I'll say this up front, I did a slight imitation of the Brooklyn accent Joey uses in the dub. Further, I don't just decide on this rating for shits and giggles; the M rating is for language and sexual content, the latter is poetically rendered however, and thus not graphic. Lastly, I use UK English.
The breaks are time lapses, either different days or hours. Keeping pace in mind, please, for the love of all that is holy, take your time when you read this. It's choppy. It's fluid. It jumps around. It drifts along through Joey's consciousness since he has this way of mentally disconnecting from the present when horrible things happen to him and reality hits home. I can only hope I captured that as well as I feel I did.
Enjoy, my friends.
. : Symbiotic : .
She fucking left.
He growled, half curse half verbalised fury, and kicked the heavy, plastic taillight cap since it was the closest in range. It smashed the corner of an already splintered shelf and scattered into pieces across the stained concrete of the garage.
If his chest had been spilt open, the place where his heart should have been must look like this, half perfect, half red and black chunks strewn everywhere, white threads of sinew still attached.
The pounding thud of his bare arms against the workbench would rattle the metal shapes there and crack the wooden legs some more, splitting, like his senses.
Most days there were laughing voices, goofy faces, and so many nice words around him.
Most nights he was alone, praying she was safe.
Some nights he lay awake for hours staring into the blackness and wondering how the truth always got lost in translation for her.
Then he'd rise in the morning and make coffee and remember how she used to align her lower lip with the red lipstick print on her cup before taking every sip.
God, her lips...
And he'd be tired all day, drifting between dozing off and daydreaming about her.
When night darkened the skies he'd walk the worn neighbourhood streets because the suburbs didn't remind him of her like the inner city did.
Then there were days like today where the last words he'd heard her say came stabbing through his skull, cutting away all else in mind until it was all he could think about.
"Don't say that!"
Stop being honest.
Don't admit his giving up everything for her.
Though he hadn't seen it, he knew how her departure must have happened after the world's chaos was ended.
The steadily softening clack of those damn boots she always wore.
The rich, metallic roar of her motorcycle starting.
Her outline on that machine, shrinking until it was a curving line. A dot. Then gone.
He should have stopped her.
Irrational, since she'd left without warning.
She fucking left.
And he was the reason she was gone.
He wasn't done beating himself up about it even after a year had passed then another since that day.
"Is everything okay? Did you fix it?"
There was that mousey voice and those big brown eyes that dimmed when she saw his face.
Serenity.
She caught a glimpse of the truth under the sweat plastering dirty blonde strands to his forehead and the back of his neck and the blackened smudge on his cheek that mimicked those on his hands.
He was still in love with her even if, all this time, she'd steadily drained away his soul into the nothingness that was where she'd gone.
"Joey... It's okay..."
It's okay to hurt.
To yell when the last thread of optimism snapped and he held his head in his hands and rode out the pain because it was better than forgetting her.
It'd be another night of that.
"Still workin' on it."
He heard the words of his own voice and barely felt his mouth move even while it pulled up into an empty, brave smile. Don't worry about me.
"Okay."
She would smile back and believe the lie all over again.
"You want me to bring you something to drink?"
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks sis."
Good. Well. Happy. He hadn't been there in a long time.
Maybe one day he'd finish the bike and ride across the country until he found her.
. : : .
All the people he knew lived in the city.
He'd grown to hate visiting since it never failed... Out in a crowd somewhere he'd see someone with long hair like hers or decorated in violet and grayscale like her. And his heart would break from its faint pattern and swell, whole with hope for a moment until the truth ripped it open again. The oldest wounds stung the worst.
But he never saw her eyes in the face of a stranger. No one else had those eyes.
Tonight he was dwarfed by the soaring skyscrapers but inside a familiar house, away from deceiving bodies. He'd expected laughter and nonsense, like usual, but there was no one except the youngest-looking of everyone, with his kind eyes.
Yugi.
The look on his face wasn't unusual. Sometimes it was on another of his friend's faces. They'd spare his pride by keeping quiet when he said he was fine.
