Lost Not Forever

I don't own Digimon.

A/N

I think you deserve to know how this idea came about, even if it doesn't get any further off the ground.

While sorting through a bunch of papers, I came across some notes I'd made when I was about fourteen (and newly in possession of my Biyomon). I suppose it was fan fiction, of a sort, written just after I'd found out the first series was going to come to an end. To be honest it was ghastly: melodramatic (by MY standards!), OOC and Ishida-dazzled. Besides, the physics were shaky at best and it didn't fit in with 02.

So I left it. To be forgotten, until now…

Four years later, I'm going to add some new ideas and give it a chance.. And yes, it will sound a bit like My Little Big Sister at first, but I hope they'll soon diverge. The first chapter is actually based on a picture I saw somewhere.

Bi: Oh, be quiet and get on with it, Dream.

RD: What are you doing here?

Bi: Whatcha think? Listening to you.

Prologue: Not Forgotten

Her mobile 'phone rang, softly but distinctly, as she walked along the street that led to her school. Struggling with the paper-wrapped bundles in her arms, she managed to answer it.

"Hello? Yes, I'll be there in a little while. You think I'd forget about it? See you in a few minutes."

Pocketing the 'phone, she broke into a jog, brushing her fringe out of her eyes. The sunlight against the windows of the building was dazzling her as she entered. He was there already, standing in the corridor with his hands in his pockets. Beside him was a half-open locker, the key still in its keyhole.

"Glad you made it. Love the dress." He smiled.

"It's for the school party. Later tonight? Don't tell me you'd forgotten." She opened the locker door, revealing the hum of a set-up computer.

A scanner lay in front of the lit-up machinery. They both knew what it was, even if they couldn't put words around it. It was a connection, but one that didn't actually go anywhere; a link to nowhere.

Kneeling down to put her bundle on the floor, she withdrew some of the contents. They were flowers, freshly bought that day, some with a few drops of water still on their petals. Of course, he had an identical collection rustling in his arms.

"Whose turn is it to go first?" she asked. "I did it last year- no, hang on, was it you?"

"You go first, but do someone else," he suggested. "They'd understand we didn't want to fight about it."

It was a little ritual. From the crackle of white paper she selected a single pink carnation with a card tied to its stem. Holding it at arm's length, she read the handwritten note aloud.

"This is for you. You carried me home, but I could never have you for keeps. I still miss you and I always will."

With an air of reverence she placed the carnation against the scanner. With a flicker of red light it vanished from the echoing corridor.

The first flower that came to her friend's hand was slate-blue, with its own water-smudged message. He took it in a gentle grasp and read the note.

"This is for you. You looked after me and the others as long as you could. I still miss you and I always will."

Taking turns, they lifted one bright bloom after the other and read the words before sending the flowers into computer oblivion. The next was a delicate pink with its green bud still half-enclosing it.

"This is for you. You would have liked to be here tonight. I still miss you and I always will."

A violet-coloured flower with a sweet scent.

"This is for you. I'm glad you never knew how we lost the technology. I still miss you and I always will."

One that was pure white, with tiny flashes of pink like rose-tinted flames.

"This is for you. We should have been together forever. I still miss you and I always will."

Following her lead, he took a cream-coloured blossom and held it to the light.

"This is for you. We were the perfect team. I still miss you and I always will."

A ruby-red flower shed drops of rainwater as she lifted it.

"This is for you. I never had an older sister, but you were pretty close. I still miss you and I always will."

Now the two of them held hands, needing the unspoken support that flowed between them. Silently he took out the final flower from his bundle, a perfect summer blue.

"This is for you. We weren't together like we should have been, but I guess I always thought there'd be time. I still miss you and I always will."

She held her last flower to the scanner's light with an unsteady hand. It seemed to shine gold in the half-lit corridor.

"This is for you. I hope I'll always have what it takes to be like you. I still miss you and I always will."

That was it. Crumpling the scattered paper, she let go his hand and shut the locker, as if embarrassed. Then she made as if to leave.

"All right," he called after her, almost too lightly. "I suppose I'd better find something to wear for this school party. I'll never hear the last of it if I miss it."

Turning, she asked the question that she asked every time. "Do you suppose we'll ever see the... that place again?"

He gave the usual answer. "You know what he said. If something's meant to be, it'll find a way."

Almost herself again, she giggled, and he couldn't tell if it was false. "Whatever that means. Now come on, we really shouldn't be up here."

The two children, boy and girl, hurried down the stairs into the still-light evening.

Someone interested? Frustrated? With two minutes to kill? Flipstahhz? Someone bored, annoyed, whatever? You know what to do. Only please leave your flamethrowers at the door.

Bi: Yes, or I'll sabotage them.