A.N.: Okay, another update! I've had the second half of this written for almost a week now, and I've been struggling to work out where it slots in. I think this is about the best place for it. So, rather than hold onto this chapter, here you go! I've practically been throwing words at Scrivener this week, so I may as well share the bounty.

I also want to continue my thanks to everyone reading and reviewing/favouriting/following! I know this story has been keeping everyone in the dark about a lot of stuff for quite a while now, and I promise we're getting closer to some answers. I have to admit, it's been really hard to resist giving hints to those of you making guesses about what's going on!

As always, feedback is very welcome, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading the story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. (Do let me know if anything terribad leaps out at you. I proof-read these chapters, but I am faaar from perfect, and I do miss things)

~TottWriter

For a minute, Takeru thought he wouldn't answer. Perhaps he wasn't even there - maybe it was all a hallucination.

"I'm not sure I can answer that," came the eventual reply. Koushiro spoke between long pauses for breath. "It seems… every time I think I know what's going on, something changes."

They lay in silence for a while longer. Eventually, the lumps of wood poking into him became too much to bear. Groaning, he tried to sit up. Something under him shifted. His eyes darted around him, trying to make sense of the shapes he could see. Light filtered in through the hole they had made in the roof, but their surroundings were still shrouded in darkness. From his position, he couldn't see the door. Wooden spars and other debris were piled around him, as though he lay in the centre of a crater.

"I think I'm stuck," he said at last. "If I move, this lot might come down on top of me."

Koushiro swore. That was a surprise in and of itself. Koushiro was one of the politest people he knew. If he was worried enough to start cursing, that had to be a bad thing.

"What about you?" he asked the older boy. "If you can get up, you can see where we are. I think we landed in the engine shed, but I didn't really have time to make sure of that."

Timber creaked and groaned to his left. Takeru twisted his neck awkwardly trying to see - he'd landed slightly on his right side, which didn't help. It was just as well Jou had bandaged his shoulder thoroughly - he could feel splintered wood and shingles beneath him.

"I think… no. It's all pretty precarious," said Kousiro's voice. "I can move a little, and I can see what looks like a platform of some sort, but if I attempt to reach it, I think the rest will collapse. My arm doesn't feel too good, either. I don't know that I would be able to grip well enough with it." There was a pause. "How big is this building?"

Takeru closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Pretty big. I know there was more than one train in here, and some pretty old coaches. And.. There was a bit off to the side, like a building inside a building. The top of it was covered in boxes."

"Okay. I see boxes. We must be on that structure, or close to it."

"Patamon's with you, right Koushiro? He could look and see."

Silence. "He's not awake, Takeru," Koushiro said at last. "I think it's taking all his energy not to de-digivolve again. In all probability, he hasn't recovered from your last fight yet."

There was nothing he could say to that. Instead, he tried to roll further onto his right-hand side, slowly and painstakingly twisting his body so that he remained in the same spot. Every now and then something would creak ominously, making him freeze up again, but at last he lay on his stomach, able to peer downwards through a gap in the rubble.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness - he'd been staring up at the stars for too long. What he saw when they did wasn't a huge comfort - open air lay beneath him, with the floor some six feet or so below. Some of the larger struts had blocked their descent, but there was little to hold them in place now.

"I think we need a new plan," he said. "I think we're partly over the edge of that office area. I can see one of the engines nearby. I'll bet the big beams are wedged between that and the office."

"Can you reach your D-Terminal?" Koushiro asked. "We know Taichi was on his way here. If he can find us, Greymon or even Tailmon might be able to help us out of this mess."

"I can try," Takeru replied. I might need to roll onto my back again first though."

"Okay. Be careful. I'm pretty sure Yamato would kill me if I let you get any more injured than you are right now."

He froze. There was silence for a moment. He didn't want to think about his brother - it was hard enough staying calm as it was, and he needed to. He'd be buried under a pile of debris if he screwed up now.

"Shit. I'm sorry Takeru," Koushiro said. "That was an exceedingly insensitive thing for me to say. But, he's safe, wherever he is. He has to be."

"No thanks to me," Takeru replied, twisting his shoulders so that he rested on the left. "It was me, wasn't it? My message?"

Koushiro didn't reply. He didn't have to.

