Disclaimer: After supporting myself and putting myself through college, I find I have very little money for the purchase of multi-national media corporations. I do not, therefore, own Digimon. The management thanks you for your concern.
AN: Ummm… yeah, so I'm finally updating. There's not a lot of action in this chapter, although there is some important character development and a cameo from a rarely heard from character. Also included is the last of the reunions, so please enjoy!
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.
Chapter 13
"People who think dying is the worst thing don't know a thing about life."
The Secret Life of Bees Sue Monk KiddNancy Takaishi had worked long and hard to earn her corner office, complete with secretary. After the divorce, work had been all she had left, that, and alcohol. She remained in control of her life by never letting her drinking interfere with her career. Her parents had implored her to return to France, to find work there, but she had refused. She had to be here, in Tokyo, in Odaiba.
When he came home, she would be here… in the same apartment. She would not, could not, turn her back to him again.
She could not give up hope, no mother would. That was why she couldn't visit Matt anymore…he and Malcolm had given up, and moved on with their lives.
Nancy could not move on, so she worked, worked harder than she ever had before, until she became the Editor of the political news columns, until she had her own office and a secretary. She ran as fast as she could, because staying in one place was harder than moving on.
Nancy would not give up hope, so she drank when she ran out of work, because hope is blisteringly painful and must be numbed. Malcolm and Matt had despair and it kept them alive and together, a strange sustaining darkness, but she had hope, and although it felt like walking on the sun, painful and beautiful like fire, consuming and destroying, she could not let it go.
The afternoon sunlight shafted lazily through the windows that made up two walls of her office, but Nancy was cool, her air conditioning keeping out the searing heat that came hand-in-hand with the beautiful light. She had her heels kicked off beneath the desk, and was currently staring at the screen, reading the same article for the fifth time, attempting to make the words form meanings in her mind, trying to bend her entire attention to the task at hand.
Her secretary, Sandy, a mother herself with two small children, walked abruptly into the office without knocking, causing Nancy to start up from her chair, with her feet bare and a censure on her lips. The look on the younger woman's face stayed her tongue, however, a look that wanted to be joy, but wasn't sure how to form the correct type of joy, or even if joy was what should be shown.
"Ms. Takaishi—I'm sorry, I'm just, I can't believe—"
Nancy came around the desk, trying to project calm. "Good heavens, Sandy, what is it? Is it your kids?"
The young brunette smiled… yes, joy for this moment, a great and wonderful joy.
"No, Ma'am. It's yours. Your ex-husband called… he said… they found your son."
Later, Nancy would recall that the words had seemed to fall like stones into the sudden pool of quiet around her, like a dream in which the sound rushed into silence so suddenly that her ears rang from the force of it. Then the silence opened up to the sounds beneath her consciousness that welled up around her like thunder, the beat of her heart and the ragged sound of her breathing that drowned out her thoughts.
A voice not her own asked detached questions, as she fumbled beneath her desk to slide her suddenly sweaty feet into her suede pumps, cursing finally and ducking beneath her desk to put them on by hand. Despite Sandy's warning, Nancy slammed her head into the desk on the way up, the hollow thud breaking into her reverie.
Sandy hid a smile behind her hand as Nancy shoved papers into her briefcase, her desk clock and half a bagel following the documents into the case. The harried mother noticed none of this as she instructed the secretary to reschedule all her meetings for that day and the next, and to send all incoming articles to other editors. Finally she was out the door, running through the newsroom as though someone was chasing her, causing many of her co-workers to stare after her retreating form. When they looked towards Sandy for explanation, the circumspect secretary gave them a glare only a mother is capable of, causing them to cringe and return to their tasks. There was no way she was going to tell a room full of reporters that a boy had returned after being missing for twelve years.
With a final glare around the room to stifle any gossip, Sandy sat at her desk with a secret smile to work her way through Nancy's schedule.
TK was sitting in Sergeant Hashiba's office, enduring the curious stares of the other officers, who kept finding excuses to pass the small room, his patience quickly eroding. For identification purposes, he had been fingerprinted and had rubbed a cotton swab inside his cheek for a DNA sample that would be compared to his parents' DNA, which they would donate when they arrived. Most of the cops were taking him at his word, however, and as he sat sipping the weak tea they had given him, he saw the sergeant preparing to question him, with a young woman in a rumpled suit who sat down beside TK as though she was an old friend.
"Well. Takeru. Ahhhhh… I have someone we'd like you to speak to before your parents arrive. Miss Chiyo here is from children's services. She has some important things to discuss with you, about what's going to happen now."
TK looked between the two well-meaning adults, beginning to see that coming home was infinitely more complicated than he'd anticipated.
