Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Of Doors and Data ❯ Unrest ( Chapter 2 )

~*~Disclaimer~*~

I don't own Digimon itself, or characters associated with it. But if I make one of them up I own his/her/it's name and characteristics. The same goes for other new characters. Odds are I wont in this story, but I will someday. `) I also own chapter names, unless somebody sues me because they though of it first, but rest assured, I tried to be original. Same goes for story titles.

I still don't get any money for this stuff...

This one will be pretty deep folks, not nearly as casual as the last one.

Thanks for dealing with me everybody, and remember to R&R!

Chapter 2: Unrest

Lee Jenrya tossed and turned in his bed. Ever since he and the rest of the tamers had been forcibly separated from their digimon partners, he had extreme difficulty sleeping. After that fateful afternoon, where triumph had given way to despair, he had not been the same person. He had acting irrational and overly emotional about odd things, which was unusual from him. He was usually the calm one, often being the buffer between Ruki and Takato, settling disputes and ending arguments. He had prevented them from battling their digimon against each other multiple times. Though they had both matured by time the D-Reaper came on the scene, he still found himself the balance between the two extremes that were Ruki and Takato.

But now he could hardly reason with himself. Nothing his counselors, mother, or sister said could help him. He had barely spoken to his father, since his betrayal. He might never trust his father again, after what he did that to the tamers and their digimon. The world had to be saved, but Jenrya simply couldn't believe that there was no other way. If only his father had looked harder. After a while, he had simply stopped letting people see his true feelings. He had hardened his heart to almost everybody, and rarely let his guard down.

Still though, he often found his thoughts drifting off into his adventures, remembering the good times and the bad, and not just Terriermon drifted back from his memories. He would remember Guilmon's antics, and Terriermon's tactless retorts. He would remember how Terriermon and Lopmon were constantly tormented by the good natured, but occasionally insensitive sister of his. He would remember Monodramon's odd sense of humor, the small pink MarineAngemon's gibberish that the digimon and Kenta somehow understood perfectly, and Guardromon's awkward imitations of Hirokazu. Sometimes he thought of the quiet and mysterious Renamon, prone to appear without a sound and fade away like a leaf in the wind at any second. Sometimes, he even thought of that little troublemaker Impmon. But then he would remember that they were gone, out of his life forever, and whatever happiness the memories brought him would come crumbling down, leaving him more depressed than he had been before.

That was it, sleep was impossible at that point. He simply couldn't settle his mind with all these turbulent thoughts bouncing around in his head. He got up, straitened his shorts and walked into the bathroom. After doing his business, he looked into the mirror. What he saw was the shadow of what was once both a warrior and partner to Terriermon. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and disheveled hair. His eyes lacked the strength that people had once seen there, replaced by an darkness that reflected his thoughts. Like there was something in him that Terriermon had taken with him, a void in his heart that couldn't be filled. He looked downtrodden and generally very distraught.

The one good thing that Jen saw was that his muscle tone had significantly improved since that day. In the months since the horrible day, he had put all his energy into his martial arts practice and his schoolwork. But his physical and his academic achievements only succeeded in making his parents think he was recovering, and getting over the loss. To Jenrya, they were empty achievements. He couldn't really share his accomplishments with the friends he had before he had met Terriermon, he hadn't been able to really relate to them since the incident, and they seemed almost frightened by the haunted look in his eyes. He spoke with the other tamers every now and then, a phone call, an e-mail, or he would see them in the park sometimes. But he kept his distance from all of them. Even Takato, who he had been closest with, though they still kept up pretty regular communication. It was hard not to, they went to the same school.

He often thought up excuses for not seeing them. Some of them went to different schools, some of them he hadn't been very close with, they had their own problems, let them move on with their life, all these and more he thought of during the day. Here though, at night, when there was nobody to lie to, nobody to put on the mask of recovery for, and nobody but his true self to keep him company, he knew the true reason for not being with them.

Fear. He was afraid. Afraid that he would see the same suffering in their eyes and that he would have to deal with their grief as well, or worse. He might see that they were getting better, and genuinely recovering from the loss. That he was weak and sick for how he was reacting. He could put his life on the line, fighting side-by-side or even merged with Terriermon against countless Digimon, the D-Reaper and it's agents. But now he couldn't even face his own friends, his comrades in arms, the ones he had gone through hell with and emerged. He was nothing but a coward.

