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.
Specific notation alert: Teyu (aka mystery boy) is property of my sister Sammi, who can be found on FF.net under the penname Osidiano.
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. ^^;;; But I'm getting there, no worries.
For those that wonder "the hell?" about Miyako's hair color here, I had a friend with hair that color and belive me, it looks lavender. ^^;; So yeah. I think it's pretty, damnit. P
This story is faintly AU (or would that be AC?) from the actual series--BelialVamdemon never happened. In fact, nothing after the realease of Quinlongmon and the dissapearacnce of BlackWargreymon happened. Okay? Given that, this takes place one year after 02. I already told you this repeatedly. =P
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5
Nothin' Yet
The pieces lay on the floor all around her--chips and casings, wire and drivers on the carpet like science fiction jigsaw pieces amongst the tools. They were a curious contrast to the room with its stuffed animals and boy-band posters, the photos of friends tacked up beside the bed scrapbook-style--very standard teenage girl's room fare all in all--but so on occasion was Miyako, and in the end she supposed it all balanced out.
Pushing some of her hair back over her shoulder--it was a curious color, a soft pale grey-brown that looked more lavender or purple than anything else in all but the harshest light (where it looked like she was greying)--and she had tied it back with her blue bandanna but that had been several hours ago and it was starting to come loose. Bits and strands had straggled forward in the most inconvenient places, catching on her glasses and some sticking to her face by some irritant miracle of static, sweat, and Murphy's Law. For the past twenty minutes or so ignoring it had become increasingly difficult. . .possibly because she was becoming increasingly nervous, and increasingly irritable.
There are still a couple wires you haven't tried, Miya-chan.
She scowled at the screen--she was holding the monitor on her lap, totally disconnected from any and all other parts of her dismembered computer. "I don't think that's the problem."
The white monitor cleared, new words appearing across the screen as if being typed in that elegant, scrawling script. It had stopped being typeface a while ago, and she wasn't quite sure when. But you don't think you're crazy.
"I did." She felt crazy. She was sitting on the floor with her computer taken to pieces and talking to a monitor that should be blank but instead seemed to be talking back. She looked over at her bed, at the little pink ball of feathers that stared at her and the screen with wide confused eyes. "But Poromon sees it too, and I don't think we're both crazy." She paused, and brushed at the hair clinging to her face. "I could be dreaming."
But you don't think you're dreaming.
"Not really." Actually, that had been her first thought right after crazy, but she had disregarded it a while ago when she cut herself in the midst of dismantling the computer with trembling hands. She didn't usually bleed in her dreams, and anyway she'd never had a dream like this. Even her strangest nightmare had never seemed quite so. . .surreal.
You ain't seen nothin' yet, sweetheart.
Blinking a bit at the curious words and the sudden slang, it took a moment for Miyako to open her mouth to ask what the heck that was supposed to mean. The doorbell rang before she got the words out, and she looked up. "Somebody get that?"
There was no answer, and the doorbell rang again--three times rapidly in a row, strangely urgent. Miyako sighed and set the monitor down on the carpet, standing and brushing at her hair again; pushing her glasses back into place as she went for the door. "Hold on!" It continued to ring at a panicky pace until she opened the door. She blinked. "Hi. . .Hikari?"
It was Hikari, but Hikari looked strung out and sleepless. It was Hikari, and she was supporting Daisuke, and he looked glassy-eyed with shock, white as a ghost and about to drop to the ground and scream or maybe just cry. Three digimon huddled about their feet and one of them was crying--Wormmon was sobbing uncontrollably, Tailmon looking puzzled and scared as she tried to comfort Chibimon comforting the little insect. It was like opening the door and realizing you were on the set of a horror movie; one where your best friends have just become the victims and you found yourself feeling they had brought the beast in coming to you. Miyako blinked again, not knowing what to say and almost too numb to gesture them in. Let them in. . .closed the door behind them and closed the beast in.
It was already there anyway--it left its mark on the inside of her eyes in bright ink, the strange and serpentine script. Lovely. Let's roll, Miya.
~~~~~~
"Aw man. . .you gotta be kidding me." The boy stood there rubbing the back of his neck, and feeling rather awkward as he looked down at the figure sprawled on the ground before him. They were pale and fragile in that soaking, oversized grey sweater; dark hair fanned listlessly across one burned and blistered cheek. They looked. . .helpless, frightened. The boy swallowed, and shook his head. "Gotta be kidding me. She's just a kid. . ."
"Yes, I'm sure 'she' is." The voice was dry, impatient and highly unamused.
