Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ If I Should Die... ❯ I dream the dream, but who dreams the dreamer? ( Chapter 3 )

IF I SHOULD DIE - PART THREE - I dream the dream, but who dreams the dreamer?

DISCLAIMER: Just a-playing in the sand pit that is Digimon Adventures. I will return everything, including buckets and spades, to the owners and producers when I'm finished… It doesn't belong to me. Let's be honest. I don't think I'd do a very good job of it if I did…

A/N: OK, OK, OK, I have HAD enough! It's NOT parallel dimensions! It's NOT! No, no, no, no, no! Of course that could just be a decoy! ::smiles sweetly:: Meep. Read on and find out, I don't think I make any more sense this time, you'll have to wait for… part four or five for it to all start making sense. Aren't I cruel. Oh yeah, sorry for these parts taking so long - I seriously hurt my wrist playing roller hockey so I've been typing with one hand :) It seriously increases typing time, so soz… :(

DEDICATION: To Evil Windstar! Yep! I finished the third part finally! J And Kath, for being so patient!

Taichi's head slumped forwards; feeling the draft on the nape of his neck as he stared dully at the ground.

He couldn't believe what had happened over the last two months… After his arrest, there had been no alibis, no evidence, that he was innocent. The judge had sentenced him for three consecutive life sentences for the murders. His lawyer had tried to get him off on account of him being crazy.

Taichi snorted. Crazy. C-R-A-Z-Y. That was the word. For a while, he had thought he had been living another life. The psychiatrist said that that was because he was trying to deny that he had murdered the three men.

Crazy.

Closer to the truth then they realised, eh?

The brunette held his head, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

He'd been in here for… a month? He didn't know. He'd lost track of time. Same walls, same ceiling, same floor, same wardens, same things happening at the same time every day… No wonder he'd lost track of time.

And the nightmares were getting worse.

He kept seeing Yamato's body going up in flames; he, helpless to do anything.

That was the worse part of all.

The other bad part was the blood. He had stayed there while the police stared at him, horrified, for ten minutes; coated in the thick, red, blood as it stained into his consciousness, skin and very being.

Bile rose in his throat at the memory.

No-one believed him that he hadn't done it. Well, no-one apart from Motomiya Jun, for some apparent reason. She couldn't believe anyone could kill her idol… She pitied Taichi. That was no comfort. Taichi hated pity. Everyone else hated him. Hikari hated him for killing the family, and her boyfriend's brother. His father hated him - after his arrest, his mother had died… Takeru hated him. You couldn't blame him for that.

They pitied him.

It made it all worse.

He hadn't done it, but it was still…

Still his fault.

Taichi lifted his hand to brush some hair out of his face, noticing it was all wet. Feeling his face tenderly, his hand came away soaked. He was crying again… He couldn't seem to stop crying… Why? He was guilty, wasn't he? Of course he didn't murder them directly, but his words… His delusions…

When he'd figured out that the delusions were what had forced him to be so stupid, he tired his best to control them. He didn't have them any more. So he wasn't a head case, just a serial killer, huh?

He heard footsteps approach the cell, and looked up, shadows dancing before his vision. There was a familiar bush of hair on top of the figure that was stood in front of the bars, the lack of light stopping him from seeing the face or figure.

"Jun, please just go away," Taichi mumbled, turning away.

"I'm not Jun," a male voice said. Taichi froze, seeing himself stand at the bars, looking at him pityingly. "And you know who I am."

"NO! Please no! Not like this not like this not like -"

"Not like what?"

"The delusions… These delusions… Caused their deaths…"

"Nonsense. You caused their deaths."

"I… No… I… yes. Yes I did."

"But even so they're not dead."

"Wha-? I saw them die! I saw Yama burn! I knelt in their blood!"

"Taichi, Taichi, Taichi, just listen to yourself!"

Taichi squinted in the encompassing darkness, watching himself walk up towards him.

"It's all… in your mind."

"Yes… The evil is in my mind."

"Chosen child… Don't be so dense… Choose. Choose."

"What? What am I supposed to choose?"

"Life."

"Oh come on, Taichi, be serious. I hit you hard enough to knock some sense into you."

Taichi blinked, refocusing on a short fuzzy figure.

"So -Sora?"

"Yes, it's me, silly. I'm worried about you," Sora replied, leaning down to help him to his feet.

"I… I'm sorry. I haven't been… Well, I'm sorry," Taichi murmured softly, feeling pain lance across the front of his brain.

