Wish You Were Here
Genres: Drama, Humor
Summary: Broken relationships, a fake engagement, and a dueling tournament all reduced down to four words scribbled on a postcard. / Conflictshipping Varon x Mai x Joey
A/N: Written for the YGO Fanfiction Contest, Season 8, Round Seven—the pairing is Conflictshipping (Varon x Mai x Joey). This story is an AU, but it borrows heavily from canon influences (there are still plenty of card games, just no magic—DOMA is just a shadowy organization with even shadowy-er motivations for their aspirations of power). I'm using the English names here for no real reason—I just like them xD Scenes in italics are flashbacks.
Enjoy!
Wish You Were Here
Mai looked down at the man kneeling before her. She couldn't look away from their locked gaze, or ignore the words he was speaking to her—it would have been rude and disrespectful, and while she wanted nothing more than to ignore him or run away, she had to do the decent thing first.
Joseph Wheeler was a fool for loving her, she thought. As far as foolish, illogical actions went, falling in love just about topped the list. Only one action, in particular, took the top spot.
"Will you marry me?" Joey asked. Mai had never seen him look so determined, or so afraid.
"No."
Two months later:
"Would you get out, if you could?" Varon turned to Raphael, phrasing the question with a joking laugh that belied the seriousness of the words. "Just think about it—you could be in the Bahamas right now instead of on whatever job our leader's assigned us—"
"Maybe our next job will be in the Bahamas."
Varon's nose itched, so he scratched it as his shoulders slumped. "There's about as much chance of that as there is of Alister wearing more than one layer in twenty-degree weather, or—"
"Or you ever taking off that ridiculous armor?" Raphael pushed up the cover on the airplane window for a moment to glance outside, then closed it. He'd been doing it about every twenty minutes without fail, and Varon had to wonder just what he was looking for—clouds and sky looked about the same, no matter where they were. Their plane wasn't scheduled to land for another half-hour at least—Alister was flying, and no one had told Varon where they were headed to this time.
"It's grafted to my skin, it is," Varon said dismissively.
"Do you take it off when you shower? When you sleep?" Raphael asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" After a few seconds of silence, Varon burst out laughing.
"Lighten up, man!" He leaned back into the comfortable leather of chair, twirling the straw in his drink with one hand. Almost all of the ice had melted. "Seriously, Raphael, this is why you'll never get a girl."
"I don't see you in a relationship, either," he pointed out.
"Hey, we're not talking about me, here," Varon said. "And you still haven't answered my question."
"Perhaps I just didn't want to," Raphael replied.
Suddenly, Alister's voice crackled over the intercom system. "We just crossed over into Japanese airspace." His voice was full of static, but Varon ignored it in favor of using his straw to push a few ice cubes around in his drink.
"What's in Japan?"
"Were you paying attention at all in our last meeting?" Raphael asked incredulously. "We're headed to Domino and a few surrounding cities to do just what we did in San Francisco."
"What, sow the seeds of discontent in Industrial Illusions? Because going to Japan isn't really going to help us there, mate."
"Domino has Kaiba Corporation." The intercom crackled, and Varon closed his eyes and wondered for a moment why the designers of such a nice private plane had skimped on the intercom feature.
"We're assessing the corporation's weaknesses," Raphael stated calmly, "and providing Dartz a full report on the most efficient and ideal way to progress in our plan to take over both companies."
Varon cracked one eye open with renewed interest. "Domino, you say? I know someone in the area."
"Who?" Raphael asked. When Varon failed to answer, he continued. "You shouldn't have any secrets from the DOMA Organization."
"It's not a secret if it's not important," Varon finally said, adjusting the controls of his seat to lean it back. "Besides, why do you care?"
"I don't. Just don't let it interfere with your job."
"My job. Right." Varon leaned back in the chair, staring up at the small, circular lights recessed into the ceiling. "Sometimes, I really hate my job."
"…Maybe you should keep a few secrets from us," Raphael said. "Like that one."
"I didn't say I didn't love it, too, now did I?" he asked with a grin. "And I can keep a secret, all right. I can keep one just fine."
"Do I want to know?"
"Even if you did, I wouldn't tell you." Varon settled back into the chair as Raphael once again raised the window shade and looked outside.
Varon yawned. A few seconds of static hissed from the intercom before Alister's brusque voice issued from the speakers.
"Put up your seat, Varon, we're landing."
A grin tugged at Varon's mouth as he complied with the request. "Hey, Raphael, keep the window shade up—I want to watch the plane land."
Raphael looked outside the window for a moment before lowering the shade once more.
"Then you should have taken the window seat."
Mai paused over the sink, grimacing as she submerged her hands in the water to rinse off the plate. A dishwasher was a luxury her current apartment didn't provide, and no dishwasher meant that she either had to use disposable plates or take the time and effort to wash her dishes herself. She pulled the clean plate from the water, tilting it to shake off the excess, glancing at the empty take-out bag on the other side of the counter; she had gotten it yesterday, and the leftovers had been her breakfast. If she couldn't eat nice food, the least she could do was eat it on nice dishes.
She turned, gasping in shock as the plate slipped from her fingers at the sight of a complete stranger leaning in the doorway of her kitchen. The plate hit the floor with a loud smash, and slivers of porcelain flew in all directions across the linoleum. At a second glance, she realized with a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly who it was.
"Don't move," he said. "The edges can be sharp, and you wouldn't want to step on any of the pieces."
Mai continued to stare at the man slowly crossing the room, looking so out-of-place against the backdrop of her cheap apartment, yet moved naturally through the space as though he was the one who lived in it instead of her.
"You keep your dustpan in the front closet, right?"
She didn't answer, still so dumbfounded that Varon was here, of all places. Of all people, even—she supposed even if they hadparted on good terms, he was the one she would have least expected to drop by uninvited, of all of the people she had once considered her friend—
"Come on, Mai." His voice was far too gentle as he returned to the kitchen and knelt to the floor, sweeping up bits and pieces of broken white porcelain. "Or don't you remember me?"
