AN: Okay… I know this fic is rather long in the set-up… not a lot of action yet… but I think action is better when you have a lot of background and really believe the circumstances… but it's coming soon… they'll be a couple of big time jumps in the next few chapters.
Thanks for all the reviews… Sora's hair is red? Now I know, thanks for the heads up! Thanks for all the reviews, they've been very constructive… please keep it up!
The Road Not TakenChapter Three
Oh, they have robbed me of the HopeMy spirit held so dear;
They will not let me hear that voice
My soul delights to hear.
They will not let me see that face
I so delight to see;
And they have taken all thy smiles,
And all thy love from me.
"Oh, They Have Robbed me of the Hope"
Anne Bronte
Officer Mark Hashiba had children of his own, his youngest around Takeru Ishida's age. Scenes like this made his blood run cold, like his veins were filled with ice water. He'd sent the mother and the older son home with two patrolmen, saying they should wait by the phone for a ransom call. The father had arrived earlier that afternoon, and after a tense discussion, he and his wife had decided on a picture for the 'missing child' posters. After watching the strained family, he almost considered that the poor kid had run away. Hashiba certainly would have run away from that family, but not a three-year-old, a kid like that wouldn't have. Three-year-olds rarely wander off, and if he were just lost, they would have found him by now.
No, Hashiba had been a cop for six years, and a detective for almost as long. As he watched the blue veil of evening fall over his crime scene, he knew he was watching his hope of finding this kid fall with it. His sergeant came over to him, handing him a cup of coffee sympathetically. The older officer stood silent for a long moment, surveying the scene, a knowing look in his dark eyes.
"What did you tell the family, Hashiba?" he asked, looking the detective levelly in the eyes.
Hashiba sighed, tossing back the last of his coffee, and almost wishing it were spiked with something other than half-and-half. The young detective could have used a stiff drink right then. He couldn't stop picturing his own kids… "I told them that the rate of kidnapping in Odaiba is extremely low, and that their son had probably wandered off and our sweeps would almost certainly pick him up."
His sergeant nodded approvingly, all of what Hashiba had said was true. However, one of the first things you learn as a cop is this: Some things are true, but there is no truth. So he looked at his detective again, noting the anguish in the younger man's eyes. Hashiba was young to be a detective, but he was a good, honest, sensitive cop, which was becoming hard to find these days. He hated to ask, but he had to know.
"Tell me what you really think."
Hashiba was silent for a long moment, watching the officers and concerned citizens combing the streets around him, the crime scene he and other detectives had already scrutinized for any kind of clue. Then, his voice devoid of emotion, he answered his commanding officer.
"You and I are ordinary men, sir. We deal in facts, we know kids don't just disappear, that no one just disappears. But I'm telling you, if anyone could disappear, this kid has done it. There's not a clue here—no one saw anything. We have nothing to work with. This boy is gone… we're never going to find him."
Hashiba looked at his sergeant, who was nodding solemnly, trusting his detective's professional opinion implicitly. Hashiba cleared his throat awkwardly and asked, "Are you going to tell the family there's no hope, sir?"
The sergeant looked at the gloomy scene, a deep disgust for his fellow man that could abduct a child sweeping through him, and shook his head.
"No…" the sergeant looked around into the growing darkness, "Hope is all they have left now, isn't it?"
Hashiba grunted at that, tossing his cup into a garbage can. "YOU can tell them that. I'm going home to my kids."
Kari Kamiya had not said a word when her mother had swept her out of the sandbox in a near panic, all but dragging her and Taichi home. Kari had seemed in a daze, and had clung absently to her mother. While Tai had babbled questions at his mother in a highly annoyed voice, wanting to stay and watch the police working, Lily had been totally deaf to her son's inquiries and her daughter's silence alike.
