Chapter 1: Iron Man

Disclaimer: I do not legally own the rights to Yu-Gi-Oh! or any other of its company or creators affiliates. I'm just a fanfiction writer that puts the FanFiction law to good use. Any trivia that I use, I use with the same law in mind.

Summary: Yami and Kaiba, both alone with their thoughts at an ungodly hour, end up together in Kaiba's kitchen due to the most unlikely, ominous circumstances. Strange, the domain of lost spirits is…

Notes: when Kaiba is used, it is from Yami's perspective; when Seto, from Seto. Freedom is taken as well with respect to their respective pasts.

Song: Iron Man – Black Sabbath

Fingers tapping away in irritation. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

I am Iron Man

A steadfast, cold gaze was directed towards the wall, seeming to quiver in the wrath that poured from the ice-blue eyes. Meanwhile the screen of his laptop flickered with the KaibaCorp logo, infernally patient for him to type in a new command or pull up an engineering design that he would fix and tweak. He sighed heavily as he dropped his head into his raised cupped palm, his brunette fringe dropping in his line of sight. He flicked it back with dexterous fingers but it just flopped back, pissing him off even more that was his usual manner. He leant back into his desk-chair and stared at the screen, his face a mask of blankness. He was completely unaware as the door of his study opened a crack and Mokuba peeked in, checking up. It was really late, or, to be more accurate, it was very early. It was almost one in the morning and Mokuba's bleary eyes surveyed his brother in somewhat a mixed combination of shock and worry. Why the heck is Seto up so late?

Has he lost his mind

Can he see or is he blind

Mokuba shook his head to clear away some of the cobwebs lurking in his head. He knew that he couldn't do anything to stop or deter Seto when he was like that, a complete statue, except a mobile one; he knew it was an oxymoron, but that's what his brother was like. He pulled his head from the door and gently closed it, padding back to his bedroom. He sighed a small sigh at the fruitlessness of his worry, but then his mind turned inwards again as he fell asleep beneath the covers of his large bed.

Can he walk at all

Or if he moves will he fall

It was too late to be out walking the streets, but that's what he was doing, and nothing could really stop him when he was as deep in thought as he was at the present moment. A minute breeze brushed across his bare arms, carrying the chill of almost freezing temperatures, but he didn't notice things like that, he ignored them even though he had an insisted-upon jacket tied round his waist. He stopped walking for a second and studied his immediate surroundings. He noted the elaborately wrought steel gates, some creeping with sharp-tipped roses and others bare and naked as the occupants. He then looked across the street onto a forbidding mansion, dark and almost soulless except for the faint outline of a kid's bike locked near the front door. He looked up to the second floor windows and a light suddenly flared on. The outline of a tall, slight man burned through the curtains, and suddenly, those too were drawn back, revealing the bitter face of Seto Kaiba as he glanced out to the sky. His own curious mix of crimson irises examined Kaiba's face for some shred of emotion besides the shrewd loner that he projected.

Is he alive or dead

Has he thoughts within his head

He settled himself on the cold curb, contemplating the past that he shared with this man-child. No one could actually say to Yami's face that Kaiba was a full grown man in a sense without him distancing himself from that person, because he knew the tricks one could learn to hide yourself from the world, he knew the true masks that one could create to conceal the cracked soul beneath. A small part of him speculated as to why his thoughts were revolving around the dragon-like spectre. As much as Kaiba would like to deny, there were some other people in the world that had some sort of emotional attachment to him, whether really good or bad. As knees balanced in the crook of his elbows held together by entwined fingers, there was a sub-conscious decision to stay and see what filled Kaiba's early morning hours, the domain of the lost spirits.