"Children's services? What do you mean?"
Miss Chiyo smiled at him as if he were five, laying her hand comfortingly on his. "Well, Takeru, there are some things that we'll have to deal with before you can go home with your parents. We'll want you to speak to our therapist, of course, and see a physician, and there is the matter of your schooling, and your citizenship—and, then, we'll have to address the custody issue."
TK eyed her sharply, feigning ignorance of the fact that his parents were divorced. "Custody? What do you mean?"
Miss Chiyo looked uncomfortable, but her well-practiced smile did not falter. "Well, Takeru, I suppose there is no easy way to tell you this… your parents divorced shortly after you were… lost."
TK turned his face away from them quickly, so they wouldn't be able to see that he wasn't shocked. Miss Chiyo reacted exactly as he'd hoped, gripping his hand comfortingly and continuing to speak in her gentlest voice.
"Oh, I know this is an awful shock for you, dear. We'll arrange a custody hearing for as soon as possible, so you'll only be in foster care for a short while—"
Now TK really was shocked, his eyes widening as he tried to jerk his hand away from the woman, who kept it in a tenacious grip. "Foster care! Are you kidding? I spent the last twelve years in foster care! I just want to go home!"
Somewhere during his little tirade he had stood, glaring down on the woman. In the silence that followed the outburst, a single wavering voice spoke hesitantly.
"Oh, god! TK!"
TK's heart skipped a beat at the sound of that voice, and he turned to see his mother standing just outside the office, gripping the doorframe as though her life depended on its support. In that moment, perhaps it did. Behind her, silent but equally shocked, was his father, who showed every sign of having sprinted across the city on foot.
Until that moment, TK had no idea how much he'd missed his parents, how much he'd wanted and wished for his mother through the nightmares, how he'd wished he could remember something, anything about his father. In all the confusion with his Crest and the Digital World, and in his need to be strong to face the fights ahead, he'd almost convinced himself that he didn't need them anymore.
"Mama?"
That was all he had time for before he buried his face in her neck, his tears soaking the shoulder of her suit. She was shaking as she hugged him back, tears streaming down her face, soaking into his hair. Her hands rubbed soothing, comforting circles on his back, and her voice took on the soft, comforting tone every child longs to hear upon waking from a nightmare.
"It's okay, baby, I'm here now. Everything's going to be okay, I promise. Shhh… it's okay, let it out, let it out…"
The office, and indeed the room full of officers beyond it, fell silent as the two hugged fiercely, until TK recovered himself enough to step away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Squeezing his mother's hands comfortingly, he turned to his father. The older Ishida stood somewhat stiffly, wanting to hug his son but unable to interrupt the scene before him. The tall young man who couldn't be his son, so much taller and older than Malcolm ever could have imagined, looked deep into his eyes for a long moment. There was a pause—a hesitation—a moment of silence and uncertainty that stretched eternal, but brief.
The boy—Takeru—smiled. His son!
Malcolm smiled back.
"The miserable have no other medicineBut only hope."
William Shakespeare
Joe had reached that place in his life when education and the harsh realities of the world make it hard to hold onto any sort of faith in a higher calling for humanity. Come too young and too early into the fiercely scientific, often godless world of medicine, a place where words like 'miracle' and 'hope' were heard more often than anyplace other than a church, Joe found that hospitals, like many churches, were places to find much faithfulness and not many results of said faith. It frequently seemed to him that the sicker people were, the harder they prayed, and those faithful people so often died before his eyes.
Too often, and so despite the many miracles he had seen in his life, the great evidence of the forces of good with which he had stood and fought, Joe realized as he entered the hospital that day that he had, somewhere along the line, stopped believing in a lot of things. He slipped into the staff room to change into his blue intern's uniform, clipping his ID card on with a disenchanted sigh, wondering silently when he had switched from saving lives to an almost desperate battle to stop deaths. There was a tremendous difference between the two, he knew, an echoing void that he couldn't remember crossing, suddenly standing, looking back at his lost idealism with the air of a soldier who has forgotten why he's even fighting.
Without bothering to check his appearance in his locker's tiny, utilitarian mirror, he headed out to the nurses' station, looking for a case to help out on. He wasn't a med student yet, technically, so he couldn't handle emergencies or diagnose anything officially, but he could do pre-exam work ups and physicals, saving the nurses and doctors a lot of time for more challenging cases. The emergency room was, as usual, packed with people, who flocked into the many wards in Tokyo during the hot weather, suffering innumerable cases of heat stroke, heart attack, and general injuries. Their combined body heat very nearly overwhelmed the hospital's air conditioning, and the ever present smell of disinfectant and misery was overlaid with a stifling stench of sweat and impatience.
