Chapter 1

Almost as soon as the credits began to roll, Tristan reached over and clicked on the lamp next to him. His eyes then drifted towards the clock on the opposite wall, but his mind failed to make sense of the nonsensical lines and numbers. For half a second he gritted his teeth in frustration; he'd really thought the distraction technique would work this time. Although, if he were being truly honest with himself, the film hadn't been much of a distraction; his mind had still continued to circle the conversation he and Dr Charm had had during his latest session.

'What time is it?' Tristan sighed as he tried once again to suppress all thoughts.

'Nu-uh,' Mokuba shook his head, 'no way, if you don't know how late it is, you won't say no to another movie. We've still got one left to watch.'

'I see,' Tristan smirked and folded his arms, 'so I'm guessing it's after nine then.'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'After ten,' he rolled his eyes. 'I might not know what that,' he pointed towards the clock, 'says, but I do know you lus braysta.'

'Whatever,' Mokuba shrugged, 'so do you want to watch another one, or not?'

'No way, Seto will kill me if I let you stay up late again.'

'Not if you play the memory card he won't. I mean, you don't actually know how late it is, right? So you don't actually know if you are keeping me up.'

'Yes, but I have a pretty good idea that I am,' Tristan narrowed his gaze on him, 'and I'm not lying to your brother Mokuba.'

'Why not?'

'Do I really need to remind you we're both telepaths? Do you really think he wouldn't use it as a lie detector?'

'Yeah, but I also know you know how to block or deflect his thoughts,' Mokuba smirked. 'Come on, please, I mean, it's only a couple of hours long and we won't have time tomorrow.'

'You should have thought of that before renting three films.'

'Well you were the one who insisted we rented movies in the first place,' Mokuba folded his arms stubbornly, 'did you forget I have one of the best DVD collections in Domino City or something?'

'I...' Tristan hesitated, before shifting uncomfortably.

'You had forgotten, hadn't you? And you've been acting all weird and absent minded since your session today,' he frowned, 'are you okay?'

'Oh no lus braysta, I see what you're doing here,' Tristan forced a mock-serious expression onto his face as he tried to steer the conversation away from his session with Dr Charm. 'You're trying to talk me into letting you stay up one way or another, but we both know how important a regular bedtime is for you right now.'

'I... I know, but...' Mokuba hesitated and shifted uncomfortably, 'I... I don't want to go to bed yet. I... I sleep better when I'm too tired to dream. Please.'

'Fine,' Tristan sighed and rolled his eyes, 'I guess your brother wouldn't like it if you woke up screaming again either. So which one do we have left anyway?'

'The French detective story, with the subtitles, I think.'

Tristan felt the colour drain from his face. His hands edgily screwed up the bottom of his sleeves as he tugged them down as far as they would go.

'You never said one was subtitled Mokuba.'

'Yeah I did,' Mokuba gave a light half laugh, 'either you were too distracted to pay attention or your memory's just getting worse.'

'Don't say that,' Tristan squirmed like a kid being asked to face his worst nightmare. 'Don't use my memory problems as an excuse for everything. You never said one was subtitled.'

'I did tell you,' Mokuba stared at him, 'Tristan are you okay?'

'I can't...' now it was his turn to hesitate, 'I don't want to watch a subtitled film. Not today.'

For a few long moments there was silence.

'I'm sorry, I didn't realise. Maybe... maybe I should just go to bed.'

'Do you... do you need me to come up with you?'

Mokuba hesitated again, before he awkwardly forced a smile onto his face.

'I'll be okay Tristan, I... I can do this on my own.'

It started the same way it always did. He was stood under the shade of a tall oak tree, staring out across a calm blue ocean. Tristan was sat at his feet staring lazily up into the exquisitely clear sky, in a good mood because he could remember everything for once. The conversation they were having was calm and relaxed, although he'd have been hard pushed to say what it was actually about. It didn't really matter anyway. The sun was warm. The air was peaceful and still. They were happy. He was happy and if things could just stay like this, trapped in this single moment in time, then everything would be just perfect.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how much he wanted the dream to stay in this moment, the calm was always destined to be broken.

