Just call me angel of the morning, Angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
2004
He thought he would be able to forget about the note (threat?), to be able to pass through the day as though nothing had happened. Nana seemed to have forgotten about it almost completely, going about her day giggling with her friends, even leaving the classroom to have lunch with her boyfriend in the hallway.
Joe cursed himself for forgetting to make his lunch that morning, too scared that if he passed Nana to go to the cafeteria she would announce his carefully-hidden existence to the school. So he sat at his desk and starved, like he was used to at home, already hard at work on his first homework assignment. If it wasn't done by the time his father came home, being choked to the verge of unconsciousness for letting his mother escape into the hallways would seem a mercy.
Cliques and groups formed all around him, students already seeking out friends they would follow for the next four years, and Joe was scared that any one of them would approach, would try and interact. He never liked the look in his classmates eyes when he revealed he knew nothing of the current world outside medical events. That he didn't know what songs or movies were popular, much less current, but he could tell them about the latest successful heart transplant or how long a brain was viable for without oxygen during surgery.
By the end of classes, Joe was ready to grab his bag, to head home and tell his father everything the man wanted to hear about how strict the school was concerning grades, or truancy, or even club membership. He waited for the other students to leave first, lest he accidentally trip and run his damaged arm into anyone, but one person stood at the doorway, waiting.
Nana stood, oddly stiff, using the desk closest to the door to dig through her bag, looking for makeup or books or whatever excuse she was using to linger.
Joe swallowed hard, steeling what little will he had left. If he could pretend to be too busy for whatever nonsense she was planning, if he could act like what she had to say couldn't shake him to the core, maybe he could get through this day. He would worry about tomorrow if he could live to see it.
He set his shoulders like his father always did, ignored the stinging pain that still lingered, and stood. He walked to the door, pausing long enough to begin as formally as Shou ever spoke to anyone beneath him, "Excuse me -"
"Hey, about that note..." Nana said, a soft sadness tingeing her voice as her body suddenly sagged just so.
Joe cursed himself for caring so much as his expression softened of its own will. "Are you ok?"
Nana bit her lip, and Joe could see the shine of tears being held back. "I'm really sorry about it. I was talking with Shinji and he told me what a jerk I sounded like." She adjusted her glasses and Joe could see her use the same hidden motion that he did to wipe her eyes. "I didn't mean to, I really, honestly just wanted to talk..."
"I-its fine," Joe heard himself say as comfortingly as he could. He hated when anyone else felt bad, knowing he would give in so make her happy. "I have some free time if you still wanted to..."
"Would you really?" Nana smiled brilliantly, her butterfly clip shining in her sudden joy. "Even though I was being so totally uncool?"
"You just didn't know how else to get my attention," Joe told her with a shrug that didn't betray how much it hurt to make the motion. "What did you want to say?"
"Let's go up to the roof," Nana suggested. "It's really nice up there, and we won't have to worry about any teachers running into us."
"That sounds fine." The young woman squealed her delight, snatching up her bag and rushing into the hallway, waiting impatiently for Joe to follow. As they walked, Nana chattered idly about how hard it was to make a vegan obento; that her tofu always got warm and soggy so she usually just ended up using chicken anyway, and Joe couldn't help himself from saying suddenly, "I noticed the bracelet you wear..."
"Hm?" Nana blinked, automatically raising her hand to her hairclip. As though realizing it, she laughed. "Sorry, it's just that everyone talks about my butterfly before they see my bracelet." She jingled the tiny charm in front of her face as she explained happily, "It's something my mom bought me back when she thought I was only going through a phase. She bought me my first books, and I've been so spiritually happy ever since." She giggled. "I'm sure you don't care, though, and I've just been rambling on."
"No, no, it's fine." Joe hesitated, reaching up to tug on the cord around his neck. She would be the second person to know, the first swearing to secrecy by the noise of a boiler and the stench of dishwater.
Nana beamed, clapping happily. "I knew it, I knew it! I can always tell when I meet another Witch – they have such bright auras." She looked closely at the pendant before Joe put it up. It was simple silver, tarnished with age, the eight moon phases lined up evenly around the star. "It's beautiful, it really is. I don't think I've seen one so well crafted."
"I got it from my grandmother when I was a kid," Joe admitted. Somehow her bubbly personality was becoming infectious as they ascended the stairs to the roof.
"How wonderful. I wish I could have an heirloom like that," Nana said dreamily.
Joe smiled, trying to keep the tension from his expression.
"You just got here, Joanne! Stay until tomorrow, or for the week, or for forever - I don't care!"
"But Mother, I need to go back!"
"With those bruises? With that arm? That man will kill you – and your children!"
"He doesn't hit Shin or Shuu. Not that much, anyway..."
"No, J'nney." A defeated sigh. "At least stay the night. And if you really want to go back to that bastard in the morning, don't tell me. I don't want to have to call the police."
A soft touch, a warm cord around his neck. Joe looked to his grandmother's sad smile, the bruises on his tiny face aching. He wanted to stay in that loving apartment forever, to never see his mother hurt or hear her scream again. Unfortunately, that was the night when the Digiegg opened in the sky, unleashing Parrotmon and sending him back to Odaiba after only a few safe hours.
Joe remembered suddenly, as they emerged blinking onto the roof, that was the first time he'd had a limb broken, punished for his mother's escape before the sun had even risen.
