Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.

When they say you're
not that strong
Well you're not that weak
It's not your fault
When you climb up to your hill
Up to your place
I hope you're well
There's nothing left to prove
Nothing I won't do
Nothing like the pain
I feel for you
Nothing left to hide
Nothing left to fear
I am always here

-"Not Enough," Our Lady Peace

Not Enough
Chapter Eight

When Taichi reached the loft, he stepped inside and was faced by an amount of panic previously unknown to mankind. Takeru was pacing up and down, cursing with every step, face contorted in worry for his older brother. Taichi sighed; Takeru and Yamato could be very protective of each other since their parents divorced when they were kids. Yamato went with their father and Takeru was taken care of by their mother. The two brothers hardly ever got to spend time with each other and now when something happened to either of them, all hell broke loose.

Daisuke was trying to get Takeru to calm down but was met with very little success. Jyou, who knew better, merely sat quietly on the couch, eyes trained on the stressed blonde man. With another sigh, Taichi closed the door with a snap and the other three looked up at him.

A small bit of relief appeared on Takeru's face. "Tai! Sora called again. She said Yamato got a bad case of the flu and they're keeping him at Mimi's place in Kyoto." He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "I'd go see him but I can't get off work."

Jyou nodded in agreement and Daisuke commented, "I can't lose another job." The wild haired brunette sighed again, "I'll go." Takeru finally collapsed on the couch, running a hand through his golden locks, and Daisuke punched him lightly on the arm.

Taichi then called his boss who gave him about a week off since he almost never took a day off and after hanging up booked tickets on the earliest flight leaving for Kyoto which would be in the morning, After ending that call he walked into his room and began piling clothes into a duffle bag.

It wasn't until he had almost finished packing did he realize that he'd have to see Mimi.

He hated flying. Take offs and landings made him nauseas, the flight attendants irritated him with their fake cheerfulness, the in-flight movie didn't have a plot, the instructions about the safety equipment were idiotic ( mostly because the written directions had a line that said: "If you cannot read this, ask your flight attendant."), and the meals were disgusting. After a longer than necessary flight (it was delayed leaving and landing due to weather) he stumbled outside…to pouring rain.

In less than a minute he was soaked through to his skin and stood waiting in line for a taxi. His teeth were clenched from both the cold and the thought of Mimi and he had to stand still for twenty minutes. He finally got a mumbling driver that proved while lacking in the conversational arts could outrace a NASCAR driver.

During that brief ten minute drive, Taichi was positive he had prayed more in that short amount of time than ever before. He stumbled out, heart pounding in his throat, and after he practically threw the money at the man, the taxi sped off, narrowly avoiding crashing into a Jeep pulling out of a parking spot.

As soon as he could breathe normally again he studied Mimi's apartment building. It was one of those expensive high rise buildings for the rich and famous complete with a snooty doorman. Mimi lived in the penthouse apartment.

He strode inside, head held high, as the thirty-something doorman stuck his nose up at Taichi's disheveled appearance. The elevator was working, thank God, and he rode lost in thought up to the last floor.

As he walked down the hall towards Mimi's door his good hearing picked up the faint sound of two people having a conversation. More specifically Michael and Mimi speaking to each other. His ears pricked, he heard Michael say, "I don't know how you do it, Mimi. I hate writing anything longer than a few sentences."

"Then it's a good thing this is my job and not yours."

He snickered and quietly knocked on the door. From the other side there were a few more lines of conversation, a faint rustling noise, and the sound of feet approaching. The next second the door had been opened and Mimi stood staring at his drenched form in shock.

The two just looked at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say, before Mimi stepped aside for him to enter. He kicked his shoes off and did his best not to drip on the white carpet as the two went into the living room. Michael was sitting on a reclining chair and Sora was curled up on the couch watching a wide screen television.

They turned around and Michael arched an eyebrow at the state Taichi was in while Sora paled. "Tai, what the hell?" she gasped. "The last thing we need is you getting sick too."

Before he could answer his vision was obscured as a soft, pink towel hit him square in the face. He gingerly picked it off his face and narrowed his eyes at Mimi who stared definitely back at him. "Dry off and change your clothes. You're dripping water all over my apartment."

He grumbled under his breath as the female brunette pointed to the bathroom but decided while the sentiment was a little less than noble there was sense in changing into a dry set of clothes. As soon as he locked himself inside it and was out of ear-shot, Mimi went back to typing on her laptop while Michael rolled his eyes.

"What's he doing here? Don't tell me he came all the way over here to see how Yamato was." Sora nodded and he smirked. "Idiot. He didn't have to come all this way, especially in a storm. Yamato's going to get better in a day or two anyway."

The auburn haired woman glared at him. "I think it's sweet he came al the way here to see his friend."

The actor glared back. "Whatever. Mimi, what'd you think? Isn't it idiotic?"

She ignored both of them as her attention was split between the computer screen and the bathroom where Taichi was.

Author's Notes: Yamato's going to be in the next chapter. As well as some Sorato fluff and more Mimi and Taichi interaction. Please read and review.