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 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.
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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6
Troubled
"You know I'm going after him."
Miyako looked up at Daisuke faintly startled--in the long shuddering silence following his garbled explanation she had huddled next to the equally silent Hikari; he seemed deafeningly loud now, and strangely steady despite the tremble lingering in his hands.
Rolling his shoulders forward a little, Dai crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. "Why are you looking at me like that. . .Don't you think I can?"
"Well. . ." Miyako shook her head. "You did say you didn't know what happened to him. . ."
"So what?!" Dai stood up, arms still crossed. "I know something happened to him, and that's enough for me. I'll figure it out and I'll. . ." his surety faltered a moment, and he blinked, arms falling to his sides again. "I'll. . ."
Standing as well, Miyako put her hands on Dai's shoulders and pushed him back down to his seat on the couch. "Daisuke, he's my friend too, and I want to help too. . .but we don't have any clue what happened. And you have to admit, it sounds pretty weird. . ."
Dai scowled and kicked at the carpet. "Yeah. . .well I'm not making it up."
"Nobody's saying you did." She looked over at Hikari--the other girl had been lapsing in and out of attention periodically, and now her eyes were vague again. It was strange to Miyako, seeing the bright eyes so vacant, and the small worried smile so far away; so she looked back to the somewhat less unnerving sight of Daisuke hunched on her couch like an unrepentant child. She didn't look at his hands gripping the cushion, though--somewhere along the line she had seen blood on them and it made her sick. "But nobody knows what to do, either. . .Dai, people don't just disappear."
"But Ken did. So what do you have to say about that?"
That computers don't talk back, either. Miyako looked back down the hall again, towards her room where the monitor lay on the floor amongst wire and casing; where the Digimon had retreated, where Poromon sat on the bed not knowing any more than Miyako or Daisuke or Hikari what the hell was going on here. Something was wrong here, and it was more than Hikari daydreaming into oblivion or a too-responsive computer or Dai watching Ken scream and bleed on the ground then disappear into the rain. ". . .I don't know what I have to say about that, Dai." She stood up again, rubbing at her temples as she walked towards the door.
Dai turned on the couch, watching her head for the entryway. When she bent down to put on her shoes, he stood up. "Hey. . .where you going?"
Looking over her shoulder through her hair, Miyako finished pulling her shoes on and opened the door. "Down the hall. He's Takeru's friend too you know. . .and Iori's. Just sit tight. . .keep an eye on Hikari, or something. . ." With that she was out, the door firmly closed behind her.
Wrinkling his nose a bit, Daisuke muttered and dropped back to his seat, crossing his arms huffily again. He didn't want to sit tight. He had absolutely no interest in sitting on Miyako's couch and just waiting for her to get more people to fuss over the problem instead of going out and finding Ken and making sure he was okay. What if Ken was in some kind of trouble--and he probably was, yeah, definitely--and needed someone right now? Disobeying Miyako was a lot more dangerous than disobeying his mother, but what if Ken was in major, big-ass trouble, and needed his best friend to save his scrawny ass right this very freaking second? Dai fidgeted, looking back at the door again. "Damnit. . ."
~~~~~~~
It was debatable, in this moment, whether it was Ken or Teyu that truly needed help right now.
Arms folded over his chest, Teyu sat on a thick branch, legs dangling as he looked down at the form of Ken huddled below, knees drawn up and chin resting on them. The kid wasn't very threatening right now, with those creepy eyes focused again but crying, and with his torn palms and wrists wrapped with bandages Teyu wasn't stupid enough to travel without. The kid was lost, was confused and crying and about a billion miles from threatening. Teyu had promised to help him home, but that didn't seem likely. He looked away again.
"Can't you find someone else? I mean. . ." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, and then the side. "I mean, to do it, or maybe to do it to. . ." The shadow inside tightened its hold, snapped and dragged that hot red whip along Teyu's mind, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. "Wh. . .why not. . .?"
"No questions, boy. I am the master here."
"But. . ."
The whip snapped harder, harsher--Teyu gripped the branch to keep from falling, teeth piercing his tongue. "I said no questions."
No questions. Cha. . .but you didn't learn anything if you didn't ask questions; except when you didn't learn anything if you didn't keep your mouth shut. Maybe keeping his mouth shut would hurt less right now. Probably keeping his mouth shut would actually hurt a lot less right now, but considering how often he mouthed off to his Aunties he was apparently some kind of sucker for pain. And he really didn't want to hurt that frail little Ichijouji Ken--nice kid, really. He'd been real nice and apologetic, real polite and quiet. And he really was afraid of that frail little Ichijouji Ken--creepy kid, really. Teyu remembered those distracted eyes and that weird little smile, and the kid reeked of Shadow, maybe a little Void. So he spat the blood out of his mouth--carefully out to the side so it wouldn't hit Ken down there; it hissed when it hit the ground like acid, and come to think of it his mouth burned too. ". . .Why a Shadow spark, though?" He braced himself, waiting for the red whip to come again.
