A/N: I bet I know what you all are thinking…it's about damn time! LOL! Well here it is! ^_^ Warning: Masasuko ahead, mixed w/ a little Yama angst, and not too nasty of a cliffhanger. I've done far worse w/ those things. I apologize in advance if this is the worst piece you've ever read.
BTW, hope you all caught the last chapter of sailormoonshadow's fic 'By the Power of the Stars' and Hell's Hauntress has a new one as well that you simply must read called 'A Mother's Touch'. Both excellent fics! ^_^
Also special thanks to all my reviewers who wait ever so patiently w/o leaving so much as a death threat in my inbox. And to sailor, your help is always greatly appreciated. Thank you!
Now on to the fic!
Yamato Ishida sat in a collapsible chair, placed in the middle of the room his band was temporarily using as a rehearsal hall. They had three hours before the beginning of their concert and were busy tuning their instruments in preparation for their upcoming performance.
Matt absently ran his fingers up and down the fret board of his bass, his mind lost in thought. He had been practicing feverishly only mere minutes before, but now he could not push away the feelings he had been battling all day.
What if T.K. hadn't been daydreaming, and his stalker was a real flesh and blood maniac? Could he be stalking the boy at this very moment, while Matt was distracted by the obligation he had to his band?
His cell phone lay across the room, beckoning him to call his little brother. Nervously, his fingers began to twitch at the thought of phoning T.K.
Stop it! He mentally chided, gripping the neck of his guitar tightly, as if it would appease his anxious fingers. Now the teenager couldn't tell which was worse, the fact that he was arguing with himself, or that his hands seemed to have a mind of their own.
"Dammit." He muttered under his breath as he set his guitar on the floor by his feet. Letting his arms rest on his knees, he slowly sank forward. A long, exasperated sigh escaped his lips, and his jaw set in determination. He wouldn't give in, he thought, clenching his fists.
"Hey Matt! Earth to Ishida!" his drummer called, flailing two sticks in front of the blonde's face. Matt was immediately drawn out of his trance, as he gazed up at the other boy with an irritable expression written across his face.
His band mate backed up apprehensively; if looks could kill he'd already be six feet under.
"Look, are you gonna practice, or are we just going to have a three hour break before the show?" the drummer almost whined. Matt was always getting on them to practice, and this was the first time any of his band mates ever caught him slacking off during a rehearsal, which meant it was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of.
"Hey man, lay off." The lead guitar player said coolly, leaning back into the only piece of normal looking furniture in the room, a small olive green couch. He pulled his guitar into his lap and began to play a twangy piece of music he had been experimenting with the entire time. They all knew what Matt had gone through, and what he still was trying to overcome. Out of all the band members though, he had been the most compassionate about the whole situation, while the other boys grew irritated with Matt's constant paranoia. Of course they were all good friends, so none of them mentioned their displeasure with Matt's attitude, and to a certain extent they were all worried for their bassist, but seven months had passed and they all felt it was time for the blonde to give it a rest and start being himself again.
They had finally managed to break him of the habit of stopping half way through a practice set, to grab for his phone and hit speed dial. He no longer canceled band rehearsals when T.K. complained of hearing strange noises outside his bedroom window. Yes, there had been some improvement, but now it seemed as though his old habits were returning.
The keyboardist, who had remained silent throughout the length of the small confrontation, finally spoke. "Lay off? We need to get our act together, and no offense Matt, but we can't do it if you're moping around worrying about some dead guy. He's gone!" the boy stated firmly.
The blonde teenager's fists curled up into tight balls as he tried to restrain his anger. No matter what anyone said, he would never believe that man was gone until he saw it with his own eyes. Matt gritted his teeth, as the last wave of fury washed over him. Just when all of his band mates expected him to explode, his muscles relaxed and his face dropped to the floor in defeat.
This wasn't right. If he had learned anything from his experience in the digital world, it had been to choose his fights, and at the moment, he didn't need any more friction between him and his fellow band members.
"I'm sorry you guys. I don't know where my mind's been all day. Guess I'm still kinda worried. I can't help it." his voice came out small and filled with an emptiness that none of the other boys picked up on.
His friends looked at him thoughtfully, before they all nodded in unison to his apology.
"No prob Matt." The drummer smiled, "we get it."
