Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon.

Absolutions:

White Wedding

"It's a nice day for a white wedding.
It's a nice day to start again."
~Billy Idol

You know, this dream could almost pass for interesting when he did not know exactly how it was going to end. Almost, but not quite. He scuffed the soles of his shoes along the slick stones of the path as he made his way towards the edge of the cliff. Perhaps today he would just jump, take a flying leap and see if he could not just finish everything before he woke up.

Yeah. What were the chances of that ever happening? Lately it had seemed as if the world was out to deny him every possible whim. Like fate had somehow tricked him into revealing each and every wish he had ever dreamed just so she could see that he would never, ever actually receive it. Stupid fate.

He paused a moment to stare at one of the blooming trees that lined the path. They really were beautiful. He'd once been told that dreams were little more than flashes of electricity through his brain, his body's way of cleaning, of dumping old useless memories into nonsensical heaps and then recombining them as new. But looking at this tree, he was not so sure. Where had he ever seen anything like that? And if he had, how could he have forgotten it? He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force his brain to remember from which memory it had originally taken this tree. No such luck.

"Why should I remember you?" his mind asked the tree, "And why should you remember me?" His eyes followed a shallow depression in the earth that ran between the trees and right up to where the man dressed all in brown stood. "I suppose that's too much to ask."

"Well, here's to you," he nodded, first at the tree and then in the direction of the man before bunching his muscles in preparation for the anticipated burst of speed.

"And here goes nothing." He felt his feet began to slip on the stones as he propelled himself forward. The edge was only a few feet away. If he could only keep his precarious traction for a few seconds more, he would...

Ken was shaking him awake, rather too violently, or so Daisuke believed.

"You kick," he was tersely informed. Ken held him at arms length for a moment as he studied Daisuke's choice in sleepwear. "Why are you wearing one of Miyako's nightshirts?" he finally worked up the courage to ask, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

Daisuke took his own long, deeply disturbed look at the frilly pink cotton get-up; "I couldn't find any thing of yours that fit."

"Well that color does wonders for you complexion," Ken groaned as he fought to move into sitting position only to teeter uncertainly on the edge of the bed.

"That's not funny," Daisuke groused.

"Neither is the way I feel. I want some drugs." Ken finally managed to rise to his feet and after pausing for a second to get his bearings, began to stagger in the direction of his kitchen.

"I could have warned you..." Daisuke began.

"But you didn't," he was reminded.

"Try drinking lots of water," Daisuke suggested, calling after Ken, who must not have made it very far as he was still able to poke his head around the door and give Daisuke a thoroughly dirty look.

"Try not yelling so loud."

"Right, sorry." Daisuke whispered, crawling out of the bed to help his ill friend along. When the finally managed to stumble into the kitchen, Daisuke sat Ken down at the table and began rummaging to find the requested aspirin. Giving up, he broke down and asked, "Where have you hidden it Ken?"

"M's," came the pained groan. Daisuke easily found the correct cabinet and after only the most minimal of probing, the aspirin.

"Care to explain why you would have aspirin with the M's?" Daisuke asked, putting special emphasis on the A of aspirin, just in case Ken was not aware that the word aspirin did indeed, start with an A. He set the offending pills on the table in front of Ken before turning to run a glass of water.

"M is for medicine," Ken informed him, accepting the damp glass and swallowing the pills, "I didn't have many M's and I wanted it to be even."

"You're weird Ken."

Ken brushed the humored statement off with a wave of his hand, "At least I don't look like a raccoon," he teased. Daisuke fingered the tender tissue around his left eye. It had been aching ever since he had gotten up but he had not yet worked up the courage to look in a mirror.

"How bad?" Daisuke asked carefully. Ken cocked his head as he studied Daisuke's face.

"Well," he hedged, "At least the table prevented Taichi from getting that great of an angle."

"But will Miyako notice?" Ah, the true question was finally out on the table, and it did not seem that Daisuke would get the answer he wanted, not judging by Ken's flinch, anyway.

"I don't know Daisuke," Ken began hopelessly, "Have you ever considered an extended vacation?"

"I've always wanted to see a America."

"Then maybe now is a good time. But first, I'd change. After all, we wouldn't want to give them the wrong impression, now would we?"

+++++++++++

So, the day was finally upon them. The day of horrors unimaginable, of deepest fears brought to fruition. The day that in planning had brought Daisuke countless hours of sadistic pleasures, Ken and Miyako's wedding.

And now Ken had all but tied his hands behind is back. Life just was not fair!

"I mean it Daisuke. Let her alone." I must have been the fiftieth time that Ken had reiterated his command, and that was only counting their drive.

"I got it, I got it," Daisuke mumbled in the direction of the passing scenery.

"Daisuke..."

"Ken!" Daisuke answered bit, every bit as exasperated as Ken's previous statement had been wary, "I'm not going to do anything. I was never even going to do anything. This is all in your head!" After all, since when did white lies hurt anything.

Daisuke's little explosions had long since stopped having any effect on Ken, "Hn. Just how stupid do you think I am?" he questioned calmly.

"Pretty stupid," Daisuke mumbled almost inaudibly under his breath, once more choosing to focus on the street side. He hunched a bit, expecting retaliation, but unsure as to how Ken would reciprocate.

He nearly jumped out the window at Ken's calm answer, "We're here." Daisuke shot out of the car, completely ignoring the grinning Takeru who had come to help them carry everything inside.

"Trouble in paradise?" Takeru joked as both he and Ken watched Daisuke skulk of to find Miyako as earlier promised.

"I told him he had to leave Miyako alone today." Ken's voice had taken on a steely determination.

Takeru turned to his dark haired friend with a sigh, "Aw, man. Poor guy, he's been planning this one for months."

"This is serious Takeru." There was no denying the slight wistfulness to Ken's voice. He hated to deny Daisuke anything, especially something like this, but this was important, or so he reminded himself for the thousandth time that morning. "It's serious," he repeated out loud in hopes of confirming his mindset.

"I know, I know," Takeru hastened to clarify, lest he suddenly find himself subject to the continual grilling that Daisuke had no doubt been subjected to all morning, "I was just saying."

"Good. Because the last thing I need is someone to egg him on."