With shaking legs, Mai crouched down so she was at his level and picked up one of the larger pieces. "Don't be an idiot, Varon. Of course I remember you."
"I suppose I'm impossible to forget, eh?" He winked, and Mai dropped the piece into the dustpan with an audible clink before reaching for another.
"Don't flatter yourself. My memory is simply unsurpassed."
Varon laughed, neatly sweeping up the remainder of the fragments of porcelain. "I suppose that explains why you haven't thrown me out on my ear, yet. What does your memory have to say about that?"
Mai pointed to the ring on the middle finger of his right hand. "Are you still with that gang? If you are—get out of my house, or I will throw you out."
"Sweetheart, I—"
"Don't sweetheart me, Varon—"
"Why not? I'll say whatever I want." Stiffly, he set the dustpan and attached mini broom on the counter before turning back towards her.
"Then say what you came here to say. And you'll start by answering my question."
He grinned. "If I'm answering your question, I'm not saying what I want, am I?"
"Thin ice, Varon. You're on it." Mai crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze flickered downward from her eyes for a second.
"If that's what you want," he conceded. "Sure, I'm still with DOMA."
"As I recall, my last words to you were, 'Don't come back here unless you can say that you have nothing to do with that gang.'"
"Then you should really quit interrupting me, sweetheart," he said, grinning as he watched the frown deepen on her own mouth. "Sure, I'm with DOMA. But I want out."
He paused. "And I take offence at that. We're not a gang—we simply desire to overtake certain global industries and oversee their interests. It's simple, really."
"You're doing a great job of convincing me," Mai said. "What does any of this have to do with me?"
He glanced quickly over one shoulder. "I want to get out, and I'm going to need your help to do it. I'm actually supposed to be on a job right now," he added, "so I don't have much time."
"Oh, no," Mai replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. "You've got excellent timing, Varon. You always seem to show up at the worst possible—"
"You'll forgive me later," he interrupted, before reaching out and grasping one of Mai's arms, tugging her towards him as he connected their mouths in a kiss, angling their bodies so that her back was turned to the open doorway. He used her surprise to pull one of her arms around his body as he threaded the fingers of his free arm into her hair. He hoped, absently, that his ring wouldn't catch in her hair.
"Ah. So this is what you meant."
Mai froze, but Varon knew that Raphael wouldn't be able to see her expression. He drew back, but kept his arms around her as gently as possible.
"Bug off," he told Raphael. "Can't you see that I'm busy?"
"I wondered why you weren't responding to your pager," he replied.
"Oh, that old thing? I took the batteries out of that about five minutes after I'd gotten it." Varon shrugged. "Now, if you don't mind…"
"You're lucky I covered for you," Raphael cautioned. "You know how the leader will react to...hearing about your girlfriend."
"Lucky, that's me. I must be part leprechaun," he said.
"Don't forget, you were supposed to be monitoring the surveillance on our suspect, since I can't trust Alister to do it properly. What did I tell you just last week?"
"Don't let this interfere with my job. I've got it." Varon pulled Mai closer, brushing her hair behind one shoulder with one hand, thanking his apparently boundless fountain of luck that Mai was keeping quiet, although she kept alternatively shooting him glares or anxious frowns, her hands still twisted in his shirt.
"Make sure you do, Varon. I won't cover for you next time."
Varon waited a few minutes before relaxing with an audible sigh, and taking a step back as he met Mai's eyes.
"Alright, I'll let you hit me, but just get it over with."
She stepped back to put even more distance between them. "Hit you for kissing me or for being an idiot?" She paused, tapping her chin in thought. "No—I think I'll hit you for involving me in whatever it is that you're planning, without my consent!"
Varon cringed. "If you hit me, can I claim domestic abuse?" At Mai's glare, he tried to smile for her. "I'll take that as a firm no, then."
She sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Please, just tell me. That's all I'm asking—for now."
"If that's what you want," he said. "I want to leave DOMA. Something big is about to go down, and I don't want to be a part of it. This isn't the life for me, I've decided, but to do that I need a clear path out. The leader won't just let us walk out, of course. We know too much."
Mai's stomach dropped, but whether that was from her take-out-leftovers breakfast or from Varon's words, she didn't know. She tried to remember him from the last time she'd known him—it had been years ago, and it had been raining and they'd yelled at each other almost as loudly as the thunder. She had refused to associate with him for the path he'd chosen, and he in turn had refused to be with someone who couldn't accept him, all of him, no matter what he chose to do for a living. She had said that ending others' lives couldn't be considered a living. Varon had been full of excuses then, but a few years had changed him—he was thinner but wore bulkier clothing, and he'd gone far too long without a haircut, but underneath it all he was just as she'd remembered him.
"Get to the point," Mai said. "I want to know why you need me."
He bristled, the words 'I don't need you, Mai," on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that to provoke her now would be to undo all of the careful tuning he had done to restore his image in her eyes. Mai liked simplicity—perhaps taking the scenic route on his explanation wouldn't be the best alternative here, he decided.
"Our leader, Dartz, is very devoted to the memory of his wife. He is…an honorable criminal, you could say," Varon finally answered. "He wouldn't pull me away from my responsibility to my girlfriend—he wouldn't want to create that kind of a double standard."
"So, you want a relationship with me to convince your boss that you need to leave DOMA for my sake?"
"A fake relationship," Varon amended helpfully, but at Mai's sudden glare his grin froze on his face.
"So you don't want a real relationship with me?" Her tone was icy, her frown as deeply-etched in her face as it would be in stone. Varon reached out to her, unsure of how best to recover from that terrible slip-up. He had one option left, and while he didn't like playing this card, he knew Mai couldn't resist it.