"Kaiba told me to tell you something."
Screw that stuffed shirt. What news could that bastard pass on to him?
"He said to tell you that you owe him."
"The hell I do. What's he ever done f' me?"
"This address."
Quick scrawl of words. Some place in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
"He said he saw her there."
. : : .
"Be careful, okay?"
Those brown eyes shone with concern.
"Ain't I always?"
He could smile a little, more than he had in years.
This trip he expected nothing. It was better that way. Maybe he wouldn't say a word to her. As long as he could see her happy, life could go on...
This was the cruellest lie he ever told himself.
"Sometimes..."
"I'll be fine, sis. If I'm not back by noon go stay with Téa, alright?"
"Okay. Be careful, it looks like it might rain."
A little yell over the black engine that rumbled to life in front of him.
"I will."
. : : .
The long ride let him think about nothing for once.
Though in the last miles aside the wavering green fields, he thought of her and it brought a fresh kind of pain, full, saturating a heart that was whole again if only for a while.
All this time she'd steadily drained away his soul into the nothingness that was where she'd gone. She wanted it, she could have the last of it. Hell, he would give it to her himself. He'd give it up for her for the second time.
But he had to find her first. See her face.
Just one last time.
The place really was nowhere. A cluster of buildings around one larger one.
Above, flickering bulbs lit a few letters of its tacky, avian name over the half dozen doors propped open. Inside was brighter. Stretched out at either side, tall machines blinked dully and chimed and beeped. Glossy toys for wealthy babies.
All around, sound burst against his ears, loud guffaws, twittering giggles, clacking plastic, chiming coins, and the clink of glasses.
And the smell. Alcohol. Sex. Money.
Old money.
It was all silk ties and sin.
How did she live in this?
Up a dais of a few steps covered in gaudy carpet, there it was. A crescent line of emerald tabletops and in the centre, her.
That curved body still showing slivers of flesh he'd always wished she'd cover up so men didn't see her and imagine the things he did.
That blonde hair waving down her back, its thick strands around that face.
Her perfect face.
Lips curling up into a smile. Parting with laughter. Reddened with the colour that made him want to kiss her the first second he laid eyes on her, even before he knew her name.
Mai Valentine.
Those violet eyes, their centre flecked with darker amethyst. He knew because he'd been close enough to see once before.
"I'm always here for ya'. No mater what."
When had she stopped believing the words he said to her?
He risked his own life. If it spared her from the wrath of the gods, good. He couldn't live without her.
Then he'd done it all over again to hack her free of the roots tangling her mind, the lies that made her believe she was alone.
Every soul had its demons and he'd fought all of his until the only one left was the memory of her. He'd spent a good chunk of his life trying to fight hers too, to get her to stand up and face them like he knew she could.
Didn't it all mean something?
Didn't he mean something?
But it was beyond anger. Here in this den was the world he couldn't no – wouldn't give her because she was better than this bullshit pretence of the best life had to offer. But she looked happy. Smiling somehow when everything about her was mismatched to this place.
It wasn't enough for him, seeing her smile. But it had to be.
Maybe he'd show up at the door of the city's wealthiest and offer the man a proper handshake to thank him for this. Maybe. Probably not.
He turned to leave, bumping into an elder gentleman.
"Beautiful isn't she?"
The words were uncommonly kind, like a grandfather's.
"Two years... I told her to get out of this place I don't know how many times. She always says she's got nowhere else to be."
"That ain't true."
Three steps.
Three took him to the space around her table near the few other men looking on, waiting to take the seat of whoever lost the last of his chips to the presiding 'harpy'. He heard them call her this and laugh. And she was dressed up with the colourful feathers to prove it. Strategically-placed plumage and sheer netting along the bodies of female dealers. The worst dresses ever seen.
"Give me a moment to charm another checkbook from my boys here and I'll get one of you gentlemen a place up front."
The lilt of her voice boasted the confidence he remembered.
Under the ministrations of her slender fingers, the cards fluttered together into a new deck and she looked around her territory with a smile... that slid off her face when she found his eyes on her.