These thoughts darkened his mind as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He finished it off and put it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out. He didn't want to wake his parents up and have them see him in this state. As he passed his sister's room on his way back to his own, Jenrya saw his sister Suichon in her bed, and could tell that she had been crying again. She had dark rims under her eyes that plainly signaled her distress. In her hand, closely held to her chest she held a picture of Lopmon she had drawn, after putting her in one of her old dresses. Next to her bed, in a handmade frame, there was Suichon's first and only modify card. `At least she's open about her feelings,' Jenrya thought.

He reentered his room and saw his own memento of his digimon, a small picture of himself and Terriermon, together in the park, happy and confidant. The Jenrya in the picture looked massively different than the Jenrya that stared at it. Jenrya's eyes began to mist up as he thought about his lost friend, the trust and the bond that he had taken for granted. Now that Terriermon was gone, he might never be that person again. "Look what has become of me Terriermon," Jenrya spoke to the picture and to himself, "I've become a coward. A goddamned coward. I miss you."

With that he shed his own tears of sorrow.

~*~

Shuichon waited until her brother went back to his room, and then rolled over. wiping her eyes, she held the picture of Lopmon to the light from the window, and stared at it. "Lopmon, why did you have to go? I don't know what to do without you," she said as her tears fell anew. She could hear her brother talking to the picture again from the other room. During the day, her brother seemed quiet and normal, seemingly on the road to recovery. But late at night, when she heard his muffled sobs Shuichon knew better than that. He was worse off than she was. Though she too had been greatly effected. Since that fateful day, she found herself prone to sudden tears, coming when least expected and least welcome.

This was one of those times, staining her pillow with tears as she cried herself to sleep.

~*~

Ruki sat alone in her bedroom, looking out into the garden through the back door. The moon reflected in the small pond, the stars glinting like thousands of diamonds had been scattered along the surface, along with the tree that her partner had spent much time perched in at night. She sat with her knees under her chin next to her table, in a overlong light blue nightgown. Her reddish brown hair, usually up for practicality's sake, now cascading down around her shoulders.

Since Renamon had been ripped from her protective arms, and sucked into the digital world along with her all of her friends' digimon, Ruki had reverted somewhat into her old self. She reestablished her colder exterior, and though she was less calloused to her mother and grandmother than before her time with the tamers, their relationship had taken a blow since the implementation of the Juggernaut program.

Ruki often wished she could be more friendly with her family, but nothing they could say would help, not even a piece of her grandmother's sage advice. Renamon was her redeemer, she had seen the worst and the best of Ruki, and stuck with her through it all. With Renamon, Ruki didn't feel the need to shut people out and stick to her own cold ambitions. With Renamon she had gained the unthinkable for an, "Ice Queen," such as herself. Friends. She had put her life on the line for them and had come out victorious. In the end, it was warmth and friendship that had triumphed over adversity, not the cold, unthinking dedication to battling that had originally been her approach to life.

But without Renamon, Ruki was lost. Her life no longer had purpose, and substance. Card battling had almost become a chore, there was no longer a challenge. The one who could possibly have given her a run for her money was Ryo, and his friends and family saw him almost as much as they saw the back of their own heads. Plus the entire world had seen the televised battles between the D-Reaper and herself, everybody knew what had happened, how she had become one with Renamon and fought for the livelihood of humanity itself. There was no comparing that to a simple card battle, she and everybody who hadn't been under a rock when the D-Reaper devastated Japan and most other places all over the world knew it. The whole world knew that she was a hero, and she got no satisfaction from that either. There was no challenge for her in any real area except school, which she didn't overly concern herself with, or in looks. And therein lay another problem.

In the months since the day Lee's father had taken Renamon from her, she had been going through the changes her air-headed preppy classmates had been both looking forward to and dreading. She had never paid her body much heed. Before she had met Renamon it simply never occurred to her. While she had been first battling with Renamon she had only viewed it as another tool to be used towards becoming the best, (though in retrospect she realized that she was no longer even sure of what she wanted to be the best at) and even after had been too busy in her adventures in the digital world, or her battles with the D-Reaper's agents to really think about such matters. But now, with her body in a state of flux, somewhere between childhood and womanhood, she had nobody to turn to. She couldn't talk to her mother, because when she tried she only saw it as an opportunity to do more modeling, or would give her a talk about the, "Joys of being a woman," which just sickened her. Neither could she turn to her grandmother, who would take an old-fashioned approach to the whole situation and probably mix her up more than would help. The male tamers were out, she had opened up to them but she still had her pride. She would not humiliate herself by asking a boy about her feminine maturation. That only left Shuichon, who was only seven and didn't need to hear about such things, and Juri, who had more than enough problems for one person to handle.