"Poor guy," Takeru mumbled again before speaking up, "Where's he heading."

"Miyako," came the grim reply.

+++++++++++

Daisuke did his best to peer through the smoky glass into the dressing room only to be able to make out a vague white smudge. He shrugged before easing the door open. After all, white meant she was dressed, right? Dear God, he hoped so.

"Miya?" he questioned quietly, casting uneasy glances about the room whilst making sure that he could escape quickly if necessary. "You here?"

"Daisuke? Is that you?" Something had skittered behind a folding room-divider and now cautiously peeked around the edge.

"Yeah."

"Oh good," came the relieved sigh, "Can you help me with my obi?"

"Sure. Just turn around," Daisuke suggested before moving behind the screen. Miyako smiled as Daisuke worked the cloth easily.

"Sometimes I'm really thankful you're more girl than boy. I've never been able to tie these blasted things."

"Cute," Daisuke intoned giving the wide belt more of a jerk that was absolutely necessary, "Besides, if you weren't so helpless I wouldn't have so much practice." He glanced over her shoulder at the rest of her bridal ensemble waiting for its turn later that day. "I'm glad you chose the red uchikake. It's much more suited to you than all this white," he joked.

"Daisuke!"

"I'm teasing, I'm teasing," he confessed, "You look very pretty." He patted the elaborate knot to tell her he was done.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked just as she began turning around.

Daisuke's final thought was that she really was better suited to the color red.

+++++++++++

"Miyako?" Takeru asked, "Why Miya?"

Ken let out a gusty sigh, "When she sees that black eye, Miyako's going to go mad, so I made him promise to tell her right away. The fewer guests that are here to hear her, the better."

"So I guess Taichi got him pretty good then, eh?" Takeru deduced, hastening to explain at Ken's look, "I didn't get a chance to see."

Ken was just about to assure him that he most certainly had when the air was pierced by a blood-curdling scream.

+++++++++++

Takeru arrived at the dressing room door just after Hikari, who seemed to be hesitating in her best friend duty of checking to see who or what was attempting to kill the bride.

"Whoa, give them a second," Takeru begged, pulling his girlfriend back just before she allowed her ultimate burst of courage to take her into the battle zone.

"What's going on?" she whispered, only to jump as her answer came, somewhat surprisingly, through the door.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE ACTING AS THE GOBETWEEN. HOW'S IT GOING TO LOOK WITH YOU STANDING UP THERE WITH A BLACK EYE?"

"Daisuke?" Hikari asked. Takeru nodded. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. Taichi," came Takeru's cryptic response.

"Yamato?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"I SAID THAT I WAS SORRY. WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?"

"WELL I'M SORRY BUT YOUR I'M SORRY DIDN'T SEEM SINCERE WHEN YOU WERE SCREAMING IT AT ME!"

"I'M SORRY!"

"For the love of-, would someone please make them stop?"

Hikari and Takeru both turned to see a pained looking Ken rubbing his temples.

"It's okay, I've got it," Takeru answered, once more pulling Hikari back from the brink of hell. "Stay out here with Ken where it's safer," he compelled her gently.

Takeru opened the door just in time to keep Miyako from cracking open Daisuke's head with her ceremonial sword.

"Now, now, we don't want to add any more bruises," he soothed, doing his best to pry the wooden instrument from her locked grip.

"Have you seen him?" Miyako asked all too incredulously, "He's ruining everything!" Takeru, finally managing to wrestle the sword away from her, turned his attention to Daisuke. Yes. He had a black eye. But it was not excessively swollen and so Takeru continued to hold on to his nearly endless supply of hope.

"No, no, stop worrying. This is do-able," he argued, pushing Daisuke into the closest chair. "Hikari?" Takeru called now that the ire that had perfused the room mere seconds before had lessened to safer levels, "Did you bring any make-up?"

She popped her head around the door with a confused look, "Yes."

"I think we're going to need it in here."

+++++++++++

Three consultations, the arrival of Mimi and one trip to the local drug store later (Who would have thought that Hikari would wear a lighter shade of base than Daisuke? Not Takeru), they finally managed to get Daisuke's black eye fairly well concealed. Well, concealed enough to assure Miyako that it would not be seen by any of the guests or in the wedding photographs.

"Oh, do you think we should add some lipstick?"

Daisuke shuddered at the very thought. "No," he answered Mimi's question a little too forcibly, "I'm done. You're done. We're Done." Mimi pouted a bit at his tone.

"I wasn't gong to suggest anything dark. No one would even be able to tell. You'd just look nicer. Guys do it all the time on television shows."

"No!"

"It's okay," Takeru comforted his friend, "Daisuke's just had a rough couple of days. I'm sure he doesn't mean to snap at you." He gave the brown haired girl a bit of a squeeze, "It's not your fault." Takeru had once, as a very young child, made the mistake of referring to Mimi's hair as being a kind of dirty dishwater blonde. He had not seen her natural color since.

Mimi must not have been overly hurt as she and Miyako had already adjourned to the other side of the room where what ever it was that they were discussing required lots of giggles and a few knowing looks at Ken.

Takeru did not want to know.

+++++++++++

Daisuke cocked his head to listen to the flight call over the airport intercom. "Well, I guess that's just about it," he told his two friends, "Look's like this is your last chance to escape Ken."

"Daisuke..." Ken warned.

"What? I'm just saying if you want to run, give me the signal and I'll distract her for you. After all, what are friends for?" Still, despite his teasing, Daisuke smiled at them both, reaching down to help Ken gather their onboard luggage.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," Ken was looking at a post-it note stuck to the back of his ticket, "Here," he handed the note over to Daisuke, "In case you wanted to give him a call."

"Him?" Daisuke questioned, studying the twelve-digit number. Something about it looked all too familiar.

"Yeah," Ken adjusted the bag over his shoulder before leaning in to whisper in Daisuke's ear, "Go get a piece of that ass."

To say that Daisuke nearly choked would have been an understatement. As it was, he stumbled back more than a few inches. By the time he looked up, Ken and Miyako had almost made it past the ticket desk.

"What? Hey, Ken wait!"

"Plane, Daisuke," he was calmly reminded, "They have been known to take off with out everyone on board."

