Recommended companion reading for this chapter: "Cross My Heart" Chapter 4 and "The Voyage of the Mechanical Seal and the Silver Locket" both by S. Walden.

If morning's echo says we've sinned

Well, it was what I wanted now

2005:

"Sweet, merciful, Jesus Christ, Joe!" Nana screamed as way of "welcome back". "What happened to you? We thought you'd died – you look like you died!"

It was a few days later when Joe had been dismissed from the hospital. A bored looking doctor, more interested in the heavily pregnant prostitute threatening suicide on the other side of the curtain, had told him to avoid drugs for at least a few weeks and to make sure his cast didn't rot away from exposure. He'd been about to say something about staying sober long enough to schedule a checkup in a month when the hooker ripped out her IV needle and tried to stab a nurse.

In the confusion, Joe had grabbed a set of scrubs (he had no idea what happened to his old clothes, drenched in blood as they were), and slipped from the bed. It was a struggle to change, his right arm bound in an off-white cast, but he managed to get decent enough to leave the ER just as the police began showing up.

He'd walked home, having no wallet and being unable to take the train or even the bus, having to stop and rest every chance he got. He was tired, sweaty, sunburnt as he found his apartment complex, the stitches in his arm, his face, his chest itching. His hands shook as he grabbed his doorknob and he could barely find the strength within to turn it, much less continue to stand. He took a breath, wondering if the locks had been changed on him, too. Was his mother even still there? Or had she been cast aside as well?

The door had swung open on him so suddenly, he almost fell over. Shou looked down the bridge of his bandaged nose at him, saying simply, "Your blood stained the walls. I want you in here to repaint them. Now."

He'd then grabbed Joe by the hair, dragging him in the apartment. There was a bucket of paint on the floor next to a horrifyingly dark spray that covered the hallway from top to bottom. There was a splotch of wet paint in the middle of it where someone had attempted to start covering it up and given up. Knowing he wouldn't be given a chance to rest, Joe grabbed the brush with a shaking hand and began his task.

Despite almost passing out twice and almost busting the stitches in his good arm, Shou continued to stand behind him, making him paint the whole wall until three in the morning. The overwhelming stench of wet paint had been enough to trigger Joe's asthma, and he had to beg and plead with the stoic man before a half-empty inhaler was found in the kitchen. When the deed was done, Shou kicked his son, corralling him to his room where dust had already begun to gather on his things. The deadbolt was put in place and Joe finally collapsed, aching down to his very soul and he passed out quickly, still clutching his inhaler.

He was locked in his room for four days after, let out only to clean himself under his father's watchful eye in case he decided to escape. It felt like he was back at Digitamamon's Diner, the way Shou even withheld food, leaving him to shake and shudder in his room every night. And the thought of the Digimon brought thoughts of Matt, and thoughts of Matt made memories of the attack come floating up through the barrier he tried to build to protect himself.

"Matt..." he sobbed into his pillow, listening to his mother screaming down the hall the first night as Shou tried to create another perfect son, a perfect copy of himself that wouldn't disobey like Joe did. "Gods damn you, Matt, I hate you..."

Just when Joe was certain Shou was going to finish the job, kill him for being so useless, the deadbolt opened late one night and the man appeared.

"You're going back to school tomorrow. You've already been absent for too long, so make sure you get all the assignments you missed."

Joe just lowered his head and nodded, noticing the deep, bloody gouges in Shou's cheek where Joanne must have gotten a lucky scratch in. He'd probably broken her fingers again for that, Joe thought to himself as his father closed the door, locking it.

Going back to school meant that he thought Joe was well enough to be seen in public again, so he looked over himself. He used the tiny mirror he'd stashed away under his mattress to find all the stitches across his body and pulled on the black strings, setting them in a pile on his desk. He was held together well enough, and the sight of them would only arouse suspicion. A broken arm was hard enough to explain away – stitching even less so.

So it was the next morning, exhausted, aching, covered in tiny holes that left pinpricks of blood on his sheets, that Joe struggled to dress. He pulled on the almost unfamiliar uniform, broken arm throbbing. He wouldn't be given painkillers aside the few aspirin he could swipe from the bathroom, but he was used to the pain. His leg had been broken only a few years ago, after all.

Noone on the bus said anything, adults averting their eyes as he passed and kids his own age ignoring the world around them. The familiar isolation gave him time to linger in his own mind, thinking of the blonde who had started this whole mess.

Why? He thought, glaring out the window as the bus slowly rolled up to Merston High. Why did you do those things? Say all that stuff? Then you don't even check in on me? Fine. That's fine – I don't need you, either. I'll stop loving you, too, you... you bastard!