"Shall we get back to business?" the lead guitarist said, cocking an eyebrow at his band mates.
"Right." Matt forced a smile as he retrieved his guitar from the ground, and rose from his sitting position.
Once again, all the instruments began to sing, as talented hands guided each note. They had a smooth, even paced beat going, which brought a smile to each boy's face, except for one in particular.
Usually when Matt played, it was as if a part of him had melded with the guitar. The words spoken by the instrument were his words as well. It was silly to think that one could share a bond with a musical instrument, but to Matt, the idea was no less impossible than a person becoming attached to an inanimate object, such as a car, a childhood stuffed animal, or even a piece of jewelry.
This was not the case tonight. His fingers moved mechanically over the strings, an action that had only been possible by hours of habitual routine, allowing his mind to drift off elsewhere.
A hazy shadow cast over his usually bright blue eyes as marred images of the scar-faced man he had grown to loathe danced about in his head. Intermittent flashes of light separated each of these images, as if lightning had come crashing down from the sky. Now he was left to view the horrific slide show as no one around him seemed to notice his trance like state.
Knives and explosions, followed by black cars and guns swirled about in his head until he thought he might scream out in frustration; that is until his brother's image came into view. T.K. was still so innocent, and undeserving of everything that he had been put through during that time. His little brother was probably at home right now, lying awake, sick and undoubtedly scared. Since that time he had always been scared.
Not scared as in the sense of a young child who was afraid of the dark, but a more extreme type of fear. One that could not be driven away by a reassuring voice, but was only capable of being defeated by the strength of the individual it had bound in its evil clutches. Before the blonde's mind could further delve into this subject, he was harshly thrown back into reality by a loud pair of cymbals crashing together, rattling his eardrums.
With a confused look on his face, Matt gazed around the room at his friends.
"You missed your cue!" one of them explained, rather ill tempered with the lead singer.
"My cue?" Matt asked, a bit puzzled, until he remembered where he was and what song they were rehearsing.
Clearing his throat, he was on the verge of yet another empty apology, when his friends headed for the door, seemingly fed up with his antics.
Matt opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words would not come out, and when his voice finally found the words, he only managed a small whimper, which was answered by the slamming of the door. The distraught singer squeezed his eyes shut, as the harsh sound resonated off the walls.
The blonde flopped back down into the chair he had been sitting in prior to his band's mutiny. Tears of frustration crept into the corners of his eyes, as he attempted in vain to fight them back. No longer able to keep them at bay, the small droplets of liquid slivered down the length of his face. Not only had he let T.K. down, his band had also lost faith in him. He couldn't even concentrate during practice…how was he to perform in front of thousands of screaming fans if he couldn't even keep it together long enough to finish one song.
Inhaling deeply, the boy decided he had to overcome this obstacle that stood in his path, but the futility of it all was HE was the hindrance barring the way. His own obstinacy kept him from succeeding. Murphy was dead, yes, he would force himself to believe it, and after all, everyone said so, didn't they? They believed it, so why shouldn't he?
Matt shook his head furiously; there it was again, that spark of resistance, like his memories of Murphy, refusing to die.
Without another thought, he strode over to the window and flung the curtains that adorned them aside. Maybe a breath of fresh air would settle his nerves and relax his mind. However, instead of the dazzling sunset that should have greeted him, a cluster of foreboding clouds loomed over the skyline.
Matt furrowed his brow in confusion; this was very odd summer weather to say the least. Scratching his head, he gazed out over the dreary horizon. An expanse of dark clouds met his gaze, as they swirled over the city menacingly.
What was this? The dark masters? The blonde nearly chuckled at the silly thought, though the strange weather was reminiscent of Myotismon's fog barrier. Thinking back on the earlier events of the day, Yamato did recall that peculiar gust of wind and wondered if it had any connection with this newly forming phenomena.
As his crystal blue orbs took in the scene, he involuntarily began to back away from the window, as if the clouds had been threatening to advance upon him. Was this an omen? His movements hadn't clearly registered in his mind until he connected with something hard, jabbing him in his side.
Matt yelped in surprise, as he barely missed bringing himself, and the table he had backed into, toppling to the ground. A small metallic device rattled across the jarred piece of furniture, and the blonde eyed the device like a hungry predator would its prey.