"I just-I mean-Uhh-This isn't funny!" Daisuke finally managed to spit out his thoughts.

"I wasn't joking." Ken and Miyako both turned to walk though the connector to the waiting plane.

"Wait! Miyako!"

"What is it?" she was getting more than a little impatient.

"I just-I wanted to wish you a happy honeymoon," Daisuke paused for a second before continuing, "And I swear to God that I was not the one that put it in your bag." He placed a solemn hand over his heart, trying not to stumble backwards again at the narrowed look he received.

"He knows better," Ken assured Miyako, beginning to pull her towards the gate by her elbow at the flight attendants insistent request, "Tell her you know better Daisuke," he called back over his shoulder.

"Of course, that's what I said wasn't it?" he waived them a goodbye, waiting until they were out of earshot to tell a nearby chair in his best sing-song voice, "But that doesn't mean I didn't talk Takeru into doing it for me."

+++++++++++

Life was boring. Ken and Miyako were gone. Takeru had taken Hikari on some sort of spring break camping trip. Iori was back at home (not that Daisuke could really see himself calling the boy up anyway.) He was not talking to Yamato and Taichi was not talking to him. Yes. Life was boring.

And so, when the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Daisuke's reaction was bordering on the ecstatic. That is, until he looked through the peephole.

Daisuke threw the door open. "What?" he growled. Big blue eyes threatened to tear over at his tone but Daisuke remained steadfast.

"Is Takeru still here?" Yamato asked timidly. Daisuke had never seen him look more like a cornered rabbit. He fought the urge to sooth the boy.

"He left early this morning," Daisuke replied, a bit more kindheartedly then he had wanted.

"Oh. Um," Yamato faltered, "I, um…" he seemed to be trying to ball up all his courage for one big go, "I mean, I was wondering if I could stay here for the night."

Daisuke took a moment to absorb the hastily spit out statement. His mind knew that he should just shut the door with out a reply, but somehow, the impulses were being blocked before they managed to reach the proper muscles.

"Daisuke?" Yamato begged, no doubt worried by Daisuke's uncharacteristic silence, if not the spasmodic twitching of his lower arm, "It's just one night. I promise. You won't even know I'm here and I'll go out and find an apartment tomorrow. It's a promise," he insisted for the second time.

"Fine," Daisuke finally accepted both Yamato's proposal and his own inability to deny the man. Besides, he was not entirely convinced that Yamato would leave if he had said no, "I guess it will keep me from throwing myself off the roof out of sheer boredom," he shrugged, slamming the door shut again before stomping back to where he had been slouched on the couch. Sure. Now the damned arm worked.

After a few more seconds, Daisuke heard the sound of the door creaking back open, along with that of more than a few cases being deposited on the floor, as lightly as possible no doubt. Another set of unnaturally quiet moments passed as Yamato tiptoed to just before the living room's door. A second later and the tall blond form was seen dashing across the living room doorway towards Takeru's empty room.

Daisuke waited until he heard the click of the door closing before he let out the giggle at Yamato's attempt to be inconspicuous. He considered going to talk him out of the bedroom before brushing the thought away. Let the man rot.

When later asked, Daisuke would say that he was proud of just how long his resolve had withstood the charm of a remorseful Yamato. But then, against such odds, three minutes would have seemed amazing. Daisuke managing for an entire fifteen was something he was planning on telling Ken's grandchildren about.

That was not to suggest that Yamato was, by any means, forgiven for his little bout of diarrhea of the mouth. No. That could very well take fifteen years. But Daisuke figured that if they were going to spend a night under the same roof then the least they could do was keep each other company. After all, was that not the very reason he had let Yamato into the apartment in the first place?

Daisuke tapped lightly on the bedroom door before walking in on Yamato, who was now busily trying to determine Takeru's computer password. He must not have been expecting company, because at Daisuke's suggestion that he try Patamon, he squealed and nearly leapt off of the chair.

"I tried that already," Yamato answered, once he had gotten his composure back.

"But did you try it with a capital p?" Daisuke insisted. Yamato shook his head no before retyping Patamon, this time capitalizing the first letter. Sure enough, it worked.

"Who capitalizes a password?" Yamato grumbled, waiting for the desktop to become accessible.

"Your brother has a thing about proper grammar."

"I thought you weren't talking to me?" Yamato asked a second later, not failing to notice that Daisuke was still standing directly over his shoulder, he not having moved since entering.

"Now why would you have thought that?" Daisuke queried in return, holding up a stalling hand when Yamato made to answer the question, preferring to answer it him, "Because you told an entire bar my deepest, darkest secret or because Taichi isn't talking to me now, or maybe just because you betrayed my trust for the second time in less than a week? You think?" Daisuke finished slightly more forcefully than he had at first intended.

Yamato flinched at Daisuke's sharp tone, scrunching himself up as small as possible in the padded chair. "Well," he finally began slowly, "If it makes you feel any better, Taichi isn't talking to me, either." All he got for his effort was a more than frustrated growl as Daisuke threw his hands up into the air, almost seeming as if he would storm out of the room before he rounded on Yamato and all but embedded his trigger finger into his chest. If Yamato had ever meet a more upset Daisuke, he certainly could not remember it.

"No." Daisuke finally graced him with a coherent answer and another poke, "As a matter of fact, it does not. Why can't you people understand that saying those things never makes anyone feel better?"

"I am sorry," Yamato's soft insistence more than proving the validly of the statement, though it had never even occurred to Daisuke that Yamato would have ever felt otherwise.

"I know," Daisuke admitted, dropping down to sit so that his head could rest on Yamato's knee, "I know you are. I'm just tired. That's really all that is wrong. I'm tired."

Daisuke did his best to pretend that he did not appreciate the comforting fingers that ran through his hair.

+++++++++++

Yamato fingered at the neat scrap of paper pinned to the cork board beside the telephone on which someone had written his cell phone number over which someone else had scrawled "He's dating Taichi," in big, bold, blood-red characters. He nearly squeaked aloud for the second time that day as Daisuke came up quickly behind him and snatched the note from its pin before crumpling it and dumping it in the trash.

"So I guess you do talk about me when I'm not here," Yamato did his best to joke at Daisuke's dark scowl.

