A/N: okay this is actually the last chapter to this particular fic. This fic is the opener of a three-part series. Let me explain, this story takes place in three different times, during season one, right after season one, and then somewhere around season two. Rather then throwing the story together in a jumbled mess of three tales, I decided to divide them into three different fics.
Just to give you a fair warning this chapter starts off slow, however, once it gets going there is a lot of angst and some gore.
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Prisoner of the Night
Part Five: The Departed
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone-
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness, for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
-Spirits of The Dead,
Edgar Allan Poe
The black water splashed up upon the stone staircase, washing over his bare feet. His thin body tensed as the brine touched his cut up feet, burning the dirty wounds with its acidic salt. From his kneecaps down the black scrubs were darker in color and clung to his thin calves as he took long steps. The water rose then fell again, at first rising above the boy's kneecaps, but now merely brushing his ankles. The higher he went, the further away the water became, something that grieved him more than he was willing to admit.
This world is so horrible, a hell in itself. A prison for the elite. The elite selected by delirium and delay. Pain, sin, and death, that's all this world knows.
The apparition's tight grip upon pale shoulders had long since been forgotten. Blonde hair fell into blue eyes unnoticed. The boy being led by souls, long departed from the natural world, did not need to see what was before him. All that mattered was that the ocean was slowly falling out of his reach. Two more steps and not even the powerful waves would have the strength to splash upon his aching feet. Blue eyes began to darken, he was being taken away from the one thing he desired most eternal numbness, eternal black.
It's over, I can't make it back. The ocean is too far away. I might would be better off just closing my eyes and maybe God would come looking for me. God or the angel of Death with his black wings and black halo, either way, it doesn't matter, just so long as one of them comes. Just so long as I don't have to hurt anymore. But if the past were any indication of what would occur in the future, then probably no one will come. Why would they? I'll be abandoned and left alone to wander in an endless limbo, just as I was abandoned when my family split up. Why would heaven or hell want me, when not even my own parents had a place for me?
Soon only traces of midnight blue, diluted by black, could be seen in the boy's once vibrant blue eyes. Now it was not just his golden locks that blinded him from the path before him but was also his own will that desired to see nothing more. Everything he had ever wanted had either abandoned him, or he was being drug away from, so nothing ahead mattered.
He continued to walk, the repetition making it easy for him to keep in stride with the Eidolonmon. Each step fell into the other, and it wasn't long before he had forgotten he was walking at all. He climbed the steps, his scrubs still damp but no longer soaking, his feet still aching but no longer burning, and his skin still chilled but no longer freezing.
Why was I so easily tricked? I could have listened to Gabumon and just walked away, but instead I had to stick around. I had to take the easy way out. The right way would have been to just stick it out. I should have just dealt with my feelings of inadequacy and gotten over the fact that TK loved Tai more, but I didn't. Instead I went for a short cut. I convinced myself that there was so deeper meaning to my hatred and jealousy towards Tai. But there wasn't. I was jealous because he was everything I wasn't. Strong, carrying, unselfish, but me, all I care about is myself.
The truth is that I am my own rival. I'm the one thing standing between myself and becoming all that I can be. But none of that matters now. I lost my chance, threw it away, and now the Digital World has thrown me away.
He had grown so accustom to the steady pace that when the phantoms stopped he was so startled that he nearly fell to the ground. The phantoms continued to hold his shoulders tightly, keeping him from slipping to the stone floor, however this only caused more pain as their invisible fingertips dug into his bare flesh so as not to loose grip of him. The blonde winced as he steadied himself, taking a breathe and realizing for the first time that he was on leveled ground and that there was no longer a multitude of stone steps before him.
"Just in time, we should begin immediately."
Matt's head was down, his blonde locks still slipped into his eyes, covering most of the dull orbs. He recognized the voice, the deep, thaumaturgical tone that sounded something like the wind before a storm. Slowly he looked up, his dull eyes taking on a hint of weariness as he studied his surroundings carefully. A slight scowl appeared on his face as his eyes landed upon the owner of the voice. Already he was weary of the female digimon. Her voice in many ways soothed him, much like his mother's voice had years ago, and for that he hated her. But that was not the only thing that troubled him about the porcelain skinned digimon, the way she looked at him upon their first meeting still played with his mind, and he could not help but feel frighten in her presence.
When she first saw him her eyes seemed to light up like, those of a spoiled child looking upon a new toy with greed. That's what he felt like, a toy. He hated the feeling of not knowing what was next. Here he was in what seemed to be some deranged temple and yet he had no idea why.
"You're frightened."
The statement immediately drew the blonde's attention back to his captors. He nearly jumped back when he realized how close the female digimon had gotten to him.
"No." he stated flatly, putting on his best fearless front.
Spectermon now stood in front of him, a half-amused smile revealed her sharp fangs, causing Matt to cringe on the inside.
Is she a vampire?
The question was never resolved as the woman did something that fully startled the blonde. She gently, almost loving placed her gloved hand upon his check and smiled.
Spectermon was more than pleased with the boy's courageous answer, and was growing more confident in her decision of selecting him. He trekked across the entire valley of Gehena and now stood amongst the damned, showing no fear or even interest in their presence.
"Good." The lady phantom replied to her prisoner's earlier answer darkly, then pulled away and turned around.
Matt could still feel the cold that ran over his check from the phantom's fingertips upon his flesh. But thoughts of the lustful digimon's unusual behavior was quickly forgotten, as the Eidolonmon began dragging Matt deeper into the temple, reminding the boy that they had yet to release their hold upon him.
As Matt was being pulled into the temple he began to look around, noticing for the first time his aberrant surroundings. Pillars of light gray stone lined around the summit of Tophet forming a perfect circle. A large round slab of the same gray stone made up the floor of the temple, while the large round pillars made up the walls. Cracks interrupted the perfect flow of the room and could be seen upon both the pillars and the floor. There was no ceiling to the large structure; instead the black heavens covered the top, shrouding everything in darkness.
Dusty metal stands were placed in front of each pillar, and at the top of the thin stands were placed metal bolls. Livid flames flickered inside the bolls, illuminating the temple in cold lifeless light. The wind still found its way into the temple, whistling loudly in the blonde's ears. The clouds rumbled softly above, and sleet still fell from the sky and into the temple. The ice would land upon the stone floor, melting quickly, leaving small blotches of water to litter the unkempt stone floor.
After taking in ever detail of the gray temple, Matt found himself being oddly unimpressed. Compared to the ocean, the forest, and even the dungeon he had been imprisoned in, this temple seemed bleak and dismal.
What is this place? And why am I here. It seems a bit of a waste to have a temple at the top of a great mountain, if the temple is only going to be a piece of cracked rock.
The Eidolonmon brought the blonde closer to the center of the room, then waited silent and still, making the boy wonder if they were even still there.
"Tell me something child."
At this Matt was forced once again to turn his attention to the female digimon, whose very presence brought dread to the beaten boy's heart.
