He hadn't really planned to sleep. After all, it had only been a few hours since he'd woken up. It was only when Tailmon roused him and he opened his eyes to the familiar glare of too-bright daylight that he realised how exhausted he had really been.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Tailmon shrugged. "It's a little after dawn. You'll need to look at your D3 or your D-Termina if you want something more specific though. Taichi and Koushiro are asleep still. They were up a little longer than you, talking."

Takeru frowned, slowly easing himself into an upright position and fishing his D-Terminal from his pocket. Patamon lay nearby, his face more relaxed than it had been the day before. That was a relief at least - his partner seemed to be recovering well from his exhaustion.

"What were they talking about?" he asked Tailmon, biting back a yelp as he knocked one of his new bruises. The others lay on benches nearby. Agumon was curled up on the floor beside Taichi. He flipped the front of the Terminal open, glancing at the numbers. 4:57pm.

Tailmon sighed. "More theories about what this place is and where Hikari and Yamato might be. Nothing they couldn't talk about while walking."

Takeru nodded. "Well, I'll make a start looking for some information here while you wake them. There have to be some clues around here somewhere."

He left Patamon to rest on the bench, and made his way stiffly to one of the rooms he had been too tired to explore when he had arrived at the station. The doorway led to the other half of the ticket office - the shuttered window filled the wall between it and the main room, with a counter and chairs alongside it. A thick layer of dust coated everything, and one of the chairs had been knocked over at some point, but otherwise the room looked untouched. One wall was dominated by a board painted into a grid, with columns of words written in some unintelligible script. Takeru wondered if Koushiro would recognise it, and leant back out into the main room.

He'd heard Tailmon telling the others to wake up, so wasn't surprised to see them both moving around. There was something about the small champion which discouraged arguments even when she wasn't wound tight with worry about Hikari. Even Agumon and Patamon seemed to be awake, although he was relieved to see that his partner was still sitting on the bench. Koushiro looked as stiff and sore as Takeru felt. He held his left arm awkwardly, too; it was clearly causing him a lot of pain. That was a complication they really didn't need.

They had always managed to avoid serious injury in the digital world - despite getting into more dangerous situations than they could count. Koushiro had theorised that being turned into data made them more resilient - something which they'd all had cause to be grateful for more than once. This world offered no such comforts. Takeru shuddered. If past adventures and his current injuries were anything to go by, they would be lucky to make it home unscathed. They needed to find answers fast.

Taichi looked up. "Find anything?" he asked.

Takeru shrugged. "There's some writing on the wall in here, but I can't read it," he said. "There's not much else in here. I'll have a look and see if there's anything useful in the cabinets, but if we can't understand the language, I'm not sure how much it will help."

"What we need is a map," Koushiro said. "This is a train station. There has to be something like that around here, even if it's just a map of the rail network. There's no point going anywhere until we find one - we'll just be lost in the woods."

Taichi nodded. "I hate to say it, but he's right. We don't even know if this is the same forest you and Hikari were in before, Tailmon, and as for Yamato…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I saw what might have been the city when I was… in the air," Takeru said. He swallowed. The thought of going that high again made him feel slightly queasy. "And if we can't find a map, we can make our own. Since when did we have a map our first few days in the Digital world, anyway? We can't just give up because we don't know where we are. Yamato and Hikari need us."

Koushiro sighed. "We kept going that first few days because we didn't have a choice, Takeru," he said. "And because for all we knew there could have been help in any direction. We would never have made it anywhere on Server without the map Gennai gave us."

"He has got a point though," Taichi said. "This time we can fly up and get a good feel for the place. We didn't have that option with the Digital world. Besides. Like hell am I gonna sit here while they're out there and need our help."

"Well I'm not going to wait here forever," Tailmon said. "Hikari's in trouble, and I'm not going to let anything stop me finding her. With or without you, I'll keep looking."

"I didn't say we should give up," Koushiro said, holding his right hand out in protest. "Just that we should find - or make - a map before we go. The more we know about this world, the better prepared we'll be."

"I don't think I could digivolve right now," Patamon said. Everyone turned to look at him.

"You don't have to," Takeru said, determined to avoid any discussion of flight. "You need to rest still, and save your strength. I can remember where everything is, if it comes to that."