"No. That's just Ken's idea of a joke. Ignore it."

"Did Ken get you the number of write the message?" Yamato pushed.

"Forget it," Daisuke insisted for the second time.

"Well you obviously pinned it up for a reason."

"No. Ken did that, too," Daisuke out-right lied, giving the blond a dirty look that seemed to challenge him to ask even one more question, "I just hadn't gotten around to taking it down. Are you hungry or not?"

"I'm hungry," Yamato conceded, letting the conversation drop, for the time being anyway. Daisuke pulled open the refrigerator only to stare at its nearly empty innards. After a few moments, he closed it with a sigh.

"I guess I should have stopped by the store on the way home today," he frowned, "Want to order out?"

"Hang on a second." Yamato gently nudged Daisuke away from the refrigerator, conducting his own momentary survey before starting to remove random leftovers, "This is my element," he assured Daisuke.

"I don't know," Daisuke winced as Yamato dumped a tub of ramen into a warming frying pan, "Some of that stuff's kind of old."

"Trust me," Yamato responded with an almost sadistic smirk, "You'll love it."

+++++++++++

Daisuke had been kicked out of his own kitchen, an insult he never could have borne under more normal circumstances. However, all things considered, if he were going to have to eat what ever it was that Yamato was cooking up, then he'd rather not know each and every ingredient. Some things were better left as mysteries. He used a pencil to mark the poison control number in the phone book before settling down on the couch.

Moments later he could almost smell something beginning to waft in his directions, though he could not convince himself that the something was indeed food and not something much more insidious.

Whatever questions there were in his mind, they were laid to rest a moment later when Yamato stuck an arm out the kitchen door to wave him over. Daisuke approached his once-safe haven hesitantly.

"Don't worry so much," Yamato groused before informing, "This is Takeru's favorite. I used to make it for him all the time."

"And that's supposed to calm my fears?"

"Well, he's not dead, is he?" came the toneless reply.

Daisuke continued to eye the two plates warily. Now that he was closer, he had to admit that they actually smelled pretty good, and he was awful hungry. Gathering what was left of his childhood courage, he sat down picked up a pair of chopsticks.

Yamato quickly followed suit, taking the place directly opposite of Daisuke and, motioning for him to do the same, began to all but inhale the noodles. Shaking his head at the antithesis of the graceful musician feeding in front of him, Daisuke took a deep breath and gathering just enough food to qualify for a bite, threw caution to the wind.

It was not bad. But then it was not good either. Daisuke funneled another bite into his mouth, hoping that whatever had started growing in leftovers had been exterminated by Yamato's prep techniques. Either way, he figured he would know by the next morning.

"Good, isn't it?" Yamato grinned at his captive audience.

Daisuke, only now coming to realize why Ken had always made him dilute his wasabi in soy sauce, could only let out a shuddering gasp. Perhaps he should have taken the time to post the poison control number by the telephone.

+++++++++++

"It wasn't that bad."

"If you say so," Daisuke grabbed another slice of pizza out of the open box.

"It wasn't!"

Yamato reached for a slice for himself, only to have his hand slapped away by Daisuke, "Uh-Un. There's perfectly good food in the kitchen," Daisuke intoned, using the very same words that Yamato had when he insisted on ordering a pizza rather than finishing Yamato's dinner.

"Daisuke," a whining Yamato was not a pretty sight, nor was the way he kept pulling on Daisuke's sleeve causing pizza toppings to rain down upon couch and floor.

"Fine." Daisuke gave in, barely managing to jump out of the way before Yamato dove for the pizza box. "You can't possibly be that hungry," Daisuke complained, "You ate an entire plate of that other stuff."

"I'll have you know that I just happen to have a very fast metabolism. I have to eat a lot or I get hypoglycemic!" came the exceptionally huffy response.

"Yeah." Daisuke might have believed it if he had not heard Takeru use the exact same line to secure the last serving of ice cream. An old saying rang in his head, something about fruit never falling far from the tree.

But if Yamato noticed Daisuke's tone, he did not allow it to bother him, reaching instead for his second piece. Knowing that some of life's battles were not worth fighting, Daisuke nudged the box closer to the grasping blond. Besides, it was not like there was that much left anyway.

So preoccupied was he in deciding where, exactly, the food that Yamato kept inhaling was going, that it took Daisuke a moment to realize that Yamato was speaking to him again.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you hate me now."

Silence obviously was not the answer Yamato expected, and as each moment passed, the fidgeting in his hands kept attempting to develop into a full body twitch.

"Why are you here Yamato?" came the unexpected response.

"I-I mean, Taichi and I," Yamato trailed off for a moment, hoping to gather his thoughts, "We decided that," he waved a hand in the air as if attempting to encompass an imaginary world, "things were never going to work out. So we called it off. For good, this time."

"Why are you here?"

Yamato fumbled at the direct question, "I-Takeru," he began.

"Please don't," Daisuke had not bought the unaware-that-Takeru-had-left act earlier that day, and he certainly was not going to let Yamato skate with it now.

Folding shut the now empty pizza box, Yamato stood from the couch, and turning his back on Daisuke, "Because this is where I wanted to be." Picking up the box, he headed towards the kitchen, but rather than returning after depositing the trash, Daisuke heard the soft click of Takeru's door from down the hall.

Sitting back into the couch, he let out a sigh. "Damn."

+++++++++++

"I'm home!" Daisuke kicked off his shoes before tossing his work apron on top of the coat he had forgotten to put on before leaving. "Ya-" he tripped over a couple of suitcases sitting in the middle of the front hallway, the resounding crash finally being enough to bring Yamato to his brother's doorway.

"Your home." Yamato's answer seemed more shocked than welcoming, "Just kick those out of the way so you don't trip, okay?" Daisuke mumbled something about timing under his breath before moving the suitcases out of the way and following Yamato back into Takeru's bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

Yamato glanced around the room, taking in the two half filled suitcases on the bed and the other two still waiting to be filled on the floor by the bedroom door. "I'm packing."

"Well, yes," Daisuke fought to keep from adding in the word idiot, "I can see that. Where are you going?" At Yamato's blank look, he continued, "You can't possibly have found an apartment in one day, much less convinced them to actually let you move in tonight."

