DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Digimon or related chars. Damn. I do however own any original
creatures, characters, and concepts (except where SPECIFICALLY noted), including this dumb fic. And while there's not much I could actually do to you should you for some reason steal my crap, I WILL put a hex on you. So THERE.
Author's Note: I think everyone should know that since I can't for the life of my recall how I started this story the first time, the chapters might not be so great until I get to a part where I once more know what I'm doing. ^^;;; (And yes Shouji, I -will- bring in the other charas soon, you impatient bastard. P)
This story is faintly AU (or would that be AC?) from the actual series--BelialVamdemon never happened. In fact, nothing after the release of Quinlongmon and the disappearance of BlackWargreymon happened. Okay? Given that, this takes place one year after 02. I already told you this. =P
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4
The Call
The day promised rain.
The clouds piled high, black bellies hung low in the air and charging it with the sharply metallic taste of storm and ozone; the wind blew cold between the high stenciled outlines of the apartment buildings. Here and there a few early sprays of dampness dropped from the sky for a moment or two, forerunners of what was yet to come. The day promised rain, as every other day that week had; and as every other day that week had it seemed bent on delivering. Leaning on the balcony railing still wet from the previous evening, wind tearing her hair into her face, Hikari couldn't help but feel there was another promise as well.
Taking her hands from the soaked rail she held them skyward, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. It almost felt like flying, except for the cold sharp line dug into her midriff by the railing. It almost felt like flying, and somewhere out there was the thing she was trying to find in all this wind and water and cloudy-morning darkness--a part of her wanted to jump that stupid railing and reach far enough to find it, just beyond her outstretched fingertips. Once she had held it in her hands. . .once upon a time she had known what it was that pulled at the corners of her heart and mind.
But I was sick then. Her own gentle reminder seemed almost sad, almost bitter, and she opened her eyes a little, open hands curling closed just a bit. True. . .she had been sick then, and if she had kept it she couldn't be out here in the rain right now. It had almost killed her to keep that strange elusive something, and no matter how sick she had been or how sick she might become, times like these she wondered if it had been worth it to lose.
"Hikari. . .?" Tailmon had wandered out onto the balcony, flicking her paws a little with each step like any cat does when walking somewhere wet. She hopped up onto the rail, balancing easily, and looking up to her partner with one ear faintly forward.
"Shhh. . .Tailmon, can't you hear it?" Her eyes were closed again, hands again held wide as she leaned farther and farther over the rail. "So close. . ."
Blinking a little, Tailmon reached out, pulling Hikari back just a little by the back of her shirt. "Hear what?" She wrinkled her nose a bit, tail twitching. "All I hear is the wind. Come back inside Kari. . .your mother's going to have a fit if she sees you out here."
Hikari shook her head, pulling away from Tailmon. "The calling, Tailmon. . .can't you hear the calling?" She faltered slightly, hesitating. "I can't quite. . .I only know something's wrong. . .Very. . .very. . ." Her voice trailed off--a vague and contemplative silence. That was what it was. . .a call. Someone, something familiar calling out to her, crying out please help me please. . .
"Hikari!" Tailmon tugged at the back of Kari's shirt again, pulling her back sharply as she started to climb over the railing. "Hikari, what's gotten into you?" She tugged on the shirt until Hikari looked back at her, looking up into the girl's face concernedly. "Hikari. . ."
Looking into her partner's worried blue eyes, Hikari's mind started to slide, to slip away on the strange desperate calling. Her vision blurred--Tailmon became a smudge of white against a grey-black world, a single pure streak of light in the darkness. Like viewing the world through a rain-smudged window she watched that pale line, watched something dark and bleakly prismatic beyond it slide and coil. Someone was laughing and she knew the sound--cruel and disdainful, human but horrible. . .beautiful and hideous all at once. They were laughing, but oh God couldn't they see that horrible something behind them--it shifted and then there were slashes of dull metal in this running world, sharp and cold and shifting, they burned her and she wanted to scream and they called her--
With a gasp Hikari jerked from the vision and the world snapped back into place like a steel trap--her hands fell and gripped the railing hard as she fought for her breath. "T-Tailmon. . ." She could hear terror in her trembling voice, and she wondered if she would ever forget those dark-bright slits of color like so many prismed mad eyes.
Putting a paw over Hikari's hand, Tailmon looked up at her, fear now mixing with worry on her face. "I'm here, Hikari. . .don't worry, I'm here. . ."
