Three nights, three days of sitting on our asses. That’s fine with me. We could just leave them trapped for all I care.

But something very like a conscience whispered to her in admonishment: You know you can’t. They’re still people. They’re your parents.

Jesanae snarled silently and swept the voice from her mind, but invariably it returned. Discomfited, she rose to pace the sward, muttering words that could have gotten her ejected from the scummiest bar in New York City. “Since when did Hell decide to freeze over and send me a conscience?” she grumbled.

“When your brain decided to compensate for your personality a little,” came the retort from the other end of the camp. Jesanae whirled, ready to be pissed off, but her mouth dropped open as the perpetrator waved cheerily at her from his sitting place on the ground. Did I just hear a wisecrack out of—Taichi?! What the fuck? She resisted the urge to interrogate him and find out who he really was, like a Scooby-Doo cartoon, and couldn’t help but laugh. Good gods, and it was funny! I’ll have to invent new names to call him!

In high spirits from the unexpected humor, she let go her worry and dilemma a little and prepared herself for the third day of sitting around, waiting to see if Gennai would come back and tell the bored-to-tears group anything useful. It was a so far futile exercise in caution, but the vague facsimile of a philosophy behind it was, “You can never be too careful, better safe than sorry, always brush your teeth and listen to your mother.”

Oh, well, it’s not as if we’re in any sort of hurry. Piedmon’s had them trapped for quite a while from what the others say, so another day or so shouldn’t hurt . . . Jesanae stared into the glittering green foliage, watching, for what she wasn’t sure; but she saw little else besides the odd rustle of the wind. What am I here for? she mused. Why did I come here? Do I have some strange purpose? Destiny? I always thought that was all bullshit, but now I’m not so sure. This thing with my parents—it’s like I’m being tested. But by whom? And why? This is so confusing, this waiting . . .

And it had all come to nothing. The internal war between logic and emotion resolved itself in her mind, and she grabbed her bandanna and donned it. “All right, let’s move!”

“What?” Yamato asked quizzically, looking up from the wood he was gathering. “You mean leave? But I thought the plan was—”

“No, Yamato. That was Taichi’s plan. This—” she gestured grandly at nothing in particular “—is my plan. Follow, all who would rather get off your duffs and do something useful!”

Koushiro glanced up from his computer screen. “That would not be wise. I’m still trying to contact Gennai, and if I stop now that will interrupt my system and I’ll have to start from scratch. I propose that we stay here for a while longer and keep trying.”

Jesanae was about to inform him how ridiculously complicated a way that had been to say “no,” but at that moment Sora and Jou returned from taking Takeru and Hikari to the bushes, with Mimi trailing behind and fussing about something or other, so she bit off the sarcastic remark lurking under her tongue and crossed her arms. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to haggling! Aloud she said, “That’s good logic, Koushiro, but I think we should get up and actually do something. If you haven’t forgotten, those are my parents that are trapped there, no matter how little I care to see them ever again.” She surprised herself. Am I really talking about rescuing them? What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t care about anything to do with them at all! I never have before either, for that matter . . .

“That may be, but I still—”

“Koushiro, can you hold on a minute?” Yamato interjected, and to the bewilderment of those who had arrived in the middle of the truncated conversation, he pulled Jesanae by her arm off to one side. When they were safely out of earshot, he asked frankly, “Are you all right?”

She studied him for a moment. “Way to go being blunt.”

“I mean it.”

She sighed. He did look as if he did; his stance was set and his face was taut. Yamato, the psychologist and counselor. Sure, and Taichi’s goggles are suddenly coming to life at this very moment and giving themselves a name. She let loose a high-pitched giggle, causing Yamato to frown a little harder. She sensed this, but her attempts to reassure him came out only as a gasped, “Bert!” between snickers. When she became more coherent, she explained, “I just mentally named Taichi’s goggles Bert!”

Yamato’s face twisted strangely before he burst into a flurry of choked staccato laughs. “Where—where did that come from?”

“You don’t really want to know.”

The mirth died and solemnity returned as a stifling weight. “Seriously, though, Jesanae. I wanna know why you’re suddenly all uptight about your parents.”

She had cause to sigh again, and did. She really had not wanted to be forced to explain her motives; where she had lived most of her life, they would have been a sign of weakness unfit for what had been, in essence, a gang. “I just would feel bad about leaving anyone trapped like that,” she said in a rush. “I still hate them, especially my mother, but I kinda sorta have this little problem called a conscience, okay?” There, I said it.

Yamato blinked. “A conscience?”

“Look, I didn’t ask for one!” she fumed.

“But that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yes, it is! It’s utterly useless, and right now it’s an infernal nuisance! I don’t bloody need it!”

“But later you might,” he pointed out.

“You’re making entirely too much sense!”

“I just thought maybe there was something wrong.”

There was a moment of silence, before they blushed simultaneously. She ducked and flipped her hair to hide her flaming face. “You don’t have to!”

“All right, then I guess I won’t.”

They headed back to camp.

* * *

“What do you think, Jou?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, I think they’re—”

“Taichi, you know they don’t remember that, and it may not even be true now.”

“C’mon, Sora, isn’t it obvious?”

“I think conjecture is futile at this point.”