Biting his lower lip, he reached for the familiar object; his cell phone. His fingers fumbled nervously with the numbers, as he forced himself not to dial the ones his mind had been screaming for him to.
Keeping his eyes locked on the eerie scene outside the window, Matt waited patiently for someone to pick up on the other line.
"Malcolm Ishida." A male voice answered. From his tone Matt could tell he was either very exhausted, or he had just interrupted something important. With slight hesitation, Matt finally answered.
"D-Dad?" he stuttered, thoroughly flustered with his poor attempts at sounding composed.
The blonde could hear a few muffled voices in the background, whether it was one person or more he could not determine, and really did not care at the moment.
"Matt?" his father queried, panic quickly ensued. "Is everything okay son? Are you alright?" the words came out a jumbled mess, but still recognizable to his eldest son.
"No, I'm fine Dad." Matt mumbled, feeling somewhat guilty at having alarmed his father. "I…I was just wondering about the weather, and well you work at the news station so I figured, you of all people would know." He started to ramble, but his father cut him short.
"What about the weather?" Malcolm asked, his voice slowly calming down to a more casual level.
Matt stole another glance out the window, just to make sure he hadn't been hallucinating.
"Doesn't it appear…odd to you?" the blonde replied, unknowingly digging his fingernails into his palm.
A shuffling noise followed and Matt could tell his father had gotten up to look outside.
"That is suspicious." He finally answered, "Hang on a sec, let me check with my weatherman."
Matt groaned lightly as a clicking noise told him his father had just put him on hold. The teenager listened with much aggravation as mind numbing elevator music replaced his father's voice. It seemed like an eternity before Malcolm finally got back on the line, for a minute Matt thought he had forgotten all about him.
"Stranger things have happened." He heard his father say to someone who sounded as though they were exiting the room.
"Dad?" the blonde perked up. The drone of the monotonous music had caused him to pull a chair up, so he could slump down over the table he was presently seated at.
"Well son, seems as though we're experiencing a freak tropical storm. These have been known to occur every now and again. It should only last the night from what the weather guy says. Still, I want you to come straight home after your concert." This last remark came in a more reprimanding tone.
Matt did not wish to argue, until he remembered he was supposed to meet with the older digidestined kids after the show. He started to protest when Malcolm cut him off with a quick 'I love you, got to go.' And then the line went dead.
The blonde stared at the small device for a few seconds before tossing it back onto the table. He pushed himself up and folded his arms across his chest.
Maybe he should call T.K. to see if he and Kari had made it home all right. The thought lingered at the edge of his mind for some time.
No, he thought to himself. They made it home fine, why wouldn't they? Yamato's eyes roamed about the room, searching for some sort of distraction, anything to take his mind off of his current thoughts. It was then he noticed a plastic black and white wall clock hanging on the far wall. The long ebony hands informed him that his concert was due to start in fifteen minutes. What had happened? It was as if the time had disappeared on him. He couldn't believe he had spent the whole of three hours worrying about whether he should call his brother or not.
With an aggravated grunt, he quickly snatched up his guitar and made his way to the door. He wasn't sure whether he was more appalled with his band mates for not coming to remind him or the fact that he had allowed himself to be consumed by the paranoia again.
Giving no more thought to the subject, he reached for the brass doorknob and began to twist it open, when a sound that he could only associate with pure terror flooded the empty room.
Matt stopped dead in his tracks as his cell phone continued to ring. A shiver ran up and down his spine at the mere sound of the device. Slowly, almost cautiously, he tilted his head over his shoulder, locking his eyes on the small apparatus. Every ring taunted him, tortured him, until he could no longer stand it.
Not this time, he thought, shaking his head regretfully, pangs of guilt already starting to sprout up and spread throughout his body, like so many weeds overtaking a small garden.
Whoever it was would have to deal with the fact that Yamato Ishida was away from his phone.
Matt pulled the door open with a little less confidence than he had hoped for and slammed it shut on his way out, completely ignoring the cries from the desperate phone. With one last glance behind him, he pushed himself down the hall towards the auditorium, hoping he had made the right decision.
Malcolm placed the phone back on the cradle gently, as he gazed up into the soft eyes of the woman he had been speaking with.