Once Spectermon was convinced she held the boy's full attention she continued with her question. "Why did you come here?" She asked, not even attempting to hide the seduction in her voice.
A chill ran down the blonde's spin as he gazed into the pale woman's dark blue eyes. He could see the unspoken rancor burning in those deep pools like an unquenchable fire. Hatred long keep within burned in her gaze, and somehow he felt as though he would receive the punishment for her confined animosity.
But Matt would not allow himself to remain intimidated, this digimon was no worse then anything else he had been forced to face, and so he swallowed his uneasiness and fought off the temptation of barking out some sarcastic insult. Normally his rebellious side was always the first to show, but his better judgment reminded him that he was at these creature's mercy, so his final resolution was to answer truthfully.
"I came here to die."
His tone was so casual and careless that the words lost some of their effect. If any normal person had heard him state such a thing so easily, then they would have certainly thought him to be on antidepressants, however, those with him now, and those who did hear his mirthless response found it plain and without reason for concern.
Spectermon at least seemed pleased with the reply, and her black lips once again pulled into a ruthless smile.
"You couldn't be more right my child." The apparition expressed with confidence before once again turning away from the boy and turning her attention to her servants who stood behind her. "Let's begin." She ordered quickly, earning her an obedient nod from both SkullSatamon and BlackGatomon.
This was the first time that the blonde even realized there were other digimon there besides the woman and his two cloaked friends.
It's the cat from before, but I've never seen the other digimon. And I thought that dinosaur in the egg was ugly.
At this thought a hint of life sparked in the boy's dull eyes, as he forced himself not to smile at the thought of how truly hideous some digimon could be. But his temporary escape from his horrid reality was short lived, and he was quickly pulled back to his painful place on the ground.
BlackGatomon, following her mistress' orders, rushed over to one of the pillars opposite of where Matt was being held. Once there she retrieved an item that had lain neglected on the stone floor. The item was not too large, but in comparison to the one holding it, it appeared to be a fairly good size. What it was none could tell for a simple, tattered black cloth lay draped over it, concealing it from the world. She carried the item, wobbling slightly while trying to run with it, over to Spectermon, who looked at her with an approving smile, before turning her focus to SkullSatamon.
The red and black devil had moved slowly to the very center of the temple. The undead digimon kept his head lowered, as a low growl escape from his lipless mouth. The demon then lifted his twisted wooden staff into the air; the yellow orb glowing eerily the higher it went. Once the staff was held fully above his black skull, the ultimate twirled it around once then brought the bottom of it down hard with both hands.
Matt winced as the sound, of the metal hook, on the bottom of SkullSatamon's staff, meeting the solid gray stone below, echoed in his ears. The blonde had expected to look down and find even more cracks along with a small crater in the center of the floor, but to his surprise, nothing happened. Both the floor and the demon's staff appeared unaffected by the horrendous impact.
For a moment everything seemed still. It almost seemed as though the undead's attack upon the floor had silenced the world. The clouds above no longer rumbled in warning of a coming storm, and the wind died leaving the air still and muggy.
Matt watched curiously, believing all of the demon's efforts to have been a waste, that was until the temple began to change. Waves of color streamed from where the staff had fallen. The eerie yellow glow sucked back into the rod, then a new light shone from the demon's staff. Darkness, illuminated by some unseen source, formed a halo around the crude wooden staff and from this darkness more color bled, dripping upon the gray floor like liquid.
The colors sprinkled from the illuminated staff falling to the floor in tiny droplets. The droplets then began to spread out, filling the thin cracks in the stone floor with all shades of blue, dark purple, white, and black.
To Matt it almost seemed like the staff was a sprinkler, shooting paint all over, but as he looked closer at the colors, he realized that the liquid was not dense enough to be paint. The fluid held the density of water, yet the colors were still dark and never once were they tainted by the gray below.
Soon the many colors began to coat the whole of the floor, turning it into a sea of chroma. Matt stumbled back slightly, as the color began to near his bare feet, however he could not move far due to his captors' hold, and so was forced to let the sea wash over his feet. He wasn't certain what he was expecting the chromaity to feel like, but he certainly was not expecting what he got. It felt like nothing. The colored water spread over and past his feet, but he could not feel it, it was almost as though the sea was not there at all.
Once everything was coated in the thin liquid, the show ended. The light faded from the staff, leaving it crooked and plan, the liquid seeped into the gray stone dying it until the rock took on a color, and the temple that was once dull and gray transformed completely. The pillars were now a dull black, the rim connecting the top of the pillars turned into a light blue, the very color of the Crest of Friendship when it was glowing with power. The floor once cracked, dusty, and gray was now a dark blue. In the center of the floor was painted a symbol, white angelic wings trapped within large purple demon pennons.
What does that symbol mean? What does any of this mean? Why is it that no matter where I go, I always feel so helpless? It always seems like everyone else is in on this great secret and I'm left outside, wondering what the answer is. It was like this at home, at school, and even with the other Digidestined. And now I'm standing as an outsider again, only this time the secret is me.
Spectermon seemed pleased with what had just transpired, the change in the temple was obviously necessary and approving to her, however, BlackGatomon and even SkullSatamon, who had brought about the transformation, seemed bored with the whole event. So the phantom maiden decided not to delay any longer, she did not want to displease her audience, this day was too important for it to not be remembered with pride and intensity.
"Bring the boy over here." She ordered coldly, while her dark eyes stared upon the symbol on the floor.
Matt pulled back at first in a weak attempt of defiance, but ultimately gave up and allowed the Eidolonmon to usher him closer to the center of the round temple.
Until this point Spectermon's eyes had remained locked upon the now painted floor. Her interest in Matt seemed to have lessened, that was until the boy stood but three feet away from her. Once he was near her, the phantom's head shot up, startling Matt as he noticed the change, which had come upon her. Her eyes once dark like the evening sky now glowed like winter's cold silver moon.
Spectermon's gaze did not remain upon the boy long, for she quickly turned to SkullSatamon, who seemed to be waiting patiently for some sort of order. She nodded to him, giving her silent command, and the demon complied. He raised his staff once more on this time he merely pointed it at the floor.
Despite Matt's growing anxiety, he was actually getting very bored. He had no idea what was coming, nor did he realize what these strange digimon were doing. It was a sort of ritual, one that had to be performed correctly. The temple was incredibly crucial in the ceremony, however, a place of such value should never remain out in the open. So in order to protect the temple from attack or destruction the phantoms disguised it, turning it gray so that it would appear worthless and abandoned. Now that there was a need for the temple it had to be restored to its true state.
SkullSatamon continued to point at the symbol on the floor, when suddenly the outline of both sets of wings began to glow. Lines of white and dark purple shot up from the floor, and then the floor itself began to change. A stone rectangle lying vertically down the center of the two sets of wings began to slowly rise from the floor. The outline upon the wings continued to glow until the stone tablet had risen three and a half feet high. Once the solid stone rectangle had risen to its full height, the wings stopped glowing and for a moment everything was still.