Swallowing hard, she shook her head, and pushed away from the railing. "No. We have to go." Chewing her lip, she shook her head again. "Now. Right now. . ." Still muttering to herself she swept into her room and grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair, tugging it on even as she put her shoes on and left the house with a very puzzled, very worried Tailmon in her wake.
The rain had begun to fall--in the dim near-darkness, it sounded like strange laughter on the ground.
~~~~~
The boy sat with his legs drawn up, chin resting on his knees and bangs hanging before the narrow eyes, almost the same shade of purple-blue. It was easy, right now, to be kicking himself over his stupidity. He should have known where he was--obviously the Overworld, but somehow not the Lynklanes, which made no sense at all--and so he should have known how to get back. Of course, now he couldn't go back, courtesy of that nasty, greasy shadow that had taken up residence in some unused corner of his being. Auntie Elli would have been frothing. Uncle Kai would have just shot him, maybe somewhere vital.
"Get up, boy." The voice of the shadow came from inside him this time, greasy as the shade as been and slicking up out of the depths. Man, but he wanted some kind of psyche-shower right now. With antibacterial soap, even the kind that smelled all fruity if that was what it took.
After a moment he got up, jamming his hands into his pockets and slouching a bit, firmly refusing to do anything above and beyond what he had been asked. He let a Magispark trail down his line of thoughts too for good measure. . .just to be sure that the shadow knew he was working under heavy protest.
The Spark was returned with crippling force, and with a dull curse he fell to his knees, clutching his head. "A. . .ah! Ow! Okay okay. . ." he shook his head, trying to block the burning from his mind, and the mocking laughter of the shadow. "I'll behave. . . What now?"
"Get moving. We're about to begin."
He cringed a bit, shoving himself with a slight unsteadiness to his feet. "We. . .we are?" Swallowing hard, he hung his head. "I. . .I can't just. . .go find people to--"
"No," The voice seemed rather disgusted, as though speaking to an idiot subordinate. "You can't. Not properly, which is why they're being delivered. Now move before I make you!" The words snapped across the boy's mind with a sharp arc of crimson like a whip of bloody lightning, and again he cried out, clutching his head.
"I'm going!!" He gasped faintly, stumbling forward, before getting his balance again. There was a faint burning behind his eyes, but it wasn't tears. He never cried. It was just that he wanted so badly to be home right now, no matter how bad it was or what they would do to him. . .
Rubbing at his itching eyes with one sleeve he ignored the mockery of the shadow's voice and started to walk wherever it wanted him, and wondered what poor sucker of a soul it would take him to meet.
~~~~~
"KEN!!!!" A hand smacked across his face--not a cold touch, but clammy and nervous-hot and trembling. The Dark flickered, and then there was light behind his closed lids. He wasn't standing. . .he was on the ground, wet and slick pavement beneath him. It seemed warm, but that part of him which never quite lost control completely
(screaming screaming god oh god not--)
reminded him almost drily that it wasn't, and if he didn't get off the ground he was more like than not to get sick, considering his recent stint on the rainy soccer field.
He started shaking again. . .or no, that was someone shaking him roughly, almost violently.
"Ken, wake the hell up! Come on. . ." The clammy hands slipped on Ken's shirt, almost dropped him. "Stupid goddamn sonofa--"
Ken coughed slightly, pushed at the hands as he opened his eyes to thin slits. The dim light filtering from the clouded sky was blinding, made his eyes water. For some reason his cheek hurt and he couldn't quite remember why anyone would be shaking him, or why he would be on the ground. His head hurt, his wrist hurt, his throat felt like he had been screaming. . . "Dais. . ." the word was a faint croak, choking as he tried to straighten up.
"Ken!" Dai's hands did slip in surprise, and Ken flinched as he thudded back onto the pavement. It was only for a moment though because then Dai had lifted him up, was hugging him and shaking him. "Ken! What happened? I got you off the bus and your eyes just went all distant and rolled back in your head and you fell and you wouldn't wake the hell up no matter how much I shook you and then your face--"
He was babbling, and for some odd reason that irritated Ken. Almost detachedly he realized that he really, really wanted Dai to let go and shut up; and that yes, he would have been perfectly happy to throttle his dear friend to achieve that particular end. That curious lump in his throat was loosening now--it seemed to be dispersing into his system, and the more it did the more appealing that particular thought appeared. . .