"I-well-no, I got a motel room. I know I promised you I'd only stay the night, and well-"

Daisuke swallowed a sigh as Yamato broke off yet again, "You don't have to go to a motel room. It's okay if you stay." Daisuke did his best to ignore the hopeful look in Yamato's eyes. "In fact," he continued, "I think I'd like you to stay."

"Really?" It was like the coming of Christmas, in, well, February.

"Yeah," Daisuke conceded, "at least until Takeru gets back. I wasn't joking about throwing myself off the roof if I got anymore bored," he smiled a bit a the image of a perfect swan dive off of the tower's roof before shaking away the thought as entirely too morbid, "Think of yourself as a precautionary device."

Yamato smiled. "Well, I guess it's better then some of the things I've been called." Daisuke looked down at one of the suitcases on the bed.

"You have got to be the only person in this world who has a separate suitcase just for his underwear." He tried to keep from laughing as a bright red Yamato slammed the suitcase shut.

He failed.

+++++++++++

Daisuke groaned as the ringing phone jarred him out of sleep. "What?" he growled at whom ever had the indecency to call at 10:30 in the morning.

"Geez! I'm gone three days and you turn into a lazy slob!!" Daisuke rolled his eyes at the phone before hanging up and snuggling down into his covers. Not more than two minutes later, the phone was ringing again. Well, he had to give it to Takeru, at least he was learning. It used to take him a good 10 minutes before he caught on to the fact that Daisuke was long gone.

"So blonds are capable of learning," he congratulated his friend after picking up the telephone.

"I wouldn't know," came the dry response.

Daisuke sat up in bed. "Morning Ken."

"Good morning Daisuke." Was Daisuke going mad, or was that a chuckle out of Ken? "So let me guess," Ken continued, "You're just getting up. And judging by how guilty you sound, I'd say Yamato is no more than..." Ken paused a second to think, "five feet away?"

Daisuke made a face at the wall. "He is at least 15 feet away, in a separate room and it is NOT what you think."

"Yeah. Heard that one before," came the flippant reply.

"Ken," Daisuke began calmly, "You didn't by any chance call for a reason other than to torture me? Did you?"

There was a pause on the other end and Daisuke was almost sure he could see Ken shrug before he continued, "Actually, I just wanted to tell you that I happened to be the one to find your present." Daisuke shuddered at the way Ken emphasized that last word. "And to enjoy the rest of your little vacation, because when I get home I will make you regret it." Cold. Calm. Pissed. Daisuke flinched at the quiet tone.

"I'm not the one-" he began, but the line was dead.

He was busy trying to think of a way to talk Yamato into loaning him one or two of his suitcases when the phone rang for the third time that morning. He picked it up with a resigned, "Yes?"

"That's not funny Daisuke!" Takeru chided before asking, "Who were you talking to?"

"Eh?" Dear God. If Takeru was psychic now, they were all in trouble.

"The line was busy."

"Oh." So Takeru was learning. Daisuke suppressed a giggle, "The Grim Reaper."

"Really? Ken called? I figured he'd be off with Miyako."

Daisuke rolled his eyes at Takeru's surprise. "And I figured you'd be off with Hikari. What do you want?"

"Oh, yeah," the purpose for his call finally seemed to dawn on Takeru, "I'm trying to find my brother. He isn't there, is he?"

"Yeah. You want to talk to him?"

"No, no, that's okay," Takeru hastened to assure Daisuke before he find a chance to pass the phone off, "How is he doing? Is he alright?"

"He's right down the hall. I can put him on," Daisuke offered hopefully.

"No. You don't have to. He doesn't seem too depressed, does he?"

"Takeru?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to talk to your brother?" To the point, that usually worked with most people.

"No, I don't want to disturb him." But not with Takeru.

"But you're disturbing me."

"Yeah, and?" Takeru had never found it difficult to ignore Daisuke's begging tone. In fact, it really only hardened his resolve to speak to Daisuke and only to Daisuke. This, however, was not a fate that Daisuke was willing to accept.

"Look, either talk to Yamato or I'm hanging up."

"Okay, okay, fine," Takeru gave in, "but tell Yamato that he left his cell phone at Taichi's."

"Okay."

"And tell him that I said he can call me if he needs something."

"Okay."

"And tell him that the computer password is Patamon and that I've got my D3 so he can email me if he wants."

"Okay." Daisuke was beginning to think that Takeru had won after all.

"And tell him that there's some money hidden under the box of bags in the closet if he needs some."

"Do you want to talk to your brother, Takeru?" he tried one more time.

"No, no, it's okay. But tell him-" Daisuke could not help himself, when, for the second time that morning, he hung up on this roommate. It was just too early for this type of headache.

"I've tried that, but it doesn't work. He'll just call back." Daisuke glanced up to where Yamato stood, leaning against the door's frame.

"Here," he offered, holding out the phone to Yamato, "If it rings, answer it."

"Gee. You sure know how to treat a guest," Yamato smiled, taking the proffered phone.

Daisuke just shrugged, doing his best not to let out a relieved sigh when the telephone rang yet again and he heard Yamato answer. His hopes, however, were dashed not three minutes later when a very pale, almost panicked Yamato came back into his room and handed him the phone.

"It's your sister," Yamato whispered before he dropped the receiver and ran.

+++++++++++

"How does she do that?"

"What?" Daisuke halted for a second, mid-step, before continuing into the living room and flopping on the couch next to Yamato.

"Recognize my voice like that," Yamato clarified, "I mean, it's BOOM," he clapped his hands together for emphasis, "dead on, instantaneous, 'Oh, Yamato! I didn't know you were visiting Daisuke!!' How does she do that?"

Daisuke shook his head at Yamato's nasally, falsetto imitation of his sister, "I don't know," he answered, "I guess that when you obsess over a person as long as she has you, you gain the ability to recognize them, regardless of context."

Yamato snorted at his poetic explanation, "Insightful Daisuke."

"Bite me," came the equally mature response, "She was calling because they just announced that you were leaving the Teenage Wolves," Daisuke brought the topic of conversation around to the real reason he had gone looking for Yamato.