It was times like these that she missed Renamon the most. The little tingle in the back of her mind signaling her presence had always been a reassurance, a sign that even though she was going through tough times she would never be alone. She had the most unique bond with her digimon, unlike the others. She shared with Renamon an emotional bond even before they had first bio-merged. Even before she could truly call Renamon a friend she could sense her emotions, and sometimes even tell what she was thinking through that mask of mysterious detachment. Ruki's thoughts even effected Renamon sometimes. During their first battles, Ruki's cold efficiency and ruthlessness effected Renamon's attitude towards battle and how she finished off opponents. Guilmon and Takato had a similar bond, but there were some differences. They had a creator to creation kind of bond, where they got along very well and had similar mannerisms. But still, they weren't totally alike. They sometimes had trouble understanding each other, and sometimes even hurt each other, like when Juri's Leomon had been destroyed and Takato's rage had caused Guilmon to digivolve into the dark Megidramon. But Renamon and her shared a different bond, almost as if their minds fit each other like puzzle pieces, both bent in opposing ways, but together fitting perfectly and creating a stronger, better whole.

But now her other half was gone, and she felt herself like a broken puzzle piece. Alone without the support of others, and not being part of the whole picture she had been destined to help complete. Near the end of their time together she and Renamon had been as close as Ruki had ever been with anybody. She had little trouble sharing her problems with her, even without Renamon sensing them before she said anything. Their intuition with each other was uncanny. Ruki was also sure that she could talk openly with Renamon about her physical situation as well. Renamon was more feminine than most humans that she knew, and, Ruki thought with a smile, had better curves than even her mother, the supermodel that she was. She didn't flaunt it the same way her mother did either, she was so casual about it that few even noticed. Though Ruki had to admit, the only contact she had with other people was with the other tamers. And she doubted that any of them had viewed her way, and even if they, they would just write her off as only a digimon anyway.

Once again she found herself painfully aware of the void in her mind that Renamon had usually filled. Here eyes wandered to the leather belt that hung on her dresser, the small pouch for modify cards empty. And in the drawer it hung on, she knew that her digivice, sacred to her as anything she owned, lay amongst her old Digimon cards and memorabilia, the compass eternally spinning at blinding speed. The thing was not programmed to believe that the tamer it belonged to and their digimon could be separated by an entire world. It only served to remind her that though Renamon was alive somewhere, they couldn't be together.

She spent most of that night, staring out at the stars and remembering lost friendship and lost love.

Her digivice continued to look for it's digimon.

~*~

During the day, Takato went to school. He studied hard and got decent grades. After school he went to the park, played games with his friends, and joked about the day's goings on. But late at night, something ate at him. Something burned at his very soul, something that he couldn't let go.

It was guilt. He had made a promise that he was beginning to think he couldn't keep. In the months since he had saved Juri and lost Guilmon, he had begun to move on with his life. Most would think this healthy and right, but in the back of his mind, Takato couldn't accept that fact. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't do something. He often walked by the park, sometimes thinking he might just spot Guilmon where he used to live. It bad become a sort of ritual for him. But his hopes were in vain. And guilt reared it's ugly head once again.

Takato had unwittingly created a living, breathing creature. One that he had taught and cared for since his first days alive. He had grown to love Guilmon like a parent loves a child. And he had lost that child, perhaps prematurely. Since the first day, it had been his responsibility to protect and nurture Guilmon, but he had been taken away and Takato blamed himself. Though he could rescue Juri from something that could consume the entire human race, he couldn't rescue Guilmon from the effects of Juggernaut. And sometimes he even thought that he might be able to live without Guilmon. It was days like those the guilt ate at him the worst.

He wondered how long he could keep doing this to himself. As he stared out the window, it began to rain. Though he was so self-involved that he barely noticed.

~*~

Ryo wandered the streets, among those who couldn't sleep. As he walked past parked cars, empty shops, and darkened houses, his body shuddered with rage. Rage at his loss and rage at his father. He was almost as angry at his dad for his, "good riddance to bad rubbish," attitude about his partner as he grieved his loss. The rain that he felt start to patter against his clothing only served to intensify the frustration he felt in his very core.

~*~

Some might say though, that those who suffered from insomnia were better off than those who were subjected to the emotions and images brought up by their subconscious. Those who lay in dream were subjugated to whatever their minds could come up with, be it good or bad. And for the tamers that either could no longer stay conscious or those who had some, "assisted," sleep, it wasn't usually good.

Hirokazu lay on his bed, fully clothed and out cold. His face was tense and anxious, as images of people shrinking occupied his mind, bouncing around in his cranium. He smacked his hand on the bedpost, a bruise he would discover later, in the morning. Next to his bed, on a small foldable table lay a model kit of a robot.