In the end, it didn't. The third door lead to what appeared to be a staff room; it had a small wood stove in one corner, and a counter with cups laid out for drinks which would never be served. The map was mounted in a simple frame on the wall. Taichi wasted no time in pulling it apart and retrieving the paper inside. He brought it back into the waiting room and spread it out on the floor.

"So where are we, Takeru? It was too dark when I got here for me to be sure."

The map was laid out with the coastline running north to south. Takeru frowned. It was clearly a rather ornamental map, with lots of embellishments. Lines of undecipherable text marked out what were presumably the names of landmarks, and the area he supposed to be the forest was criss-crossed with a series of overlapping lines, one red, one grey. After a few moments he found a place where two red lines merged into one.

"Here. It has to be. I saw this island-" he pointed it out on the map "-while I was up in the air. This line has to be the railway."

Koushiro nodded. "It would make sense for it to be marked clearly. Does the rest of the terrain match what you saw?"

Takeru closed his eyes. It was stupid, how hard it had become to picture himself up in the air. How many times had he flown that high or higher on Pegasusmon? And now, even the memory of the ground laid out like a tapestry beneath him made him feel lightheaded. He rubbed his eyes, and nodded.

"This is the mountain range," he said, pointing to a series of decorative peaks drawn in another vertical line. "And look. This is where I saw a grey area on the horizon. I saw…" He swallowed. "There were lights in that direction earlier, while it was dark. It could be the city where Yamato is."

Taichi frowned. "It might be, Takeru. But we can't really be sure. I mean, didn't Yamato say that everything there was abandoned? Why would there be lights if there was no one around?"

"Well, something's there. We know that because they've got my brother!" Takeru snapped.

"And someone around here has my sister too!" Taichi replied, just as hotly. "We're not going to find either of them by arguing over who we look for first. But just think about the fact that at least Yamato has Gabumon with him. Hikari's completely alone in this stinking place, and by the looks of this map, she could have been caught in the same forest where we are now. The least we should do is head for those mountains and see if Tailmon recognises them."

Takeru gritted his teeth, but nodded. He looked down as Koushiro reached out and rested an unbandaged hand on his shoulder.

"We're going to find them both, Takeru," he said, as Taichi rolled the map and tucked it into his backpack. "Wherever they are, we'll track them down. They'll be okay."

Sunday, 6:45pm

The hours had merged into one unending expanse of time. Boredom had come and gone in fits, interspersed by murmured conversations with Gabumon. Much as guilt plagued him, he couldn't help but be grateful that his partner had been sucked into this hellhole with him. He wasn't sure how he would have held up had he been imprisoned alone.

Something had changed, though. Over the last hour or so - by his reckoning at least - he had become aware of a sort of background murmur, underlying the silence. Was that the sound of people moving and talking somewhere out of sight?

"Do you think it's morning now, Yamato?"

He looked over at his partner, then back out through the bars of the door at the narrow slice of the corridor which was visible.

"I don't know. It could be though. Maybe someone will finally come and explain what the hell we did that was so wrong."

Sighing, he walked back over to Gabumon and sat down.

"If I could just get the others a message," he said, for probably fiftieth time since he'd woken. "I mean, what must they be thinking right now?"

Gabumon rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay Yamato. I'm sure they'll understand when you have a chance to explain everything."

He looked at his partner, trying to keep his face as expressionless as possible. He didn't want to acknowledge his fear that they might not be given a chance to explain at all. Their captors hadn't exactly been keen to listen to them thus far.

At last he heard the sound of footsteps. He stiffened, then scrambled to his feet, keeping a watchful eye on the door. When Gabumon moved to stand between him and the entrance to the cell, he shook his head.

"Whatever this place is, they're more worried about you than me," he said softly. "Don't make yourself a target."

Gabumon nodded, although he looked troubled. Yamato gritted his teeth. It was bad enough being trapped here with no way to tell the others he was safe. The fact that his partner felt so helpless to protect him - and he knew without asking that Gabumon did - weighed on him heavily. If he ever got out of here, he was going to make sure these people knew how angry he was.

