted his head back and forth, then took off down the alley where the dumpsters were. He hadn't wanted to confirm his suspicions, but eventually gathered up enough intestinal fortitude to lift the lid off the large green dumpster on the side of the building. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, when all he found were bags of garbage and a few cardboard boxes.

Still determined to find his son, he jogged up and down the block, searching for anything that would help him locate Matt's whereabouts. He rounded the corner at the west end of the street and continued around it until he reached the east side of the block, where a crowd of spectators and police had gathered.

"Excuse me!" he said, pushing through the crowd. He finally succeeded in shoving his way to the front of the scene. Yellow police tape had an area of the street sectioned off. Malcolm glanced down to see what looked like a puddle of blood in the middle of it. He reached out and tapped one of the officers on the shoulder.

"Pardon me," he said, as the officer whirled around to face him, "but what happened here?" he asked tentatively, almost fearing the answer.

"Some kid was hit by a car." He replied bluntly.

Malcolm's bottom lip began to tremble, "D-Did they I.D. the kid? W-Was there a description?" he stammered.

"All anyone knows is that the kid was probably in his mid-teens. He was blonde with blue eyes…there were two as I recall. Someone said the other jumped out of the car and appeared very upset over it. Was wearing a funny hat, they say."

"Were they taken to a hospital, I-I mean what happened to them?" he questioned, trying to calm down a bit. Malcolm pulled a cigarette from his pocket and nervously lit it up.

"No, witnesses say a large man appeared and threw the injured kid into the car. They left without so much as a second thought."

"T.K….Matt…." Malcolm trailed off, sucking the nicotine mist into his lungs. He looked at the spot of blood in the street, and tears brimmed his eyes. For all he knew, one of his sons could be dead., or worse yet…both.

The police had arrived at Nancy's house mere minutes after she had called them. She showed them the tire marks in the driveway, as well as the letter. Nancy was taken down to the police station, and her phone was tapped, allowing any incoming calls to be received at the station.

"Don't worry ma'am," one of them tried to console her, "I'm sure we'll be able to find them."

Nancy knew it was a lie, they were only trying to make her feel better, but she gave into it. Hoping desperately that they would recover her two boys. News had spread around, and they already had a lead on the suspects. Nancy sat in a small corner all by herself, while policemen and women shuffled by her. She wept silently into a small handkerchief. A firm hand gripped her shoulder, and she looked up to see Malcolm standing beside her, his eyes red from crying.

"Why Malcolm? Why?" she sobbed, as he drew her into an embrace. "Why did they have to take our sons, why not take it out on us? We were the ones that…" she tailed off, as Malcolm quietly hushed her.

"It's going to be alright Nancy. I know how you're feeling, I would give anything to trade places with them right now, but dwelling on the negative things, isn't going to bring our sons back." He stated. Rubbing his hand gently up and down her back.

Malcolm knew he had to be strong, if not for himself and his two sons, then for Nancy's sake. He didn't want to disclose to her his findings in the street that day, and merely sat and listened as she poured her heart out to him. That was all he could do for now.

T.K. pulled open another cabinet door, and rifled through the contents inside. For the most part, all he had been finding were envelopes, paper, and other such office supplies. He glanced over at his brother to see him slowly starting to drift off into a light sleep.

"Matt." He said, rousing the older boy, "Don't go to sleep. Not now."

"Sorry kid," his brother apologized, yawning at the same time. "I can't help it, I just feel so…worn out."

"That's because you're hurt. You're body's telling you to sleep so it can repair itself." T.K. replied, pushing aside some boxes inside the cabinet.

Matt furrowed his brow and gave T.K. a kind of bewildered look that the younger boy missed seeing altogether.

Man, he's really growing up, Matt thought. There was a time when I used to have to explain everything to him, now he's the one explaining things to me. His face drooped into a slight frown, as he sat staring at the concrete between his knees. A few years back in the digital world, I didn't think T.K. needed a big brother around anymore, but it turned out that he really did need me. Now it feels as though it's happening all over again…only this time he really may not need me anymore. Matt gazed up at his younger sibling. Had so much time passed between them? It only felt like a couple of years, but T.K. was almost as tall as he was. When did that happen? Matt wondered. Certainly not overnight. How much did T.K. know about the real world, and what it's like to have to be self-reliant?

Were there still lessons to be learned from his older brother? Or had T.K. grown up so much that he didn't need to ask Matt for advice. Matt sighed as the pain in his forehead flared up again. It was a throbbing sensation. Matt squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, waiting for it to pass. That's the way it had been for the duration they were holed up in their makeshift prison. A few minutes would pass and the pain would subside, only to come back in full force moments later. Matt didn't know how much more he could handle before he would black out again. He had been fighting it, but as the hours dragged on, it seemed to get tougher and tougher to sustain consciousness, but for T.K., he would try his best. Matt's body slowly began to relax. During his pain sessions, his body would tense up, however, now that it was gone for the time being, he could unwind once again.

"Yes!" T.K. cried cheerfully pulling a moderately sized white box from the cabinet.