He grabbed his bag from where it sat at his feet, standing with a sway. He was starved and had forgotten to swipe a few yen from his mother's purse that morning. The gate was open still, students milling about and waiting for the warning bell to ring before they even thought of heading to classes. He stumbled once, righting himself with such concentration that it wasn't until her horrified screaming that Joe even noticed Nana waiting.

"I'm fine," Joe tried to reassure, but the brunette was shaking her head so forcefully that her butterfly clip almost flew off.

"No! I've been quiet for too long now – I'm calling the cops!" Nana swore, digging in her bookbag for her cell phone.

"D-don't!" Joe yelped, reaching out with his good arm. His once-stitches were still bleeding, beading up with blood drops to stain his undershirt. "Nana, please!"

"Look at you," Nana cried, and Joe could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Look at what happened!"

"I-It's not what you think," Joe pleaded. "I was with my friend, Matt, and..."

"Matt?" Nana asked. "That drunk guy you made me meet?"

"He's not a drunk," Joe defended. Then he remembered his promise to himself to hate Matt. "Well, I mean, I guess he is. He's an asshole, you know. Recently, he's been – he used to not be..." Joe looked at Nana, who was still sniffling and beyond confused.

"Did he do this?" Nana questioned, cell phone shaking in her hand. "Did he get high or something and beat you up?"

"N-no!" He thought, too late, that he should have said yes. "I was mugged. Out in Shinjuku."

"Why were you in Shinjuku?"

"I, I was... I was visiting my Dad."

"You never visit your dad!"

"Well I was that day!"

"Stop lying!" Nana shrieked. She pulled on her hair and screamed wordlessly at him, a group of students pointing at her and giggling. "Just tell me what happened – the Gods' honest truth!" She wiped her eyes roughly, flinging tears to the ground. "... Was it your father?"

"No," Joe said automatically.

"Was it Matt?"

"... No..." Joe took a breath that hurt his bruised ribs. "I was mugged. I promise."

Nana swallowed a sob, wiping her nose on her sleeve and shoving her phone back into her bag. "... Fine. Whatever."

She turned to leave just as the bell began to ring. Joe bit his lip, flinching at the pain in his tongue, before hurrying after her.

"Hey, Nana, where's Shinjiro?" he asked softly.

"Out sick at home," she replied with an indifferent shrug. Her worry for Joe had drained her too much. "He's been out a few days, but at least I know where he is."

"Is he ok?" Worrying about others made it easy for duo to forget their own pain.

"I think so. I told him to go to the hospital, but he says it's just a cold." They walked to the shoe lockers, Nana glaring at Joe who was trying to remove his shoes without falling and breaking something else. "He's just as stubborn as you, you know."

"I've come to realize this," Joe said, adjusting his broken arm as best he could. The pain was becoming close to unbearable, and he tried desperately to distract himself. "How... How did you guys meet, anyway? I've known you for over a year now, and I still don't know."

Nana shrugged, reaching up to toy with her butterfly clip. She wasn't having even half the trouble Joe was and quickly put on her slippers. "We've been neighbors since before I can remember. Even when he were born, our cradles in the hospital were next to each other, if you believe my mom. We went to the same elementary, we were in all the same clubs, all that jazz. One day, we kissed on the playground – my dad was quick enough with his camera and he shows it to all my friends I have over. From then on, we just... were." She watched as Joe moved aside the love letters so he could reach his slippers and smiled dreamily, pushing aside her worry for her friend who would never admit to anything. "In fact, this clip? It was from his mother. He said that he didn't have enough money for a ring, so he gave this to me instead.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly. "Do you have anyone 'special' that you like?"

Joe blushed furiously, the rush of blood making him dizzy. "What?! No way. Not, not at all. That's a dumb idea, Nana."

"Really?" Nana smirked. "Not even that Matt boy who didn't break your arm?" Her tone suggested she didn't believe him about anything.

"Of course not!" Joe shoved his shoes in his locker and grabbed the first letter he came across. "In fact, I like him so little, that I might just go out with this guy." He looked at it, the ink sparkling and green – not something he was sure he could handle at this point.

"Really?" Nana was starting to laugh.

"Oh, gods, no." He shoved the letter back in his locker, turning so they could go to class. "I don't think I can ever go out with anyone." Nana quirked an eyebrow and Joe rushed to explain before she jumped to all the right conclusions again. "What I mean is, I'm just so... busy right now. I have school, and cram, and my internship. I'm too... too busy for a relationship. With anyone."

"Yeah, sure," Nana said.

She still didn't believe him.

Shinjiro came back to school the next day, and all of Nana's pent up worry flooded the poor young man.

"Your mom wouldn't let me see you yesterday, are you ok? Was it the cold, or a flu? Are you getting enough fluids?"

Nana was physically hanging off the stoic brunette, whining desperately at him. Shinjiro was attempting to reassure her while simultaneously trying not to fall over under her dead weight as he dragged her across the school.