We'll just pass him there

Why should we even care

Seto stared out at the stars, his eyes aimlessly traversing the constellations, a voice in the back of his mind naming the specific stars and their groupings. Sometimes he wished that he could look at them as he would have if he had a normal childhood. But now, all that was in his mind were cold-hard facts and the reality of the future. He came closer to the glass, bare fingers touching the freezing glass and causing shadows of steam to grow and swell from his fingertips. He spread his whole hand, palm outwards, on the glass, and watched idly as the condensation seem to take on a life of its on, growing in magnitude, sharpening the handprint into that of a monster's paw. He pulled his hand back suddenly and watched as it receded: everyone had their own demons, not excluding him. And that switched his mind to his adversary, Yami.

He was turned to steel

In the great magnetic field

It wasn't Yugi anymore that he battled against at every turn: it was the pharaoh that filled his mind with a curiosity and an endless want to prove himself against; against a man that seemed to be as alike to him as a twin: the same icy countenance that instead of being concentrated against people wanting contact with him, like Seto, was concentrated against the enemies that warred against them, that was constantly used to save the world. A reluctant but willing hero; that is what Yami is and will always be.

When he travelled time

For the future of mankind

Yami knew that as he viewed Kaiba suddenly snatch his hand away that there was always going to a chasm between Kaiba and the rest of humanity. And he felt sorrow for him. No one deserved to wander the world with a seemingly singular purpose on the outside and conflicting emotions and raw wounds within his own heart and mind. His eyes sought the stars above him as well, trying to see what the other man was seeing. Did Kaiba see connections up there; did his thoughts wander to childish wishes on stars? What had Kaiba done when Mokuba had come to him and asked why his wish wasn't granted? How had Kaiba handled that fantasy in his reality-driven world, that fantasy where the imagination ruled and lies weren't lies but alternate realms of a child? Kaiba was wanted by only one person emotionally. What does Kaiba do with the rest of the world?

Nobody wants him

He just stares at the world

Seto's eyes gazed into the glass, looking down on the distorted view of the mown lawn, the concrete path winding its way down to the gate. His thoughts snaked along it, brushing him against the hard memories of his past. He felt a curious build-up in his eyes and recognized the feeling as one he had had almost every day of his life with his stepfather, when he protected Mokuba against an emotionless man who wanted only fame and fortune from his eldest adopted son. It had been too late for Seto, but there was never too much time when it came to Mokuba, never too much will to fight for his younger brother's innocence. He recalled lying awake at night in their connected bedroom, the planning that had gone on until all hours of the morning and sometimes right through; all that childishness that had been driven out with a shovel so that he could carve out something that resembled what he willingly gave up for Mokuba. And that day had come when he had legally emancipated himself from that tyrant when he was thirteen. He allowed a small grin of triumph to flash across his features, very strangely innocent, a remnant of the abandoned. But he had never gotten the victory that he strived for.

Planning his vengeance

That he will soon unfurl

Sooner or later, Yami knew that Kaiba would eventually spot him, but he really didn't care. Which was something to think on. Yami felt that sometimes he strived too hard to crash through Kaiba's barriers, but there was something within Kaiba that hooked you to fight for him. Even though that flickering candle was hidden under a fog of stubbornness and suspicion. Yami thought on the first time he had really known of Kaiba, when they had battled that first of many battles where he had won with Exodia. Yugi had been frightened, completely understandable, but within Yami there had also been speck of fear, but it wasn't the fear of the man itself and his testaments: it was the fear that somehow, in the hazy residue of his memories, he wouldn't be able to sacrifice himself to save this one, that there would be one in the world that he wouldn't be able to save.

Now the time is here

For iron man to spread fear

He remembered Duellist Kingdom. He remembered Pegasus kidnapping his brother. He remembered that hollow he had felt inside when he realized that he might not get Mokuba back, and how quickly it had seemed to fade but had been present in his desperation to get his brother back. He remembered squaring off with Yugi on the top of the tower and forcing Yami's hand. He remembered the taste of bile in the back of his throat when he had stood on the rampart, daring Yami to use his Celtic Guardian against him to win and in the process, kill him. He remembered how he had had to resort to emotions to win, something that he thought he had ripped out of himself. He remembered how even in that he had lost and had been sent to that place of evil, that dark place that sucked at his very soul, and he hadn't even been able to find his brother in all that malevolence. Now, he recalled cheering Yugi on. But he also recalled that the minute he had been freed, he had striven to loose himself from that thread Yugi and his friends offered him; and that had nearly cost him Mokuba during Battle City.