Matt looked upon the change in the temple with curiosity, wondering what the tablet could be for, however, he did not get a chance to muse on it long as suddenly the black wraiths began pulling him towards the stone.
Matt jerked back slightly, suddenly frightened as he shouted. "What's going on?"
His questioned seemed to fall upon deaf ears as the digimon went about with what they needed to do, taking no notice of him. The blonde struggled as he was dragged towards the altar, his eyes widening as the fear of a thousand possibilities ran through his mind. Then the question the female digimon had asked him earlier came racing back in a storm of fear and regret.
"Why did you come here?"
"I came here to die."
"You couldn't be more right my child."
It all makes sense now; they're going to kill me. Why am I so afraid? Didn't I want to die, aren't they giving me exactly what I desire. Yes I want to die, to hurt no more, but whenever I'm faced with the reality of death I'm afraid, and I run. Like in the ocean, I could have just drowned, let the black depths take me, but I fought instead. Then that strange digimon in the forest, I could have let him eat me, but what did I do, I ran. Now here I am about to be given the one thing I really want, and I'm afraid. Maybe I'm just not strong enough to die.
The Eidolonmon brought him to the table of stone. Once at the altar's side Matt stopped fight, and simply let himself be manipulated by the dead hands of the forsaken. Blue eyes looked at the stone alter accusingly, blaming it for his current confusion. He wanted to die, but he didn't have the courage to do so, so he tried to blame his fear on the alter, as the wraiths lifted him up roughly, not caring that his tired legs hit hard again the side of the table. He was then thrown on his back with little care, pain shooting through his spine as it met the hard surface.
The blonde coughed hoarsely as the wind was knocked out of him from being slammed onto the stone, he then tried to sit up, hoping it would better help him catch his breath. However, the moment he began to rise one of the Eidolonmon pushed him back down, then held him down by the neck. While the one Eidolonmon held him down, the other moved around the later attending to another task. Anytime Matt began to fidget or even breathe too deeply, the phantom holding him would tighten his grip, choking the blonde for a moment in a cold grasp. After nearly having the life squeezed out of him twice, the blonde decided to make an effort not to move, finding that he had no choice but to comply with the cloaked digimon's wills.
Cold latched around his ankles, and he wanted to look up so badly, to see what was been done to him by his other captor, but he didn't. Instead he closed his eyes tightly, and focused on the sounds of the waves splashing below him. The ocean was so close, but he would never reach it for now he was being chained to a stone altar.
The restrains that the Eidolonmon latched upon the boy's ankles were unusual, and a definite work of the powers of darkness. The wraith with its formless hands reached into solid stone, pulling out latches that cuffed the victim's feet tightly to the stone. Once both ankles were secure he moved to both wrist. Reaching into the stone he pulled the restraints out, molding the stone around the wrist so that it was perfect, then the stone would darken until its entire structure had changed into metal.
Matt shuddered slightly, as the last restraint was placed upon his left wrist, and then finally he dared to open his eyes. The restraints on his ankles were chains, allowing his legs slightly more comfort than his wrist, which were clamped tightly to the altar. He looked over the temple, unable to see the Eidolonmon, it was like the wraiths had simply disappeared. He wasn't certain why, but he found the three remaining digimon far more ghastly than the bodiless phantoms cloaked in black.
They stood on the right side of the alter, SkullSatamon further back, so that the blonde could only see his lower body, though he felt certain that the demon was watching him with a twisted smile. Closer stood Spectermon, her face emotionless while her eyes shone with contemplation. She stood still and with great poise, like a marmoreal statue, not even her breathing was noticeable upon her frame. Upon the lady phantom's shoulder, resting comfortably, sat BlackGatomon. Her blue eyes were sparkling with delight, and she purred softly into her Mistress' ear, biding her to complete the ceremony as she was looking forward to watching the boy struggle in misery.
Though he was afraid Matt refused to show it. He kept his intimidation hidden behind a resentful scowl, trying to look more upset and annoyed then terrified and awe stricken.
Spectermon suddenly smiled, the action occurred so quickly that Matt visibly pulled back. This show of uneasiness only seemed to please his captors more, and the blonde found himself immediately regretting the action. But soon his brief display of fear was replaced with a look of interest as Spectermon, still grinning, lifted an item, she had been holding, up so that the boy could see it.
"Do you know what this is child?" she questioned smoothly, enjoying her game as much as the pet upon her shoulder.
Matt's shadowed blue eyes narrowed upon the item, looking it over closely, before he shook his head numbly, showing that he knew nothing about it. Even though he could not recall seeing the strange item before, it did not stop the sea of emotions, which flooded his soul the moment he focused upon it. The item was a twisted metal stand and locked in the center was a dull black orb. The very sight of it made him shudder, as though dead hands were upon him again. The item's very essence was identical to that of the dark ocean.
Spectermon smiled once again, her wicked demeanor seemed to make the item glow. "This is the Digi-Mental of Darkness." The female digimon began, while a hint of pride entered her voice. "Long ago, when evolution first came upon the Digital World, a great defect fell upon the digimon. Their world was progressing, but they remained simple, barely conscious creatures, surviving on instinct alone. As the world grew more advanced the demand for an advanced race to inhabit it grew great. To answer the call their world put upon them Digimon began to evolve. However, the price of reaching the next level is often far too great, and many digimon did not survive the digi-volveing process. Their data was too weak to grow, and so it broke apart and was discarded like waste. It was thrown away to a desolate land, where no demands for further evolution could be placed upon them. That desolate land quickly became this bleak world."
Spectermon paused for a moment, her dark blue eyes stared hatefully at nothing as she recalled the past, and Matt found himself entranced by the change.
So digimon that were not strong enough to digivolve are sent here. Maybe I do belong here after all.
Soon Spectermon's attention returned to her victim and the emotion fled from her porcelain face once more. "As time went on the digivolveing process became less difficult as the Digital World found a bridge, making the crossing from one level to another more bearable. This bridge came from the creativity and energy found in human children. As time past the souls of the digimon cast away into this world became restless. This world was nothing but a flat gray plane. The souls wandered this plane aimlessly and alone, with only the sky above to save them from their dismal surroundings, for the sky was a mirror, reflecting all that occurred in the Digital World. They could look into the sky and see the world they had been cast from. The color and joy that surrounded the digimon of the Digital World shone down from the sky, but the souls could never touch the beautiful light, it past through them jeering at them, as it fell upon the gray plane and faded into nothing."
Spectermon paused once more, casting her eyes upon the smooth floor below, and for a moment Matt felt sympathy for the phantom.