"Yeah, I know. I was watching it." Yamato gestured toward the television, now showing something about Yamato's band, not that Daisuke could be sure what the perky announcer was saying as Yamato had muted her chatter.

"So that's it then?" he asked, "You're officially out?"

"Yeah."

"Is it strange?" Daisuke did not know why he was whispering, but regardless, Yamato must have heard him because he gave him a small smile.

"Yeah," he answered again, seeming to deflate to the point that Daisuke felt the need to gather him against his shoulder. They sat together for a moment before Yamato pushed himself back up. "But this is best," he countered in a stronger voice.

Daisuke was not quite sure that he bought that; much less that Yamato had. "Hey," he cajoled, adopting what had always been described as his happy voice, "Lets go do something. Anything."

"Okay." Yamato agreed rather hesitantly, though he did smile at Daisuke's saucy wink.

Daisuke stood and offered a hand to Yamato, "A movie," he suggested, pulling the taller man into a standing position.

"Alright," Yamato agreed a little more quickly this time. He took his wallet from the low table and put it in his back pocket before shooting a concerned glance around the room, "Have you seen my cell phone anywhere?"

Daisuke grinned, "We can go pick that up too." At Yamato's questioning glance, he clarified, "You left it at your old place."

"Eh?" If anything, Yamato was only more confused. Daisuke ignored him for the time being, too focused on tying his shoes. Soon they were both properly shod and Daisuke pulling them out of the apartment.

"Takeru told me," he answered the still questioning looks from Yamato, shooing him with his hand as he locked the apartment door.

"Oh yeah," Yamato was already moving down the hallway, talking back over his shoulder, "Wasn't Takeru going to call back?"

"Maybe later," Daisuke answered, taking sadistic glee in listening to the phone ring as he pulled the keys out of the dead bolt. He probably should have turned the answering machine on, but then again...nah.

+++++++++++

Yamato hopped from foot to foot in front of his old apartment door, waiting for Taichi to answer the knock. "Man, I'm cold," He groused, "You should have told me to grab a coat."

Daisuke snorted, rubbing his own arms for warmth as Yamato reached up to knock yet again.

"Are you sure it wouldn't be better if I just waited for you in the lobby?" Daisuke queried. Not only was it a good deal warmer than the open hallway, but Daisuke also suspected it might be a good deal safer as well.

"Wha-" Yamato's question was cut short when a sleepy looking Taichi finally swung the door open, "Morning Sunshine."

"Let me guess. Takeru called about your phone," Taichi stepped aside so that they could enter the apartment, "Come on," he waived a hesitant Daisuke inside.

Yamato took in a deep breath of the apartment's overly dry heated air. "I was beginning to worry I might freeze to death before you answered the door." Taichi did not seem especially concerned about Yamato's fear for his life but shuffled to the kitchen and put some water on to heat nonetheless.

"It'll just be a few minutes," he assured Yamato, pointing to where the missing cell phone lie in the center of the kitchen table, "Why didn't either of you think to wear a coat?"

Daisuke just shrugged and Yamato ignored the question, opting instead for, "So, how many times did he call?"

"Just this morning, or this morning plus last night plus yesterday?"

Yamato flinched, "Well at least you eventually answered it. Daisuke just locked the door and walked away."

Daisuke nearly choked on the candy he had pilfered from the nearby dish, "You knew about that?"

"I'm blond, not deaf," Yamato grinned. Taichi pulled the teapot from the stove as he brought down a heavy ceramic bowl from the closest cabinet and placing the bowl in front of Yamato, filled it nearly to the brim.

"Do you want some?" Taichi gestured in Daisuke's direction with the pot.

"Tea?" Daisuke questioned, not so very sure what Taichi was actually offering.

"If that's what you want," came the genial offer. An offer that Daisuke missed as he was too busy watching Yamato float his hands above the steaming bowl, the occasional, "ahhh," and "warm," slipping out.

"I don't get it, I just make it," Taichi broke back into Daisuke's thoughts. At Daisuke's thoroughly confused look, Taichi just shook his head. Apparently some things were not worth explaining. "Well if you don't want anything to drink then come help me dig through the closet. I think there are some old coats hidden back in the back."

"Okay," Daisuke allowed Taichi to lead him to the other end of the apartment, still not entirely convinced that soon coats might not be the only thing buried back there.

Taichi slid back the closet door to reveal absolutely no clothes, only box after box stacked to the ceiling. "Storage," came the short answer as Taichi pulled out one after another of the topmost boxes and handed them to Daisuke to set on the floor.

"About the water thing," Taichi began suddenly, "I've never really gotten it but he's done that since we were kids," he shrugged, giving Daisuke a whimsical sort of smile, "Once, the first time we were sucked into the Digital World, we came across some hot springs. Everyone else wanted to keep looking for food, but Yamato," Taichi held his hands out in front of him in a fair imitation of what they had just seen in the kitchen, "I thought we might have to leave him," he finished with a chuckle, before his eyes turned sad again, "He said that his hands ached when they got cold," he gave Daisuke a good once over, "It's just something to remember, okay?" Taichi's focus switched back to rummaging through the box on the floor.

"Taichi, listen," Daisuke began, "It's not what you-" He was cut short by Taichi's triumphant, "Ah-Hah!" as he pulled a couple of coats out of the bottom of the third box.

"It'll be a little long on you," Taichi apologized, "But I guess it will do the trick."

"Taichi..." Daisuke began softly.

"Listen. I'm sorry about, ah," Taichi grimaced, "I mean, I shouldn't have," he paused again, motioning with his hands, "What with the...and everyone being..."

"It's okay," Daisuke assured him.

"Thanks," Taichi gave a relieved smile, "I really meant to tell you at the wedding, but with the trouble and all, it kind of slipped my mind."

"Oh yeah, I know," Daisuke agreed, "That was strange."

"I kind of figured it for a bad omen if the shrine priest dies the morning of your wedding."

"Um, hm," Daisuke agreed, "And then the snow."

"I know. I've never seen anything like that. I mean I realize that it is February and all, but sheesh. And what was with that bird?"

"I don't know. But I hate that it did that to the cake."

"I was holding out for that cake!"