Then she was angry, eyes flashing and lips drawing into a taut line.
"Go home." She told him without a word.
Maybe he should leave. He knew he was supposed to. That had been the idea all along. But he didn't have the strength to walk away from her.
He stood until his feet were sore, watching the game idly, watching her pretend he didn't exist.
Was it supposed to hurt? He was too far accustomed to her deluding herself into thinking he wasn't there for her.
He was here and so was the truth. The longer he watched, the more he saw all the tiny imperfections because he knew better: the second she needed in order to form a laugh, the way her hands hesitated before dealing as if she'd never get used to tossing cards rather than placing them with purpose, and the sudden dull in her eyes when she realised she was going to win, as if it didn't really matter.
The money was no more filling than it ever had been.
The happiness was just a façade. Another wall she hid behind. He'd broken down every one she put up throughout the years. This wouldn't be any different.
He stood, round after round as man after man fell to her. Finally there was space for him at the table and he took it.
She'd turned away from him enough times. If she was going to reject him again, then he'd make her say it all to his face. No watching her go off and make up lies about how he didn't care to come running after her. He was here now. No more letting her play the victim.
"You're fuckin' selfish. Ya' know that?"
"Excuse me?"
There was that hand on her hip. A pose he knew too well.
"Now, now, whatever you kids got going, let's leave that off the table, alright?"
The fake chiding of a stranger.
Then another opened his mouth for a loud statement meant to embarrass,
"Ante's a fifteen thousand in, son."
His fellow suits boomed with laughter.
"Yeah, yeah."
Mockery met with sarcasm only prolonged their noise. Let them judge. There was no point in defending himself. He got by on his luck.
A standstill round with no waver up or down. Several cards were exchanged for new possibilities from the dealer's deck.
His luck came through again as three new cards made it to his hand. Then...
Four of a kind and the King of Hearts.
This could change everything. Thousands of dollars. He could see his sister's eyes light up when flipping through the satiny magazine pages detailing every kind of real estate the city had to offer. He could stop coming through the crooked front door every weeknight, tramping engine oil all over the kitchen's peeling laminate.
A new home. A new job. A better life. One he could be proud of. One good enough for the woman staring down at him with narrowed eyes.
"Joseph."
Her voice hooked his very being. No one called him that except her... when she was angry.
"What?"
He heard himself growl at her. His old determination was filtering back in where it had evaporated over time.
"This isn't a joke."
Her voice betrayed the rest of her with a little shake. It was too late for her to start showing concern. Two years too late.
"Do I look like I'm jokin'?"
He watched her eyes soften, roving his face for uncertainty she wouldn't find. Then she swallowed away whatever words she had planned to use. Just like before, she couldn't make him stop trying to save her.
This wasn't the place to start talking, not with strangers around. He didn't care. It needed to be said.
"If I win, you're comin' home with me."
Those dark lashes fluttered as her eyes widened.
A pull on his lungs was unfamiliar... A laugh? He hadn't in some time. But her surprise amused him. Why the hell else would he have stayed if it wasn't to take her back home?
"Hell if that's added to the ante, I'm all for it."
"Me too."
He didn't want to see them looking at her. It wasn't supposed to be like this...
"Fine. It's added."
His gaze snapped up to hers. She was smirking as if to say he'd brought it on himself, the possibility of her in the arms of a stranger that night. Though, she'd accepted. He couldn't expect her to suddenly stop acting then shifting the weight of the consequences onto someone else's shoulders. That was what she did.
"What's the bet besides the harpy, greenhorn?"
With a jangling thud, his keys hit the tabletop.
"Twenty two."
Twenty two thousand in the form of the black bodied machine outside. His way home.
He'd started on it just after she left.
"Maybe you oughta pace yourself, boy."
"Cocky little bastard, eh?"
More raucous laughter.
"Twenty two, gentleman?"
He heard her and resisted looking up from the array in the centre, instead watching as chips clacked in, two by two.
Then it all fell apart.
A few folds until it was him and the elder gentlemen he had spoken to. The man wouldn't meet his eyes and his stare down at the five cards in front of him was like steel.