"The souls seeing that they would never feel the warmth of light again, began to cry bitter and sorrowful tears. Their tears rained down upon the world endlessly, until it flooded the whole of the plane. The gray was concealed by an ocean of black tears. Underneath the waters the plane tasted the black tears, feeling the forsaken digimon's grief, once it tasted their pain, pity came upon it. The very essences of this world grieved for the souls, and wished to help ease their pain, and so the world itself began to change. The plane molded and was reshaped in the Digital World's image. Then the ocean began to boil. As the ocean boiled the water began to evaporate, the steam rising into the sky. Soon the evaporation covered the whole of the sky, forming great clouds in the heavens, blocking out the painful images of the light. And the souls which once looked upon the darkness as a prison, found comfort in the shadows."
"For some time the souls remained in peace, however, no such good thing can last. It was not long before the digimon of the Digital World evolved to their highest levels. And as they began to grow they, saw the need to expand their territory. They found a way to break the barrier between our worlds and flooded upon our forsaken home in a sea of animosity. They brought their wars and hatred to our world of numbness. The souls fled their coming, hiding deep in the ocean. The digimon brought with them the ability to create land, using special spells. Continents rose from the ocean, and the light from their world shone brightly through the clouds, illuminating the world in livid gray. As the digimon fought their wars upon the surface, blood spilt into the ocean and the souls grew restless. They could not find seclusion, not even in their own tears. They began to mourn again, crying out woefully at their own misfortunes, and again the world heard their call. While it could do nothing to cast out the invading digimon, it could give the souls, its children, the power to fight back."
Matt stared deep into the phantom's eyes, getting lost in her tale. The phantom spoke so passionately about the past and so fondly about the darkness, that he could not help but wonder if she was not one of the souls cast aside by her own world.
"Before, evolution had been too difficult, but the need for it had grown too great. The darkness focused its power and from the depths of the ocean it created these, the digi-mentals. They were special tools, that could invoke evolution no matter what the circumstances. And so those with the strongest desire to drive the digimon from their world, were given the mentals and the task of saving their world. They used the digi-mentals and rose up, forming a new level of evolution know as Armored. The new breed of digimon fought valiantly against the invaders, and victory seemed but a horizon away, however, the Digital World retaliated. During a great battle they captured one of our own, took him to the cursed Digital World, and looked him behind a wall of fire, but not before scanning his data to find the secrets behind the digi-mentals. It was not long before they discovered that darkness itself manifested within the digi-mentals. And so to retaliate they created their own digi-mentals, as mockery of our power they made theirs of pure light. The battles consumed the world, and blood spilt into the ocean. The souls cried out once more, and the warriors begged for retribution as their allies fell around them. The darkness once again heard their call and answered."
"Light tainted our world and so the darkness only saw it fit to mock this. Darkness was sent to the Digital World in the form of black gears. The gears spread upon the world infecting many with their power. Other gears were buried deep within the land, where they lied and waited in case they should be needed by those now infected by darkness. It was not long before the Digital World realized what was occurring, and for fear that more would be infected by this virus it closed the door between the two worlds, leaving its own people to die admits the darkness. Retribution came quick, and those who were left behind by their world were slaughtered or enslaved. And once again the souls found peace, but even though our world is at peace we are still tainted by the relics of the war. Their land still litters our ocean, and many of those who were infected by darkness have found their way here to become Lords and servants amongst us. This is tolerable, however, what is not tolerable is how easily the light escaped. The pain it caused us was never justified, we want absolution. The light will go out forever, and darkness will reign at last."
At this Spectermon paused once more, then thoughtfully added. "Out of all of the digi-mentals created only eleven remain, ten for the light and one for darkness. The odds are against us, which is why" she stopped for a moment looking down at the boy with a cruel smile, "we need you."
Spectermon turned around quickly walking away from the boy then gave an order, "Let's begin."
At these words a circular stand rose from the floor, much like the altar had. The stone stand stood as high as the altar, however, it was small and round. Spectermon walked lazily to the stand, then gently placed the Digi-Mental of Darkness upon it.
After she placed the digi-mental down she turned around on her heal, so that she was once again facing the altar.
"Now Matt I want you to relax, you won't feel a thing." BlackGatomon's maniacal voice rang in the blonde's ears, and he shifted his head straining his neck so that he could try and see the feline.
He couldn't see her; she had at some pointed jumped off of Spectermon's shoulder and was now somewhere behind him, but even though he could not look upon her face he was certain that she was smirking at him.
Spectermon seemed to ignore BlackGatomon's teasing, as she had grown incredibly use to the feline's antics, and turned to SkullSatamon who was still standing off to the side. She made eyes contact with the demon, giving him a quick nod, and without hesitation the undead digimon rose his staff up, then threw the bottom back to the ground causing a cracking sound to echo through the temple.
However the echo from the staff was quickly forgotten and drowned out as the unexpected sound of Matt screaming rang off the pillars. The boy's eyes were shut tightly, the unexpected pain that had come with the tap of the demon's staff, had sent a bloodcurdling scream from his wrist, into his lungs, then out of his mouth, and into the air. He hadn't wanted to scream, and if he had been prepared he might not have, but the sudden pain was both shocking and sickening.
"Oops!" the sound of BlackGatomon's jeering voice played in the blonde's ears once his screaming had died down to painful whimpers, "I guess you would feel something…" she stated with a giggle, enjoying the sight of the boy squirming on the alter.
Matt was whimpering and painting, trying with all his might to suppress his tears, but they leaked from his tired eyes anyway. He had finally opened his eyes, nothing but black hovered above him. He wanted to look down at his wrist, but the fear of what he would see gripped roughly upon his heart. For a moment he could only stared at the darkness above him, wishing that he had a less gloomy subject to look at, but soon the throbbing, mixed with the stinging got the better of him, and he dared to look at his restrained wrist.
His panting grew worse as his eyes met with his fear, and nausea began gnawing at his stomach, threatening to spew its empty contents if he did not look away. The darkness would have been a welcoming sight, but the image he had just seen was burned too deeply into his mind, and was now all he saw. The image of his pale wrist still clamped in iron, but now stained in crimson with large metal spikes running through them. Two large spikes, one for each wrist, had shot up from the altar, impaling the blonde's wrist before passing through them entirely. Now the slightly dull tips of the metal spikes poked out of his flesh and blood spilt around it.
The dense crimson liquid ran from the altar through small passages carved on the side of the stone. The passage ran into a thin line, which made up the outline of the two sets of wings upon the floor. Spectermon watched, her eyes intense, as the blood slowly pored from the boy's veins.
The pain the wounds caused still shot through the blonde's body, and his breathing had yet to even out, as a whimper occasionally past from his lips.
Why? If these digimon have been caused so much pain, then why do they want to torment others?
It's finally happening, but now I don't want to die. I want to go home, back to Gabumon, TK, and the others. Now they'll never know how much they truly meant to me. Now Friendship will be lost forever.
These thoughts and many others began circling the blonde's mind as the darkness, which hovered above him, slowly began to descend. He now knew he was going to die, and thinking about it only caused more pain. He wished they'd retract the spike so his blood would spill from his veins quickly, instead of this slow prolonged death. But even these thoughts faded eventually, and he slowly grew weak, shadows crept upon his eyes and he shut them, giving into his weakening state.