"Well. . .so. . ." The boy jammed his hands back into his pockets, blinking a bit. "So you want me to just. . ." Man. Man oh man oh man. He didn't wanna have to do that, not just to some poor little girl who looked all beat up and scared to shit anyway. I mean, sure she was unconscious now but maybe she'd wake up when it started hurting and--
The figure on the ground stirred slightly--the thin, cracked lips moving briefly in a some kind of choked sigh, and the eyelids fluttering slightly. And be damned if he was just gonna let this poor kid wake up to a cold leaden sky as the last thing she ever saw--nope, he was raised different than that even if only by himself, and so the boy dropped down to a crouch next to her, tentatively reaching a hand out to sit her upright.
"Hey. . .hey girl, you okay. . .?" He blinked, and turned a little red as she opened her eyes--strange eyes, dark and light indigo-azure-lavender beneath the blue-black bangs--and be just as damned if that wasn't really a boy. Man, did he hope the guy hadn't heard him call him a girl. . . "Hey man. . .talk to me. How many fingers?" He held his hand up with two fingers lifted, waving them in front of the boy's face.
The distant look in his eyes wavered for a moment, and then one pale hand came up and brushed the fingers away. "Wh. . .where's Osamu. . .? And. . .and Dais. . .?" The boy on the ground blinked a little, eyes focusing slightly. "Who are you. . .?" He sounded dazed, voice cracked and rough and shaky like maybe he'd been screaming a little while ago. Well, his wrists looked slashed and his cheek was all but blistered away, so maybe he had been. Maybe he knew what was coming.
"You and me, we're the only ones here buddy." He put his hand back out, this time to shake, before realizing his new friend probably didn't have much energy to get up and bob hands all friendly-like right now, and dropping it lamely. "Name's Teyu. Dreamsinger." He paused, then added hastily. "My last name, I mean. Dreamsinger. . ." Laughing nervously--it was almost a giggle, geez lordy he was so fucking twitchy--he rubbed the back of his neck again. "Heh. . .I'm kinda a spaz right now. Sorry."
The boy on the ground blinked up at Teyu a few times blearily, shaking his head a little--maybe trying to get his bangs out of his face without reaching up, maybe just confused--and then pushed at Teyu again, trying to move him aside and failing miserably. "What happened. . .?"
Shrugging, Teyu reached down, grasping the boy's hand and pulling him to his feet as he stood--catching him when he stumbled. "Eh. . .no idea." The kid was light, and felt as fragile as he looked: pretty sad, since Teyu was almost worried about the poor guy blowing away as he stood swaying back and forth, leaning heavily on Teyu's side. "So. . .who're you?" Yeah. Dumb question, but oh well. Man, but he didn't want to do this. . .
The boy looked up at Teyu again, blinking blearily once more. "My name. . ." He seemed almost uncertain for a moment, and furrowed his brow a bit. "Ichijouji Ken. . ."
"You think." The smile felt plastic, but he did want to smile for the guy. Cute kid this Ken. . .poor kid, and Teyu didn't want to have to do this, not to this poor lost little boy with those weird hooded eyes.
Blinking again, Ken lowered his head, brows still drawn. "Yes. . ." He laughed a little but it was tight and strange; shivered a little like he could feel the cold blue eyes of that strange and oily shadow watching from behind Teyu's. He looked up again with a distant stare, and Teyu swore he could--that strange tingle ran down his spine like when the Aunties Scanned him; like when Uncle Kai drew the ghosts into the room and they ran through your mind like bums in a junkbin. "I think. But right now. . ."
"Let go, boy." The slick voice was still dry when it rang in his head, disgusted.
So Teyu let go when Ken pushed at him again, and shook his head. Wasn't gonna do this, no way man wasn't gonna do that shit. He suddenly didn't want to go into this kid--nice kid, sure, but the eyes were vague in a way he didn't like, halfway between this and that when he didn't know what either was.
"Idiot. Why would I need you for that? Just a spark, boy." It snorted faintly, and Teyu closed his eyes when it dragged the red whip in his mind. "You're only good for that much, anyway."
Beside Teyu, Ken was still looking upward and outward with abstracted eyes, blinking slowly every so often. He smiled calmly, bringing his hands up--cut and bloodied, torn from scrabbling at the rough pavement, wrists slashed and bleeding. "Right now, I'm not so sure. . ."
Teyu opened his eyes to watch, and then closed them again with a small sound caught and choking his throat. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and be Mindlashed or go home and be nailed in the coffin again or go home and have Auntie Elli scream him into the ground with rage or go home and. . .and. . .and go home. Just to get away from this nice kid, this frail pale little Ichijouji kid with the blistered face and cut hands and those freaky distant eyes.
Because halfway between This and That, the sparks always, always made it worse.