'Seto!'

As Tristan's voice cut through the air, the skyline darkened, the sea began to churn violently and a strong wind began to gust around them. Tristan's happy expression had twisted into fear and his eyes were slowly taking on a dull and vacant look, like his soul was being drained out alongside his memories.

'Help me,' the words quietly trembled out of Tristan, 'please help me.'

But there was nothing he could do but watch. He couldn't help him. He couldn't stop it from happening. All he could do was stand there and let it happen. He was powerless to do anything and that scared him.

Just like it always did at this point, the scene changed and he found himself stood in a street packed full of people streaming past him on all sides. He didn't know who these people were, where they'd come from or where they were going. All he knew is they were moving in the opposite direction to him, trying to push him back and keep him away from whatever it was he was so desperately trying to get to.

'Seto!'

The cry reached his ears increasing his need to fight through the crowd. But no matter how hard he pushed against them, they were always stronger than he was. They were always more determined to push him back. His whole being filled with panic; he knew what it was he was fighting to get to now. Tristan needed him. He had to get to Tristan because he needed him. Why wouldn't these people let him past? Why were they trying to keep him away?

Before he could dwell too much on either of these questions, the scene changed again. This time he was stood in a large ballroom, with a grand staircase at one end. The room was dimly lit and filled with a small group of faceless people, each one holding a duel monsters card in their hands. They were talking loudly, but nothing they said made any sense. He found himself drifting from person to person, trying to make some sense of what was going on. As he did he noticed he too was holding a card. The second he saw what it was a spike of uncertain fear peaked through his stomach; it was the Blue Eyes Knight.

He didn't know how he could be so sure, but he knew in that moment everyone around him was holding their soul cards. Their loud talking, as unintelligible as it still was, sounded sociable and relaxed; as if they didn't realise the danger they were in. And they were in danger; all of them. Because their soul cards were a piece of them and if they were damaged in any way...

A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his attention towards the staircase. Someone was walking down it, with a look of anxiety and confusion strewn across his face.

'Tristan,' without hesitation he found himself moving towards the staircase, 'Tristan are you alright?'

This was it, the most painful moment in the whole dream. No matter how many times he experienced it, it didn't get any more bearable. It was that look in Tristan's eyes; the one which registered no recognition for who he was. Because everything that had once been Tristan was gone and it was all his fault.

'Tristan...' his voice was small and choked, 'please... please don't be gone... please... I promise I'll find a way to fix you, just please come back to me... please...'

It was at this point Tristan's expression filled with anger, just like it always did. He snatched the Blue Eye Knight out of his hands and, before Kaiba could even think to react, Tristan tore the card in two.

Gasping loudly, Kaiba's whole body shot up into a sitting position. For a few moments he just rigidly sat there, before forcing himself to stare down at his own trembling hands. He'd first started getting this nightmare on and off during Mokuba's trauma induced psychosis. He thought it was just due to the high amount of stress he was under and that it would go away once everything had calmed down again. He was wrong.

With nothing to disrupt his night's sleep he'd been getting the nightmare more and more often. It was at the point now where he was getting it every single night and sometimes if he was unlucky more than once in the same night. He hated it. He hated every second of it. And to make matters worse, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake himself up whilst the dream was happening. He had to experience every moment of it over and over again.

It was taunting him. No. It was punishing him. It was punishing him because he deserved to be punished. Guilt coursed through him, forcing him up out of his bed towards the desk in the far corner of the room. It suddenly didn't matter how late it was or how tired he might be, he had to keep working on his designs. Maybe the idea was crazy. Maybe it would never work. But he had to keep working on it. He had to keep the momentum going. He was so close to being able to build a prototype now.

He knew... he knew it would never be a proper cure, but he didn't need it to be a proper cure. He just needed it to make things better. To fix what he'd done. He had to fix what he'd done. It was the only way he could live with himself and make the nightmares go away.