The regret, fear, and pain all faded, and the last thoughts that past through his mind was the registering of Spectermon's far off voice stating, "Bleed him dry."
~*~*~
"Oh Matt you're bleeding!" a woman with long dirty blonde hair and sparkling baby blue eyes, expressed in concern as she knelled at her son's side. "How ever did you manage that?" she asked sweetly, while giving her little boy a kind smile.
The boy, however, did not respond. His wild golden hair fell into his eyes of ice blue, while a contemplative frown pulled at his lips and brow. His eyes, which obviously came from his mother, were identical and yet nothing like hers. The mother's eyes were bright and carefree, but the boy's eyes were deep and thoughtful, they reflected all they saw with such intensity that you would never believe that such eyes belong to a three-year-old.
"Come on sweetheart, let's take care of that cut." The woman coaxed gently. By now she had grown use to her toddler's aloofness. Even when the boy was there his thoughts and spirit seemed so far off, that the woman often wondered if didn't drift to some unreachable realm.
"Why do we bleed?" the question came out softly but with such an innocent tone that the woman was forced to smile. She had grown use to her child's unusual questions about life, it was his questions about death that unnerved her, to her, a three-year-old shouldn't even know what death is, let alone ask questions about it.
"We bleed because when our skin gets cut blood has a way to get out of our bodies'." The woman answered wisely, while pushing a few strands of her long hair behind her ear.
At first the boy did not reply, his eyes never once shifted to his mother's face, but instead they remained on his little thin finger. His pale fingertip had been cut by the white latter on his red fire truck. This was the first time the little blonde could ever recall bleeding, he had seen his mammy and daddy stump their toes, or accidentally cut themselves with a kitchen knife, so he knew what blood was, but he had never bled and the feeling was strange.
"Mammy why do we have blood?" the little boy asked in the same curious tone as before, finding none of his questions unnatural.
The woman sighed almost regrettably. She wasn't certain what was suppose to come with motherhood, but this was not what she had expected. It at first had seemed like it would be fun, a little baby, like her own little alive doll, to dress and feed and play with. She would see other new mother's with their children, still glowing with hope for their offspring's life. She often wondered why she couldn't have that, why she couldn't have been given a dependent little angel full of life and hope, instead of this independent boy of ice. How could a woman's life be full of hope, when her child was already thinking about death?
Slowly the woman touched her stomach; the signs of new life growing within her were already evident. The thought that maybe she would get her life affirming hope after all gave her reason to continue dealing with the hopelessness before her.
"We have blood, because our bodies need it to stay alive." She explained patiently, knowing that her boy would not be satisfied until his questions were answered.
"Why?" the little boy asked that oh so difficult question to answer.
Again the woman sighed, now growing slightly annoyed with what seemed like a pointless conversation. "Because without it we'd die." She expressed bluntly, before stretching to stand. Her back ached, she was barely in her third trimester and yet she was already ready to have the baby. Ready to hold her chance for redemption in her arms.
"Come on sweetie, let's got put a Band-Aid on that cut."
The boy didn't move at first, his eyes still remained upon the tiny blotches of deep red that was collecting on top of his finger. Finally he seemed to be satisfied with his observation and stood as well, following his mother to the hall of their small apartment.
"Mammy, is there anyone who doesn't bleed?" the toddler asked, as he walked with poise and balance, something which too was unusual for a child of his age.
At this the woman chuckled a bit, she was beginning to accept her fate. She was forever doomed to have a profound poet rather than a carefree child.
"I don't know sweetheart," she replied, answering the question with little interest, "Ghost, maybe."
The boy nodded, accepting the answer for now. He'd ask what ghosts were later.
~*~*~
"Daddy?" a little blonde boy asked, suddenly braking the silence that had filled the waiting room.
A tall man who had been pacing up and down the off white tile floor of the waiting room stopped abruptly and turned to his son, who was sitting calmly in one of the mustard yellow plastic chairs the room had to offer.
"What is it sport?" the man asked attentively, actually thankful for the distraction.
The boy was silent for a moment, almost as though he was debating on whether or not he should ask his question. Finally the silent debate seemed to have ended, and the boy gathered his thoughts, put them in order, and asked his question. "What does being born mean?" the child asked thoughtfully, the question had been gnawing away at him ever since they had arrived at the hospital.
"What do you mean son?" the man asked kindly, as he walk over and took a seat beside the composed child.
The little blonde toddler looked at his father, his usually distant eyes shinning with affection. "You said that my brother is being born." He explained simply.
The man smiled then thought of the best way to explain his answer. "Well, son," he began somewhat uncertainly, "It means that your baby brother is coming into this world." he stated as though his explanation should hold all of the answers the boy needed.
The toddler nodded, his blonde hair falling over his fair face as his head went up and down, "So what world is he in now?"
"Huh?" the man responded intelligently, before running the question through his mind again. "It's not that he's in another world, Matt," the man began, reminding himself that he had to be specific with his answers, "It's that his life is about to begin."
Matt nodded again finding the answer much more understandable. "Daddy?"
The tall man's attention fell upon the swinging doors to the delivery room, where his wife was about to give birth prematurely to their second son.
The man didn't answer, and so the boy tried again. "Daddy?"
This time the man jumped slightly at the distraction and turned back to his son with a false smile. "Yes?" he asked kindly, masking the worry in his voice wonderfully.
"Was I born?" The child asked with genuine curiosity.
The man smiled, he personally found his sons unusual questions to be cute and a good sign that his son will have a healthy appetite for knowledge when he gets older. "Of course, all living things were born."
"So I'm alive." The boy asked almost in shock.
At this the man's brow crinkled up, and he was suddenly concerned with the direction this conversation was taking. "Of course son." He answered worriedly.
"How do you know?" the boy asked seriously, his face passive and his tone even.
The man was about to answer, when suddenly the swinging doors to the delivery room flew open and a doctor dressed in blue scrubs came out barring a cheerful smile.
"Congratulations Mr. Ishida, you have a healthy baby boy." The doctor began, allowing the relief to sink in to the once worried man before he continued. "The infant will have to remain in an incubator for a little while, but you should be able to take him home in a week."
The doctor and Mr. Ishida began talking, leaving the boy alone and his question unanswered.
~*~*~
"His fever's not dropping!" the woman with dirty blonde hair, now cut a little above her shoulders, cried in concern.
"Of course not honey," the tall man with dark hair replied with frustration. "You just took his temperature five minutes ago, you can't expect it to just drop dramatically in such a short amount of time, in fact if it did we'd have more to be fearful of than to celebrate."
Despite her husbands calm state, no relief came over the woman. At first she listened to her husband's logical explanation attentively, but once he was through a sour looked appeared upon her dainty features, and anger flashed in her bright blue eyes. "Does it not even worry you that our son is sick?!" she questioned, as she walked from her place in the hallway over to the couch, where her husband sat comfortably flipping through the newspaper.