The footsteps stopped outside the door to the cell, accompanied by a metallic clinking. He stiffened. That didn't sound good. Well, he'd be damned if he was going to let them think he was afraid. He could just about make out a face on the far side of the bars, although the light wasn't good. Time to put on a brave face then.

"You'd best be standing clear of the door in there, prisoner," said a gruff male voice. "Don't try any funny business when we open up."

Yamato glanced down at Gabumon. Prisoner as in only one person? Had they forgotten they'd captured the two of them?

The door swung outwards, to reveal two guards. One held what looked like a musket in his hands, while the other - the guard who had unlocked the cell - had a set of manacles hung over one arm. Definitely not good, Yamato thought. Without really thinking about it, he found himself shifting his weight so he stood more in front of his partner.

"Don't move," the guard with the keys said. "Downstairs want a word with you, so I suggest you don't put up a fuss."

"And if your… creature makes one wrong move, I will fire," said the guard with the musket. "Make no mistake there."

Yamato nodded slowly. He didn't like the sound of "Downstairs", but he wasn't about to risk questioning the two men.

"Now hold out your arms," the guard with the keys said, walking into the cell. "And mind your beast stays back."

Yamato gritted his teeth, biting back the temptation to remind these men that Gabumon was his friend. It only occurred to him as the metal closed around his wrists that there were none for his partner.

"Wait," he said. "You're not taking both of us?"

The man with the gun snorted. "What would we want to do that for?"

"Yamato, it's okay," Gabumon said quickly. "I'll be fine here."

The two men stared at him, eyes wide.

"Wait, that thing talks? For real? And here I thought Shichiro were drinking on duty."

Yamato scowled at them both. "Of course he talks. I already told you people, he's not a monster."

His captor grabbed the chain in the centre of the manacles and tugged him towards the door.

"Yeah, well, you can see what them Downstairs say about that. We're just here to escort you safely."

He nearly tripped. By the time he'd regained his balance he was outside the cell, and the second man had swung the door closed again.

"Gabumon!"

A hard cuff to the side of his head silenced him. It still ached from the day before. Grimacing, he stared at his hands, telling himself over and over that his partner would be fine. That they'd get out of this situation somehow. Whoever these people downstairs were, he just had to reason with them. Which meant not fighting the two guards as he was led along.

Worry knotted itself in his stomach, mixing with pangs of hunger. Anger threaded its way among the two. Wild fantasies of subduing the guards and finding his digivice occupied his mind as they walked through the room where he had been stripped of his possessions.

The guards escorted him down a long, spiralling stairwell. Now and then it would level out a little, where a dark wooden door opened onto it. The lights were electric but dim, even in this world, and his attention shifted to making sure he didn't lose his footing. After passing two doors, they exited the stairwell, emerging onto a wide, somewhat brighter passage, which looked no more inviting. It was bare of any decoration - the lights were long, cylindrical bulbs suspended parallel to the ceiling, with no casing. He didn't like to think about how far underground they had to be by now.

They came to an abrupt halt outside a door. The guard in front of him cleared his throat and rapped twice on the wood.

"Sergeant Garnett reporting with the prisoner, my Lord."

The door opened inwards after a few seconds, and the man who was not Sergeant Garnett prodded Yamato in the back with what was presumably the musket. He didn't need any more encouragement.

Whatever it was that he'd been expecting inside, the reality was not it. The room was a radical shift from the bland corridor. What looked like an antique desk occupied a fair portion of the interior space, with cabinets lining two of the walls. As he looked around he spotted a man in a tunic stood by the door, who closed it as they entered the room.

The sergeant bowed to the man seated behind the desk, who was reading paperwork of some sort. Yamato stared at him, eyebrows raised. What the hell kind of place was this?

The guards wore what was clearly a military uniform; practical to the last stitch. This man did not - he wore instead a high-necked, dark red shirt, with golden embroideries on the collars. His hair was long, and tumbled loosely about his shoulders. Even his face didn't seem to fit. He looked more like… like the sort face which tended to stare down from clothing or aftershave adverts. Hell, the kind of face which stared out of movie posters, like those period romances Sora had enjoyed for a while. The ones she had made him promise to never tell the others about.

