The Silence Unbroken: Hikari no Naka e  "Into the Light"

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon, not in the slightest. Okay, so don't sue me. This is just purely for entertainment. I don't own the songs either. The song is from Escaflowne. And I didn't put in the last verse, cause it didn't really fit at the end.

Author's Note: This is an unlikely couple, and many people will think that I'm reading too much between the lines of the series. I'm warning you, if you don't like surprises, don't read this. And whatever you do, please don't flame!!!!!!!!! Oh by the way, this is for the 03 series, though you'll know that by the characters involved in this. Also, if I get the quotes wrong, don't get mad at me. I have a bad memory!!!! Oh, and I don't have anything against Soap Operas.

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If I let go of your hand clasped in mine

Everything would probably come to an end now

What I wanted to know, even what hurt me

Was left unfinished.

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Reika's P.O.V.-

            It had been almost two weeks since the disaster at Hypnos, and things were nearly back to normal for most, but for me, things would never be normal again. It felt really strange not to go to work every morning, not to be sitting at my console monitoring the net, not to see him every day. It was a terrible void in my life that just could not be filled.

            I spent several days in the hospital having sustained a concussion and two small hemorrhages in my abdomen. As it turned out, I hadn't broken any bones. There were just a few sprains and a single hairline fracture in a finger. For several days, I just laid there, dazed, disoriented, and confused, not because of the concussion I had received, but because my mind just couldn't process the fact that he was dead. I don't really remember much about my stay in the hospital, but I do remember one thing. I had kept the lighter the entire time; it sat on a bedside table during my stay. At one point, the nurse suggested that I throw it away, but I snapped at her, asking her if she'd have me throw away my life as well. After that, no one even dared to broach the subject again, but it was just as well.

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I should wish for you to find happiness

I can't, I'm too immature; though I try to wipe them away, the tears keep rolling down.