With a snap of sound, the two hands were exposed. Comparable hands with only a single card to make the difference, an old Ace to beat a young King. Usurped, the royal left behind young dreams of a throne.
The cards swam until there was nothing but green and white and black and red...
If his chest had been spilt open, the place where his heart should have been must look like this, half perfect, half red and black chunks strewn everywhere, white threads of sinew still attached.
It was like the night before the news was handed down from a certain CEO. Before any of this had started.
The thing was, he was finally at the point of not feeling anymore.
The looks exchanged between himself and her were the same. Not happy. Not unhappy. Not anything yet.
"Let's go see about that bike, hm?"
He didn't feel the steps touch the ground. Only the crunch of gravel told of the change in scenery.
The sun was setting. Ending. Much like this part of his life.
Surely buses transported people here. He would wait outside for a week if that's what it took to get home.
With whispers of sound, the wind blew through the fields ringing this place. A click had him blinking and looking around. The old man stored a lighter in his jacket and lifted a cigarette as some small offering though of what, the younger man didn't know.
Two kinds of sighs from men of two different walks of life.
The elder was alone in his habit, watching thin grey smoke curl upward.
"Tell me about you and her, son."
So he did, telling but sliding over details ordinary people could never have understood. Few knew the darkest reaches and denizens of the world as he and his friends did.
The sun sunk slowly until it hovered just above the dark line of the horizon, painting everything in hues like fire.
A familiar jangle. The autonomic movement of his hands catching... His keys.
"You can have it back if you convince her to go with you. If I see her inside later tonight, I'll take it all back."
The last tiny orange spark flickering in a cigarette before it was stamped out. And the sigh of a man with many regrets and the wish to spare another from such a life.
"Good luck."
Retreating footsteps exchanged for louder, pointed ones up beside him. And in the corner of his eye, he saw her standing there.
The jacket he tossed to her hung loose on her frame after she'd pulled it on. But it covered at least.
"I don't care what anyone says, I'm not going anywhere."
So she'd listened in.
"Ya' got that right."
A note of silence.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"'Still true. The woman I knew wanted to be the best, not some no-name parrot."
He was right. It couldn't be argued.
"I planned on coming back eventually."
"Yeah fuckin' right."
He could feel her eyes on him.
"But I couldn't yet. I can't face up to what I've done. You were willing to give up everything for me and I..."
She blinked but her eyes were still glassy.
"I..."
"I didn't do it so ya'd owe me."
"I know that but –"
"If it's debts, pay up now. Come back."
Another beat. She couldn't speak.
"Guess it doesn't work like that, huh?"
He sighed away the last of his soul to her.
There wasn't much more to tell her than a last few numb words.
I'll keep waiting for you.
"When I go it's f' good. You wanna be alone? Okay."
A gasp..? Did she think he was going to stay when she'd rejected him again? If she wanted to play the victim so bad, she could for the rest of her life.
He'd love her from afar. Live alone long enough to see himself become a jaded old man. Then die with nothing but his regrets.
It wasn't giving up since he'd tried to get her to come home. He'd just failed. It was always like this. Her mind was made up and there wasn't any changing it. She deserved to have her wishes respected even if they benefited no one.
"You idiot. I'm no good for you... For anyone."
Damn her self righteousness. This was this really all she had left to say?
"You think I don't know that?"
He'd always known their edges didn't match up perfectly. But time would wear the points and grooves until they fit. He'd always been willing to wait with her until then.
"You're selfish. An' too stubborn for your own good. Every time I turn around you're bitchin' at me cause ya' got this thing about being better than everybody else. An' don't get me started on all the fuckin' lies about me desertin' you."
Finally he looked and saw her eyes fixed wide on him. He was the encourager, the one that overlooked all. Even now he could but she needed to know he understood her. Completely. Sometimes she needed untreated honesty. He regretted not offering it more in the first place.
He showed the sky a bitter smile.
"I'm an idiot to wanna keep puttin' up with all the shit you throw at me. But I guess that's love for ya'."