Although it made her feel nauseatingly guilty, Lily could not help but thank any and all the powers that be that both her children were safe. Any child at the park today could have been taken; her babies could have vanished. She couldn't focus; her thoughts were jumbled, bouncing from terror to relief to guilt, making her breath come raggedly. As she waited for her rice to cook, she stared blankly out the kitchen window, seeing her haggard face slowly begin to reflect back at her as night fell. The darkness was repeatedly shattered by the piercing red and blue of police cars speeding past, combing the city for some other mother's child. Watching the lights travel through the growing gloom, she found that was all she could think. Some other mother's child… not Taichi… not Hikari…
Thank God…someone else's baby…"Mom…? Mom!"
She whirled, tearing her eyes from the hypnotic scarlet and azure drama playing itself out through the city below her protected perch. Tai stood behind her, worry plain in his dark eyes. She allowed herself to take him in detail by detail, knowing that her sleep that night would be plagued with nightmares that he and Kari were missing, and she would probably end up staring into their room at their safely sleeping forms all night. His brown hair was as messy as ever, sticking up everywhere no matter how she cut it, and his overalls were rumpled and stained from rolling all over the ground as he played soccer. She smiled softly, wishing she could keep her brave, stubborn little Taichi that way forever, small and tugging on her skirt.
"Yes, honey?" Her voice was soft, and she stroked his hair protectively.
He shook his head, making a face at her sentimentality. He certainly didn't want his mother to turn into some sappy, cootie-infected girl all of a sudden. He pointed at the stove, where the rice was being to smoke. "Dinner is burning, Mom. Does that mean we don't have to eat it?"
Lily ignored the hopeful tone the last question was delivered in, turning to the stove with a barely smothered curse. She grabbed the pot and dunked it into the sink, coughing as she breathed in the smoke and steam. As the clouds cleared, she sighed, looking at the black mass her dinner had become. Experimentally, she flipped the pot upside down, shaking it vigorously. The mass didn't even quiver. She glanced at Tai's hopeful face, and at Kari, who had appeared behind him, and smiled mischievously at the two.
Lily took the pot to the garbage can, and popping the lid of the canister, she dropped the ruined pot into it with a loud clang. Grinning at her shocked children, she grabbed the phonebook off the shelf.
"How about pizza?"
Two sets of warm brown eyes watched her in silent amazement for a long moment, before Tai grinned hugely. "YES! Alright, PIZZA!" Shouting gleefully, he bounced into the living room, celebrating. Kari rolled her eyes, smiling at her mother.
Lily scooped her daughter up, setting her on the counter as she reached for the phone. Pausing, she let the phonebook drop open on the metallic surface and placed her hand on her Kari's forehead. It felt warm… too warm. She smoothed the wispy silken bangs back and felt again.
"You have a fever, honey… are you feeling okay?" She looked her daughter up and down critically, lifting her shirt slightly to check for any kind of measles or pox. Kari just shrugged, her little face only slightly pale.
Lily felt her daughter's head again, muttering to herself, "Maybe I should just make you some soup…"
Kari gasped, color springing back into her face. "NO, Mommy! Pizza!" she said, pulling the phonebook towards her. "You said pizza!"
Lily laughed, obediently turning the pages of the proffered book. "You can't be that sick if your hungry. Hmmm… how about anchovies…?"
Kari's bright eyes squinted as she grimaced with distaste. "Icky! Extra cheese, Mommy!"
"No! Pepperoni, Mom!" Tai had returned to the kitchen, and was standing on his toes to see up onto the counter.
"Cheese, Mommy!"
"Shut up, Kari! Pepperoni!"
"Stupid Tai! Cheese!!"
Lily sighed, rubbing her temples to dispel the migraine growing there. "How about half pepperoni, half extra cheese?" she reasoned, cutting the argument off before things got out of hand. Yes, she thought wryly to herself, mother, chef, and diplomat extraordinaire… how do I find the time?
Matt lay awake in his bed, listening to his mother's heels click up and down the hardwood hallway in an uneven, broken rhythm. When she passed his door he could see the streaks of her makeup down her face, her mascara leaving black trails of grief and worry down her chalk pale cheeks. No matter how many times she passed, she never saw him waiting, awake in the deathly quiet hours of the morning. He had already soaked his pillow until he could no longer cry, and had sobbed dryly for hours after that. Now, except for the faulty beat of his mother's shoes, all was silent.