Vengeance from the grave

Kills all the people he once saved

Yami could see the hatred that dwelt in the eyes of Joey. Of Tristan. Of the hopeless faith that Teà time and time again tried to give Kaiba but was rejected. He could see the determination even in Yugi's eyes, an inflexible need to connect to Kaiba and bring him out into the sunlight. They soon gave up. Anybody else that tried to get close to Kaiba had inevitably looked the other way when they had seen that depth in his eyes; that sneer across his mouth; that feeling that he was judging them unworthy of his intelligence. He felt himself sighing, watching his breath mist before him and swirl into the breeze.

Nobody wants him

They just turn their heads

What missing link does Kaiba need? Want? He thought tiredly. He looked up to amber light shining from the lamp within the mansion that still outlined the figure of Kaiba. Kaiba was resting his head on his arm that was braced against the glass, looking out to the shadows. Kaiba, come out of your shell, no one deserves it more than you. Please live for once and ask for a hand to lead you. Please; it is never too late.

Nobody helps him

Now he has his revenge

His head ached. His whole body ached. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to feel that sense of freedom that only broken spirits knew of, that peace that they were reputed to have. Listless, he leant his forearm against the glass and then his burning forehead. He ached for that something that he couldn't put words to. He felt it emitting from his chest, an unsteady throb that left him dizzy. He pulled his gaze from the swaying branches outside, the leaves shining like shook foil, and stared bleakly into the bare-minimum study. There wasn't anything that made it personal. No memorabilia of a good life. Nothing that meant anything to him, which showcased his interests and a kind of comfort. He felt himself disconnect from it, felt the resonating click as he looked on his life from a stranger's perspective. What was he trying to prove? Cold sweat popped up on his forehead and began to run down his face.

He was turning into his stepfather. He was turning into the man that he had sworn that he would never be, that dictator of his soul. He began to panic, his heart racing, his hands shaking; he felt like a caged bird, wings clipped, completely unable to enter the world that he had been born into. The walls seemed to be shrinking in on him, boxing him in. Eyes wide from an inner terror, he bolted around his desk and burst through the door, the doors slamming against the wall. He just began to run, running down the carpeted hallway till he reached the stairs where he immediately began to sprint down. Without warning, his bare foot slipped and he felt himself tumbling down, his limbs banging against the wall, knocking the antique wooden banister solidly, his head smacking against the floor as he landed in a heap at the bottom of the staircase. Fire spread through his skull as he sat up woozily. His vision blurry, he still experienced the urge to just run away from everything. He stood up shakily, the lower level of the house pitch-black except for the faint traces of the security lights that shone through covered windows. He cautiously took a step and then another, and another, his speed picking up and suddenly he was running again, running for all that he was worth. Some instinct that was still his grabbed his leather boots and shoved them on while still running, a feat that normally would have sent Mokuba into hysterics, but now just fed the dread of the night and his mind.

Heavy boots of lead

Fills his victims full of dread

Yami stood up hastily when he saw Kaiba's face change into one filled with fear. He watched as Kaiba's eyes darted from side to side like a caged animal ready for the slaughter by greed-driven hunters. He saw Kaiba suddenly vanishing from the glass and he could only think as to what was racing through his mind. In his worry for the child that had appeared briefly at the window, it felt like millenia before he began to run across the street towards the house when abruptly Kaiba crashed through the heavy oaken doors and had begun to weave down the concrete path. Yami saw the fever that was driving him wild in his eyes and hurried to intercept Kaiba before he exited out onto the street.