It did not.
"Why Shadow, boy?" The shade's voice hadn't lightened, hadn't softened--shit, it was still sharp snapping sarcasm and raw disdain, but he was used to that, and it didn't hurt like the whip did. "You look at him down there, and you have to ask me 'why Shadow'?"
Teyu shook his head, and looked down at Ken. Yeah. . . "He's a nice kid. Why would you want to do that? Wake all that nasty black shit up. . ." Shaking his head again, Teyu shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. He knew that story. . .good mind, good soul, but a bad heart beating bad blood.
"Do I need to find outside supervision for you, boy?" The dry tone suggested that the shade had best not have to find outside supervision or Teyu would be in worlds of agony, but he shook his head again anyway.
"I donno. . .maybe you should." Bad blood. That was the smell, that was the story, the feeling in the aura--soft and light at the edges, but there near Ken's pale skin it got hard and dark, murder and hate. Maybe he had a beautiful mind, maybe he had a gentle soul--probably did, nice kid, that Ichijouji Ken. But there was no such thing as a bad person just a bad heart, and the vile blood that came with it. The thick mess in Teyu's mouth still burned, and he spit the blood out again, watching the red-black liquid hit a root, eat it away with a violent hiss and pop. Yeah.
He knew that story.
~~~~~~~~
Hikari had already heard Daisuke's story--she had gotten a delirious account from him on the way to Miyako's. Leaving the bus, and Ken suddenly simply falling, eyes rolled back. . .somewhere early in her second hearing Hikari began to see it in lurid detail; the long burn rising and blistering along one cheek, Ken's pale wrists splitting and bleeding into his palms and the peaceful, horrified small smile on his face. She was dimly not-quite aware of Daisuke and Miyako's debate, caught up in the strange half-lit world where Ken looked white as ice and his blood too, too red and his eyes vague when he stood and backed away from Daisuke, crying out 'go away, go away'.
"Playing sleuth again, Hikari-chan?"
She jerked at the sound; the low slick static voice slipping under her skin.
"Or maybe. . ."
The dim indefinite world of Hikari's vision blurred further a moment, and then Ken was gone, Daisuke was gone--she was alone in the Dark. Alone on the endless black sands, and the water was close behind her. Choking faintly, she closed her eyes.
"Maybe it was playing Saint?" The frozen static was gone--instead it was another cold, cynical voice; mocking and familiar. "Maybe you were planning on playing Savior again, Hikari?" There was laughter, and a hand gripped Hikari's arm harshly, jerked her around so she stumbled and fell to her knees in the sand.
"I want to help my friends." Hikari spoke softly, and with her eyes still closed to the black sands beneath her. She did not open them when a hand gripped her chin and pulled her face upwards, or when light fingers trailed across her face to push her bangs away.
"You want to be a good girl again, don't you Hikari?" The burning familiar voice laughed, brushed icy lips across her forehead. "You want to be that bright little light again, cutting the dark for the people you 'love'. . ." The fingers burned where they touched her, blistered and froze her skin and flesh beneath. She would not open her eyes. She would not open her eyes. She would not--
The cold lips were by her ear now--they curved into a smile as they spoke in that borrowed voice, the faint and frigid feathering of a serpent's tongue brushed her skin for a moment when they laughed against her. She would not cry out either. She would not scream.
"What are you afraid of seeing, Hikari?" The voice moved, the cold and hands and lips--they were circling her, easy idle steps. "Do you know what you will see? Do you remember me. . .?"
Not knowing if she would not or she could not stand Hikari remained on her knees, lowered her head once more. She wanted to go home. . .she wanted to leave this bleak vision of this heartless world, she wanted to leave that voice behind. She knew what she would see, and she would not see it.
One chill hand stopped its restless movement, settled softly on her head, stroking her hair. "Dear Hikari. . ." The voice was a soft purr halfway between the familiar stolen voice and that agony static hiss, gentle and cruel at once. "Precious little light of mine. . .open your eyes, won't you? It's so much easier to see when you're looking. . ."
Hikari kept her eyes shut. She wanted to go home. She wanted to leave the vision, and maybe if she told herself that long enough she would be saved from the Dark, from the black sands and the rushing metallic water behind her; blue-black and silver in all her nightmares, blue-black and silver here. She did not want to see.
"Open your eyes, Hikari. . ." The voice was laughing again--it was her voice laughing, bled together with that sibilant static but her voice and she couldn't tell herself it wasn't anymore. "Open your eyes, because your friends are going to need that little light now, dear. . ."
She would not scream.
Opening her eyes more because she had to than because she chose Hikari told herself that. She would not scream. She was looking up, looking up to the dark dark sky beyond herself because that was who this was, exactly who this was. . .Hikari was looking up at herself and herself was wearing a small and poison smile as she stood with her hand on her own head. Herself with skin white in the cold, and eyes shifting metal that made called her and made her head spin and scream and howl with a hundred thousand voices as one.
She would not. . .
would not. . .
scream. . .