Without having to see it, he knew his father was sitting outside the front door, smoking, staring out into the night as if by wishing alone he could pull his youngest from the darkness. As if, with vigilance now, he could make up for the laxity of the past. Matt rolled over, facing into the dim room, sighing huffily.
He hated them both.
Nancy halted, finally, her feet all but giving out from under her around five thirty. She sat down across the kitchen table from her distant husband, staring down at the cluttered surface, trying to make sense of the chaos in her life. She looked up at him, searching his eyes frightfully, needing reassurance and help, desperately craving his support, but fearing the blame she knew he was holding in.
"Why, Malcolm? Why haven't they called yet? Why haven't they found him?" She tried to cross the expanse between them.
Malcolm looked at her from deep behind his eyes, as though he were not only far from her but also far from himself, his thoughts somewhere where he imagined his beloved youngest son was waiting for him. "I don't know, Nancy. They're doing their best… we just have to be patient…"
Nancy gasped, glaring at him. "Patient? I can't be patient! I'm his mother! He must be so afraid, and he's alone and he needs me and I lost hi—" she choked off abruptly, her eyes falling swiftly with her voice.
There was a moment of silence as the question hung over them like a shadow of impending doom. Malcolm knew it wasn't the time, he knew he shouldn't ask her. He knew that some things were beyond their control, he kept telling himself that no one was to blame. TK was going to be found, and when he was, Malcolm wanted him to have a happy family to come home to.
He wasn't going to ask.
But he didn't have to ask or not ask… her eyes were confessing to him, begging for his forgiveness. I wasn't watching him…why didn't I glance up? I thought we were safe…why was I so stupid? But neither of them could say the words…
They both jumped when the doorbell rang, and they were out of their chairs and to the door so quickly that, later, neither would remember how they got there, only that the door was open and there was a police officer there, and he was alone, and there was no child in his arms.
Officer Hashiba took off his hat respectfully, clearing his throat. He met their eyes, his expression professionally devoid of feeling. Nancy made a strange sound between a yelp and a sob, clinging to the doorframe—and not to her husband—for support.
Hashiba spoke softly, not wanting to wake the older brother he was sure must be sleeping somewhere nearby. "Mr. and Mrs. Ishida… I—I'm sorry, there's no news yet. If I could come in, we need to discuss what's going to be happening from here… you need to have an idea of the real odds of finding your son."
Nancy was silent, her voice lost as she tried to grasp the words that had been spoken. She looked helplessly at Malcolm, too exhausted to indulge in the screaming in her soul. Malcolm shoved his grief away, motioning the officer in. The detective, however, remained frozen in the doorway, staring at something behind them.
Turning, the broken couple stared in shock at their oldest son, his pajamas rumpled and his eyes red from tears and sleeplessness, but a painfully hopeful expression painted on his face. Looking at Hashiba, he said in a terrible, heart wrenchingly young voice, "Did you find him yet?"
The silence was excruciating.
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
"Pain Has an Element of Blank"
Emily Dickinson
Matt sat on the hard plastic chair, glaring lazily into the fluorescent lighting of the hospital waiting room. Almost six months had passed since TK had disappeared, and it was now December. The hospital was decorated in an annoyingly cheerful manner, merry red and green lights strung up everywhere, even down here…
In the morgue.
His parents had been called down to look at a body that might be TK… another cadaver in a long line of potential TK's. None of them had been him, and Matt was beginning to wonder exactly how many blond, three-year-old bodies were found in Tokyo every year. There had been two this month alone… Matt humphed, it was practically a child killing epidemic. But he couldn't give less of a damn about the other kids; the only blond kid he worried about was TK.
This body, he kept telling himself, this body is not TK. He would know if TK was dead. He would know.
Glancing out the window, he could see snow beginning to fall, drifting down in the soft purple dusk of the winter night. Matt's eyes almost welled up with moisture before he choked the emotion back, brutally denying himself the weakness of tears. Despite his best efforts, though, his icy blue eyes began to shine with half a year's worth of suppressed misery.