It was going to be a very long afternoon, Joe thought, his natural pessimism getting the better of him. Reaching the desk, he flipped through the charts, perusing them absently while watching a cluster of police officers near exam one with curiosity. Suddenly, a name on one of the charts caused him to start, giving his entire attention to the metal encased folder in his hand.
Ishida Takeru
Age: 15
Height…
He stared at the chart for a long moment, thinking that it had to be someone else. It had to be… there was no way, after twelve years, that—but Matt's parents' addresses were listed, both of them, although the state was named pro-tem guardian. Sure, he'd heard the rumor circulating the destined, that Kari had stolen the Crest of Hope from Matt; that something profound was happening to the code of the digital world. But all that couldn't possibly be centered on one person, or two people if you counted Kari in the equation, which Joe felt instinctively he should. Nothing made sense, but Joe felt the answer was before him somehow, and he smiled as he remembered Izzy describing a similar feeling just the other day when monitoring the digital world.
Suddenly possessed of a deep desire to see this for himself, to know, once and for all what was true, Joe grasped the chart and headed resolutely towards exam one. The chart indicated that Takeru needed a physical examination, a blood test, and several other routine lab tests, all things that Joe was empowered to do.
The chart and an efficient, official manner got him past the officers and Matt's parents, neither of whom recognized him although they'd each met him more than once. Pulling the starchy white curtain shut behind him, Joe looked at the boy seated before him on the gurney, set in stark relief by the harsh clinical lighting of the hospital. The boy did bear a striking resemblance to Matt, similar in build and coloring to the Bearer of Friendship. Then dark blue eyes swung up to meet his, and the resemblance faded. Recognition lit the bright eyes, and a smile blossomed on the face of the younger boy, dispelling the last of the resemblance to Matt.
"Joe!"
The intern in question started, and then squinted at his nametag to see the name printed there… yes, it still only bore his family name. There was no way this boy could have known the name only a few of his closest friends and family knew. Not even his co-workers called him that.
Maintaining a professional tone, he asked, "I'm sorry, have I met you somewhere?"
TK's smile dimmed slightly, but he answered in a confident, if quieter voice. "I was… I went to the Digital World. I know… all of it. I barely survived all of it, but I know. God help me, I know."
"Hope is the struggle of the soul, breaking loose from what is perishable, and attesting her eternity."
Herman Melville
TK watched Joe's face while he assimilated this statement, wondering what was running through the older boy's mind at that moment. He gave him a minute longer to think, and then asked the question that had been bothering him for a while. He knew he could get an honest answer from Joe, unlike Kari who might try to protect him from the harsher facts.
"Joe… what happened to my brother?"
Joe almost lost his grip on the chart he was holding, his face draining of color like water running through loose earth. "Oh my God, it's really you! But—how—what—how—?"
TK sighed inwardly, knowing in his heart that he couldn't answer those questions, not even for himself. So he answered as truthfully as he could, hoping to pull Joe back to his original question. "Matt needs me… and they're finally letting me help him. But before I can do that, I have to understand what's happened here."
Joe smiled wryly at the teen, his disbelief and awe fading into a different, nervous feeling, almost like anticipation. "I don't know if I'm the best one to help you with that. I can't say I fully understand all that has happened. To put it briefly, Matt and Tai never found a common ground, except maybe their mutual attraction for Sora… and then…"
TK's eyes filled with understanding and remorse. "And the Sora chose Tai. I see… I don't think I can fix that… maybe if Matt accepts me…"
Regaining his equilibrium, Joe smiled at this. "Are you kidding? Matt will be thrilled when he sees you! I wish I could be there to see his face… what's wrong?"
His eyes full of a deep grief, TK whispered a soft reply. "He's already… he wasn't thrilled to see me. He just wasn't ready for me. I don't think… I shouldn't have gone to him first… but I just couldn't, I wanted… Oh, never mind, it will all work out in the end."
Suddenly understanding, Joe laid a comforting, brotherly hand on TK's shoulder. "Hang on to that attitude, Takeru. Not because you're Hope and you should, but because believing it will make it true. Believing it may be the only thing that will make it true… look at what Kari did with a little bit of hope. Imagine what you could do with more. Make it true, TK. Make it forever."
The Crest of Hope warmed under TK's shirt, echoing Joe's words silently to the boy. The blond smiled softly, grasping the hand on his shoulder warmly. "When did you get so wise?"
"You asked me for advice. Far be it from me to let you, or anyone, down."
TK's smile warmed further as he released Joe's hand, the light of his Crest becoming visible to the older boy for a brief moment. "Good old, reliable Joe. I don't understand how people can keep underestimating you, but I know I won't again."