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            The day after I got out of the hospital, it was nice just be home, to relax, and not to worry about where I was supposed to be when, but on the third day it began to bore me. I found myself doing things that I wouldn't have otherwise: acquiring sloth-like sleeping habits, sleeping all day, but staying up all night. Sometimes, though, I would be awake during the day, and when I was, I would just sit and watch Soap Operas. After all, they say that misery loves company, but when I watch them, I can't help feeling somewhat bitter. If only my problems could be limited to theirs! If only I didn't have to live with this unbearable pain! This feeling of utter despair and hopelessness! What I wouldn't give to pass this cup of sorrow onto some one else! There are times when I laugh bitterly at the sheer stupidity of it all, and there are times when I just dissolve into tears. It changes from day to day, from one moment to the next.

~~~

            I just can't escape it. Ever since that dreadful day when things were changed irreparably, he's haunted me. He's everywhere, in everything at every time. I just can't escape him. I hear him in everything, the whisper of the wind, the rustling of the trees, the rushing of water, the silence of the sunset. Sometimes the voice is pleading, sometimes the voice is accusatory. There are times when I think I'm losing my grip on sanity. When I sleep, he haunts my dreams. I don't remember much about those dreams, but I just know that he was there. When I am awake, even though I try to keep from thinking of him I somehow always do and with every passing day, grow more distant and depressed. What I would give just to see him one more time no matter where it was! I would go, even if I had to journey to the very depths of hell itself.

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Good-bye

I love you more than anyone else

Even more deeply than the blue of the sky

Don't cry,

We'll meet again, okay?

But only I know that we'll never see each other again.

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            Damn it, Yamaki! Why did you have to go and do this to us!? To me!? Why did you have to go and die like that!?

            They days have crawled by ever since the explosion, and there are some days when I have to sit back and ask myself, ' Is this real? Did this really happen?' I can never be sure. It just all seems so unreal, but unfortuately for me, the pain is all too real.

            It stabs at me as painfully as it did on the fateful day. It's always there; there seems to be no way for me to escape from it. I wish I could change the past, but that's impossible.

            Now, twelve days after the explosion, I sit here in my apartment, alone and confused. It's been two days since they held  his funeral; they didn't even have a body to put in the coffin. Everyone assumed that it was cremated in the flames; I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't want to believe that he is dead. He can't be! Some part of me knows that even if there was a body I still wouldn't believe that he was dead, but I don't want to give up the hope that he is still alive. The lighter sits on my coffee table, a fragment of my shattered past, waiting for its owner to claim it. However, with every passing day, my hope grows dimmer that he will ever return.

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Someday you, too, will understand the true meaning

Of this fate we choose.

The precious memories we made

Will live forever deep in my heart.

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            I am so frustrated and confused that I pick up the thing nearest to me, a drinking glass and fling it into the wall causing it to shatter just like my heart. Sitting for a moment, I just stare at the glittering shards, unsure of what to do when an idea comes to me. Clutching the lighter in my hand, I stand and walk over to the pieces. When I get there, I kneel on the floor and pick up one of the larger ones, squeezing it in my grasp, drawing blood from my fingertips. Looking at the glass, I see my face reflected dozens of times, but in each, my expression is still hollow and lifeless. Tears start to drip down my face, falling to the floor in swirling pools. I just can't stand it anymore! The pain is unbearable! I place the lighter on the floor where blood has mingled with tears and rest the edge of the glass against the tender skin of my wrist. Once this was over, I wouldn't have to suffer anymore! I would finally be free of the pain and the guilt! I would finally be able to see him again…

            The sharp edge grazes my wrist just enough to draw blood, but not enough to cause significant damage. I was disgusted with myself. Didn't I have enough courage even to do this? I wasn't strong enough to save him, but I should be strong enough to save myself from this eternal pain. Determined to finish this, I whisper, " I'll see you soon," to the wind and again place the glass against my burning wrist again. I press on it drawing more blood, and just as I prepare to end this, I hear a knock on my apartment door.

            In my shock, I drop the bloody glass causing it to splinter. What should I do? Should I answer? Could it be that maybe, just maybe, my wish has come true? No. I mustn't think that. It's not possible, but as I think back, it came at just the right moment. It was always like that in the movies, but this isn't a movie. This is reality. Harsh, cold, unforgiving reality. Things like that aren't possible are they?

            I shake my head. No. Feeling somewhat foolish for believing that anything good can happen now, I decide that I will send this person away then finish what I started.

            The person knocked again, and in response, I called somewhat dully, "Hold on, I'll be there in a second."

            As I unbolted the door, I couldn't help hoping against hope that when I opened the door, he'd be standing there, alive and well, but that's impossible. He's dead. I've just got to accept that, though in a few minutes, it wouldn't matter if I accepted it or not anyway. It was probably just a neighbor or a co-worker wondering if everything was okay. Once I got rid of them, then I could finish what I started. I pulled the door open with a sharp jerk, ready to curse whoever it was for showing up unannounced, but when I did open the door, I found myself unable to speak as my reality shattered around me like glass.

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I thought it was a tough decision, using the word hope.

In an almost painful embrace, I'm looking up at you.

Thank you,

I love you more than anyone else

Even stronger than dreams.

Hold on to me, don't let go

But don't utter even a single word…

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            Finally, after what seemed an eternity of silence, I managed to breathe, " Yamaki!"

            My mind was reeling from sheer shock. Was he alive? Was he standing right here, or was I just hallucinating, a victim of wishful thinking? What was it? Or was it that I had really died in the explosion? Or had I actually died from my self-inflicted wound? Were we really meeting in the afterlife, but my mind just never processed the fact that I had died? He couldn't possibly be here, could he?

            I reached out with a trembling hand to touch his shoulder, to make sure that he wasn't some ghost come back to haunt, but I just wouldn't…couldn't touch him. It was as though I was afraid to believe that he was alive.

            For several long moments, I just stood there, my hand outstretched when he reached out with one hand and pulled forward my other hand, the bleeding one, and examined it carefully. With his free hand, he removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket before asking solemnly, " Well, may I come in, or am I not welcome?"

            I blushed, embarassed. I was so shocked to see him alive that I had forgotten common courtesy. Stepping aside, I half-whispered, " Oh, of course. Come in, sir."

            He entered, closing the door behind him. I reached out to bolt it, and when I had finished, he put his hand on my shoulder and told me to wait. He changed his shoes, then put his hand on my shoulder and gave a slight shove in the direction of the living room. He told me to sit down, then asked me where I kept my first aid kit.

            I told him I kept it in the medicine cabinet, and he left to retrieve it. A few minutes later, he returned with it and sat down on a chair opposite me.

            " Give me your arm," he ordered.

            I complied and extended my arm. He took it in his palm; his skin was rough, but warm against mine and I felt the heat start to rise in my cheeks. I was so sure I was blushing.

            Get a hold of yourself! My mind screamed.

            He set to work cleaning the wound, and a couple minutes later, it was bandaged.

            " It'll heal in a couple of days," he said simply as he put everything back in the little white box. For a moment, he paused, a roll of white bandages in his hand. He looked up at me, and again, something shifted in his eyes. "What were you thinking?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

             I looked at him, my expression calm and said quite bluntly, "I thought you were dead, and I couldn't live with the fact."

            His expression betrayed no emotion, but, again, in his eyes something shifted, and the bandages slipped from his grip, falling into the box with a soft thud. For several minutes a heavy silence filled the room, laying over everything like a shroud. The floor was dappled with swirling pools of sunlight and shadow that drifted in through the window. Both the light and the shadow seemed to dance as though to music, drifting across the room until they reached the wall where the broken glass lay. The light reflected off the glass illuminating it and making it sparkle like crystals. Its harsh beauty so captivated me that I sat there staring at it for a while.

            When he finally moved, it was to follow my gaze. When he saw the glass, he said nothing, but moved to clean it up. I sat there and watched with something close to apathy, or maybe it was closer to shock. I don't really know what it was, but I just sat there, not moving, not speaking.

            When he finally spoke, after disposing of the glass, it was to ask if he could stay for a while, until everything was sorted out.

            I was scared to speak, lest I wake and find this to be a dream, scared to break this wonderful spell, so I mutely nodded my consent.