"Oh, it's OK, you're just a little confused. You must have hit your head really hard," Sora conceded. "So, what is your name?"

"Taichi," Taichi slowly responded, holding his head. "I have so been having the weirdest dreams."
"Well duh!" Sora said, laughing gently. "Nineteen, indeed. You've only just reached eleven for crying out loud!"

The brunette blinked. "This isn't right…" he whispered slowly.

"Yeah, you're hallucinations aren't right, you should really see a doctor," Mrs. Yagami broke in.

"No, this isn't right." Taichi felt strange, light-headed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… This isn't real! This is all… In my head!"

There was silence as his parents and Sora stared at him in confusion.

"Tai-koi? What is it? You are ill, you just need help!"

"Yes, I do, I need to get out of this reality! This ones not real! I know it isn't it can't be!" Taichi found himself screaming at the top of his lungs, until the sound reverberated around him, reaching a high pitch until everything shattered into pieces around him. Taichi dropped to the ground, and it felt like he was kneeling in glass. Sharp pain bit into his knees, and he smelt the blood even before he saw it.

"Told ya it wasn't real?"

"Yeah well what do you know?" Taichi responded to himself, giggling uncontrollably. "Or should that be what do I know?"

"You know the answers, you just have to accept it… and until you can… One replaces the dead one…"

Footsteps padded slowly, echoing around the room, waking Taichi up silently. A tray silently slid under the bars. The brunette watched it come in, blinking stupidly, wondering where the hell he was.

The prison.

Yes.

He was a murderer.

Dropping to his knees he picked up the tray and picked idly at the dry meal on it, not really feeling hungry. He sat there for half an hour, picking at the food, before putting it back under the bars again to be picked up.

His head pounded; he saw the images of his love, his friend, burning, covered in blood, filling his head constantly until he couldn't take the pain and collapsed to the floor. The horrific images engulfed his mind until they pushed out any thought of other realities or other existences, all he could feel was the black pounding down on his brain, black on black on black on black….

… on white.

Taichi's mouth hung open unsteadily as he was slammed down onto the cushioned ground. He tried to move his arms, but couldn't - feeling swamped down by something. He looked down, and he couldn't see properly, but the blurry image suggested he was in some kind of restraining clothing. He struggled futilely for a moment, before realising he couldn't get out of it.

The brunette coughed violently, his body spasming as he tried to get upright. Nausea washed over him as he got up, dizzy. He saw two men leaving the room.

"Ken! Daisuke! Please!" He croaked out. The two men chuckled deprecatingly and left the room, closing the door, leaving him swimming in a cloudy room of white. The white and black - couldn't he escape?

The psychiatrist at the prison said he conjured up the realities to apply karma to himself. The guilt he took out on his psyche as the bad realities, and the good realities were his denial.

Something there rang untrue.

Good realities?

Taichi spat.

They didn't even seem like realities… more… dreams? But dreams so real that he knew that if he died in them, he would be dead… But then reality was a dream and vice versa so what was the difference?

"No difference at all," the other him supplied.

Taichi told himself to shut up, and giggled at the thought.

"It's been… a month, Taichi… a month… Yamato didn't tell us what happened… but I think something was said between you… He's so worried, almost to the point… I think he might hurt himself if you don't wake up soon… Onii-chan, please… You have to pull through… Mum… mum and dad are worried sick… Please… You can do it… You're a - your art teacher called, I took him your sketchbook and showed him your bedroom, I kept out of the room like you wanted, but… he… he says you've passed already with the stuff you have… so you don't have to worry about that, you just gotta wake up."

Hikari? Imouto-chan? Please, don't go! Don't leave me here!

"We all love you, Taichi, don't leave us. Please. Everyone's going insane with worry. Just… please."

"Hi, I'd like to speak to Yagami Taichi."

A male voice drifted through the air and startled Taichi from where he lay on the narrow cold bed in his jail cell. Moonlight streamed in from the window, leaving bars of white and black on his face. Taichi blinked fuzzily as a warden stepped forwards and the cell opened.

Koushiro?

"Hello, Taichi, it's been a while," Koushiro said stiffly, looking away from the tattered brunette staring at him through hollow eyes.

"Kou- Koushiro?" Taichi whispered, the name catching in his throat. "Why have you come? To speak to a murderer…. Hehehe…"

"No, to speak to an innocent man," Koushiro said simply.