"Is he alright?" the woman asked in a concerned tone.
"Yeah." Malcolm sighed in relief and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing the sweat from his brow. "Just wondering about the strange weather."
Nancy nodded, as relief seemed to flood her system as well. "Well," she said, her voice equivalent to a squeak, "thanks for going out to lunch with me today." she finished, clearing her throat.
Nancy began to shift and fidget, as she leaned awkwardly to one side. From the looks of it, she had been building up a farewell, but had not really looked forward to going just yet.
"I had no idea you were experiencing the same feelings as I have, and it was somewhat comforting to know." She added, attempting to prolong the conversation.
The way Nancy had been moving nervously and the hint of timidity in her voice reminded Malcolm of when he had first met her. He did have fond memories of that occasion, and alongside the birth of his children, were probably some of his most cherished moments with her. But Malcolm quickly pushed these thoughts aside, knowing it would serve him no good to bring up the past.
Nancy stood twisting her fingers nervously as Malcolm stared at her in silence. She wondered what he was thinking, as he had not replied to her last statement.
"Malcolm?" she queried, raising her hand. She briefly waved it in front of him until he finally took notice of her again.
"I'm sorry Nancy…I must have had something on my mind." He apologized, blushing slightly; in the same manner Matt was prone to, assuring everyone where the boy had inherited the reaction.
"What were you thinking of?" Nancy inquired, her eyes now sparkling with curiosity, as this became the perfect excuse to stay and talk with Malcolm longer.
"Oh…it's..it's nothing." The older man stuttered, returning his eyes to his desk.
Nancy swallowed hard, as she summoned all her courage to ask her next question.
Malcolm drummed his fingers on the desktop idly, wondering and almost dreading when Nancy would leave. Their chat at lunch had really enlightened him to how much they still had in common. They had even laughed a few times at each other's silly jokes, while regaling one another with stories of their sons. Nancy had seemed like she enjoyed herself, and Malcolm contemplated whether they would ever share a moment like that again.
Before he could utter another word to her she came straight out and spoke the idea that she had been toying with for sometime as they sat in his office.
"Would you like to go out to dinner with me?"
After blurting this out, she immediately bit her lower lip, and expected him to laugh at her proposal, or worse yet, decline it. But Malcolm did neither. He merely sat in what appeared to be mild shock at the suggestion.
"Pardon me?" he said, his eyes blinking as if he had not heard correctly. The simple question made his heart pound wildly in his chest, comparable to that of a tribal drum.
"If you don't want to, it's alright, I won't beg you, I was just hoping we could spend a little more time together. After all the boys are at that concert, and I really don't want to go home to an empty house, and…" Nancy stopped mid-sentence as Malcolm put a hand up to silence her.
"Okay." He nodded, almost eagerly, as if he expected her to retract the invitation if he did not agree right away.
"Really?" her voice quavered for a second.
"I think that sounds like a great idea." He forced a smile, masking the reality that he had felt more nervous now than he had on their first date. The thoughts of that night swept over him, making him reminiscent of his youth.
"Well…I'm here." The young man announced to himself, letting out a nervous sigh. His hands still gripped the steering wheel, as beads of sweat slowly began to form on his brow. Malcolm stole a glance up at the apartment complex, all the while being plagued by butterflies that seemed to multiply in his stomach with each passing second.
He slowly brought his hands down into his lap and sat staring at the floorboard of his car. Brown shoes…his mind wandered, brown shoes?? How could I have worn brown shoes!? I should have gone with the black pair. And look at these slacks he chided himself mentally, picking tiny particles of lint from his pants.
This is a disaster! He shook his head in disgrace. Then his dark brown eyes caught an image in the rearview mirror. He quickly leaned over to the glove box and rummaged through it frantically in search of a comb.
What are you doing here Ishida? He asked himself, as his hands worked at a fast pace to tame the stray locks that had sprouted up like weeds. "Last time I use that brand of gel." he scowled, putting the finishing touches on his hair.
With a few final adjustments of his clothing, he finally deemed himself ready. A shaky hand succeeded in opening the car door as the exact opposite of a calm and collected man emerged onto the street.
Wait! His mind cried, causing him to whirl back around catching the car door before it slammed shut. The flowers.