"If I hadn't sent it, he would have been fine." He eased his left arm forwards, trying to find something stable to hold onto, and winced as the burn on his hand knocked into something with a sharp edge. "I put him in danger. He could be worse off than we are right now, and it's because of me."

"I should have warned you," Koushiro replied. His voice was leaden. "It wasn't your fault. He sent me a message saying not to contact him, and I didn't pass that message on. If you're going to blame anyone, blame me."

It would be nice to blame someone else, a part of him thought. To alleviate at least some of the guilt. Could he be angry at Koushiro? He looked around him, at the mess he lay in the middle of. Despite his best efforts, pieces of the debris had fallen to the ground below as he moved. Even as he started shifting his legs, something by his feet slipped, and dropped to the floor with a crash. Silence fell in its wake; the only sound that of their still-uneven breaths. How long would it be before the rest of this pile of rubble collapsed?

"You probably should have told me, Koushiro," he said eventually, once he was sure that nothing else was going to move. His D-Terminal was in his right hand pocket. He ought to be able to reach it now.

"I-"

"But you know what? I just dropped you through a roof. I think that evens things out a little."

Koushiro actually laughed, then. Not for long, and it had a high, hysteria-laced edge, but it was laughter. Takeru smiled grimly. What else did they have to cling to? A moment later, his hand closed around the D-Terminal, and he eased it out. They had a chance.

"Got it. Okay. Let's see if Taichi's awake."

Earlier that day: Sunday, 2:53am

Yamato crouched down beneath the level of the window. Gabumon watched him carefully, waiting to see what he would do. The footsteps were drawing nearer.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It was quiet enough that he could hear their voices, too, although not the words they were saying.

The bleep of a message rang out, almost deafening in the local silence. He scrambled to grab his phone and switch it off, hearing the voices raised in surprise. Why the hell hadn't he simply turned it off before? The tramp of feet outside took on the echoes of a march indoors, and he thrust it back into his pocket, turning to face the door. Beside him, Gabumon's fur bristled.

He froze as a man peered through the doorway of the room they had hidden in. Another human? Gabumon moved as though to protect him, but Yamato held out an arm in protest. He could see where the man's alarmed gaze was directed, and it wasn't at himself.

"Who are you?" he made himself ask, swallowing heavily. Gabumon had backed down, which was good. Wasn't this city meant to be abandoned? It had certainly looked it. "Where did you come from?"

The stranger looked startled, and whistled to someone out of sight. It sounded like a signal of some sort.

"I should ask you the same thing," the stranger replied, turning back to face them both. He drew a pistol from a holster on his belt. Yamato clenched his fist. This probably wasn't good. "Why do you trespass here, and what are you doing with that monster?"

"I'm not a monster!" Gabumon replied. Yamato could hear the injured pride in his friend's voice. "Not like that. I'm a digimon!"

The stranger's eyes widened. "It talks!"

Yamato scowled. Gun or not, this stranger was mistaken if he thought them helpless. "Of course he talks," he said, standing up. It was pointless trying to hide now. "He's a digimon, and he's my friend. Now, I don't know what this place is, but-"

"Silence!" barked a new voice. It sounded almost artificial; any identifying features had been stripped from it.

Its owner stepped into the room, wearing the strangest clothes Yamato had ever seen. They were obviously armour of some sort, made of overlapping plates which covered the newcomer from head to toe. A helmet obscured their face, and made it impossible to tell if the person was male or female. They carried a sword in one hand, blade extended. As they approached, the first stranger raised his pistol, pointing it at Gabumon.

"You are trespassing in the city, and you consort with beast-folk," the new stranger continued. "Do not resist or we shall be forced to slay you." They turned to the man with the pistol. "Take them in. Their Graces will want to know about this."

More strangers - soldiers, Yamato realised - came into the room. Three levelled pistols at him and Gabumon, while two more strode over, and drew ropes from satchels. They grabbed Gabumon first, and began to tie his arms to his sides.

"Don't fight," said Yamato, his eyes on the pistols. "You couldn't digivolve fast enough."