And he was bored. Bored enough that he hadn't even bothered to look up as they entered the room. That he didn't so much as flinch when the sergeant barked an order at Yamato, telling him to kneel. Nor did the man react when Yamato refused, only to be kicked in the crook of his knees again, sending him to the ground with a yell.

As a musician, Yamato knew the importance of timing. How to use it to increase stage presence, How to hold the attention of a crowd, and judge when the moment was right to speak. Apparently, whoever this man was, he had the same skill. The silence stretched out just long enough before the man looked up, fixing Yamato with a cold, piercing stare before turning his attention to the sergeant.

Oh, this guy was good. He'd practised that look. Without saying a word, he'd as good as told Yamato that he was an insect. Not even worth talking to - despite the fact that he'd been hauled down here for that exact purpose.

Without knowing why, Yamato suddenly felt acutely aware of how filthy he must look. How he was covered in dust and dirt; how the bruises and scratches from the last few days mottled his skin. How petty and insignificant it made him seem. How petty and insignificant he was.

"This is the trespasser? He is a boy." Scorn dripped off of every word.

"Aye, my Lord," said the sergeant. "Found within the city in the company of a beast of some sort. Uhh… The beast speaks, my Lord."

Something shifted, and Yamato felt the crushing sense of worthlessness fade.

"Who are you?" the man asked sharply.

Yamato blinked, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. It was as though something had been seeping into his head.

"Ishida Yamato," he replied, keeping his head down. He didn't want to look into those eyes again if he could help it.

"I don't need your name, boy, I need to know who you are. Where you came from. What your purpose is in the City above, and what your companion is. I want answers. And if you are not willing to tell me, I shall have to get those answers another way."

Yamato jerked his head up, horrified. Surely they weren't talking about torture? He could feel the tight, sharp knot of fear in his gut, and fought to quash it. He couldn't risk going back to the real world now - Gabumon was still in the prison cell, all alone. Who knew what these people would do to his partner if he weren't there to co-operate. They thought he was a monster.

"I just woke up here," he said at last, fighting to keep voice and thoughts level. Something about the atmosphere in this room wasn't helping. It was as though the very air wanted him unsettled. "I don't even know where this place is. Look, all I want is to go home, with my partner. Whatever it is you think we've done, we haven't."

He didn't blink, Yamato realised. Whoever this man was, he wasn't blinking. Just staring, relentlessly, with such an intense focus that there was no chance of his looking away. He couldn't move - it was as though that gaze had frozen him in place.

"And where is home?" The man's lips moved, but the words travelled straight into his mind, bypassing his ears.

Something inside him resisted the intrusion into his thoughts, and failed. The rest of the room might as well have disappeared - all he could see were two eyes in front of him, dark and unblinking. The voice in his head told him to speak.

"Odaiba," he said. Part of him was aware of the strange monotone he spoke in, and started to worry. "In Japan. I am one of the Chosen Children, and my companion is Gabumon, a digimon created to be my partner. I have no purpose in this city-"

"LIES!" the man barked, slamming his fist onto the desk.

Yamato flinched, feeling his head clear once more. The knot of fear which he'd started to forget returned with full force. What had that man done to him? It was like… like Puppetmon, only with his mind instead of his body. He shuddered. The memory made him feel ill. He closed his eyes, and turned away from the desk.

"I want the truth, Ishida Yamato." There was something about that voice. It wasn't right. Wasn't natural, somehow.

"I'm telling the truth," he said, keeping his eyes tightly closed. There was no way he was going to chance getting caught in that gaze again. "I don't know why I'm here."

Silence. It stretched out in his self-imposed darkness, turning minutes into hours. He became acutely aware of the aches in his knees and head. Of the weight of the manacles, and how the edge of the metal bit into his wrists. Discomfort mounted but he didn't dare move. Nor did he open his eyes, although his self-imposed blindness contributed to the fact he had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

"Do you know who I am, Ishida Yamato from Odaiba?" The words cut through the silence like a knife; smooth and silky and deadly. Yamato shook his head rather than answer.

"I am Lord Cahir, responsible for overseeing the security of the city. I report directly to their Graces, and I happen to dislike anomalies. You are one such anomaly, and we can ill afford to be concerned with you at this time."