With a faint choking sound he jerked violently in Dai's grasp--away from Dai, and didn't even notice when he slipped from Dai's hands and his head slammed back into the pavement except that Dai wasn't touching him anymore and oh god he had to get away before he did something terrible. . .before the black snake curled up out of it's den and made him do something he might have wanted to do anyway. He didn't hear Dai as he scrambled away on the pavement scraping his hands, didn't see Dai except through some kinda of cynical, hateful nightshade haze across his eyes. Dai was standing, reaching out; and his mouth was moving but Ken couldn't hear him, couldn't hear anything but that horrible slithering voice in his head and all around.
What's the matter Kenny. . .dearest darling little Ken. . .?
"S. . .stop it. . ." The words gasped out, choked out. He felt like a child again, so afraid and so cold. . .
That's the problem with pills, Kenny. . .they're only good when you remember, aren't they?
"Go away. . ." The look on Daisuke's face said he thought Ken was telling him to go away, gasping at him in desperate terrified rage to get the fucking hell away; and he was so confused and he didn't know why. He looked hurt, and worried. He looked
(like and idiot)
in all reality as lost as Ken felt, and for some reason that made him angry again. Or more angry. Oh god what was wrong with him?
Nothing Kenny. . .nothing's wrong. You're perfect Kenny. . .absolutely perfect and don't you ever forget that. . .
It was almost distantly that he realized he was backing away still, as Dai came towards him with that puzzled worried look on his face and his mouth moving silently; and almost distantly that he realized that if Dai touched him he would strike out at him. The idea seemed perfectly agreeable now, watching Dai through that oddly familiar nightshade haze. . .that he would strike out and wrap his hands around Dai's neck and twist until the skin broke and the bone snapped and--
And it wasn't only Daisuke in front of him anymore. There was someone behind Dai as well--unruly dark hair and pale skin; smudged crooked glasses and an easy crooked smile. The boy from the bus, except that now he had a name and Ken oddly wasn't afraid of him this time. Didn't hate him so much, this time, and he didn't look so frightening this time in his faded jeans and his two shirts, the green practically falling off of one narrow shoulder still clad in navy blue. He shook his head a bit, putting a hand on his hip in an amused sort of exasperation as Ken stared at him.
"Sometimes I don't know what to do with you, Kenny boy. . ." He laughed a little, and held out his hand from behind Daisuke. "Come on. . .let's fix this and go home, okay? I'll make some bubble-gunk. . ."
Ken blinked, his head reeled. He was reaching out but that wasn't quite right--no, now something wasn't quite right, because why shouldn't he be reaching out? Why shouldn't he want to go home. . .? His hand wavered, and he almost pulled it back.
The boy from the bus frowned slightly. "Ken? Hey, you look sick. Better have Mom call the doctor for you. . . Come on." With the hand that wasn't held out to Ken, he pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "You shouldn't be out in the rain anyway."
Rain? Was it raining. . .? Ken tilted his head up and blinked dully--the water fell on his face like tiny dull needles of ice and yes, it was raining. Daisuke was shaking him again, was calling his name and was touching him again, and the rain was falling on his face and felt like fire against his cheek for some unfathomable reason; and all he wanted to do right now was go home and curl up and go to sleep in the dark, in the Dark.
The boy from the bus smiled again, and Ken didn't understand why he couldn't remember his name, or why that faint dizzy metal reflection in his eyes seemed so out of place. "Then come on home, Kenny boy." He laughed softly, and shrugged, stretching his hand out just a little more to Ken. "We're waiting for you."
Waiting. . .looking into the familiar eyes with the strange hint of
(slashes bright slashes
shifting filmy iridescence)
dark and bright metallic reflection just over the surface, it didn't really matter what his name was. It was the voice he knew, and the crooked smile; and that goddamn stupid nickname 'Kenny boy.' He smiled vaguely--god but his cheek burned--and pulled his hand from Dai's grasp, and he reached out. . .
He didn't see the blood streaking down from the boy's raggedly cut forehead, didn't note the broken lenses of the glasses or the torn and tire-tracked state of the boy's clothing until their fingers touched. . .but even then it didn't matter so much that the hand that took his own was broken and dead, that eyes were glassy and dead, that he had taken his brother's hand in the rain and his brother was still so, so dead.
Because by then Ken was gone, and all Dai was holding was the cold, rainy air.