His partner looked at him, confused, but said and did nothing as the soldiers bound his arms. Yamato had to look away as they muzzled him.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling like a traitor as the two men turned to him and forced his arms behind his back. But what could he do? This wasn't the digital world, and these weren't digimon. They looked as human as he was. Who knew how much damage human weapons could inflict on his partner. Not to mention himself.

"Silence!" barked the person with the sword - their leader, most likely. An officer of some sort, that was certain at least.

His hands were tied firmly, but not so tight as to cut off circulation. Whoever these people were, they had been trained for this. It wasn't a particularly reassuring thought. If they had fought back, the ones holding guns would have fired without compunction.

They were led out of the building and along the city streets. The glare from the sun made Yamato's eyes water - all the more as he could no longer raise a hand to shade them. Every now and then he would lose his footing, only to be hauled to his feet by a strong grip on his shoulder. He couldn't see Gabumon, and his few attempts to turn and look for his partner were met with a cuff to the side of his head and an order to keep going.

At last, the soldiers turned a corner and shoved them through a doorway to a room which was blesssedly dimmer than the outside. His relief was short-lived. Their path took them to a door, and a flight of stairs leading downwards.

He couldn't help it. There was no way they were taking him down into those cellars without a fight. Not after two weeks of nightmares about what came out of them. He started to struggle, wrenching away from the soldier beside him. The rope bit into his wrists as he struggled to loosen the bonds there.

The soldier gripped his upper arm tightly, and yanked him back. Simultaneously, someone kicked out at the backs of his knees, making him buckle. A hand gripped the hair at the back of his head and pushed down; forcing him to kneel and tipping his head back in one smooth movement.

"Don't mess us around, boy," the soldier said. "You come peacefully or not at all."

"You think I want to go down there, where those things are?" Yamato said, then gritted his teeth, biting back a cry of pain. The hand holding his hair had twisted, pulling hard.

Their leader, a few paces ahead, turned around.

"What things?" that strange voice asked.

Yamato grunted as his hair was released. "The things under the buildings outside the city," he said at last, scowling. "Monsters."

Their masked leader let out a short laugh. "You speak ill of monsters and yet you travel with one. Their Graces shall be most intrigued. Still. Fear not, intruder. There are no monsters within the city save your alleged friend. Our patrols see to that. Now. Get moving. It is not so safe out here that we wish to dally for idle chit-chat with prisoners."

A soldier - he no longer cared which - forced him to his feet, and guided him down the stairs. Instead of the cellar Yamato had been expecting, they were led along a corridor, through a barred gate, and down what felt like miles of tunnels. At last they reached a more open area.

"What now, Captain?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Search them, and put them in a holding cell for the time being. Their Graces will decide what happens to them."

It took all of Yamato's willpower not to fight back as they rifled through his pockets, taking his phone and wallet. He let out a cry of protest when they found his digivice and took that too. Only the meaningful look another soldier gave Gabumon held him in check. If he fought back now, they would shoot his partner. Probably himself as well.

Thoroughly defeated, he was led into a cell with a thick wooden door. Gabumon was mercifully placed in the same one. One of the soldiers approached, and order Yamato to present his hands. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he turned his back on the man, who already held a knife out, but his bonds were sliced without even a nick to his skin. No one offered to release Gabumon. They simply left the cell, locking it behind them. One of the two - the one given guard duty most likely - remained, watching through the bars in the top half of the cell door.

After rubbing his wrists to soothe the rope burn he freed his partner himself. The guard didn't protest, at least. He simply snorted derisively and left them. Yamato slumped into a corner, letting his head fall into his hands. The adrenaline which had kept him going was starting to run out. He wanted to close his eyes and never open them again. Maybe if he did he would wake up back home.

A clang roused him. He looked up blearily, to see a guard outside the cell. The perspective looked strange, until he realised that he was lying on the floor. Had he been asleep? Gabumon was by his side in a moment, watching the guard warily. Neither of them spoke as the man fiddled with something and raised a portion of the door enough to slide a plate into the cell. He dropped the hatch and was about to leave when Yamato scrambled to his feet.

"Wait!" The guard stopped, and turned back to the cell. "Why are they keeping us here? We didn't do anything!"

"You were caught trespassing in the city above," the guard replied, speaking slowly. From the look on his face he thought Yamato an idiot.