"You're the only one I can turn to." He looked up at her with his most pleading expression, unwilling to break it for anything. Wide eyes—no tears, of course, but the closest thing to them—and the most dejected look he could muster. There was no way that this would fail.
Mai considered him for a moment—if he was coming to her, he must really be out of ideas, and at the way his…associate…responded to Varon's actions, Varon had probably been setting this up for some time. If he wanted to leave DOMA for the relatively straight-and-narrow path, then who was she to deny him whatever assistance she could give?
She frowned again; without a doubt, he was going to milk this for all it was worth, so she was going to stretch his suffering for as long as she could.
"A fake relationship."
"I'll be the boyfriend of your dreams," Varon promised. "Whatever you want, I've got it."
"How long do you think this is going to take?" she asked. "Because you have absolutely no concern for my life! You show up, thinking I've got nothing better to do than play the role of your fake girlfriend? What if I'm in a relationship right now?"
"You're not." Varon spoke with confidence. "I know you, Mai. I know you well enough to make this work, and I swear to you that I'll do whatever it takes."
"I've got a Duel Monsters tournament appearance tomorrow afternoon," Mai said. Varon's smile grew; it was a truce, it was a start, and it was as good as he was going to get. It was certainly better than he deserved from her.
"I'll be there."
"And no more breaking into my house," she added. "No more surprise visits. You've got to play by my rules on this one."
"Certainly." Varon didn't think his grin could get any wider. "Your rules, perhaps, but we're playing DOMA's game. I'm an expert at that one."
"Anything else you want to add?" Mai asked.
"Well," Varon said. "I certainly wouldn't say no if you wanted to keep making breakfast every morning in that nightgown."
Mai pointed at the door. "Out of my house, Varon. If you can find your way out of this DOMA mess you got yourself in, you can certainly find your way out of the front door."
Mai shuffled her deck and glanced at her favorite cards, tuning out the combined noise from the crowds and the music blaring on loudspeakers around the stadium. This was one of the larger tournaments in the area, and she had a real shot at winning this one—none of the other duelists in her bracket were anywhere near her caliber, although she hadn't won a tournament in a few months because of one recent, persistent problem.
She didn't spare the other duelists in the waiting area a second thought, focused instead on the blond making his way towards her, motions stiff, a forced smile on his face.
"Hey, Mai."
"Joey," she answered curtly. "You should move along, if you don't have anything to say to me, because I certainly don't have anything to say to you."
"Are you sure?" he asked, keeping his voice low and neutral. "I've apologized, I've begged—but none of that moves you, does it? You've never said a word about–about—what happened," he finished lamely, gaze switching from Mai's eyes to the surrounding crowd. "You act as though it was nothing. As though nothing happened."
"Joey, you don't realize that you never knew for a second what I wanted. And as far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened." She paused. "You're not dueling today—what are you even doing here?"
"I'm here to see you duel, Mai," Joey replied. Suddenly, his expression turned guarded and Mai turned her head to see what he was looking at when an arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him in an almost possessive embrace.
"What a coincidence." Varon's voice was far too loud in the small space, nearly emptied of its audience due to the approaching duel. "I'm here for the same reason."
"Varon," Mai said through clenched teeth, "it's good to see you again."
Joey stared at the two of them for a moment with a combination of incomprehension and disbelief. "Hey, this holding room is for tournament duelists only, and you're not one of them. How did you get in?"
Varon chuckled, and tightened his grip on Mai. "Like I would miss the chance to see my girl before her duel. Who are you—the sorry bloke who has the misfortune of dueling her next?"
"No, I'm in the other bracket. We'll meet in the finals, Mai. Good luck with your duel…and whatever it is you're doing with your life."
Varon watched Joey storm away with amusement, as Mai sharply drove her elbow into Varon's stomach. The plate of armor protected him, but he refused to budge. She did it again.
"Hey, now," he said. "Is that any way to treat your boyfriend? I came all this way to show my support and everything."
"And I quote, Varon—'the boyfriend of my dreams.' I wouldn't dream of someone as irritating as you." She sighed. "I want to help you, really, but you should stop doing your best to mess up my life in the process."
Varon didn't know what to do, but he was quite comfortable where he was, so he settled on awkwardly patting her shoulder with the hand already stretched around her. "Don't worry about it—now go out there and win that duel."
"You don't have to tell me that," Mai said. "Of course I'll win."
Varon leaned in closer. "Gimme a kiss for luck?"
Mai shrugged out of his arm. "I don't need luck to win. Just wait and see."
Varon was the first to arrive at the meeting between the Swordsmen of DOMA—he leaned back in the black leather chair and propped his feet up on the table, enjoying the temporary silence. The room and the table was far larger than was necessary for a meeting of four, and Varon sat smack in the middle of the long row of chairs, each identical save for the larger, grander version at the head of the table. That particular chair was implicitly reserved.
Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and Varon leaned back to watch Alister walk in and sit on the opposite side of the table from Varon, eyeing his propped boots with distaste.
"Aren't you always late to these meetings?"
"Well, if I'm early today, I'm not always late, am I?" he asked. "And how are you enjoying your time—does Dartz have you in the warehouses to the north of Domino?" Varon laughed. "If I could sympathize with you, I would."
"It's not fair." Alister's voice was short. "This should be my job! Kaiba Corporation should burn. We will be the ones who light the matches."
Varon made no effort to conceal his laughter. "My research shows that over sixty-five percent of the materials used in construction are flame-resistant. But be my guest to try—one match will hardly take down the city's largest building and one of the country's largest companies."
Raphael walked into the room next, and took a seat closer to the front of the table, on Alister's left. "I won't stop you from bickering like old women, but the meeting is about to begin. I suggest that you compose yourselves."
Varon coughed, unable to suppress a grin. "Well, only one of us is actually an old woman, and I'm pretty sure Alister could use your advice—"
Alister stood up and slammed a fist into the table. "Enough!"