"And Miyako's mother makes the best desserts..." Daisuke trailed off sadly. Both boys shook their heads at the accursed fates for a moment.

"I thought Miyako handled it well though," Taichi congratulated. Daisuke thought for a moment of Miyako, storming about the reception hall in her bright red uchikake, looking much too much like the bird she was threatening to skewer with her ceremonial sword while Ken stood near the raised dais looking only mildly concerned by the fall of his wedding.

"Yeah, I guess when all was said and done, she did."

+++++++++++

Daisuke groaned as someone shook him out of his all too comfortable sleep.

"Come on," Yamato chided, "Get up." Daisuke batted his eyes at the blurry figure sitting above him a time or two before attempting to roll over on his side. No such luck. Yamato had pinned him by his shoulders and was beginning to shake him even more roughly. "Get up, get up, get up," he chanted at the helpless Daisuke.

"Why?" Daisuke begged.

"Takeru called. He said you had to go to work this morning," Yamato explained, retaining his grip on the squirming Daisuke.

"I don't want to."

"Tough." Yamato chuckled at Daisuke's whimpers, "Teach you to stay up so late," he scolded with a wink.

"Me!?" Daisuke was suddenly very much awake, "Teach me? I wasn't the one bouncing around the living room to some random anime at two in the morning."

"It wasn't just some random anime," Yamato objected, "It was FLCL. And you didn't have to watch it with me."

"I was being kind."

"Teach you," Yamato repeated for the second time that morning.

"Teach me," Daisuke concurred as he was bodily drug from his warm bed. He allowed Yamato to pull him out of the room, down the hallway and into the kitchen where the blond, by all appearances had already prepared a breakfast.

"Food?" Yamato offered, setting a plate and a glass of orange juice in front of Daisuke.

"You cooked?" Yes it looked like normal food, and Daisuke had gone to the grocery store just two days ago, so technically, there was a chance that it was normal food. But Yamato's last attempt at food preparation had been permanently burned into Daisuke's brain and he was more than just slightly wary.

"It's eggs," Yamato ground out, annoyed by the way Daisuke kept nervously poking at the yellow-ish mound on his plate.

"Just eggs?"

"Just eggs," he was assured, "And, well, a bit of milk, some salt and pepper." Yamato paused to think if he had added anything else, "A little bit butter in the pan."

That sounded about like Daisuke made his own eggs. His confidence renewed, he broke off a bite and brought it to his mouth. "Weird, they almost smell sweet," he commented before popping in the bite.

"Oh yeah. That's the apple jelly," Yamato remembered.

Daisuke paused mid-chew, his chopsticks still halfway between his mouth and his plate. Yamato grinned at him, taking his own bite, chewing and swallowing before instructing Daisuke to do the same.

"Just try it," he insisted when Daisuke remained frozen. "You'll like it. I promise."

Frightened more of Yamato than what was in his breakfast, Daisuke slowly began to chew, carefully adjusting his tongue with each movement so as to avoid having it come in contact with the food any more than was absolutely necessary. Finally, and with no small amount of difficulty, he swallowed.

"Fine," Yamato rolled his eyes, "Now try it again, and this time, actually taste it." Daisuke ignored the command, opting instead for one of his cereal bars he kept in the cabinet for just such instances. He was, however, kind enough to set his uneaten portion next to Yamato.

"You'll never get anywhere in this world if you aren't willing to try new things," Yamato rebuked.

Daisuke scoffed at the very idea, "I'll risk it," he promised.

"Its Takeru who actually gave me the idea. He used to eat jellybeans on his eggs. But I never liked that." Some how Daisuke was not surprised.

"Too sweet?" he asked.

"Too solid." Yamato made a face, "I mean here you were eating this soft food when suddenly, you all but break a tooth on some hunk of colored sugar. That and the jellybeans bled when you cooked them so your eggs ended up kind of grayish green. It was disgusting."

"I can imagine."

"So anyway, one day I was cooking breakfast and I happened to be out of jellybeans..."

"It happens." Daisuke interjected, earning himself a look.

"So rather than go without, I replaced them with apple jelly. And it worked!"

"Uh-huh," Daisuke agreed, "Well from now on, I do the cooking, alright?"

"Fine." Yamato conceded.

"Good." Daisuke glanced up at the clock for a second. Had he remembered to set it back to the correct time or not? He couldn't remember. "Takeru didn't happen to tell you what time I was supposed to go into work this morning, did he?"

"10."

"Okay," Daisuke pushed himself away from the counter he had been leaning on while he ate the cereal bar, "I guess I'd better get ready to go then.

"Wait a second!" Yamato called, pulling Daisuke back into the kitchen at just the last second, "What time will you get off?"

Daisuke smiled at the question, "7:00pm."

"I'm going to go look at some apartments with the realtor," Yamato informed, "But I'll be back by then. Do you need me to pick anything up while I'm out?"

This time, Daisuke could not hold back the laughter, "That's all right, Sugar," he teased, "I'll see you to night."

It took a moment to finally dawn on Yamato that he was, indeed, being picked on, but when it did, "That's not funny Daisuke!"

But Daisuke had already disappeared.

+++++++++++

By the time Daisuke made it back home it was already 7:30 and the apartment was completely dark.

"I'm home," he called out into the darkened hallway, kicking off his shoes and running a hand along the far wall until he touched the light switch. "Is anyone home? Yamato?" he flipped the switch on, listening to the buzz and then the successive clicks of the fluorescent lighting warming up. Daisuke crept down the quiet hall to Takeru's room, holding his ear to the door for a second before slowly opening it and peaking inside.

He could see nothing.

But that probably had more to do with the fact that the little windowless room was pitch black than what was actually there. He slid a hand along the wall by the door until he found the light switch and flipped it on.

Nothing.

He hurried down to the living room and then to the kitchen.

Nothing.

That left four possible options, the laundry room, bathroom, shower and Daisuke's room. It seemed unlikely that Yamato would be in any of the first three if the house was this dark, so that left only one real possibility. If that little twit was hiding in his room, Daisuke swore-

Nothing.

"Yamato?" Daisuke called again.

Yamato was not home.

+++++++++++

Yamato glanced down at his wristwatch with a frown. It was already eight o'clock, and at the rate this chatterbox was going, it was going to be at least eight thirty before he managed to escape.