“Maybe they’re looking for more food.”

“Mimi, they walked off in the middle of an argument, and we already have tons!”

“My big brother looked kinda worried about something.”

“Does it really matter?”

Hikari’s comment hushed the rest of them, fortunately just in time as Yamato and Jesanae returned from their conference in the trees. Taichi studied them surreptitiously through peripheral vision, but could detect nothing to confirm his suspicions, and so gave up to apply himself to his apple. Yamato and Jesanae each accepted one and plunked down to eat.

After a moment, Taichi said carefully, “Hi, guys.”

“Hi, Taichi. Hi, Bert,” Jesanae said placidly.

Yamato choked on his apple. Taichi decided not to ask.

* * *

Gennai returned the following morning, responding to Koushiro’s summons with apologetic nervousness. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to find anything more about Piedmon’s prisoners. You’re on your own.”

“Damn,” Jesanae muttered. “I knew it. The story of my life.” She scowled and turned on everyone with an expression of exasperation.

Uh-oh, Yamato thought. Here it comes. He braced himself, resisting the urge to winch his eyes shut as though in preparation for having a glass of icy water poured over his head.

“Well, we stayed and waited. And it made no difference at all. So let’s get going like I wanted to yesterday.”

That wasn’t so bad . . .

“Are you sure we should leave?” asked Jou nervously.

“Of course I’m sure! What other options do we have?”

“We could stay and do nothing,” Yamato pointed out reasonably. “That gets my vote.” He ignored the slightly shocked look on Gennai’s face and folded his arms.

“Touché,” she muttered.

“Listen, guys, this is getting us nowhere,” protested Taichi.

“Can I say something?” Mimi put in abruptly. They all nodded briefly. Her eyes grew hard with determination and her chin lifted. “We should go! I want to help those people no matter who they are, because it’s the right thing to do!” Yamato hid a look of surprise at this out of Mimi. She usually isn’t this vocal about anything but her hair. Maybe she’s growing up a little. I guess all of them are, Taichi most of all.

In the face of this eloquent statement, he acceded, and general consensus was reached. Gennai nodded approvingly. “Good luck, kids, and be careful.”

They adjourned for the night.

* * *

Desperate sobbing tore night’s tranquil fabric, waking Yamato from a sound and dreamless sleep. He knew the sound of that voice better then he knew his own; scrabbling for purchase on the slippery grass, he fairly sprinted on hands and knees to his little brother’s side. The small blond boy tossed and shivered and cried in his sleep, tears staining his cheeks in the harsh light of a full moon.

Yamato shook his shoulder. “Takeru! Wake up! Takeru!”

The crying did not stop, but Takeru sat up and burrowed into Yamato’s lap, which he took as a good sign. He hugged his sibling until his sobs subsided.

“Hey, little bro,” he said gently. Takeru hiccuped and looked at him. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Y-Yamato!” the youngster wailed, tears threatening again. “It was a r-really bad dream! I dreamed—that you were g-gone again!”

The words were like cold acid on his skin. He was instantly awash with guilt. This is my fault. A reasonable corner of his mind pointed out that he could hardly be accused of dying and then coming back to life on purpose, but a lifetime of self-condemnation and responsibility won over and made him cringe.

He allowed none of his stricken feelings to show on his face; instead he smiled reassuringly and said, “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not going anywhere.”

Takeru gave him a watery smile. “I’m okay now, Yamato,” he said thickly, and Yamato tucked him back into bed before returning to his own.

He didn’t sleep. His thoughts forbade it. Guilt tore at him; his own experience had been painless. He simply didn’t remember anything—one moment he had been in the giant hall, the next waking up on the forest floor. But although he had no recollection of the intervening events, they had wrought terrible, irreversible changes on the innocence of everyone else.

Takeru might be emotionally scarred for the rest of his life. Taichi would never have his old confidence again, nor Koushiro his blithe ingenuity, nor Jou his cheerful pessimism, nor Sora her warm positiveness. Even Mimi and Hikari had lost something of themselves.

Worst of all, he realised suddenly that he couldn’t just integrate back into the group like nothing had happened—even though, for him, nothing had.

He was no longer an outsider by choice, but by necessity. Things would never be as they had been; the others would never view him the same way. He had lost the one thing that meant the most to him, the thing that defined his very being and adorned his crest as a symbol of what he was.

He had lost their friendship.

In that moment, he died a thousand little deaths.

* * *

They set out when the sky had lightened enough for night vision to no longer be needed. It was a warm, humid morning, and mist curled around the trees, obscuring the roughness of the bark and the veins in the leaves. There wasn’t a lot of talk; this was an early morning even for the Digidestined, for Jesanae had insisted they get going as soon as they could.

Jesanae fell into step beside Yamato, near the back of the group, and attempted to strike up a conversation. She soon found this to be a futile endeavor.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Huh.”

“Sorry if this was too early for you guys, but I told you we should have gone to bed earlier.”

“Mph.”

“And, if you look to your left, you will observe the giant, slavering digital cockroach about to make you into an entree.”

“Nng.”

She gave up. “Alright, Mr. I-Haven’t-Had-My-Coffee-Yet. I’ll go and ask Koushiro how far he thinks it is to Spiral Mountain.”