"Be proud of who you are," Varon continued, stiffening when Alister's hand moved to the holster hidden under his jacket.
"Let me teach him some manners, Raphael," Alister said, "as his seem to be sorely lacking."
"Sit down."
Neither of them had noticed the click of the recessed door opening at the front of the room, or their leader's entrance from it. Dartz stood poised at the head of the table, seemingly staring at each of them with one different-colored eye apiece.
Varon swallowed, and removed his boots from the table with as much dignity as he could muster, leaning back in the chair and refusing to acknowledge any of the others.
"So, Dartz—how has life been treating you?" Varon asked, trying to keep his voice lighthearted enough that he didn't show how anxious he was. He had never been on the receiving end of Dartz's wrath, but failure or disruption of any kind was usually enough to catch a hint of the anger that their leader was capable of.
"It will be better when we succeed," he answered. "Raphael, may I hear your report?"
One by one, they discussed their achievements and progress or setbacks with regards to planning their eventual takeover of Kaiba Corporation. Dartz listened with barely a word, giving only nods or hums of acknowledgement, elbows propped up on the table surface, chin propped up on his fingertips.
"I suppose by next week we'll have acquired enough information to progress into step two of our plan," Dartz said. "Be ready—with the imminent breakdown of Industrial Illusions and its illustrious CEO, Kaiba Corporation could be expecting our arrival. You have done well in shielding yourselves from their attention, but it will not always be that way. When we step into the spotlight, we will be doing so as the leaders of this new world order. We will be in control."
He glanced at each of his Swordsmen in turn. "Is there anything else you would like to share with me?"
Varon could feel Raphael's eyes searing into him, but he refused to be the one to bring up what he knew the strongest Swordsman would undoubtedly bring to everyone's consideration—for his carefully constructed plan to work, he had to be perfectly irreproachable. Untouchable, even.
"I believe there is something, sir," Raphael said slowly. "Varon seems to be nurturing an attachment on the side, as it were."
"Speak plainly," Dartz stated.
"He's taken a lover in the area, sir," Raphael answered. "I disapprove, of course—none of us need any distractions from the upcoming job, and—"
Varon's face was a study in justifiable anger. "I take offense at that! She is my girlfriend, and we've been seeing each other for quite some time now."
"Is that true?" Dartz asked, and silence spread throughout the room. Even the rhythmic clicking of the overhead fan seemed to merge into the background as the whole room breathed together.
"Of course it is," Varon asserted, trying to remember the last time he'd been in Domino. "We've been together for four months, now. It's quite serious," he added with a knowing grin.
"Hmm." Dartz leaned once more over his fingertips, isolating both Raphael and Varon in his gaze. "You say you saw them?"
"I did, sir," Raphael agreed. "They were—" He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and Varon's pleased smile only grew as he watched the other's reactions. Alister looked indignant, Raphael looked bored, and Dartz was unreadable as always.
"What does it even matter?" Varon asked. This was the crucial moment.
"What does she know?"
"Nothing of consequence, sir," Varon answered. "She knows what I do isn't entirely…reputable, but that's part of the appeal, you know. Girls love a man they can fix, right?"
"Fix?" He paused. "She does not agree with it, then?"
"She wants me to leave, of course," Varon said. "I told her I couldn't, but she's insisting on it." His words weren't entire lies; Varon could clearly imagine Mai speaking just as he described, and for a moment he hoped that everything would go off without a hitch.
"Are you going to marry her?" Dartz asked.
His smile slipped for a moment. "Well—I love her, sure, and I…err—"
"Perhaps she would consider joining our organization and working for us?"
Varon froze. "I can suggest the idea, but I doubt she'll take to it. This life isn't her style."
"Hmm. I suppose you know her best," Dartz said. "As it stands, your allegiance to us is stronger than your connection to her. Unless you marry her, I can't let you go. You're too valuable."
Varon really hoped Mai wouldn't hate him for what he was about to do.
"What I meant to say was that I was going to ask her tonight."
"Then let me be the first to offer my congratulations," Dartz said, glancing at Varon with his strange multicolored eyes, somehow seeming to stare at him and through him with one piercing gaze.
The apartment was dark. Varon cursed as he tripped over a pair of boots in the foyer.
"Mai?"
Varon could see a lamp switch on in one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway. A moment later, Mai appeared, wearing…a far more conservative nightgown. That was disappointing.
"Mai, I—"
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She sounded tired and sleep-deprived, but Varon quickly glanced at the watch on his arm.
"Um, it's only ten-thirty," he said, and Mai laughed softly as she brushed her hair out of her face.
"That late, huh?" There was only a touch of sarcasm to her voice this time, and Varon took a deep breath before pulling the bouquet of roses out from behind his back and holding them out to Mai.
"Surprise."
He flinched at how flat his voice sounded, but Mai only looked surprised. She reached for the roses, burying her nose into the bouquet and inhaling. "Thank you. But you didn't have to get me flowers."
"I wanted to," Varon said. "And yes, I did."
"Come on, let me get a vase for these." Varon followed her into the kitchen, and watched as Mai expertly navigated the cabinets until she found a vase, filling it with water at the sink.
"What's wrong?"
Varon jumped. "Nothing. Why do you say that?"
She turned, one hand on her hip. "Something's wrong. You never could do a good job at hiding that from me."
"That's probably true," he conceded. "But something isn't wrong. In fact, for a change, something is terribly right."
"What does that mean?" Mai asked.
"It means I've done something horribly selfish," he began. "I want to leave DOMA for me—but I also want to do it for you. It doesn't sit right with me, how I left, and I'm going to try to make that up to you."
"Varon, you're scaring me. Quit talking like that."