"Hehe…. What?" Taichi sat bolt upright, fog clouding his mind.

"They've uncovered the evidence of what happened… About Yamato's guilt in the murders and his accident," Koushiro said, tears in his eyes. "I can't believe we all doubted you."

Doubted, doubted, doubted. But that was the main thing right? He doubted himself - his sanity, his innocence…. His existence.

"'SOK," Taichi croaked. "I doubted myself… I'm still responsible, though… If I hadn't…. Yeah…"

Koushiro shook his head. "Yamato had a brain tumour which was responsible for his actions - he would have died within a month anyway… I'm sorry, Taichi… I know he meant a lot to you."

"But I mean a lot to you, don't I Taichi? I still mean a lot to you," Yamato said from beside Taichi. Taichi blinked and shook his head.

"You can't lie to us about that," Koushiro carried on.

"He can't see you, no-one can," Yamato said, laughing. "Alas, only my murderer can see me."

"But I can't see you any more, I can only hear you," Taichi whispered.

"Yes, strange isn't it!" Yamato said thoughtfully. "Maybe you're not my murderer."

"Excuse me?" Koushiro looked worried and bit his lip. "Are you coming? I've got a motel room for tonight, then I'm taking you back to your parents. They're so worried about you especially…"

"Especially as I'm insane, you mean?" Taichi asked, laughing. "Yes. I have gone rather insane."

"That's the main problem, apparantly. You know you're insane, which logically proves you are sane. Quite a paradox, don't you think?" Koushiro shrugged and Taichi got to his feet unsteadily, walking slowly to his long-awaited and deserved freedom.

"He's been in there several hours, just scribbling," Motkoi said, sighing, and shrugging. "I just don't know what to do."

Kazuo shook his head and watched his otoutochan scribbling all over the walls in a frenzy.

"What is it he's writing?" Kazuo asked finally, raking one hand through lank blonde hair.

"This… story. He thinks he's in that story. He's taking on the main role of a happily-ever-after story which he thinks is his reality. He thinks he is living in a dream-world. Frankly, I think he's a lost cause," Motoki admitted.

"No, I won't believe that! Stop him writing that thing!" Kazuo demanded, hands on hips, blue eyes piercing into the dark black eyes of the doctor.

Motoki opened the door to the room, and moved over to where Hitoshi was frantically scribbling on the walls.

"Come on, Taichi, give us the pencil," Motoki said softly. Deep brown eyes swerved to hit the eyes of the doctor in front of him.

"Taichi?" The wild-haired brunette whispered.

There was a whistling sound somewhere above his head, and something barely missed hitting him. A slight 'chock' sound thudded behind him followed by an agonised squeal.

"Oh SORA? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Taichi looked upwards to see an angry red-head glaring at him; green eyes sparkling in the sweltering summer sun.

"Sora?" Taichi whispered; dazedly.

"Oh, Naoko, leave her alone. It looks like she's got sunstroke or something," another female voice said amusedly.

Sora?

Sunstroke?

She?

Surely they weren't talking about him, were they?

Taichi looked down, horrified, to see he was sporting a white tennis outfit, and long shapely legs and… breasts. Somehow he wasn't quite surprised when the world darkened, swirled and he drifted away again.

"Hey, you got to be a girl in one of your psychotic episodes, Hitoshi? No fair! If I were you I would have stayed in there, man girls are so lucky, I would have played with my -"

"What the hell?" Taichi blinked, seeing an insane-looking man sat in a chair next to him; pulling his hair out strand by strand. "I'm not Hitoshi."

"Sure you're not, kid," the man drawled. "Sure you're not!"

"I…" Taichi trailed off, then started looking around for a pencil.

"Ain't no pencils in here, mate," the man added. "Won't let you write no things in here. I'm your new room mate, by the way." The man hiccupped and grinned; showing Taichi a mouth full of yellowed and blackened teeth.

Taichi felt his brain pounding again; pulsing and hitting on one spot, and Taichi knew he was going to lose consciousness again. Rather than fighting it, he surrendered to the darkness. Anywhere had to be better than this place.

END OF CHAPTER THREE >>> TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: Even I'm getting confused *sigh*I think in the next part I'm going to try and start resolving things… Not sure though.. Hehe… Might add a few more 'situations' before I do that. J It depends! Sorry it's, again, shorter. But like I said, I can't type all that fast recently. *damns roller hockey cheerfully*