He'd imparted the proverbial word. At least he could live the rest of his life contented with that fact.
"That's... What..?"
There was something there in her voice, something he hadn't heard in so long, he'd forgotten what it was.
"Now ya' wanna listen."
He responded with sarcasm. Or maybe irony.
"Is it true?"
Her inflection... That unimpressed air clouding around approval. Just maybe...
"Nah, it's a new habit, see? I just drive out to the middle a' nowhere for any girl that needs her ass dragged back on t' the straight 'n narrow."
He couldn't stop it. A grin spilt across his face even while he felt like cursing until he lost his voice. He had this feeling. Everything was going to be okay now no matter what happened.
"Dragged? Well if that's the case, feel free to move on to the next broad."
And there it was. In her eyes. Her decision to return.
Each of his hands found both her upper arms. And she stared at him with a frown, the corners of her mouth attempting to revolt. So proud... Even when the decision was made. But he wouldn't have it any other way.
"I'll settle for just one broad, thank ya' very much."
"You know just what to say to a girl." She said in a way that made it sound impossible despite the flitter in her chest.
Because he was staring at her lips... and staring... and staring... Her insistent growl elicited a laugh. It was followed by another and another until he was so taken with mirth that he'd let go of her and clutched his side. And it felt good.
"Joey Wheeler, I swear to god..."
"Alright, alright!" He cleared his throat as if to clear the laughter.
Then her face was in his hands like the night he pled with her to remember him. Only now, he kissed her forehead then let his hands fall.
Her lips pursing with irritation marked the return of his grin. She'd expected more but refused to admit it. Who knew her boldness fell through here?
"You drove all the way out here to this god-forsaken patch of nothing and that's it?" She was doing her best to sound casual. And failing only a bit.
"Hey, I wanna do this right."
The kickstand folded up with a clack. Then a jangle sounded as he fit the keys in.
"I think you can wait till Domino. An' that's just the start a' ya' payback."
"Payback my ass. We'll discuss that later." Her hand was on her hip. "You're going to keep me waiting for a kiss?"
Different posturing. The sudden tap of her finger against her lips. It wasn't exactly called flirting when it had real purpose. He had to push his eyes down to the clutch. She knew the right buttons to press alright.
A clap of sound said she caught the spare helmet he tossed her way. Then eyes confirmed.
"Who said anything about it bein' just a kiss?"
It was worth it just to see her blush. He'd always wanted to do that.
. : : .
The front door always hung a little crooked, like their lives. The back of it swung and hit her backside with an audible bump. It could've left a bruise for all she cared. She was busy with the fixation that was his tongue delving into her mouth and the idea of smearing lipstick.
Hard, bruising kisses. Like the world was ending. The sweet taste of her. The rich taste of him. Addictions all.
One thud. Then another. Helmets left on the worn wooden floor of the hallway. And they hadn't gotten much farther.
In the half darkness of the hall, wavering moonlight made either silver or shadow of them. One body hard lines and long planes. One body curving lines, soft hills and valleys.
Rain pattered against the windows and roof. Nature's music to the age-old dance of life.
Fumbling hands and wrinkling fabric. Learning one another. Memorising. Everything new. Learning by heart.
Panting breaths fit between urging whines and eager groans. Like thousands of years ago before there were words.
For her weakening knees, her back was flat against the faded wallpaper. His fingers slid into her blonde strands, holding their heads together, their mouths together.
Them together. After all these years. Tonight.
Impatient. Her nails raked lower. Quickly. An exploration for metal. A button. A zipper. A groan rasped against her lips.
"Jesus, Mai." His hands dragging hers back up. "Wait."
For? The bed?
She couldn't wait. To say it, she bit his lip then her own when his growl rumbled into her ear. The deep, heavy, muffled sound of consent. Her fingers wandered, undoing, then smoothing around his throat as an aching groan rattled his vocal cords, twisting into the strands laying stuck to the back of his neck.
Freed of barrier, he moved to enact the same for her.