Blushing straight across his nose, Joe fumbled slightly with the chart he'd forgotten he was holding. Honestly, he didn't know where his sudden change in attitude had come from… when he had arrived at work that day, he would never have had those wise words for anyone. Make it forever? What had he even meant by that? Shaking himself, he focused on his professional obligations, a technique that never failed him in awkward situations.
"Well, ahem, we should get on with the examination, and then I'll have to get a blood sample and a urine sample. Could you please remove your shirt?"
An oddly familiar, shuttered expression crossed TK's face, and after a brief hesitation he complied with the command. It wasn't until the tan back was exposed to him, with its thin threads of white scarring creating a horribly telling pattern that Joe recognized the expression. It was the look of an abuse victim who has unwillingly accepted that their secret is no longer their own. Matching white scars laced up the boy's wrists and lower arms… restraint scars… defensive wounds… he'd fought back. For himself, perhaps for all of them, he'd fought back.
TK was tense, obviously waiting for some concerned question or exclamation of horror. Joe was silent for a long moment, breathing deeply and willing his composure not to abandon him. "You know, I think it's you that we've all been underestimating."
Questioning eyes met his, but his steady expression refused to falter. A sturdy expression of pride and understanding, a look from one warrior to another, a gaze that acknowledged the scars as evidence of a battle won, not lost. Joe was not without scars of his own, after all.
TK said nothing as Joe continued in a business-like manner, "I'll need to photograph those for the report before we move on… you'll have to decide on a story to tell the police."
Nodding firmly, TK spoke softly. "That's fine… I'll think of something."
"You save yourself or you remain unsaved."
Lucky Alice SeboldLate that evening, he was back in the Jesuit monastery, the most convenient place for Children's Services to send him. When his blood tests came back, he would be forced to decide between his parents, a choice he hadn't had in that alternate past. A choice he wasn't sure he was capable of making… his father and brother, or his mother? Matt needed saving, but so did his mother, in her own way. How had it fallen down to this? How much could one person really change? Could he really stand against a tide that was so obviously against him?
How could he help them when he could barely get himself to sleep at night?
Swiftly walking through the darkened corridors, he climbed up into the bell tower, fearlessly scaling out of the window on the last landing and onto the chapel roof, settling himself against the gentle slope. He'd e-mailed Kari from the hospital so she'd know where he was and why he couldn't meet her.
Kari… there was a whole different set of problems, ones that he couldn't even begin to approach.
Laying back, he gazed up at the dark blue sky above him, with its few stars still visible through the lights of the city. The humid air was filled with the sounds of millions of people living on top of each other, the noise of voices and music and cars and so many, many lives lived simultaneously and independently in such a small area. The sky darkened and evening fell around him, and TK struggled to find his faith as he watched those lonely stars fighting against the light of the city.
It didn't feel like coming home.
And he didn't feel hopeful.
Or strong… or wise… he just felt… alone.
In the growing quiet of the night, TK stared up at the heavens from his high perch between sculpted angels and gargoyles, feeling abandoned and unmoored between the great plans of good and the lingering turmoil of evil. He felt like those stars, alone in the cold sky… lost between dark and light… neither helping him, both pushing him away from what he wanted to be…
"I don't know what to do… I don't know how to fix this… it still hurts and I still have nightmares and the dark still scares me and… and… and I wish I knew what you want from me. I don't think I can do this… not alone… I don't even have Matt anymore and it's not fair! It's not! Matt needs saving and my mother needs saving and the world needs saving and I can't even save myself! What am I supposed to DO?"
His voice broke and he covered his face with his hands, continuing softly, "I need help… I need someone to help me through this…"
"I'll help you, TK," spoke a small voice from beside him.
TK sat up so quickly he almost slid right off the roof, just catching himself before the four-story drop. The small digimon that had appeared beside him squeaked in alarm at his sudden movement, jumping into the boy's lap as though to secure him onto the roof.
"Patamon! How did—when did you get here?"
Patamon stared up at his partner with misty eyes, a wistful smile on his chubby little face. "I heard everything you said… you don't have to be afraid anymore, TK. I'll protect you, that's what I'm here for! I'll always be there to save you…"
He trailed off as TK shut his eyes, breathing shakily for a few long moments, his face hard to read in the gathering dark. When the boy finally opened his eyes they were suspiciously bright, and his voice was just a shade less than steady when he replied.
"You have no idea how much I needed to hear that right now."
Patamon merely buried his face in TK's shirt, breathing in the scent of his partner that, despite the many changes in his appearance, hadn't changed at all in twelve years. They stayed that way for a long moment, with TK petting the digimon comfortingly until the small creature was capable of replying.
"You have no idea how much I needed to say it."
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