"I'm fine," he reassured over and over. "I just needed some rest." He glanced at Joe, eying the cast Nana had spent the other day drawing all over with different colored gel pens. The young man had only barely escaped another beating by telling his father that his academic performance hadn't been effected.

"Ignore him," Nana demanded. "You know he's never gonna tell the truth about it."

"I did get mugged," Joe insisted. "Outside Shinjuku."

"Then why didn't you call the cops?" The girl pouted. She was still clinging to Shinjiro's arm, and he flexed his tingling fingers.

"They wore masks!"

Nana stuck her tongue out at him before resuming doting on her boyfriend. Now Joe could see the affection in his dark eyes, the way a smile tugged at his lips as he kissed her butterfly clip. He could tell that they were meant to be together forever as she cuddled close to him before reluctantly parting ways with him at their classroom.

Despite Nana's continued worry, though she tried to hide it under false anger, Joe managed through the day all right. All around him he could hear whispers, excited classmates talking about the emerging pop idol. He tried to ignore them, focus on his studies until two names popped out at him.

Mimi.

And Matt.

He told himself it was ok to listen in. That just because he was mad at Matt didn't mean he had to ignore the rest of his friends. From what he could tell, alternating between paying attention to the two students talking behind him, the teacher's lecture, and Nana's inquisitive glares, The Teenage Wolves had gotten back together and were currently in the process of recording Mimi's debut CD.

He remembered, a long time ago, Mimi's voice waking ShogenGekomon. She'd been dazzling back then, back when he'd been forcing his eyes to wander, and he could only imagine the young woman she'd grown into. It made him realize, suddenly, just how little he'd seen the rest of the Children. Not since the closure of the Gates...

It wasn't until Nana began drawing on his cast again that he even realized classes were over for the day.

"Well?" she asked when he finally looked over at her. She had drawn a white rosebush the other day, and was now coloring the flowers in with a sparkling red. "You back with the living?"

"Nana...? I, uh," he glanced at the clock and then at his notepad, filled with notes he didn't remember taking.

"Ever since Minaru mentioned the Teenage Wolves in Anatomy, you've been completely out of it. It wouldn't happen to be because Matt was the lead singer, now would it?"

Joe blushed and Nana smiled, switching out for a green pen to start a new bush. "Of course not – how can I convince you that I don't like him?"

"You can start by taking that ridiculous mechanical seal off your keys." Nana giggled as he sputtered. "All right, let's say I believe you. What was so enticing about Minaru, because even Rini thinks he's gross."

"He was talking about another one of my friends, Mimi Tachikawa. Something about her recording a CD?"

"Really? You of all people know Mimi?" Nana laughed and smudged the bush on accident. "And here I thought you were a complete and total nerd when it came to stuff like that?"

"Stuff like what, exactly?" Joe pouted, wiggling his fingers in irritation.

"Like, popular music and movies and, you know, normal people stuff." Joe glared at Nana and she shrugged, putting up her pens. "I'm sure you remember a few years ago, before the Wolves broke up? On their last tour, Mimi was their backup singer and she landed a contract with Avex." She stood, and the pair began to walk out of the classroom. "They put her in a pop idol group called Sorrow Sea, but to be honest they weren't that good. Poor Mimi was the one totally carrying that trio. Well, then they split up but Avex kept Mimi on as a solo, and I heard some rumors that she was going to put a CD out soon."

Shinjiro met them at the gate. He still looked pale, paler than he had that morning, but he assured Nana that he was all right. "Are you boring Joe again with all your celebrity gossip?"

"Of course not, I'm just catching him up on current events." Nana made a face at her boyfriend who rolled his eyes. "All right, fine Mr. Grumpy-pants. I'll stop informing Joe of his friend's lives and let him get to cram school."

"Actually, I have my internship all night tonight," Joe said. "A bit more fun than cram. Honest."

"Then hurry up," Shinjiro told him. "Your clinic is on the other side of the city, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and with this stupid thing," Joe lifted his cast as much as it would go and gave it a little wiggle, "I'm going to have a hell of a time changing into my scrubs. I'll see you guys later, ok?"

The head doctor of the clinic, Dr. Midori, was a tired old man, but very sweet. He didn't mind that Joe ran in late, huffing and puffing apologies. He just waved a wrinkled hand from his seat and gave a sweet smile.

"We've been slow today," he said, loud enough for the intern to hear as he changed from his school uniform to his scrubs. "Mrs. Nomoji picked up her prescriptions yesterday, and there's been no accidents all day."

Joe wiggled and flailed and finally put his shirt on over his cast, poking his head out of the small room. "What do you want me to do today, then?"