Reflexes took over and his eyes opened, wide. It took all his willpower to keep his head turned safely away. What were they planning on doing to him? What about Gabumon? There had to be a way out of this situation, somehow. He just had to think, to force himself to focus on something he could tell these people to make them believe him. To stop the rising tide of panic and fear before it overwhelmed him.

Wood scraped on stone. Cloth rustled. A gloved hand gripped his jaw tightly, turning his face upwards. Before he could react, Cahir's dark eyes bore into him - seizing control of his mind. A cry of protest died on his lips as his chest locked in place; his frantic thoughts faded to nothing, leaving only a vague sense of unease in their wake. The pressure on his jaw eased, unnecessary now that he could no longer move.

"Now. Tell me how you came to be in this city." Once more, Cahir's voice seemed to speak directly into his head.

"I was brought here in my sleep," he said. Again, part of him was aware that this was wrong - that his voice was flat and leaden. That he hadn't wanted to answer anyway. "I woke outside the city, and Koushiro suggested I travel here to find information about this world."

"And who is this Koushiro?"

Something inside him fought and failed to prevent his answer. "Koushiro is my friend. Another of the Chosen Children, who bears the crest of Knowledge."

"Now. Tell me how many of these Chosen Children there are. How many crests."

"Twelve Chosen. Nine Crests." There was a pressure building in his head. An intangible grip, slowly squeezing his skull. It spread to an ache in his temples. Dimly, he was aware that something strange was going on, but it was impossible to work out more than that. No sooner had he grasped a thought than it faded out of reach.

"And which is your crest, if you have one."

No. Deep down he was sure this was wrong. He couldn't-

"I bear the crest of Friendship." Was that even his own voice any more? It was dead and flat, the leaden tones in stark contrast with the screaming protests buried somewhere within him. Instincts fought for recognition, flickering and dying in the face of the numbing gaze he was caught in. The pain in his head grew-

-and stopped sharply, as Cahir looked away.

Yamato gasped in shock as he regained control of his mind. Each and every word he'd spoken hung suddenly before him, branding him a traitor. "What did you do to me?" he cried.

Cahir looked down at him, scorn etched on his face. "I got my answers," he replied. "I do believe you were warned."

He felt sick. There was a pure horror to the thought that this man had, quite calmly and without any apparent concern, reached into Yamato's mind and plucked out whatever information he wanted. That he'd been unable to offer even a token resistance. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, he was glad not to know where the others were. At least this way he couldn't betray them any further than he already had.

"I do have one more question," Cahir said, walking around his desk and taking a seat. "And I am sure you will be more co-operative this time. Now. Would you care to tell me what manner of device these are?"

Yamato looked up, and felt his heart sink. In his hands, Cahir held his phone and digivice.

A.N.: Phew! It's been a hectic couple of weeks for me, and heading into the summer hols here in the UK I really am not going to have so much time to write. I'll try to aim for once a week where possible, but that schedule has already slipped thanks to all kinds of single-parenting funs. It's frustrating as anything, because I want to be writing, but oh well. On the positive side of things, my hand seems to be improving a little, so at least the physical, typing aspect of things is less of an issue.

Anyway! The second part of this chapter is something I've had sat on my computer for a couple of weeks now, waiting for the section from Takeru's PoV to be finished. I'll be honest, it was one of those scenes which basically wrote itself, neatly screwing up all my plans in the process. This was not meant to happen! Originally the interrogation was going to be a lot more... mundane, really. So while I far prefer this version, it's already had a few knock-on effects for the next few sections. In a good way really, because I think it will tighten the pacing, but of course, I still need to actually integrate the new plan with the old. Another classic example of characters and stories basically mocking the writer for trying to be organised. This is one of the reasons I don't invest in detailed story plans - they always change as I go. (For me at least - I know other people who are the exact opposite.)

Let me know what you think of the chapter - your feedback is always very welcome, and I will do my best to reply to reviews (the only limitation being aforementioned time constraints). If you have any questions or theories I would love to hear them! I don't have a beta reader or anything like that, so the only feedback I get is from readers. It really is valuable to know what people think of the story so far!