"Shinji!" Nana squealed, pulling Joe from his thoughts. She ran across the roof, throwing herself into her boyfriend's arms. "You're here!"
The man gave a tiny smile, but his eyes glittered with wonderful warmth. "Of course – you asked me to be here."
"Oh, I didn't realize I would be interrupting," Joe said, cursing his sudden crush on Nana's boyfriend. Obviously it was only because Matt was currently dating Sora, leftover emotions he'd been unable to purge himself of rising to the surface.
He bowed, turning to leave when Nana called out, "No wait!" She had her hand in Shinjiro's, fingers intertwined, absently swinging them together. "It's not like that. When I told Shinji about my note, he wanted to talk to you too. We just thought that, you know, it'd be a lot nicer up here than in a cramped classroom."
"What did you want to talk about?" Joe asked, swallowing his suspicions. They seemed nice enough, but suddenly he was aware of how little he knew them. Were they undercover reporters like he'd heard Matt's dad had to deal with a few times right after Myotismon's attack? No, he thought to himself, the sparkle in Nana's eyes was too sincere, her voice too honest and open.
"I wanna know about that T-rex," Nana said quickly. She was beaming, the warm expression spreading to Shinjiro and making his tense shoulders relax. "And all those, like, spirits or whatever that Christmas."
Joe paused a moment, thinking about Shuu and the risk he'd taken, the price he'd paid, for his anthropology major. He hoped that his brothers were safe, wherever they had ended up that night. He could feel the sadness deep in his soul, darkness filling the hole where he'd been bonded to Gomamon for so many years, as he searched for the right words to begin.
"They're not... They're not spirits," he heard himself saying. He sat on the roof next to the fence, looking out over the school grounds. Nana quickly sat next to him, eager to hear his tale, and Shinjiro lowered himself gracefully next to her. "It's hard to explain, really," Joe continued. He took a deep breath, expecting to feel the hurt, the soul-deep pain he'd been living with since that fateful day only a few months ago. "It started a few years ago, back when I was eleven..."
As the words started, he found he couldn't stop them. He tried to remember all the jargon Izzy had said when he'd first tried to explain what had happened in the Sphinx. He reminisced about Gomamon, about his friends who were so lost in themselves right now. He explained the best he could about the powers within all of them, wishing he still wore his Digivice and even unbuttoning his uniform shirt low enough to show off the cross shaped scar burned into his flesh to defeat Apocalymon.
By the time his story was ending, his voice was getting gravely, mouth dry. Nana was crying, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, as she listened to BlackWarGreymon's legacy – his virus that had infected every last Digital Gate, sealing them all instead of just the one he'd intended. Even Shinjiro had cast his eyes down as Joe spoke of parting with Gomamon for the last time, knowing he would never see the digital seal for the rest of his life.
As Joe licked his dry lips, Nana wiped her eyes and said with a sad, dreamy tone, "I believe you'll see him again. Even if it's only in dreams, as long as you remember Gomamon, he'll never truly be gone."
"That means a lot," Joe whispered, not even feeling the tears that rolled down his cheeks until he reached up to wipe them away. "It... It really does, Nana."
"It's getting late," Shinjiro said sternly, a soft look making his words gentle. "Why don't you go on ahead, Nana."
"If you're sure," she pouted. Shinjiro gave a small twist of his lips, a smile that lit up his eyes brilliantly. He ruffled her bangs and toyed with the clip in her hair for a moment.
"I'll catch up with you. I just need to stay here and talk to Joe for a moment."
"W-with me?" Joe yelped. He tried to slink away, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched instinctively.
Nana nodded, allowing herself to he shooed away. Shinjiro refused to let go of Joe, and the young man was terrified of what was going to happen to him as soon as she was out of sight.
"Look," Shinjiro said after a moment. He finally let go, and Joe fought to not collapse. "I know this is sudden. Everything so far today has been sudden. But... Nana thinks of you as a friend." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a receipt for his lunch. Quickly scribbling on it, he handed it over. "This is Nana's cell and mine. If you need to talk about anything, just give us a call."
"What are you talking about?" Joe murmured, still scared. Shinjiro's stern eyes bore into his, and he found he couldn't maintain the contact. Doing so with his father was usually interpreted as a challenge, and Shou didn't respond well to challenges. "I told you everything I knew about the Digital World."
Shinjiro just pressed the phone numbers into Joe's hand. "Call us. Please."
And with that, he walked down the stairs.
Joe looked at the numbers, two inconspicuous strings of digits that would probably send him to the hospital if his father ever found them.
His father...
Joe gasped painfully, reaching up to his neck and touching the bruises hidden under his collar. He'd completely forgotten about the two handprints clearly around his throat that he'd shown off during his tale.
But this... This wary outreaching. This barest acknowledgment...
Joe was tempted to crumple the receipt and toss it off the roof. As if the numbers to two people he barely knew would help. Friends he'd had for years, the Chosen Children who had saved the world over and over with him, none of them had ever done anything. The bruises, the fractures, the burns and cuts – noone had ever cared enough to do anything about it.
Noone had ever stopped this punishment, so why should Nana and Shinjiro's phone numbers make him feel any better?
But that night, after his father berated him for an hour for being late, after feeling the belt across his back for another half hour, and after stumbling to his room in a daze, he did grab his cell phone. As silently as he could, he input the two numbers.
Even if it didn't stop, he couldn't let them feel as bad as he did.
Noone needed to feel the same pain that he went through.