My Little Big Sister

I don't own Digimon.

Author's note: No, I'm not AWOL. I have decided, after much thought and dilemma, that I like this story too much to let it slip, despite an incident surrounding it. You know who you are, and I'm sorry—I admire your writing, honest…

To Kay, this has to be said before I go on. Look, I appreciate your reviews so don't think that I don't. But if you want to guess at the future plot, for heaven's sake do it by e-mail. My address is silverstar1809 (at) yahoo. co. uk, it couldn't be much easier than that. See, I don't know if you realise but everyone can see the reviews you send, not just me. I have had to delete another review of yours, which I really didn't want to! Look, you're right. OK? Now please stay quiet.

That sorted, on with the show.

Bi: You haven't let me get a word in edgeways for the whole of this story!

RD: I thought you were meant to be filing my videotapes?

Bi: I got bored. Demidevimon's doing it.

RD: Okay, but keep quiet.

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Chapter Four/Second Interlude

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In a distant part of the Digiworld, Tai was lying still awake. The other Digidestined lay sleeping around him. Even TK, worried and confused, had been unable to keep his eyes open.

As he heard footsteps on the grass and a buzzing above, he tensed. But the fear faded at the sight of Hika and Izzy, Tentomon flying over them. "Hey, you took a while," he whispered, smiling. "Do you realise what time it is?"

Izzy sat down a little way away, his Digimon flying to his arms. Hika silently found a sleeping-space somewhere between Tai and TK. Before he could ask her where she'd been, she was lost in sleep.

A frown transformed the young woman's face for a minute or two, then gave way to the return of her triumphant smile. Tai lay down again, wondering what his new friend could be dreaming about tonight.

…………………………

The young girl, no more than eleven at the oldest, ran silently through the scattered bricks and glass that still littered this part of the city. Light on her feet and quick of thought, she was constantly on the lookout for danger. A smaller figure followed her, tensed as she was, staying at her heels and dodging the shards of glass beneath their feet. Hika too was barefoot, until she could find a pair of shoes to fit her; it worsened the limp in her left leg, the last thing she needed, but she had other things to worry about.

She didn't know what she was looking for, exactly, but she'd been told that she would know it when she found it. Two nights already she'd searched and failed. It was crucial that she didn't fail again this time.

For three years Hika had been a survivor. Knowing how to keep her head down, accepting all that had gone before, locking memories away if there was a chance they might hurt, honouring the past but knowing it was lost forever, she was a rare child of her time. But it was winter now, the coldest in many years. Two weeks ago she'd slipped on ice and now her bad leg was more of a burden. And her closest friend—Hika still used the word 'boyfriend' in the privacy of her mind, a word that made no sense here but had implications to the little eleven-year-old—was ill now, lying back home under the bridge, cared for—of course—but unable to come with her. There was no choice. She had had to seek help.

Someone had told her a name, and to her surprise it had struck a forgotten chord. The search was dangerous, of course, and she often didn't get home until the treacherous hours of the morning. But she wasn't alone and she wouldn't despair. She would find it.

Now she was facing a metal grille in the cobbled pavement, apparently belonging to the long deserted house above. She looked around carefully, then tapped it with a ringing sound that echoed somewhere below.

There was silence, which she'd expected. Hika took a long-saved notebook and pencil from her pocket and wrote on the top page in the untidy scrawl of an eight-year-old—the handwriting she'd been left with—"Please, let me in."

She dropped the note into the dark depths, between the bars of the grille. Silently she counted the seconds. When she reached one hundred and fifteen, a voice called up out of the blackness.

"Who's that? Who's there?"

"I need help," she answered as loudly as she dared. "You've got to let me in."

The next words were the cover she'd expected. "This is a warehouse, not a soup kitchen. Who are you and what do you want? Human or Digimon?"

"Human. Do you own this place?" Hika called.

"I do." The voice was slightly quieter.

"You have to let me in," she repeated. "My friend is sick. We're alone. Someone told me I could come to you." There was only silence in response. "Hello?"

"I don't know if I can trust you." There was honesty in the tone this time.

"I know your name," she called by way of password.

"A lot of people do. So what?"

Hika took a breath of cold midnight air, and inspiration came. "What if I told you I knew your nickname? The one your friends used to call you?"

"You couldn't." She sensed surprise. "All right, if you're so clever. Write it down and throw it down here."

A few pencil marks were all it took. She tore the page from the notebook, folded it roughly and dropped the paper into the dark.

There was the sound of movement, no longer so far below. Hika grinned to herself. Childhood nicknames were like a codeword these days, something no-one could guess and few could know.

The grille slid upwards and she found herself looking into the eyes of a boy her age, his dark hair ruffled and his clothes untidy—but then, Hika mentally scolded, she looked no better herself. He stared at her, then at her companion in panic. "You never told me you'd brought a--"

"She's harmless. I promise." Hika was quick to temper his fears. The boy continued to gaze at her.

"Do I know you?" he asked eventually.

She shook her head. "But you were friends with… someone I used to know." Without another word, she brought her hand to her forehead to show him. She took a step back instinctively as his eyes followed, as if she expected him to challenge her, to deny her right to be influenced by the past. He didn't.

"You'd better come in."

The old underground warehouse was shadowed, but in a strange way it felt cosy. A lilac-haired girl was sitting on a stack of wooden crates, mending something mechanical in a pool of candlelight. "Hi," she said, looking up. "He let you in, did he? I'm impressed." Further along a corridor, someone was humming softly, the tune echoing against the walls.

"You, girl?" She looked up and saw the boy who'd let her in. "You said you had a sick friend. Where are they? I'll go get them."

Hika sat down and let the distant sounds flow over her. She was safe...

"Hika, wake up!" The shout was like a blow to the girl's eardrums. "Hika!"

TK was shaking her, an expression of panic on his face. "We gotta get out of here! Come on!"

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Well, there you have it. Sorry if it wasn't worth the wait.

Child-of-Darkness1988: We aren't the same person... although that sounds like a fanfic idea in itself.

Flipstahhz: How's your long-suffering computer? Thanks for the review. (Though I'd rather you were working on your own fics than reviewing mine... how many cliffhangers is that you've got me on now?)

Moezy-chan: Thanks, I think.