"Of course I'm worried, but Nancy, children get sick all of the time. I'd be more concerned if he never got sick like Matt. We were blessed with one extremely healthy child, so I think we can handle one with a mild chase of the flue." The man's gruff voice went soft as he spoke about his two boys. He wasn't a very emotional person, you could never tell what he truly felt from his words because they were always void of sentiment, but what his mind could not phrase and put together, his voice portrayed perfectly. His tone always went soft and affectionate when he spoke of his children.
"You call hiding in the back, and having no friends healthy?" the woman questioned in regards to her husband's reply. She loved both of her sons equally, but her eldest was an enigma to her, and she was tired of his melancholy state.
"He's just shy, it's natural for someone his age." The man answered with an amused smile, not seeing the true concern his wife was expressing.
The woman shook her head in disagreement. Between her worry for her youngest son and her built up concern for her eldest son's possible depression she had had enough. Her worries had grown too great, and they needed a release, so she took them out upon the only source available, her fast temper being something that her oldest son would inherit. "There is nothing natural about that boy's behavior! Why won't you let me take him to a psychologist so that he can get some help, and work past what ever is making him so depressed."
At this the man stood up as well, knowing what was coming, and falling right into what was becoming a nightly ritual for the couple. "You mean so you can work past it." He replied aggressively, howeve,r he kept his voice low, knowing that his son's were asleep down the hall. "There is nothing wrong with Matt, just because he's not as outgoing as TK doesn't mean that he's depressed."
"You don't know that!" the woman shot back, letting her emotions rule over her judgment. "TK idolizes Matt, what if he becomes like him? What if he becomes reserved and moody all of the time?" she cried out of fear of loosing her second son to the hovering dark cloud which had already claimed her first.
The man's voice fell down to a whisper, and he reminded his wife that their children were only two walls and a door away. The woman complied with her husband's wish for softer "conversation", and the two continued their pointless bickering, only now the child listening in the shadows could no longer hear what they were saying.
Is there really something wrong with me? I guess there must be, or mom wouldn't have said something. Is it really bad for me to be around TK? I don't want it to be, I don't ever want to be separated from TK. He's not just my little brother he's my friend, and friends are the most important thing in the world. But mom did say I have no friends… maybe I don't. Maybe the few I do sit with at school and TK aren't really my friends at all… maybe I'm alone.
A sharp pain ran through the boy's stomach, and he clutched at his sides with both hands as he fell to his knees on his bedroom floor. He had gotten up because he was hot, really hot, and needed a glass of water. After waking up with his hair soaked in sweat and his pillow and blanket damp, he crawled out of bed, loving the feeling the cold wooden floor sent through his sweaty feet. He then tiptoed quietly over to his brother's bedside. He looked down at the three-year-old fondly, smiling with the deepest affection, as he pulled the covers over the little boy's small frame and kissed his forehead gently, taking note that the toddler was still warm with a fever.
A frown appeared on the seven-year-old's face, as he thought about how unfair it was for such a generous little boy like his brother to get the flue. He probably would have sat there a little bit longer watching over the sleeping angel and having completely forgotten his quest for a drink in his worry for his brother, however, the sound of his mother's concerned voice, muffled by walls, drifted to his ears. Frowning he walked from his brother's bedside to their bedroom door, opening it a little so that he could better hear the conversation taking place outside.
He feared that it was a start of another argument, and his fear was soon justified as the two adults broke out into their petty bickering. The truth was that the little boy didn't know how often these arguments took place. He only viewed them on a few occasions, but every time he did, it always seemed the same, he was always at the center of their anger. He never woke up on the nights when the couple would fight about finances, retirement, and work, all of which were topics that came up far more often then their offspring. He never saw that his parents' fought just to fight, the only arguments that ever stirred him from his slumber were those pertaining to him and his unusual behavior.
They're fighting again, and it's all my fault. If only I was a better person, then they wouldn't fight anymore. They'd be happy like before. It's my fault, I'm weak, I'm not strong enough to be outgoing. It's my fault they fight, they were so happy before, it's all my fault.
The sharp pain now rose from his stomach to his chest. His head was pounding and stars danced across his eyes. He felt weak and shaky, and the cold from the floor melted away as his body temperature rose.
He had never asked his parents for anything, except the sea of questions when he was younger, but even that ceased to wash upon them as he grew. The truth was he didn't feel as though he could ask them for anything. What right did he have to trouble them with his trivial needs or desires? So any time something bothered him or he needed something he kept it to himself, never once daring to speak up and voice his request. But now he was so lost. He had never been sick before. He didn't understand, and he hated the weak feeling spreading through his body.
After a few minutes of agony on his bedroom floor he forced himself to get up, pushing back the illness as much as possible. Staggering out of the room, while still taking care not to wake his slumbering baby brother, he walked into the living room, where his parents still argued in hush voices.
At first neither of the adults noticed their son's presence, and the boy's eyes and ears were too occupied with dizziness and pounding to tell him what his parents were fighting about. Finally after the young boy leaned back for support on the wall, causing a slight thump, the two adults turned their attention to him, both frowning with concern as they saw him.
His blonde hair was a tangled mess and was sticking to his skin from being so damp. His face seemed unusually pale, and his eyes were glazed with an obvious fever.
Both adults instantly fell into a state of panic, upon seeing their son in such a state. The woman without a second thought ran to her son's side, and went to one knee so that she could better look him in the eyes. Her hand rose to his forehead and she nearly whimpered upon feeling the heat coming from the seven-year-old's face. "Matt are you all right?" she questioned with worry, already knowing the answer to the question, but needing to see if her son was aware enough to answer.
The sound of his mother's voice broke through the fever, allowing the blonde's eyes to clear for a moment, just long enough for him to make his one and only request. "Please don't hate each other anymore over me." He begged, before his blue eyes glazed over again and then shut. With one shuddering breath he fell into his mother's arms unconscious.
The woman stared straight ahead for a moment, the panic and fear having rendered her frozen. Her boy, her precious little boy was sick. Finally her frozen state wore off, and she jumped into action. "Call an ambulance!" she cried in distress, while turning her head in search for her husband.
Her cry however came late, as the man was already speaking with the emergency operator, and an ambulance was already on its way.
~*~*~
"You're son has a case of the stomach virus that's been going around. Really I wouldn't worry about it, I've seen a lot of kids from the surrounding area with it." The doctor explained friendly. He had already seen the younger Ishida boy earlier that week, and so was familiar with the family. "His cause for fainting like that was dehydration due to the high fever and low potassium levels. I recommend you alter his diet so that he is eating plenty of bananas, and drinking lots of orange juice. As for the virus, you can start him off on your younger son's antibiotics when he gets home. Matt's prescription will be ready tomorrow at noon."