Varon fidgeted with the ring on his right hand, finally slipping it off and holding it in his palm. "Dartz—my leader—kinda forced my hand, you could say. I don't want to put you through this, and I wouldn't if I had any other choice. I need you, Mai, more than I've ever needed anyone before. I can't do this without your help."
He swallowed, moving closer to her and grasping her right hand with his left. "Well, it turns out that this isn't quite going to work—we're going to need something a little stronger to convince the rest of DOMA that my allegiance to you is deeper than my allegiance to them."
He paused. "Oh, hell, I'm doing this all wrong." He dropped to one knee and cleared his throat before holding out the ring.
"Mai Valentine, will you marry me?"
She tore her hand from his as though she had burned it. "Are you insane?"
"I'll take that to mean you're taking my proposal under consideration," Varon said.
Mai raised one hand to her mouth, shaking her head. "You don't understand…this isn't real, and I—"
"It's still not real, of course," he maintained. "Now I just…need you to pretend to be my fiancée for a while."
"Define a while," she said. "This is too much—and get off the floor. Please."
Varon scrambled to his feet, and reached for Mai again. "Hey. Are you okay? I know—I shouldn't have asked this of you and you have every right to hate me—"
She kept shaking her head. "You didn't say anything yesterday about this. Varon, I can't—"
He wrapped both of his arms around her in the closest embrace he could, tucking her head underneath his chin. "Sure you can," he said. "We can do this—we can pull this off. I just need you to wear my ring and prove to the world what a terrific actress you are."
"Is that your—"
He sighed. "Yes, it's my DOMA ring—I couldn't think of anything better under the circumstances, and I think you'll like it. The stone is one-of-a-kind—kind of like you."
She gave him a half-smile. "I don't suppose I'll have to put it on myself?"
Varon beamed and reached for her left hand, sliding the ring onto her fourth finger. "Beautiful. Look at us, we're just like a real couple!"
"No more surprises," she said, pulling back. Varon tried not to look disappointed as she left his arms.
"No guarantees, but I'll do my best."
"I need...some time," she continued, slowly.
"You can have as much as you need," he said.
Mai disappeared into her bedroom, and didn't come out again for the remainder of the night.
He had been her first love. He would later make some joke about it, that no one could ever reach the standard he'd set in her eyes, but she threatened to push him off the sidewalk and he never made a joke about the future—theirs or otherwise—again.
They had similar interests: motorcycles, Duel Monsters, and each other. He had made a joke that she was the only other person who was as into him as he was. As a joke, she'd given him a Happy Lover card that next month for Christmas, and although he'd never used it in a duel, it had never left his deck. They joked about things like that—the only things they approached with a serious attitude were the few things that they took seriously. They fell into this category, but relationships did not, and for a long time they were both perfectly happy like that.
She had thought that what they had was perfect; that no one or nothing would ever disrupt that or come between them. She'd known that he had some friends in bad places and that he himself was prone to violence when someone or something he felt strongly for was threatened.
They'd promised to always be there for the other, no matter what. That was before he joined an organization called DOMA, and soon he was making trips all across the globe; he became distant and guarded, but Mai drew the line when he wanted to store weapons in their home.
She wanted to know why he'd done it. For the money, the power, the glory?
He had two answers—everything he did, he either did for himself, or for her. This was for himself.
Everything else, then, however slight, he did for her.
Mai accepted her cappuccino from the woman behind the counter at the coffeehouse and found a seat by the back of the store, near one of the windows overlooking one of Domino's busiest streets. She'd barely had a moment to herself, between winning her bracket in the Duel Monsters tournament to dealing with Varon's—always—unannounced visits. She'd seemingly absorbed some of his paranoia, and was constantly looking over her shoulders or around the corners for any sign of DOMA's shadowy supporters. Varon had told her to act natural—she wasn't even sure what passed for that, anymore.
Natural was a relative term for her, these days.
She blew on the top of the coffee to cool it, so absorbed in the sounds of spoons clinking against cups and the chatter of a dozen separate conversations that she failed to notice the chair before her being pulled out until someone had already slumped into it, jacket-covered elbows resting on the table.
Mai looked up from her cappuccino to find Joey staring right back at her, his expression a combination of pity and desperation.
"Is it true?" he asked.
"Is what true?" she asked in return, lifting the cup with her right hand, her left hidden in her lap underneath the table. She took a slow sip of the coffee, enjoying the way it was too hot to be comfortable and almost hot enough to burn. It kept her distracted.
"I watched your duel on the monitors. I couldn't tell at first, and I didn't want to believe it, but I have to know the truth for myself," he said. "I saw something strange every time the camera showed a close-up during the duel."
"It's called talent, Joey, and you should learn to recognize it." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted putting him down, realizing just how much like Varon she sounded.
"Not that—I have no doubt you'll be a strong opponent in our duel."
The irony of the words weren't lost on either of them, but Mai took another sip of the coffee before responding. "We're both professionals on the tournament circuit, Joey. Sponsorship pays the bills, you know that. I've got to keep winning, there's no other option. There never has been."
"I suppose you call this winning, then?" Joey asked, his voice sharper and louder than before. "It's always got to be a damn competition with you, right? Not this time. Show me your left hand."
Suddenly, it was as though the coffee was ice-cold, for all that she felt it. "Joey, you shouldn't concern yourself with—"
"If you've got nothing to hide, you'll show me," he replied firmly.
With clockwork precision and slowness, Mai removed her left hand from underneath the table and set it on the varnished surface beside the right. The ring wasn't bright by any means; instead of radiating light like a diamond the dark, teal-colored stone seemed to suck all the light in the room into its smooth, angular shell.
She knew it would happen in a way like this; it didn't matter if it wasn't real, finding out would destroy him. She could never endanger Varon by telling Joey the truth, but it didn't matter. It was already done. She would earn his hatred for saving Varon from a life of something he couldn't escape from in any other way—by appearing to bind herself in turn to a life of something she didn't want and something from which she herself could find no escape.