Dr. Midori sipped his coffee, enjoying the rare moment of peace in a busy clinic. "Go find Dr. Iruma and start on inventory. We need to place an order by ten tomorrow morning if we're low on anything."

As sweet as Midori was, Iruma was as much of a grump. He frowned at Joe when the boy showed up, looking pointedly at his watch. "Go in the back room," he said, not waiting for an excuse, "and count the suture packs. We're having inventory soon."

"Yes, sir!" Joe bowed obediently, hurrying to the small supply room. It was just big enough to fit him and his colorful cast, and he spent the next few hours, counting everything in all the closets and then counting them again. The clinic barely picked up, a few older women getting their medications, a young man being admitted with a laceration across the back of his hand, and a small child rushed in who had picked up a rock at the playground and attempted to swallow it. Dr. Midori had the stone sitting on his desk as a paperweight now, and Joe was proud of the old man.

"I couldn't have done it if you hadn't been there," Dr. Midori had said as he sanitized the souvenir. "You're very good at keeping patients calm, and that's very important in emergency situations like this one."

"It's just something I've always had to deal with," Joe had replied absently, watching the water running off the stone, deep red with a dark brown band running through the middle. "My parents, my brothers, my friends." He'd barely stopped himself before he said "The Digimon."

And now, as Joe counted the catheters for the third time, finally trusting himself enough to tally them on a clipboard balanced on his cast, he wondered if he should have said any of that. Dr. Midori was nice enough, but if he said anything too revealing, the man was obligated to report it. He sighed, wishing his father hadn't broken his dominant hand as he struggled to make his numbers perfect, just as the clinic doors burst open.

"Female, mid-teens," an EMT said as a stretcher was wheeled in. "Collapsed at her house, barely breathing, pule low."

"Any signs of trauma?" Dr. Iruma asked, rushing alongside, directing them to a room.

"None, possible exhaustion. A friend called her in."

Joe looked out the window of his supply closet. The EMT was running back to the ambulance, sirens sill blaring, and Dr. Midori rushed into the room, several nurses following. He tapped the end of his pen against his clipboard, careful not to hit his numbers, and wondered if he should run in as well. A quick glance at his watch told him he only had fifteen minutes left of his shift, and he needed to finish inventory before he left.

"Where is she? Where's Mimi?!"

That was Matt!

"Sir, I need you to calm down and -"

"Damnit, where the fuck is she?!"

"Sir, just -"

A sound Joe was all too familiar with, and Dr. Iruma yelped.

The clipboard clattered to the ground as Joe flew out of the closet. He ran down the hall, watching as two nurses struggled to hold Matt down. The blonde was thin and pale, dark circles under his eyes. Joe forgot all about his promise to hate the young man as he heard him sob, "You have to help her! She can't die!"

Dr. Iruma was rubbing his jaw, already swelling and beginning to bruise. He was glaring at Matt, and Joe knew as soon as he could move his mouth to speak, he would be yelling for the police and nothing would stop him.

"Matt!" Joe ran down the hall. The nurses holding the blonde almost fell over as he suddenly went limp. "Matt, what are you doing here? What happened?"

There was a moment where it seemed Matt had passed out. Then he lifted his head, eyes red from crying, from sleepless nights Joe knew all too well, and he whispered, "Joe... Joe, please..."

Dr. Iruma looked to the intern and Joe nodded at him, let him know it was ok. He reached out, touched Matt on the shoulder and said as gently as he could, "Matt, tell me what happened."

"I, I don't know... I was at her house and then I..." Matt shook his head, almost his whole body from side to side. "I turned around and she was on the floor. I didn't even fucking notice how tired she was, not at all. Some damned friend I am..." He looked up suddenly, tears splashing on the floor. "I need to see her. I need to make sure that she's all right!"

"Matt, you can't go in there." Dr. Iruma growled and Joe tried to placate all involved, like he always did. "Matt, Matt!" The blonde finally looked at him, instead of through him. "We could call the police right now, you know that. But if you apologize to Dr. Iruma, and mean it, I'll go in there with her. I'll see how Mimi is, ok?"

Matt looked at the doctor, glared really, and grumbled quickly, "S-sorry, man." He then turned to Joe again, those blue eyes large and begging, "Please!"

Dr. Iruma rubbed his jaw a moment longer, finally sighing. "Go, Kido. I'll keep an eye on him."

Joe hurried into the room before the doctor could change his mind. Mimi was in the bed, hooked up to an IV. There was a respirator nearby, but she seemed safe for now. She had her head back on the pillow, but when the door opened, she looked over. Her hair, pink once more, was fanned out over the pillow and she was in a matching pink nightgown. She blinked heavily, breathing a bit labored, but gave a sad smile when she saw her friend.

"Mimi," Joe pulled his lips into a grin, trying to reassure her as best she could. "You're awake..."