"Thank you doctor." Mr. Ishida stated gratefully, before the doctor turned and left to deal with other patients.
Sadly the tall man turned to where his son laid resting on an ER bed. The IV stuck in the boy's left wrist caused the man to shudder. Matt's fever had already dropped down to normal, however, the doctors wanted to make sure he was hydrated before they sent him home, so they used the IV to send fluid to the child's blood stream.
How could an illness just hit so quickly, Matt was fine when I put him to bed.
Mr. Ishida sighed then told himself to be strong. He wanted to throw a little pity party for himself, after all both of his sons were sick and now one of them was lying in a hospital bed, but one look around the hall of the ER dissolved any such desire.
The doctor wasn't lying when he said that many kids in the area were suffering from the same virus, right now as he stood outside his son's room, he could see two other families dealing with the same thing. Both had kids about TK's age sick and lying in the hospital bed with the same IV's in their wrist. One of the patients was a little girl, and from what Mr. Ishida could tell she had dark brown hair and was wearing pink pajamas. The other patient was a little boy with indigo hair, pale skin, and was wearing light green pajamas.
Both had the whole family waiting for them, and he envied the men who had their wives to stand by them. Also to his surprise the patients' older brothers were both allowed back into the ER. He knew that this wasn't allowed, but he assumed that the doctor in charge made an exception. He was a very easygoing man, with kids of his own, and both Nancy and Mr. Ishida were grateful to have found him.
"Hey mister, what's wrong with your kid?"
Mr. Ishida jumped startled out of his thoughts by the friendly address. "Huh?" he questioned in confusion as he looked down, standing beside him and looking into Matt's room curiously was a boy about Matt's age, maybe a year or so younger, with bushy brown hair, olive skin, soccer pajamas, and goggles hanging around his neck.
The tall man smiled, finding the careless show of curiosity to be amusing and far different from what he was accustom to. Matt had always been very respectful of people's space and privacy, so the little boy intruding upon his was new and entertaining. "He's got the virus that's been going around." He explained with a kind smile.
"Oh," the little boy replied, the cheer in his voice leaving him for a moment. "I had that, and so did my friend Izzy from soccer camp, and a bunch of my other friends from soccer camp, but we didn't have it really bad. But my friend Sora has it really bad, and she had to come to the hospital last night." The boy explained, not turning away from the open door, which led to the sleeping blonde's room. "She got to ride in an ambulance, and it had flashing lights and went roer….eror….eor…roer, like that."
"Well I'm sure that was very exciting for her." Mr. Ishida replied with a smile.
The boy shook his head then answered, "Nuh-uh, she was asleep the whole time." As the boy explained this he rose his hand up in a hopeless gesture, his voice becoming more dramatic to emphasize a point.
"Taichi!" a woman's voice scolded softly, causing the boy to wince, "Get over here right now, and stop bugging that man!"
The little boy obeyed and turned around to head back across the hall, but as he was retreating he turned around quickly, looking up at the tall man for the first time, then stated. "Mister, tell him to watch out for the waves." He warned as he pointed into Matt's room to indicate who him was.
Mr. Ishida looked questionably into the little boy's gentle brown eyes, then asked, "The waves?"
The boy nodded quickly then added, "Yeah they're scary, and dark." With that warning the boy turned around and skipped away, heading back to his little sister's room.
For a moment Mr. Ishida was confused, but finally he gave up on the riddle about the waves, ridding it off as a child's nightmare, and turned back to his sons room.
With no one left to converse with, no one other then the other patient's older brother, who was sitting on a plastic chair outside of his brother's room reading a book with no expression on his face; the man decided it would be a good time to slip out and have a cigarette. The stress of the night's events had left him craving one for hours, and since Matt had yet to stir, he was sure it would be the perfect time to leave. He took one glance inside his son's room then walked down the hall, passing by the boy with his book, who looked at him coldly from underneath his glasses and spike hair. Mr. Ishida paid no attention to the boy's stare, and walked past him without a thought.
~*~*~
It wrapped and swished, softly, soothingly. The rhythm of swarthy waters was more soothing then wind chimes or water falls. It filled three of the hospital rooms, searching for the one that truly belonged to it.
Back in the hospital room a little blonde headed boy lay resting on starch white sheets. The room was dark and silent, but this did not stop the child from waking out of his fitful slumber. His eyes fluttered, then shot open, the blue eyes once clouded and glazed were now clear and frightened. Everything around him was dim and silent, and the waking world seemed little better then the plague of nightmares that seemed to come with his fever.
He was too exhausted to even attempt sitting up, but he was a smart kid, and even though he could not recall how he got where he was, he still concluded that he was in a hospital. After all it made perfect since, he felt sick, went to see his parents, and probably black out. They must have brought him to the ER, but if that was so then where were they now? Why was he alone? Did they just drop him off? Did they just throw him at the nurses and say, "Here, he's your problem for a while."? Why not, it made since. He was the one causing all of their fights; maybe getting rid of him was a good idea.
The waves grew louder, and now the wind could be heard whistling softly over the black depths. The waves had gone looking for one, and had found four. One of the four was found inadequate, her despair was merely temporary, and her powers fell short if what the darkness desired, and so she was abandoned. Two others had been found, two children with hearts full of light and kindness, which clouded the true darkness within them. Their futures were far too bleak, and though they held potential, they were not the ones the waves sought.
Matt kept his eyes upon the dark ceiling above. The glow from the florescent lights, which illuminated the hall, shone through, giving the room a gray dismal feel.
Many eyes hidden by veils of gray fog looked on as the last was found. His heart was a frozen thrown, and his life was filled with loneliness and regret. The only quality that truly shone through his dismayed heart was the devotion he carried for those he carried about. Though this was an admirable quality, it was hardly something restricted to the light. Even the darkness cared about its own, and so the last to be found was the one the waves sought.
I wonder if TK's all right. I wonder when mom and dad will come pick me up, or if they're picking me up.
The waves grew louder, and the boy listened to them lull him away. The darkness had found the one it wanted, now his servants had to find the prize and perform the waves' wishes. And for some time it seemed as though the servants of darkness would never find the one its master had selected, that was until now.
The little boy shut his eyes and the waves carried him away.
~*~*~
Matt's eyes shot open quickly, his breathing was panicked and confusion was evident upon his face. His confusion only grew as he realized where he was. Moments again he was dreaming of his past, reliving his dreary childhood and the day he got terribly ill, but now it had seemed that he had woken from the past only to relive it in reality.
Like his dream he was lying in a hospital bed. The white starch sheets crinkled beneath him as he shifted his weight. The room was gray and bleak, and he was alone. Slowly he looked down, half expecting to see the blue pajamas he was wearing the day he first went to the hospital, but to his surprise and horror, he was clothed only in black pants. His feet were torn up and bleeding, and his shoulder was killing him.