"I don't believe it," Joey said. "Not him, Mai. You're telling me that you're that serious with him? You're going to marry him?"
"It's not what you think, Joey," she spoke over the rim of her cup, half-raised to her lips. She took a slow, careful sip as Joey looked away.
"So, what is it, then? You couldn't settle down with me but you could settle for him?"
"I don't settle," she said shortly. "And I don't have to explain myself to you."
"I was happy, once," he said. "With you. Don't tell me you don't think we could be happy together again. Tell me no and I'll walk away right now and never speak to you again unless you want me to. I'll duel you on Saturday like nothing ever happened between us."
The hand holding the coffee cup froze. The fingers of Mai's left hand curled together, and they both tried hard not to look at the ring.
"I can't," she finally said. "Don't make me choose between the two of you. I won't do it."
The faintest glimmer of hope sparked to life in Joey's eyes, and she hated to see it. She hated knowing that she was the cause of every second of his suffering.
"Then tell me why."
"I can't do that, either," she said ruefully, finally returning the coffee cup to the table. Small circles of condensation marks laced their way across the table, and she glanced from one interlocking swirl to the next. It was like trying to find a pattern in the clouds. She could even see the reflection of the overhead chandelier in the gleaming surface.
"Then tell me that you still love me. Because I never stopped loving you."
Mai was grateful for her table in the back of the coffeehouse, and the dull noise that resonated throughout the interior of the space. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that. It won't change anything."
"But it can." He ignored every instinct that told him not to do it, settling one of his hands on-top of hers, ignoring that it was her left hand; ignoring that he could feel cool metal beneath his palm instead of skin.
"Why did you leave me?"
How could she tell him—it wasn't him at all, only the idea that he had asked for something that she couldn't give. They stood at a crossroads, and while he wanted to take the next step, Mai could only move her feet backwards in small, close steps, connecting each toe to each heel in turn as she walked away from him, never looking forward, only looking at him. She lost sight of herself regardless—it was there, pronounced in her every worry—the fear of losing her independence, of losing her last name, of losing herself?
"I left because I wanted to."
And Mai stood up and left the coffeehouse, leaving behind a white porcelain cup with the faintest lipstick print on the rim.
Varon held out her jacket for her, and Mai slipped into it with some reluctance. "I can't be late to my own duel, you know."
"I promised you a carriage, didn't I?" Varon said, sweeping out one arm to gesture towards the shiny, flamboyantly red motorcycle resting on the curb. "Ta-da!"
When Mai didn't respond, he hopped over towards it and slung one leg over the side, reaching for the helmets he kept tucked in a case at the back. He held one out to her.
"What do you think? No, don't tell me—it's fantastic, I know." He smiled as she took the helmet. "I know helmet hair isn't the best, but I won't have you getting hurt. So put it on and let's go."
Varon secured his own helmet, pulling his goggles down to cover his eyes. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he felt Mai's arms wrap around him as she slid into place behind him on the motorcycle.
"Make sure you hold on tight, love," he said. "I won't mind." With that, he turned the motorcycle on and sped down the street, expertly weaving through the traffic to get to the stadium where the tournament finals were being held.
He pulled the motorcycle right up to the front walkway, where a bike rack stood off to the side of the front doors. Varon left the bike beside it and jumped off, pulling off his helmet.
"I have a rendezvous with the gang in twenty minutes," he said, looking down guiltily. Mai shot him a glare, and he exhaled sharply. "It's a figure of speech, alright? Anyway, I can stay for a minute or two, but I'll be back before you know it. I'll be here to watch you win."
Mai handed him back the helmet and used the mirror at the side of the motorcycle to smooth her hair back into place. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
As they walked inside, Varon threw a casual arm around her shoulders. "So, did you enjoy the motorcycle ride? Expect many more in your future—what's mine is yours, and all that."
He turned to see Joey approaching them, just within earshot, and Varon's smile only grew. "Today," he whispered loudly to Mai, "this is the sorry bloke who has the misfortune of dueling you. You don't have a thing to worry about."
"It's funny," Joey said, stopping before them, clearly evaluating Varon with his eyes. Joey frowned. "For such a good friend of Mai's, I don't think I even know your name."
"That's a surprise," Varon replied. "I thought I was on a first-name basis with every important person in this city. I don't know how I could've skipped you."
"Stop it," Mai said. "I've got to go prepare for the duel, and you've got to behave yourself."
"I will do my very best," he responded. He nodded to Joey. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to wish my fiancée good luck in the only way I know how."
He pulled Mai aside gently, brushing one thumb across her cheek and jaw-line softly. "And this time, I'm not taking no for an answer." He leaned closer and kissed her, swallowing her surprise as he squeezed her hand gently with the one not wrapped lightly around the back of her head.
"What was that for?" Mai asked. Varon didn't care if Joey was still watching—he didn't care if the tournament filming crews were capturing their every move. He only wanted to relive that last moment over and over again for the rest of time, and only the thought of his meeting with Raphael restored any fleeting sense of focus to his otherwise-occupied mind.
"I did it because I wanted to, of course," he said slowly. "And don't tell me you didn't, either." He gave her a quick smile. "If there's one thing I regret, it's ever making you unhappy."
"Varon," she said slowly. "Thanks for your concern and all, but no one is watching us. It doesn't matter—you don't need to pretend here. No one's going to suspect that it's all fake."
"Right. Fake." He tried not to sound disappointed, and wondered why he felt so let down, and if there was a chance, however small, that she might be feeling the same—that they might somehow have done such a good job convincing the rest of the world that they might lose themselves in the counterfeit. "Of course—we're just pretending. You know how I never do anything by half."
He watched the emotions swirl across her face, and kissed her forehead for extra luck. "Now, you go out there and win. I'll be back to cheer you on as soon as I can."
