Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or any of its characters. This applies to every single Digmon story I write on F.F. Net. End of story.

Watching

She watched. Oh, she had watched for a long time now. Seen little things changing. Tried so hard to pretend they weren't there. Tried so hard to pretend everything was as happy as it had been before. But that was all bullshit and she knew it. Nothing was the same. Not one little thing…and all she could do was watch.

It was little things that bothered her at first. Like how he went out so much more often. Out into the big city shining with so many lights that the stars were obscured filled with so many bars where people sang and danced and drank and forgot their sorrows. While she sat at home and drank a cup of coffee to keep her awake until he came home, looking out into that big bright city, that held so many secrets, so many troubles, so many loves. Yet when he'd come home to her in the night and give her a kiss and say he loved her she'd tell herself that it was the same. That this was all she needed. And if that were so she'd wonder why she started watching?

After that it was the private conversations on the mobile phone. A glance, a smile at her, a smile that didn't really meet his eyes. "You don't mind do you honey? Only for a few minutes?"

And of course she'd nod and tell him to go- go talk to whoever was waiting on that phone line for him. She knew he was a busy man, a man who had lots of contacts, lots of people whom he needed to talk to, talk to on those long cold winter nights when she wished he'd be curled up next to her like they used to be. All the same she wondered why he couldn't talk to them in front of her. If nothing was changing why were so many things different? Despite it all she never listened, she only watched.

Soon it was no one little thing. It was millions; some so subtle she wondered if she would have noticed if she hadn't been watching. Was she watching too closely? Was she going crazy? Possessive? Or was she unwilling to see what was in front of her eyes? Phone numbers in his jeans pocket of strange women with fancy foreign names like Jade and Scarlett. Messages on the phone from sultry sounding females asking him to call them back…soon. And once, so fleeting it was barely a memory, her sitting alone at a teashop waiting for him and then seeing him walk by with someone else. Looking cool and poised and yet making her heart beat so fast just as it had all those years ago. Of course it might not have been him. It could have been someone painfully alike; because of course what would he have been doing with a girl? A pretty, beautiful girl with a curvy figure and a smile that clearly said she was no amateur. That was stupid. But for someone who watched so closely she couldn't have been mistaken, could she?

It had to happen in the end she convinced herself. How long could it go on without her heart breaking anyway? But she'd rather have stayed with him like that then be alone like this. Funny wasn't it? Her, with all her pride and power was reduced to that by him, a pathetic little heap that grovelled at his feet. She felt a stirring of something within her; at least he'd never know that. It had been humiliating really. She should have confronted him and then at least she could have walked out straight away. Ready, prepared, going to take on the world. Though at the moment she seriously doubted she could take on even her small empty flat. Another flat, another time. There were so many sweet memories, so very many. At least she had that now. One thing that she could hold, cherish, dream of. So very many dreams ripped away, so very few things left. She remembered him laughing as he led the girl in, unlocking the door, the girl giggling, her sitting frozen on the bed. A childish voice saying, "So I finally get to see your room."

His deep voice replying, "Does the environment really matter?"

At that point was when she thought she should cry. It would have been the right time, the right place, and hell! Even the right reason to do it! And the first thing that could come out of his stupid mouth when he saw her was…"I thought you were going out."

Hilarious really. She shouldn't have been thinking about crying but about laughing. Except that she was too busy watching, watching him so intently that she forgot for a second why she hated him and remembered why she loved him instead. And then that girl coughed and she stopped broken out of her reverie, out of her visions of past and of future, but not of the present. Present hurt too much. She didn't want to make a scene anymore; scenes were too childish. It was too late anyway. "I'll pack," was all she said softly and then there was silence while she threw her things in her bag. She was gone in half an hour. And for a change, for that half an hour it was him watching her.

Of course he came to her later. Tried to talk to her, reason with her but his words fell on deaf ears. She stared at him harder then ever, willing the tears not to fall, warning her eyes to guard her emotions. He was so close to her, so very close and it shocked and frightened her how much she still wanted him. How nice it felt to see his warm body close to hers. So she opened her mouth at last, let her words rain like poison darts around him. Pricking and pricking and pricking. She wondered if he knew how much it hurt her to say those words, she wondered if it hurt him at all to hear her say them. He grabbed her then and kissed her hard, eyes blazing and she didn't struggle, didn't move, just hung limply in his arms. That was when he pulled away and stared and for a moment, just a second she something flicker in his eyes. Something like yearning, shame and…and love. She grabbed his arm as he turned but it was too late. He was never one to beg for what he couldn't have. Indeed it amazed her that he'd come this far but what was the point? She sat there dull and glassy-eyed staring at the door.

She decided to buy a dog. Something that would love her unconditionally with no strings attached. It would follow her around and she would put her arms around it and hold it tight. For those few moments maybe she could pretend everything was all right. Even though it was for once painfully obvious that it was not.

She still watched him, but not the same way of course, in a curious kind of way as if to say 'well it's a different perspective at least.' And while she watched him her heart told her she still loved him and his eyes told her he still loved her…but her eyes recoiled. Backed away from what they had one sought, ran from the thought of going through it again. Told her to give up. Told her to stop.

And so though it took a horrendous amount of will power she closed her heart, closed her eyes…and stopped watching.

O.K...That was pretty intense and pretty weird. I just had an urge to try and write a good angst fic. A fic that like a few out there left me stunned, miserable and with this queer little ache in my heart. I don't fancy myself as an angsty cliche fic-writer but maybe this fic was a bit like that. I really don't know so please tell me. I hope she didn't sound too stalkerish though because that's not what I meant. No specified couple but guess who I'm thinking of and be smart. And no it's not a particularly hard guess. Anyway enjoy and tell me all this stories terrible faults (and good points) in a review. Cheerio!

P.S. No she did NOT commit suicide or die. She simply let go of him and moved on. I didn't want to make it that melodramatic.