Running as fast as they can

Iron man lives again

Seto felt strong, calloused hands grip his arms, squeezing tightly to keep a hold of him. His breaths came out ragged, forming jagged clouds of steam and his heart still raced, the blood pumping ferociously through his system. His thoughts were jumping from here to there, from the sane to the nether regions of madness. He struggled to get out of the handhold but the hands held fast, locked onto him. He heard a faint voice, someone calling. As his mind began to gain control, he realized that that someone was calling him.

"Kaiba! Listen to me! Come back! Come back from wherever you are!" a rough masculine voice ordered. Seto's heart began to relax, following the concern that was in the voice. He stopped struggling to free himself and instead let himself begin to calm, to let his mind drift back into the rational. The fingers relaxed only a bit before they began to pull him back towards the mansion. Seto wasn't acknowledging who it was that was helping him, or where they were going, but he trusted this person.

Yami looked into Kaiba's dilated pupils and questioned as to whether Kaiba's state of mind was settling down as he led him up the drive. There was no telling whether Kaiba had heard him or was so broken in spirit that he would follow anything quietly. He couldn't be sure and his steps quickened as he felt Kaiba's clammy, bare skin shivering in his palms. He pulled Kaiba into the hallway. Looking around for something to seat Kaiba in, he could find nothing, so instead pulled Kaiba into a one-armed embrace and locked the door behind him.

Seto felt someone hold him gruffly but gently, one arm managing to wind itself around his entire torso. Sparks of sanity flashed in his skull along with a throbbing migraine. He somehow knew that he was back in the mansion. He somehow knew that something right was finally happening. And he also knew that the person leading him was totally lost. Wherever he was trying to lead him.

Yami could admit defeat when he knew he was defeated, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. The kitchen had to be somewhere around and he needed to try and get something calming into Kaiba to bring him back from the brink he stood on, the little that he knew about shock treatment. He looked up into Kaiba's face for a second and saw that Kaiba had let his hair begin to grow out. It was now in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, while the rest of his hair still acted like a fringe. He was startled at the amount of time that had passed since their last interaction.

Yami finally found something that resembled an industrial kitchen, clear-cut surfaces and the germ-phobic state of cleanliness that told him of the fastidiousness of Kaiba on the servants. He led Kaiba to a kitchen-stool who meekly sat on the hard surface, his own mind drinking in the details and dismissing those that didn't resemble what he had in mind. He didn't actually know if Kaiba would have anything of the sort in his house, but it didn't hurt to look. Releasing his hand hold, he began to wonder among the cupboards.

Seto, still disconnected from his body, only felt the leading presence leave him. He could feel the panic begin to build up again but he quenched it, an alertness returning to his mind that knew he could trust that the person helping wasn't far away. He leant forward and touched a cold, flat surface. It felt welcoming to him and he curled up into the chair, resting his arms and head on top of it. His breathing evened out and he felt himself drifting. Eyelids closed over dark, confused yet peaceful orbs.

Yami found the handle to the pantry and descended down the cold stairwell. Lights immediately snapped on, an audible hum buzzing from them and the coolers. Almost immediately, he found what he was looking for: a dark oaken liqueur cabinet. Almost bare except for three bottles, it showed something that made Yami proud of Kaiba, a strange niggling feeling in the base of his spine: he was glad that Kaiba never resorted to using things to overcome the stress of his highly set standards at KaibaCorp . He gently pulled a square-shaped bottle from the top rung and carried it back to the kitchen with him. He then sensed something was undeniably wrong. He cautiously stepped the last stairs upwards.

He found himself facing a sleeping Kaiba, a deeply disturbed sleeping Kaiba. He was muttering out loud, his face strained with a look of helpless pleading. Sweat ran down his face, along his temples, along the bridge of his nose. Yami watched, completely unnerved. He was used to evils on the outside, destructive forces, malicious spirits, but never had he had to fight inner demons born of the past. He left the bottle on the counter nearest him and approached Kaiba slowly, attempting to not alarm him into a worse state. Yami felt anxious about the steps he had already taken, wondering if they had really been the best option at the time.