Suddenly, Varon's phone began to ring. The shrill, metrical beeping seemed to flatten both of their moods, and Varon shot her an apologetic glance before moving away to an alcove off of the main viewing rooms, opening the phone, and raising it to his ear.
"Hey Raphael," he said. "What's up?"
"I hope I don't have to remind you that you're supposed to be at the drop point in fifteen minutes. Do you have the materials?"
"Of course I do." He managed to sound suitably insulted.
"Were they difficult to obtain?"
"Naw, I swiped it all from one of KC's computers. They won't even miss it until it's too late. I'm heading your way now—I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Make it quick."
"Will do." With a sigh, Varon snapped the cell-phone closed and slid it back into his jacket pocket. He jammed his hands into both pockets and walked outside, whistling, not noticing the figure in the green jacket leaning against the wall on the other side of where he had just stood.
Casting one last glance at the large, gleaming windows overlooking the dueling stadium and platform where he should have been standing at that minute, Joey Wheeler turned on his heel and followed Varon out of the building.
Varon had been on the motorcycle for two minutes when he noticed another biker several lanes over and a few cars back, following his every move. The streets were busy, but that couldn't account for this level of coincidence—someone was purposefully following him.
He tried to figure out who—someone from KC? Someone from DOMA? Varon merged right, and the biker behind him followed suit, and Varon caught a glimpse of green jacket in his mirrors.
A smile grew on his face as his respect for Joey Wheeler went up a notch or two. The duelist obviously had some skill with his bike, but as Varon cut across another lane and swerved right onto a side street, he knew that there was no way Joey would be able to follow him for too much longer. He may not know the town as well as Joey did, but he did do this sort of thing for a living, after all.
A minute later and Varon was on a parallel main street, weaving through more traffic. The light changed to green and he zoomed forward, suddenly catching another glimpse of green jacket behind him.
His fingers tightened around the handlebars. So, he was going to make this a challenge? In his mind, Varon went over what he knew of the roadways in Domino, and took off through a winding path that eventually brought him back on a perpendicular road to the same thoroughfare he had originally crossed. After weaving through side roads and ducking behind cars and trucks for cover, Varon was certain he had lost Joey somewhere near the DDM tower—nowhere near as striking as its competition, of course—and he coasted along the road as he headed for the place where he had prearranged to meet with Raphael.
Another motorcycle and its owner rested against the side of an abandoned building spray-painted in bright colors. Raphael looked out of place against that backdrop in his all-black, one arm raised to continuously observe his wristwatch.
"I'm just on time, aren't I?" Varon called, bringing the motorcycle to a stop and sliding off, pulling off his helmet and resting it on the seat of the bike. He pulled a flash drive from his other jacket pocket and tossed it to Raphael, who caught it swiftly.
"It was no trouble at all," he added. "Plenty of insider stock info, employee info, the works. Kaiba himself wouldn't be a better informer." Varon paused. "Actually, he probably would, but seeing as we can't get him this is a pretty good silver medal."
"Dartz will be pleased." Raphael pocketed the flash drive. "He's reluctant to let you go." He kicked at a patch of gravel near his toe. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how lucky you are."
"You already have," he replied, remembering one morning not too long before, in Mai's kitchen and her embrace. "And Dartz will just have to learn to get along fine without me. You all will." He paused again. "You should start looking for your own opportunity. They come along about once in every blue moon."
"Hmph." Raphael coughed. "I'd say more, but I think we've got ourselves a stray."
"What?" Varon turned around, but the area around them was clear of traffic or pedestrians. A moment later, Raphael had paced the dozen steps to the building's corner and turned it, striking out with one hand and pulling a shirtfront with it, his other hand ready to reach for a weapon if the listener had any aspirations to harm either of them.
Whatever cheerfulness Varon had stored within him deflated when he saw Joey being dragged by Raphael back to where they both had stood. Raphael pushed him forward. "State your name and your association. We don't take well to spies and eavesdroppers."
"I knew you were no good!" Joey pointed a finger at Varon, a deep scowl decorating his face. "Does she even know what you are? What you're doing? You make me sick."
He made to lash out at Varon, but Varon easily sidestepped him and grabbed his arms, pulling them behind his back.
"Now, now—lose the testy attitude, hmm?" He laughed as Joey struggled to free himself. Raphael studied the newcomer, analyzing him through tinted sunglasses.
"You know him, don't you?"
"That's a sad truth, it is," Varon agreed. "His name's Joey Wheeler—he's a second-rate duelist in the area. Not worth our attention." At Joey's snarl of insistence, Varon tightened his hold. "I said, not worth a bit of our attention."
"How well do you know him?" Raphael asked.
"Better than I wish I did," he joked in response. "Leave him to me—I'll make sure he won't say a word about whatever he heard." He gave Joey a meaningful look. "Which I'm sure is nothing, right?"
"I'm still telling Mai about this, you sick—"
"Broken record, mate," Varon interrupted. He nodded at Raphael. "Don't worry about it. I've got it covered."
"If you've got it under control, I see no need to mention it to our leader," Raphael said slowly. The corners of Varon's mouth quirked upwards in a grateful smile.
"You deliver that—I'll sort this mess out."
Varon freed a hand to wave cheerfully at Raphael as he sped off on his motorcycle, but Joey took the opportunity to drive an elbow and then a fist into the cover of Varon's armor.
"Watch it!" Varon rubbed his shoulder, rolling it back as he let go of Joey, still ready to intercept any attack that Joey might send his way. "I did you a favor! The least you could do is show a little gratitude!"
"Gratitude?" Joey growled, fingers tightening into fists.
"Here, I'll prompt you." Varon grinned. "How about, 'thank you, Varon.' Now you try it."
He sighed at Joey's reaction. Was that really all it took to rile him up? At another time, this would actually be fun, but Varon had more important things to do, and more important places to be—specifically, Mai's duel.
His grin folded into a frown. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be dueling right now?"