Her trilling sigh against his lips as lace edges peeled from her alcove. Not for this but what it promised.
Scratchy snap of stitches too low around her legs, ripping, both her sanity and the netting of her dress as it folded up around her hips.
His trembling hands lifting her trembling thighs, pressing into the space he swore he thought about only once because you shouldn't nurture fleshly wishes when it's a friend. A female friend. A best friend. And by god had he loved her. He would love her tonight until exhaustion swept over.
Then he'd wake up and start all over again.
It would not be so empty a thing as fucking but them making vivid love, with untameable bodies.
Pressed together. Them. With the electricity of naked skin against skin. A knock on a small door. His nudging along the threshold. Her guiding the door open... welcoming invasion. A slide so slow it was never to be forgotten. The act of entering and allowing entry. Sweet union hidden in sections of flesh, her legs spilt around him. Equal desires of this and of starting over again... and again... and again... Until they knew nothing in the world except each other. Fluttering flames burning air. Chests rising and falling in time with noise. Higher. Louder. Fainter. Shameless. Desire roaring into all-consuming wildfire. Boiling the blood. Searing the skin. Coiling liquid fire swirling at the core, filling, brimming over...
Contemporary sounds! Breathed lightness up at the ceiling. Breathed depth against her neck. Her faint mewls of bliss as love pearls slicked across skin. More than could be contained. Two bodies still connected. Thrumming hearts active in symbiosis.
"More."
A grunt too lazy to make the statement a proper question.
"Yes."
The arch of her hips against his.
Then a reciprocating groan.
. : : .
The familiar bang of the front door swinging shut. Different kinds of footsteps onto the creaking floor.
"Joey?"
A female voice coloured with suspicion.
"Big brother?"
A smaller voice, more worried.
Yet no explanation except quiet sounds from the back of the house and the downy rainbow scattered all down the hallway.
"Well there's his jacket."
"Where did all these feathers come from?"
"Unless he got eaten by a giant parrot, I have no idea."
A sudden shriek of sound to startle the unknown guests. Then two voices muffled by the walls of the house yet still clear.
"I said that tickles. Knock it off."
"That ain't what ya' said last night."
"Why don't you yell a little louder! I don't think the neighbours heard enough last night."
"Don't ya' mean this morning?"
The more discerning of the guests blanched then twittered with sudden, nervous laughter as she looped an arm around the younger girl and manoeuvred back toward the front door.
"Wait. Wasn't that Joey's voice, and Mai's too?"
"Yes. And they're... um... busy. So let's just wait for them over at Yugi's!"
"Busy with what?"
"Uh... Let's just save that question for another day."
. : : .
Most days there were laughing voices, goofy faces, and so many nice words around him.
Most nights he was with her, trying to keep quiet so they wouldn't wake Serenity.
Some nights he lay awake for hours staring at her face while she slept and wondering how life could be so good.
Then he'd rise in the morning and make coffee and watch her align her lower lip with the red lipstick print on her cup before taking every sip.
God, her lips...
And he'd refuse to let her finish her cup and instead kiss her... and kiss her... and kiss her... until they were stumbling back to the bedroom.
And he'd be a bit tired all day, drifting between dozing off and daydreaming about her and the future.
When night darkened the skies they'd walk the city streets because there were always old and new memories to relive together.
Then there were days like today where the first words he'd heard her say the morning of her return came whispering through his head, smothering all else in mind until it was all he could think about coupled with the smile perched on her lips,
"Good morning, Joseph."
. : End : .
The majority of quotes in italics are taken from the dub. Mainly episodes 92 & 173. Also, a line or two is borrowed from an older polarshipping fic which is a beast of an entirely different colour and frankly in need of a revision.
This, in all, was born out of three elements, my backstory for Mai in my trustshipping fic Dances with Fate, re-watching the Battle City arc, and listening to Guetta & Taped Rai's "Just One Last Time" for the very first time.
I worked hard to end up with what you read so if you enjoyed the story, please let me know.
And on a last note, this story now has somewhat of a continuation called Symbionts. If you liked this, follow along with the next part~