Matt shifted his gaze to his brother without picking his head up.

"This will have you feeling at least 80% in no time!" T.K. grinned and opened the white box. He produced a small orange bottle from the container and held it up to the light.

"Aspirin." He read and began to twist the lid off. T.K. dumped a couple of white pills into his palm and quickly popped them into his mouth and swallowed hard. "This would be much easier with water." He grimaced. At least the pain in the back of his head from hitting the car window would be relieved for a while. He grabbed the box and strolled over to his brother, flopping down beside him.

"Here." He said, shoving two white pills under Matt's nose. The older blonde feebly reached for them with his good hand and tossed them into his mouth. He prayed to God they would take effect soon. His wrist had joined the throbbing in his head and was now double-teaming his efforts to stay awake.

T.K. reached back into the box and pulled out a wad of gauze, some cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and medical tape. Matt knew what was coming next, and his stomach churned in dread.

"Now hold still," T.K. instructed as he approached his brother's forehead with the cotton ball dripping with disinfectant.

Matt let out a small groan and jerked back an inch as T.K. dabbed at the gash on his forehead. He blinked back tears and spent the remainder of T.K.'s task, hissing at him, as if the alcohol were holy water, and he was some demonic spirit.

T.K. chuckled a little as he performed the small chore. When the dried up blood had all been wiped clean, he placed a strip of gauze over the wound and affixed the medical tape to it, to hold it in place.

"Thanks." Matt mumbled.

"Oh, I'm not done yet." T.K. informed him.

Matt pressed on the dressed wound with his fingertips, it did feel much better than before, he thought. He watched as T.K. walked over to the desk and opened up one of the drawers. He yanked out one of the wooden dividers and split it in two over his knee.

Matt bit his lower lip apprehensively.

"Look T.K., my wrist is just fine. I can hold it straight, really." He lied. In truth he was afraid that any outside contact with his wrist would send him reeling back in pain again.

"Don't worry. Joe taught me this a few months ago. I know what I'm doing." He assured, staring into Matt's eyes for approval. Matt clenched his good fist and sighed.

"Okay, I trust you." He nodded, not wanting to show weakness around his brother. He was known for being able to handle himself in any situation, and letting his guard down now might make T.K. think less of him.

"I want to say that this won't hurt a bit, but I guess I'd be lying." T.K. said sheepishly grinning and scratching the back of his neck. "Tell ya what though, you can squeeze my arm for this part of it." he offered.

Matt looked at him curiously. "What are you going to do?" he asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

"Well, I need to set it." He explained, "We might have had to avoid this if that goon back there hadn't…" he trailed off again as he looked at Matt's expression. He knew it was a sore subject. "Ready?" he asked as he placed both hands on Matt's arm. The older boy cupped his hand around T.K.'s shoulder, leaving his arms free to maneuver about.

"Ready." He stated firmly.

T.K. heard a loud crack, as he popped the two connecting pieces of bone back into place. He didn't have to wonder whether the experience had been painful for Matt, because the older boy was still clutching his shoulder. T.K. buckled under the pressure and started to shift his arm up and down, attempting to get Matt to loosen his grip.

"Okay, it's done!" he announced, holding back a painful cry as Matt released his shoulder. T.K. started to rub the sore area. He could feel where Matt's nails had dug into his skin, and where his fingers had left indentations. Matt slammed his head back up against the wall, breathing hard. He let out a small moan and his head lolled forward.

T.K. worked feverishly, as he gently placed one piece of the broken wood underneath Matt's wrist, while he rested the other on top. His hands moved quickly to wrap the splint. He tugged at the bandage a little, making sure it was tight enough to hold the injury in place, but not so tight as to cause any discomfort.

T.K. used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow when he was finished. He sat back on his knees to admire his handiwork. Matt picked up the injured limb and slowly began to rotate it right and then left. He gave T.K. a weak smile.

"Thanks squirt." He said, using his uninjured arm to pull his brother into a small embrace.

"You're welcome." T.K. replied, patting Matt on the back.

"You should take care of yourself now." Matt said, pointing out the dried blood on T.K.'s face. His younger brother smiled in satisfaction, and proceeded to clean himself up with a few alcohol pads. When he was finished with that, he carefully placed all the contents back into the white box, hoping that they would not be needed again, but in the event that they were, they would be ready.

T.K. sat down next to his brother, who by that time was exhausted from the fight with himself to stay awake. He was laying on his side, with his good arm supporting his head, while the other lay loosely at his side. T.K. brought his knees up to his chest and let out a long relieved sigh.

"Now you can sleep brother." He whispered, as his mind began to devise an escape plan.

Closing Note: Oi! I apologize now if my writing seems to be slacking. I'm writing this stuff at close near 2a.m. I'm hoping the story hasn't lost its vigor yet, I'm not even finished with it! Well, next chapter coming up! *waves magic wand* Hey! Stupid thing doesn't work! *bangs it on desktop* Oh well, so much for that, just click on the link. ^_^