"Yeah." Joey's voice was still flat and low and full of venom. "According to the rules, I've got twenty-five minutes before I automatically forfeit. I overheard you talking on the phone, and I knew I needed to find out what you were doing. I was right—you are no good."
Varon scratched the back of his head with one hand. "I already know I'm not good enough for her, but that'll be Mai's decision to make, hmm?"
"So she does know?"
"Of course," Varon answered immediately. "I'm not an idiot. She knows everything—she accepts that."
"Yet she's still marrying you."
"How about this," Varon compromised. "Get back to the stadium—if you win, I'll tell you everything."
"And if Mai wins?" Joey asked.
"Oh, I have no doubt Mai will win," he said with a smile. "If she wins, I've got a surprise for her. You'll see."
Mai won the duel.
Joey had arrived with a minute to spare to take his place in the arena, and Varon had slipped into the stadium right after, leaning back in the comfortable box seats Mai had provided for him, front and center. There was no contest, really—they each seemed to know it from the start. When she accepted the trophy with a smile, Varon could tell what it really meant.
It was a smile of validation. It was a smile of victory, and one of satisfaction—one of pure realization and happiness. It was a smile for her, and for him. For both of them. For all of them.
He met with Raphael one last time, on the roof of Mai's apartment building. The cool, evening air swirled around them, and as Varon held out his hand Raphael shook it, both of them nodding in silent understanding.
"Where will you be going?"
Varon grinned in the thin light. "It wouldn't be much of a secret if I told everyone, would it?"
"You should know that Dartz has already found your replacement," Raphael said.
"You don't say?"
"Yeah—there's two of them, a couple of nerds from the area. Real irritating."
"Then I'm sure they should fit in just fine," Varon replied.
"Take care of yourself. Her, too."
"You don't need to tell me that," Varon said. "I know just what to do."
An anonymous, typed letter and a plain flash drive had been delivered to Seto Kaiba's office, and the next day it was announced that the CEO had bought most of the shares in his own company, effectively rendering himself the sole majority at the same time that he launched a private investigation into the other major shareholders. The day after that, Varon, Mai, and Joey left the country.
A month later a small, rectangular piece of paper arrived in Raphael's mail—two palm trees, a patch of sand, and a bright blue expanse of water decorated the front, while on the back a messy hand scrawled Raphael's address on one side and a simple message only thirteen words long.
Wish you were here!
Actually, we don't, but we hope you're doing well.
The sun was hovering over the horizon, resting on the crests of the waves as they traveled in from far off in the distance to lap at Varon's feet. He wiggled his toes in the sand.
"Hey."
Mai came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The sun was warm but not oppressive.
Varon turned around and grasped her hands in his. She had tried to return his ring, but he insisted that she keep it—it was hers, whether it held any meaning for either of them anymore.
"Where's Joey?" he asked. "Chasing seagulls or building sandcastles?"
"That's so funny," Joey said, kicking up a spray of water. The cold of the water felt nice on his skin.
Varon grinned. The two had formed a type of grudging respect bordering on friendliness, all for the happiness of the woman standing by their sides. They wouldn't make her choose—if she wanted both of them, then she would have them.
The first-class cabin had been nearly empty, and the long plane ride gave them plenty of time to talk. Mai had been getting her beauty sleep, as she called it, and Varon had reclined his chair, raised the window shade, and glanced at the black sky outside, just beginning to lighten on the edges.
"…and being with DOMA for so long…it was difficult. The longer you're involved, the harder it is to get out."
"Won't they know it was you?" Joey's voice was low and shot through with hints of jet-lag, but neither of them really felt like sleeping.
"Naw, I framed Alister for the whole thing. He'll get out of it like he always does, but by then all attention will be completely removed from me."
"That's…pretty clever, actually," Joey admitted. "Ok—in my book, you're not half bad."
"Of course," Varon replied. "I wrote that book."
Joey turned a snicker into a cough and pulled the thin airline blanket over himself, crossing his arms in the narrow seat. "Do you ever shut up?'
"Sorry to disappoint you," Varon said, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm going to try to get some sleep." Joey made no attempt to stifle his yawn. "Would you mind putting the window shade up?"
"I know it'll be difficult, but try your best not to dream of me, Wheeler," Varon said with a grin. "And as a matter of fact, I do. If you wanted control over the windows then you should have taken the window seat."
"How about I chase you instead?" Joey continued.
"That sounds like a challenge—a short challenge, though. I'm not sure if it's worth it." He stretched lazily before reaching for one of Mai's hands. She offered him her left and he took it, and she linked her other hand with Joey's.
"Why'd you pick the Bahamas, anyway?" Joey asked.
Varon shrugged. "Just something I said once. I thought I'd give it a try."
They walked together up the beach, creating three sets of footprints that disappeared with each new wave of water that hit the shoreline, washing them away until all that was left was a clean, unbroken line of sand.
End.
A/N: If you've made it this far, please favor me with a review! Your comments would be much valued and appreciated, from contest participants to random readers. Thank you for reading!
~Jess
Extra (what exactly does DOMA even do, anyway? xD):
Raphael walked up the sidewalk, keeping his paces soft and even over the cracked concrete. There weren't many people out and about in the city, but his attention was focused on only one object, sitting innocently next to a park bench barely twenty-five feet ahead of him.
The mother sat on the park bench, the stroller beside it, wheels locked to prevent it from rolling away. She was talking into her cell-phone, hardly giving any notice to the man dressed all in black walking towards her. Years of hard training were channeled into moments like this, when he could use every ounce of his skill to advance his own interests and those of the organization he worked for.
With deft fingers, Raphael reached into the stroller and plucked out a lollipop, removing it from the infant's grasp with a sense of proud, relaxed contentment.
He crossed the street and walked until he was no longer in sight of the stroller before examining his prize. "It's just that easy," he said.