Malcolm reached over to the passenger side seat and retrieved a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He had no idea which flowers were Nancy's favorite, and he hoped she would like roses. The florist had informed him that they were a sure thing.
"You can do this." he inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut as though he were wishing with all his might that he would make it to her front door.
With awkward steps, he began his ascent up the stairs leading to the building. By the time he had reached Nancy's apartment his confidence had rose greatly or at least enough to allow him to knock at her door. Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all he mused.
Malcolm lightly rapped on the door and waited patiently as he heard his date shuffling through her apartment.
"I'll be right there!" she called, sounding as though she had stumbled over a loose article on the floor. A few more grunts and groans later, the door swung open revealing a smiling Nancy Takaishi.
Malcolm grinned sheepishly as he took in her appearance. A little worse for wear it seemed. Her hair was a bit tousled and her dress looked like she had snagged it on something sharp.
The young girl chuckled nervously, obviously noting Malcolm's confused expression.
"Uh…tripped over the coffee table." She smiled, her eyebrows curving into nervous arches.
Malcolm gave her a blank stare, his mouth slightly agape. Despite Nancy's disheveled exterior, Malcolm thought she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. Her bright blue eyes sparkled enthusiastically as she looked up at him, similar thoughts running through her own mind.
An uncomfortable silence followed as the two stood mesmerized with one another. Why hadn't I noticed this before, the two thought in unison as the quiet lingered a few seconds more. It was Malcolm who finally broke the calm, as he thrust the roses he had been holding out to her unceremoniously.
"These are for you." He said, scratching the back of his head uncertainly.
"Oh Malcolm, they're lovely." She cooed, inhaling their deep fragrance as she accepted them from him. "Let me go put them in some water." She said, dashing back into her apartment. Malcolm waited in the doorway, pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at his forehead while watching Nancy scurry around her kitchen in search of a vase.
So far so good he thought, slightly relaxing. Nancy had found a suitable vase for the flowers and set them on her countertop. She returned to her date whom was leaning against the door with one arm, watching her intently.
"Thank you." She smiled, bestowing a quick peck on his cheek before she slid out the door.
Malcolm's heart skipped a beat at the subtle display of gratitude, as he turned in a stupor nearly stumbling over his own feet. The mere brush of her lips was enough to send the man into a psychosomatic fit, had his mind not melted into a harmless puddle as a result. A faint trace of crimson etched its way across his features, as he placed a hand over his face to conceal his flushed appearance.
"Just need to lock the door." Nancy said digging through her purse until she produced a small set of keys. Her search finally came up fruitful as she twisted the key in the lock with little effort and spun back around to face Malcolm.
"Shall we be off?" she asked, intertwining her arm with his.
"Right." Malcolm nodded, shaking off the brief sense of euphoria as he led her down the hall.
The sky was a velvety blanket of stars that night. A light wind sang through the trees, as the crickets chirped melodiously to the sound of a calm running stream.
Their date had been a simple matter, nothing too extravagant really, as first dates go. He and Nancy had taken in a movie; some action flick that he really couldn't remember the plot to, as his mind had been preoccupied with what to say to her during dinner.
Should he bring up business? Or would that make her mad? She had always been touchy regarding the matter, yet he scarcely could blame her. After all, he had been the cause of many a disappointment during her first assignment.
It seemed as though Malcolm was a step ahead of her at every turn, as she desperately sought a story that would win her boss over. Perhaps there had been something alluring about the ambitious young journalist from the moment they locked eyes with one another. From that fateful day onward, he could think of no one else but Nancy. Needless to say he had been thrilled for her when she finally found a story to impress her editor, although it nearly cost both their lives to get it, and Malcolm ended up sacrificing it to her, taking no credit whatsoever in the process.
In any case, his charitable act had been rewarded tenfold when the woman that haunted his dreams called him up for a date.
Maybe the movie would be a good subject for conversation, he mused, the only problem he saw with that was his lack of concentration throughout the picture. He could always talk about his college days, or would it be best to let her do the talking?
All this thought made Malcolm's stomach churn and he reached into the bucket of popcorn the two had been sharing. He had always been prone to snacking when he was really excited over something.