Makato and Ai rested in their parents bed, prone to kicking and whacking their parents as their dreams were acted out with their bodies. in their dream, there was a small apple. The apple lay in a mist that they seemed to be unable to penetrate, and every time they reached for the apple it disappeared and moved to another place. Time after time the apple eluded them, until finally they worked together to grab the apple at the same time. And when their efforts finally paid off, and the apple rested in their hands, they were afraid to loose it. The held it very close, and very tight. But they saw that as they clutched the apple, it shrunk and withered, until it was nothing but dust. The dust ran through their fingers, and when it hit the ground it only made the mist darker.

Kenta was busy having his own dream about longing. In his dream, all his friends received small glass animals. One by one, his friends all seemed to be getting these little trinkets, and he began to get jealous. Then he began to see that other people had the same glass animals, and that he was the only one without one of them. Finally, he noticed a small glass animal, hovering in the void in front of him. But he was unable to get there, it seemed that he couldn't run. It was like he was breathing underwater, and the pressure was simply to much for him to overcome. Finally, he kicked off the wall behind him, and diving, reached for his prize, his glass animal to call his own. But in his haste, he slipped and the trinket fell, and shattered. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, and all his friends were laughing at him. As he writhed in his bed, a glass of water he had knocked over in his sleep lay broken on the floor. When he woke he would not remember the dream, but the image of the wet broken pieces of glass on the floor would haunt him all the next day.

Asleep on her keyboard, lay a petite blond girl in a dark dress. Whatever Alice had been writing in her word processor was replaced by the same letter, over and over again, her elbow pressing against the keyboard. Her dreams were not as vivid as the others'. She floated in a black space, empty of anything but herself. She knew that the space was meant to occupy something, but for some reason could not remember. She wracked her brains trying to remember, but she came up short. She began to scream in her dream, to scream and scream and scream, to fill the void, but not even an echo answered back. She was shaken awake by her grandfather who had been woken up by her moaning.

~*~

One person had it the worst though. Juri lay in a small bed, the sheets moist and tangled around her body as she thrashed about in her restless sleep. Perspiration beaded of her brow as she lay in a cold sweat. She could see two digimon fighting, and she screamed for them to stop, even though she couldn't see who or what they truly were. As she neared them, she saw what looked to be two identical Beezlemons fighting in hand to hand combat. Their spiked fingers clawed at each other, leaving deep gashes, and data streamed from these vicious wounds. The gruesome sight made her scream for them to stop again, despite her reservations against it and her will to see her old friend avenged. But they paid her no heed. A voice behind her said, "I can end this you know."

Juri tried to turn to see the owner of the voice, the voice that sounded eerily like her own, but found herself incapable of pulling her eyes away from the scene, like they were magnetized to the two battling digimon. "Did you know that one of them is here to save you? The other is trying to prevent him from doing so," the voice continued, "And I can kill one of them. Any one you choose, you can even look at it like you're sparing one's life. They would destroy each other anyway."

"No, I couldn't do that, it would be wrong to sentence either of them to death. I don't want to do it," Juri replied, tears beginning to stream down their face as the battle raged on, both looking closer and closer to death, but neither gaining the upper hand.

"Well I'm afraid you have to pick one of them dear, or else I'll be forced to destroy both of them, right in front of you, and then I'll finish you off as sort of a grand finale," The voice threatened.

Juri thought about this, precious seconds of one of the digimon's life ticking away as they drained each other's life away. "Please, end this," Juri finally pleaded, "I can't stand this any longer. That one," she pointed to the one on the left. That one suddenly was impaled by the other, the one she had chosen to be the victor, and as his data dissipated into the air, his form changed, and she could see that it was Leomon, her lost beloved partner, not Beezlemon that she had sentenced to death. As he fell to the ground, he stared at her with accusing eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that had once gazed upon her with love. Then in a puff of data, he was gone, and the Beezlemon began to laugh. It was the laugh of a child. It was her own laugh, the one she had not heard in months, though now twisted and evil.

She woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, gasping, as her body was taken by body wracking sobs of regret.

~*~

While all this was going on, in various safe places, eight digivice compasses spun, forever looking for something they wouldn't find in this world. Another lay dormant in the sweaty palm of a weeping girl.

Yikes, this was an awfully emotional chapter now wasn't it? Not bad for my first fanfic, eh? As you've probably all noticed, the tamers and their digimon are not currently being written about at the same time. That'll change pretty soon, the digimon just have some catching up to do on the timeline. Remember to review! I'm now accepting anonymous reviews, so observers wont need a name to leave their opinion.