"I thought it was abandoned. I didn't know it was trespassing!" He clenched his fists. "I don't even know where I am. You can't just keep us here like this - we haven't done anything wrong!"

"That's for their Graces to decide, not you," the guard said.

"And who are they? Who are these "Graces" you all keep talking about? You can't just lock us up without telling us anything!"

The guard simply shook his head and walked away. Yamato briefly considered yelling out some of his frustration - but that was as likely to bring them back with weapons as anything. They had seemed on the brink of killing Gabumon as it was. He couldn't risk angering these people.

Gritting his teeth with frustration, he looked at the plate. He was familiar with rough fare, having spent those months stranded in the Digital world. It was just as well, really. The plate was deep; almost a bowl really. It contained chunks of grey meat swimming in a thin broth, with a wedge of bread already going soggy on one side.

"You'd best have the meat, Gabumon," he said, carrying it over to his partner. "It's not much, but you need to keep up what strength you have. Who knows how long we're going to be stuck here."

Gabumon protested at first, but ate the meat, leaving Yamato with the bread. They ate in silence. Yamato would have been content to give his partner everything, but he knew Gabumon would have refused.

"How long was I asleep for?" he said at last. "There doesn't seem to be any way of tracking the time down here."

"Only a few hours, I would say, Yamato. The guard who brought that food said something about six bells of the afternoon, but I do not understand what he meant."

Yamato sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Maybe Taichi had the right of it after all, keeping Agumon away. At least then we wouldn't both be stuck here."

"Don't be silly," Gabumon replied, shaking his head. "I would rather be stuck here with you than stuck on Earth or in the Digital World without you."

Yamato smiled wryly. "I suppose I should have expected you to say that."

Sunday, 1:09pm

Half-remembered dreams echoed around his head as he woke. For a moment, the stone walls of the cell were painted over with trees, lit by the pale glow of starlight which filtered through the canopy. He had been running, hadn't he?

No. He was stuck here. Locked away underground, with no natural light and no way to tell how much time had passed. Gabumon slept on beside him. The walls were made of strong stone, and the only openings were a very solid looking door, and a grate in the floor which was the width of his outstretched hand. The room was bare of anything else save a small heap of material which he and his partner had used as a pillow.

He ached all over. Of course, that wasn't particularly surprising - he'd been sore already, and a hard floor to sleep on was never going to have helped.

Before, he had been too tired to really consider his situation properly. Too tired, and too angry. Well, he was still angry - but now anxiety was kicking in, as he realised the full implications. With no way of communicating with the others, what would they think had happened? He had to find a way to get a message to them somehow - but his only way of doing that was his phone. Even now, the battery would be wearing down. He hadn't thought to charge it before falling asleep. If he didn't get it back soon, it wouldn't even matter if they let him go. He'd be cut off. It had been simple before, when the trips to this place had only lasted an hour or two. But he'd clearly been here far longer than that now. And all the while he was in this prison, there was nothing to send him home.

He was pacing, back and forth. Instead of bleeding off some of his nervous energy it seemed only to add to it. Finally, he could stand it no more and marched over to the door, thumping it as hard as he could.

"Hey! Hey!" The barred section of the door gave him a limited view of the corridor in which the cells were situated. If there was a guard on duty - which he was certain there would be - whoever it was had somewhere more comfortable to sit. Behind him he could hear Gabumon stirring.

No one replied. He shouted for someone to come and answer him until his throat went hoarse, then kicked the door for good measure.

His anger spent for the time being, he leant against the wall and slowly slid to the ground. Through it all, Gabumon had remained silent. That didn't surprise Yamato. They understood each other well. His partner didn't need to offer comfort - just his presence was enough.

He'd already lost track of how long he'd been down here. Not a full day, that was certain. Beyond that, it was impossible to tell. Was it day or night in the world above? And what about the others? What time did that make it in the real world? Koushiro had messaged him to say that Takeru was safe, but how long would that have lasted? He ought to be with his younger brother. Not here in this miserable prison, somewhere underneath a ruined city in the middle of an unknown world. He didn't even know if the others had made it home again. He felt useless.

How long would it be before someone told him what was going on? Surely they couldn't leave him locked up forever? The back of his head connected with the wall, and he stared blankly at the ceiling. All he could do now was wait.