Déjà vu
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain.
Prologue
"Goodbye!"
Those words… They had been repeated countless times as they waved goodbye to their partners. No: their friends.
They were given a promise of going home. Back home: to comfy beds and parents; to schools and studies that you always thought were useless; to comforts that you always took for granted. Back home: away from the chaos of monsters and away from Dark Masters and ultimate enemies. Away from their digital friends.
Their goodbyes had been painful. Yet there were promises that they would return and once more see their friends. Somehow, those promises were hard to believe. The older Chosen had said goodbye as if forever. They thought it was forever. The believed it was forever. They were wrong. She knew they were wrong. If kismet had let them meet, then kismet would reunite them once more. Then they could meet once more. Then there would be no more tears and goodbyes because they could always come back.
She hoped it was true.
He hoped the same.
The two had made a promise to their partners that they would return. Or at least he did. She knew she was coming back to the joyous place.
Tailmon had seemed skeptical to her claim and held the whistle to close, as a reminder of her. Patamon, naïve as Takeru, had believed him.
They boarded the trolley. They waved and cried as it floated up to the eclipse. The waved and cried and curled up to each other. They cried and waved and confided in each other. They had changed. They had grown up. They were friends. True friends.
So as the bus soared through the sky, they cried. Even strong Taichi whose chocolate eyes were brimming with tears that rolled over caramel skin. Even cool Yamato whose sapphire eyes never looked lighter than they did now while crystal tears ran down his sharp features. Mature Jyou whose glasses were dotted as if cold rain had fallen on them. Motherly Sora whose tears fell from ruby eyes and soaked already dampened gloves. Composed Koushiro who guarded his laptop from the drip-drops that trailed down his cheeks. Sensitive Mimi who sobbed quietly as memories ran through her mind. And of course little Takeru and Hikari who hugged their respective big brothers just hoping their promises weren't short lived.
And the trolley soared, the sound of metal cutting through air and the occasional tick of a rusty door hinge creaking as the door beat against the bus drowned out by children's sobs of both joy and pain.
Until a bright light -piercing white yet unusually cool- engulfed the vehicle and the bus came to a halt.
The sobs subsided. There was silence. Until the children stepped out of the bus.
They held their breath and closed their eyes uncertain of what might happen. They grasped their digivices tightly in sweaty palms. Then: the 'swoosh' of the automated door opening; the blast of warm air flooding their sense. And only one dared to step out and beckoned the others to follow.
They did so and breathed in the unusually fresh air. Inhaled the sweet aroma of the world. Opened their eyes.
And gasped.
They weren't home.
They were in the exact same place.
Still in the Digimon world. Still not home. Still in a place of danger.
A Seadramon lurched out towards them, threatening roar echoing through out their souls. The serpent paused, in mid air- half submerged and twisted into a ready position to strike. It's golden head turned up towards the sun and another growl echoed through their souls. Its head did not face them. It was turned half to the side as it dipped through the water.
They stood, dumb-founded and afraid. Their skin pale and their palms sweating. Their digivices were useless without partners. The same went for the crests within them. They held their breath hoping that the serpent would ignore them.
The Seadramon lurched once more, diving into the water and whipping its tail. It leaped up but not towards them and them steadied. It twisted its body to a strike position and turned its huge lumbering head towards the children. For a moment the serpent's eyes, cold to them, met with the varying shades of the chosen.
Time froze and the serpents labored breath was head through the silence. The serpent whipped its tail aimlessly through the cold water and droplets of it slammed onto the Chosen's faces.
The Seadramon roared once more turning its head towards them. Glaring at them distastefully. The Chosen really did try to move. They really did try to run. Every instinct in their bodies told them to do so. The things that told them when to stay and fight; the things that told them to run when it was appropriate to do so. Everything said to do so.
But their bodies resisted the urge to do so and they stood: as pale as sheets, as cold as ice and as still as statues.
They weren't home.
Still in the Digimon world. Still not home. Still in a place of danger.
And this time there were no partners to defend them.