A light tug on his shirtsleeve brought Yamato's wandering mind back. "Mr. Ishida," the too-happy woman smiled at him, "As I was saying, I am sure that we can get you into any of the apartments we looked at today. If there was one you really liked, I could even look into whether or not they'd let you move in before the end of the month." She flashed him another toothy smile.

"To be honest Miss-" Yamato hesitated for a moment, realizing that he'd forgotten her name for the third time that day.

"Ashiwara," she provided. This time, her smile made Yamato think she wanted to bite him.

"Yes. To be honest Miss Ashiwara, I was hoping to find something a little closer to the university."

"The university?" she questioned.

"Yes." Yamato answered yet again, flashing her his own version of the winning smile, something he'd used on Takeru since he was an infant and fan-girls the world over. He hoped it also worked on overzealous realtors. "You see, I've been hoping to continue with my education."

"Education," she stuttered. Obviously the Ishida charm was far from spent. "Of course improving one's mind is always a noble endeavor," she was quick to assure him. "Unfortunately my territory does not extend that far east," she gave him an apologetic little smile, "However, I'd be happy to introduce you to the young man in our office who covers that area."

"That would be very much appreciated," Yamato stood from the table, "I wish I could stay, but I'm afraid I have another appointment I must get to." He gave the woman a slight bow before stepping away from the table. "Oh, one more thing," Yamato flashed her another smile, just for good measure, "If you need to reach me, please use the cell phone number on my card. I am no longer staying at the line marked as home." He gave her a wink and watched as she blushed.

"Of course, Mr. Ishida," she tittered.

"Thank you." Taichi was right. He really did get entirely too much joy out of that.

+++++++++++

Yamato looked at his watch for what had to be the one hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. 8:45. Maybe he would be lucky an Daisuke would be late getting home from work, but judging by the light shining through the front curtains, such was not the case.

He reached out and slowly turned the doorknob. Open, something that was good, and yet not good. Yamato crept inside as quietly as possible, taking off his shoes, but forgoing house slippers.

"Ewwww. This is disgusting." He could hear Daisuke talking to someone in the kitchen and wondered for a second if Takeru had not already made it home. If so, he was in luck. Daisuke would never dare fuss at him if Takeru were standing right there. Sometimes Takeru was really, really useful.

Yamato hurried the rest of the way to the kitchen, pulling back the sliding door with a smile, "Daisuke, I'm-"

No Takeru.

"Yamato!" Daisuke jumped up from where he'd been sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, spreading the contents of the trashcan out on open newspapers. "Oh my God! I've been so worried. Where were you?"

"What are you doing?" Yamato opted to ignore Daisuke's questions.

Daisuke looked down at the various piles of garbage he had already dug out of the trashcan, "I-You hadn't called and I was really worried. I thought maybe something had happened."

"And the trash?" Yamato kneeled down to help Daisuke redeposit the it all in the trashcan, wrinkling his nose at the newspaper that held his left over eggs from breakfast.

Daisuke did not seem particularly inclined to answer, but finally admitted, " I wanted to call but forgot your cell phone number." When this did not seem to lift Yamato's confusion, "I threw it away earlier, remember?"

Yamato vaguely remembered the scrap of paper, "Yeah, but that was days ago. I've taken the trash out twice since then."

"Really?" Daisuke seemed genuinely surprised, "I thought it had been a while since it had gotten full." Yamato stepped away from the sink where he had been washing his hands and motioned for Daisuke to take his place. He snatched a dishtowel off of the nearby rack, and drying his hands, walked over to the little table under the phone.

"Daisuke, why-" Yamato paused, on second thought, maybe he really did not want to know why there was an entire cup full of pens marked 'Daisuke.' "Never mind." He took out a pen and wrote his name and cell number on a scrap of paper before pinning it to the tack board. "There," he declared, "Now you won't have to worry."

Yamato walked over to where a washed, but still drippy Daisuke stood, handing him the towel. "But don't worry. You won't need it because I won't forget to call again. I promise."

Daisuke could not help the small chuckle at the all too familiar words. "Have you ever heard of a band named The Guess Who?" he asked at Yamato's questioning look.

"No. Why?"

"Oh nothing," Daisuke smiled, "You just beginning to remind me of one of their songs, that's all."

"Really," Yamato smirked, "What's it about."

"Oh you know," Daisuke gestured about the room, "Typical stuff. Lost loves, broken promises," he smiled, "Life."

"Well this one I won't break," Yamato assured Daisuke, pulling him close enough to hug, "Promise," he even had the audacity to grin at the irony of his own words as he squeezed Daisuke tight.

But then the front door opened, "I'm home!!"

These eyes cry every night for you
These arms long to hold you again

The hurtin's on me, yeah
And I will never be free, no, my baby, no no
You gave a promise to me, yeah
An' you broke it, an' you broke it, oh no

These eyes watched you bring my world to an end
This heart could not accept and pretend

The hurtin's on me, yeah
And I will never be free, no, no, no
You took the vow with me, yeah
An' you spoke it, an' you spoke it, babe

These eyes are cryin'
These eyes have seen a lot of loves
But they're never gonna see another one like I had with you

TBC

Author's Notes:

First to Skywolf: Yes! And excuse to talk about my backwards twisting of universes!! :) But to answer your question, the DigiWorld adventures that we have seen on television are the DigiWorld adventures that they would see on television-if Takeru would get off of his lazy-you-know-what and finish writing the script. (See how I say this like I have room to take. This is what we call hypocrisy). So the story itself is an alternative universe because it is not in the same universe as what we have seen on television (the original fandom). So the universe that this story exists in and our actual universe overlap. However, the story universe is obviously more than a few years behind our universe as in the story univers, the Digimon the television show has yet to be completely written, much less aired. See?

Second, I would like to dedicate this story to Sami-ame as proof that patience and perseverance rarely, if ever garner anything of value. :) OH, and Sami-ame? I always read the entire thing. ; )

Author's Own Breakable Promise:

The 6th part should be out much sooner than the 5th one was. Really. I don't know why you people don't believe me! ; )

jamalynrascher@yaho.com