Malcolm's hand slowly crept into the popcorn bucket and immediately his muscles tensed up as he came in contact with another hand. At first he did not know how to react, then he glanced over to Nancy who was blushing madly. At first both hands retracted from one another, as both individuals decided that neither of them desired popcorn anymore.
Then somehow Nancy's hand snaked its way over to Malcolm's, squeezing it tightly. This really did confuse the young man until he looked up at the screen to see the villain chasing after the heroine of the story.
His father wasn't kidding when he had told him that he had a lot to learn about women.
Needless to say, with all his inexperience, the movie went through with no further mishap.
After the theatre, the couple proceeded to dinner, and from there they ended up strolling through the park, as their night wound itself to a close.
Malcolm wished he had been as cool and collected as Nancy, who was presently latched onto his arm, her face buried in his shoulder, but the truth was, he could not suppress the butterflies that had begun to rise in his stomach for the second time that night. Was this strange sensation love?
"Oh Malcolm…" Nancy sighed, as her eyes twinkled with the brilliance of the stars shining in them.
"Hm?" Malcolm replied, casting his gaze towards her, as she remained fixated to his arm the butterflies taking a journery from his stomach to his throat.
"Do you ever wonder about the future?" she asked as a far off look replaced the twinkle in her eyes.
"How do you mean?" he queried, a puzzled look cast over his features. Up until that point the only thing he had worried about was whether or not Nancy liked him as much as he liked her.
"You know." She said, jabbing him in the ribs lightly. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a family?"
Suddenly taken aback by the notion, Malcolm succeeded in tripping over his own feet. He would have come face to face with the pavement if it hadn't been for Nancy's firm grip on his shoulder. She steadied him, as a small giggle escaped her.
"Don't you think a family is too soon?" he stuttered, his legs starting to feel like gelatin.
Nancy only smiled and shook her head. "Let's go sit down." She suggested, indicating an empty park bench as she tugged on his wrist. It was obvious to her that she had made him uncomfortable.
Malcolm took a seat next to her on the wooden bench. Sitting was a good thing, he thought, as his body began to slacken in order to get more comfortable in his seat. Nancy laced her fingers with his and the two stared up at the night sky.
"I didn't mean WE should have a family, I was just wondering what you thought about it." she whispered softly.
"Well…" Malcolm began, pausing when he noticed he had her full attention. "I was thinking it would be nice."
"That's it?" she prodded. "No details?"
"Details?" Malcolm inquired, arching an eyebrow. Truthfully, he had never given it much thought, but he could tell by the look on Nancy's face that she demanded more information.
"I do write for the newspaper." She grinned evilly. "I need to know the facts. For instance, how many children would you want?" she shrugged, as if the question held no significance.
"Oh, I don't know." Malcolm replied, as he scratched the back of his head in thought. "Two?" he stated…questioned, as if he were asking her permission.
"Two sons?" she pondered out loud, looking to Malcolm expectantly.
The brown haired man nodded, "Yeah…two sons…that would be just fine." He smiled.
"And where would we live?" Nancy mused, her deep blue eyes captivating his, as they searched for an answer.
Malcolm looked up towards the stars once again, as he considered this last question. "In our castle, in the clouds." He grinned sheepishly, hoping that wasn't too much of a clichéd answer.
He hadn't have worried. From that point on, Malcolm was unsure of who had actually instigated it, but he was sure that he enjoyed it very much, as the two embraced in a long, passionate kiss. His memory grew hazy after that. He never remembered leaving the park, though he knew he had somehow gotten home that night. All he could think about was the enormous feeling of elation he had when Nancy was in his presence…it was almost as if…she had given him wings. And he anxiously looked forward for their next encounter with one another.
Drifting back into the present, Malcolm realized that somehow, the spark of romance between the two had been rekindled, and he was not about to let that single flame die down.
Had he known Nancy's thoughts were in the same place, he probably wouldn't have been as edgy as he was, hitting his knee on the desk as he quickly rose from his seat. Wincing slightly, he hobbled over to grab his coat from where he had laid it and escorted Nancy out the door, reassuring her that his knee was all right as the two exited the office.
In the back of his mind Malcolm knew this would be a night to remember, unfortunately for him, it would also prove to be one he would undoubtedly wish to forget.
End note: Wait'll you see what I've got cooked up for the next chapter. Now the fun truly begins! Muwhahahaaa! =)