He scanned over the room one last time, then swung his feet over the side of the bed. The sound of water splashing alerted the blonde's attention to the floor, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw the low level of black water upon the white tile floor. A stinging pain went through his feet, as the cuts were agitated by salty brine. Matt winced from the pain then brought his feet up, looking at the water curiously.
He needed to know for certain if he was alone, and so making up his mind, he decided to crawl to the edge of his bed and look out into the hall. But as he was moving something held on tightly to his wrists and shot pain up his arms. He winced and nearly yelped in pain, before he turned to look at his wrist, his eyes widening with shock as they met two IV's. The IV's were jammed into his wrist, the needles seemed nearly as thick as the veins they were placed in. But this wasn't what worried him. What truly placed fear within him, was the tube, which ran from the needle into a transparent pouch handing on a metal stand.
The pouches, which should be filled with some sort of helpful clear fluid, was a deep red. Matt felt woozy as he looked at the tubes running with blood. He felt even worse as he realized that the pouch was not emptying into his veins, but that his veins were emptying into the pouch. The transparent tubes and pouches were filling with his blood, and suddenly weakness past over him and he fell back into the bed.
He wanted to remove the needles and stop the process, but it would do no good. The needles left such large wholes in his flesh that he was certain he'd bleed even faster if he removed them.
I'm bleeding to death.
He could hear the water below, wrapping against the wheels and metal bars, which held up the bed. The water was slowly rising; the sound of waves soon began to over power the wrapping of the water. Darkness began to descend upon the boy, he watched in numb acceptance as the darkness fell completely upon him, blocking out the glow from the hallway.
The blonde shuddered, he was feeling weak, and he was certain that the bags were almost filled. The water now splashed upon the bed, soaking the white sheets, and barely touching the tips of his fingers. Matt lost himself in the feeling of the cold water, touching his freezing flesh. He was already trembling from the blood lost, and the water felt strange as it began to rise around him, meeting the darkness that had fallen. He wince as it began to rise around his cut up feet and touch his abused shoulder. But the most pain came when it touched the large IV's sticking out of the eleven-year-old's wrist. He wanted to scream as his wrist began to burn, but he was too weak.
Salty tears of agony fell from his dark blue eyes, mixing with the black water around him. His breathing quickened a bit as he felt the water around him continue to rise, until it covered his legs, arms, and torso. His head was elevated, giving him just enough time to watch his body disappear beneath the burning water, before it rose to his chin.
A whimper escaped the blonde's mouth before he took a deep breath and prepared to drown. He shut his eyes tightly and the water overtook him. He floated in the water holding his breath with all of his strength, when suddenly he realized that the bed beneath him was gone. He wasn't certain why but something compelled him to open his eyes, and so he obeyed. Instantly the orbs were met with a horrendous stinging pain, but he ignored the pain, fighting his natural instinct to shut his eyes again.
The bed was gone and there was nothing but an endless sea of water. The water appeared to be the blackest of blacks, and yet he could see everything clearly. He could see how the brine stretched out forever, and how no hope was in site. Deciding he could escape the ocean the same way he did before he attempted to swim to the top, but as he went to move a terrible pain shot through his wrists. Frightful, he looked down at his left wrist, his fears confirmed as his burning eyes fell upon the large IV still stuck in his wrist, with the metal stand and sack, which was not full yet, floating beside him. Quickly he glanced at his right side, finding the same circumstance.
He didn't know what to do. He had to get out of the ocean. He had to breathe. Survival instincts kicked in, and he forcefully pulled on his wrist, yanking the IV's out. His flesh and vein tore and instantly a cloud of crimson diluted the black water. The transparent tube began to leek out the blood it had already collected, blood which spread through the water. Matt ignored the pain in his wrist, ignored the weakness, and began to fight his way to the surface, but with his wrist torn so badly his blood lost was immense, and after two strokes the blonde's efforts failed.
He was forced to take a breath, instantly his lungs filled with the ocean, while his blood emptied into the water. Darkness took over and he began to stink, falling willingly into the black depths.
He floated in an abyss of darkness until the feeling of sharp canine teeth biting on to his skin jolted him out of the nothingness. His time in the Dark Ocean did not even equal a tenth of a second in the Digital World. His partner called him back to the black cave, banishing all memory of his experiences in the World of Darkness to the farthest corners of his mind. Matt had forgot all that had occurred, and all he was aware of was the numbness that had taken the place of the sorrow in his heart.
~*~*~
"Are you sure it was a good idea to send him back?" a gruff voice asked curiously.
"He has served his purpose for now. Let him go back to his friends. Let him fool himself into believing he belongs there." Another voice, entrancing and deep stated with little interest.
"So he really doesn't remember anything?" a sweet voice questioned.
"He chose to block it out, and he wasn't gone long enough for anyone, not even his partner, to notice his absents."
Three beings, all unique in appearance stood inside a plane gray temple on top a mountain of agony. Eyes of three colors stared out upon the ocean below. Marveling at its beauty and magnitude.
"When the time comes the boy will come looking for us, and when he does we will finally achieve our goal." The voice of Spectermon expressed with pride, as she turned away from the balcony and walked towards the center of the temple, which was now dull and gray again.
Once in the center of the floor the, phantom maid rose her hand, sending a silent command to the floor. Instantly a section of the floor answered and rose up, molding into a small round stand. With a small smile she placed a tiny wooden clock upon the stand. The clock's face had no numbers and six hands. One of the hands went round and round the clock in less then three seconds, another never moved, two went counter clockwise, one of them stayed on one side moving up and down, and the last two moved with the cycle of the tide. Below the pendulum of bronze moved back and forth keeping perfect time and rhythm.
"The boy will return before the pendulum makes its last sway." The porcelain skinned woman announced as she tossed some of her raven hair behind her shoulder.
"I still don't think it's a good idea sending him back, what if someone senses the change?" SkullSatamon questioned in concern.
Spectermon smiled wickedly then replied, "I drained his blood and filled it with the powers of darkness. His very soul carries the Digi-Mental of Darkness. However, these changes will be impossible to notice unless you know what you are looking for."
SkullSatamon nodded accepting the answer without further argument.
"So I guess now all we do is sit back and wait for the darkness to take its toll." BlackGatomon thought aloud.
Spectermon smiled as she looked upon the clock resting on the stand. "Pleasant dreams Yamato."
~*~*~
Well what do you think? If you have any questions then now is the time to ask them so that I can work the answer into the next fic. Also the next fic will feature the other Digidestined, especially Tai, TK, Kari, and even some Ken and Ryo, but it will of course center around Matt. Oh yeah and Gabumon will be in it to. The next part will be about Matt's second visit to the dark ocean as well as fill in some plot holes that the series left.
Anyway tell me if you'll be sticking with this series or if this first one was enough. Oh and I plan on adding regular updates to my author's profile from now on to let people know when I'll be updating.
Be sure and check out The Fallen Ones, a shrine to fallen angel and demon type digimon. You can visit the site by clicking on the link on my profile.
Please review, and so long until next time.