TK had loved the snow… especially at Christmastime. Looking silently out the large industrial window. Matt wondered if TK could see the snow, wherever he was. He hoped he could.
Sniffling harshly, totally disgusted with himself, Matt left his prayers and his uncomfortable seat behind and wandered out towards the general waiting area. He stalked the quiet halls in solitude, no one stopping him or questioning his presence. The majority of the hospital staff knew him from his prior visits to the morgue, as his parents always brought him along and never failed to make a scene by fighting in the hallways, waiting rooms, and elevators. Nearly all of the nurses had a great deal of pity for him, but he had successfully put off their attempts at comfort with a bad attitude. Most of their efforts had been superficial at best, anyway, and with the state of his parents' former marriage, Matt was well used to suffering alone.
Wandering a few moments longer, Matt stopped at the waiting area adjacent to the Intensive Care Unit, looking in at a scene he was familiar with. Seated on the couches within, a small family was huddled together for warmth and comfort through the long hours of waiting. Their daughter, Matt knew, had been very ill for the last few months, and had been in this unit several times when Matt had been here.
The young boy he recognized from school… Tai Kamiya was in his grade level but in a different class. The dark haired boy was asleep with his head in his mother's lap, with his father's coat draped over him like a blanket and his mother's hand stroking his hair gently. The mother, a young but weary looking brunette, was wrapped in her husband's arms, her head tucked under his chin. She was dozing slightly, her red-rimmed eyes unfocused. The husband was awake, his eyes alert as though protecting what he could of his family while praying for his daughter, whose fate was out of his hands.
This family was not destroyed by pain and fear, but unified by it. When something bad happened, they faced it together, without blame or anger, but with compassion and strength. Matt sighed jealously.
Why did he have to be alone? Where was the justice, the fairness? All the members of Tai's family seemed to know how much they meant to each other… in his own family, Matt felt as though he was the only one left with any love to give, and all that love was for TK… wherever he was.
Hearing voices raised in anger, he turned to watch his parents storming down the hall towards him. His mother was looking particularly furious, her voice low but not low enough as she berated her husband.
"I keep telling you, I don't know what happened…"
"Weren't you watching him?" Malcolm demanded, the familiar fight playing over again before the bemused eyes of Matt and the horrified eyes of the now fully awake Kamiyas. His parents didn't notice the audience, but poor Matt found himself again the mortified third wheel playing out their lives to complete strangers.
"Yes, I was! It's not my fault—" Nancy growled, clenching her fists until the her nails cut into her palms. Matt surmised from the angry and not grief laden scene that the body had not been TK.
Malcolm shot back, his eyes narrowed to slits, "IF you were watching him, then why don't you know what happened?"
Nancy unclenched her fists nervously, her eyes dropping. The eyes of the Kamiyas, which had been flicking back and forth between the combatants as though they were watching a tennis match, focused on her. Under the pressure of so many gazes, Nancy felt unable to cope, to breath…
"I—I told Yamato to wa—"
SLAP!
Except for the appalled gasp of Lily Kamiya, the corridor was silent. Even Yamato was surprised when Malcolm's hand swiftly connected with his wife's face.
Malcolm voice was deadly calm, belying the fury twisting his features, "Do not ever, EVER, even think of blaming Matt for our mistakes… If I ever hear from him you have, if he even begins to believe it, I swear to God, I'll kill you." Then, lowering his hand, he continued, "I—I'm sorry I had to hit you…"
Malcolm then took Matt's hand and led him away, never more thankful that he had been granted custody of his remaining son in the divorce settlement. Matt looked over his shoulder at the frozen scene he was being dragged away from, his mother's hand still clutching the side of her face. He tore his eyes away from her and met another pair of eyes… Tai's. The young face was filled with pity as the other boy clung to his mother's hand.
Pity.
Matt scowled and turned away.
Kari coughed weakly, disturbed by the tension in the hallway outside her room. She shifted in the bed, unable to roll over on her side, as she preferred to sleep, because of the oxygen mask strapped to her face. Something was wrong out there… but she couldn't even summon the energy to sit up and look. She didn't even have the energy to care, not anymore.
Not enough energy for anything, now that she was dying.
They thought she didn't know… they thought she couldn't hear them whisper. They hoped she couldn't hear them cry, but she could hear them. They were sad… but she wasn't, not anymore. She was very tired… tired of being sick, tired of being a burden. She was tired of doctors and tears, tired of sitting in waiting rooms for hours and hours, tired of needles and x-rays. Kari was ready to sleep.
Sighing deeply, Kari allowed herself to slip into the fathomless darkness that had been calling for the last six months.
How could you leave me standing?
Alone in a world that's so cold…
Maybe I'm just too demanding,
Maybe I'm just like my father, too…
Oh, maybe I'm just like my mother…
She's never satisfied…
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like…
When doves cry…
"When Doves Cry"
PrinceSister Augustine inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the winds that blew down from the mountains and up from the sea. The Aurora Borealis streaked across the night sky, tinting the snow-covered world around her in fantastic, dreamlike colors. Looking at the rugged peaks, she sighed in content. This is why she had joined the order… this is what it truly meant to be close to God.
She had chosen to enter the most remote house her sisterhood maintained, in St. Joseph's, Alaska. It was cold, yes, much more so than she was used to, but it was also clean and natural. She had had enough of cities, enough of Los Angeles, Washington, New York, and Tokyo, and all the places her wealthy family had chosen to call home. This wasn't a city… it wasn't even a town… it was just a convent and an outpost… and the few families that lived in the surrounding area. This is where she had chosen to call home… near to God in body and spirit.
In the distance, she could hear the faint call of the bells, telling her that Vespers was about to begin, and calling her back to civilization and devotion. She also heard the not so distant cry of a wolf, but she was not afraid as many of her sisters might be. Sister Augustine knew the wolves would not attack her unless they were extremely hungry, and it had been a mild winter so far. They were not starving, and so would more than likely leave her in peace.
The howl sounded again, this time very close behind her. She whirled, her black cloak and habit swirling heavily around her. She squinted into the darkness, gasping slightly as a shadow slid out of the tree line, approaching her warily, its golden eyes reflecting the illuminated sky. Despite her belief in the natural gentleness of wolves, Sister Augustine began to pray, whispering the holy words like a shield.
The deep gray creature stopped short twenty feet from her, and the woman and the wolf regarded each other silently. The wolf made the first move, putting its ears back and whining slightly, the sound reassuringly dog-like. Sister Augustine held her ground, calming her breathing and taking a closer look at the graceful creature.
It was clenching something in its teeth… it looked like a leaf… or a bit of green cloth. If it was cloth… she had to know…
Approaching the wolf, she spread her hands wide open and made herself look as small and defenseless as possible, until she was close enough to hear the deep rhythm of the creature's breathing. The wolf dropped the object and backed away, its wild amber eyes wary. Sister Augustine picked it out of the snow, brushing it off gently… it was cloth, a piece of grass green summer-weight cotton… like a piece of a t-shirt. Grimacing slightly, she raised it to her face and sniffed it… ugh, wolf spit… and something else… something warm… like summer… the cloth smelled like summer in some indefinable way, as though its owner smelled of grass and ocean and sun and rain, like a force of nature rather than a person…
The wolf whined again, catching her attention, and turned back towards the tree line… when she didn't move, it whined and yipped, staring back at her.
Sister Augustine stared back towards the distant lights of St. Joseph's, and again towards the dark forest. She had to decide… she'd already missed Vespers at this point, so…
Pulling her cloak closer around herself, she followed the wolf into the forest, attempting to keep an eye on the swift shadow and keep her footing at the same time. The limbs of trees flashed overhead and the bright sky lit her way through the dense virgin forest. The wolf stopped in a clearing ahead of her, sniffing at something on the ground.
Sister Augustine rushed forward with a cry when a flash of gold caught her eye, and she reached down to feel still warm skin.
Alive… thank God…