Seto couldn't see, there was so much darkness, so much blackness surrounding him. It was alive as it smothered his mind, his character lost in the strangling particles. Through his tears, he searched for the force striking at him, hitting him relentlessly with fists as hard as granite. He cried out, raising his arms to shield himself for further blows, but they kept coming, finding other places to hit at; digits of five curled into one torture but striking at different angles against his neck, his chest, his arms and stomach. It was like he was trapped in this small box of space on the floor, bars invisible to his eyes.

The fog began to shift, drawing away from the blindness inflicted in this place; it was almost picturesque, like the opening curtains in a theatre. The cracks were licked by luminescent black flames, curling around the emerging tall figure, whose fist was calmly raised high above his head. Seto's heart beat faster and faster and with each throb, a wet red light flashed behind the figure. He looked into his stepfather's smooth face, watching in horror as it morphed into his own flesh and blood; saw himself frowning cruelly down at him, the eyes black pits of hidden madness and glee. His eyes widened, shivering violently in fear at the slowly descending fist. A maniacal laugh surrounded him, his own voice twisted into a monster's of the unfathomable depths; of the darkest seventh level of hell.

"No! Please stop! You're hurting me! No!!" his scream wrenched him from the nightmare, shooting him up from the chair. His eyes darted back and forth, not recognising where he was. His breath came in short gasps as the fear coursed through him like falling icicles. Then he caught sight of a slim shadow and it immediately took on the aspect of his stepfather, shimmering hatred eminent in his eyes. He slid off the chair, a fluid childlike movement, and tried to hide under the tabletop, his boots' heels slipping against the tiles in a rapidly engulfing panic as he tried to back away from the approaching apparition, one arm raised above his head as a shield. Eyes widened in fear then shut themselves tightly, tears flowing helplessly down his cheeks from the damp corners, mingling with his struggles.

"Please don't hurt me, please, I promise I'll be good, I'll work harder, just please stop hitting me…" he whispered brokenly, repeating over and over the same sentences. Sobs cracked through, sometimes taking over so completely that he couldn't speak and could only just whimper as they wracked through his chest. Suddenly someone had him in their arms, hugging Seto to a warm body, gently rocking him. The ghostly figure vanished as if it wasn't there, replaced by this gentle person who held him tightly but tenderly. Seto felt his tears take over him completely and he howled into their chest, letting everything out. He clutched at their clothes, gripping it rigidly with his trembling fingers. He curled into their lap, held more tightly by long arms as he continued to sob. His comforter continued to rock him, shushing him quietly, constantly reassuring him that it was all right now.

Yami was shocked: utterly; completely; stunned to the outline of his soul. He never knew the level of anguish and pain that made up Kaiba's being. Who could ever have guessed that Kaiba had undergone such… atrocities in his childhood? Ra, it made him thirst for blood reckoning! Yami clutched him to his chest more tightly, yearning to take away Kaiba's madness. Why would anyone try and hurt a child, this child? But that was one thing Yami knew he could not answer. The most that he could do in the here and now was be with Kaiba, and help him get through this. Help him get through this even when Kaiba realised what had happened, was happening, to him; even when he tried to fight his way out of admitting what happened; even when he refuse Yami's help point-blank.

It was then that Yami felt a shift in Kaiba, a subtle slowing down in his cries. He felt him moving from the spot in Yami's chest that he had sobbed into, freeing his head from the wet shirt. Yami looked down into Kaiba's eyes and felt an unwelcome chill come over him as he saw the ice-sheet fall over the blue orbs. He knew then. He knew that Kaiba was somehow back in control of himself. From there, he didn't know what was going to happen.

Seto felt, physically, the broken puzzle pieces of his sanity fitting back into his brain. Flashes of other memories, other peoples; his little brother; KaibaCorp; Blue-Eyes White Dragon hovering over him as he stood in a podium before a giant chess-like board. All things that happened in HIS now rushed flickering past before his eyes like a holographic screen. And also…

"Yami," he whispered hoarsely, feeling the rawness in his throat. His eyes focused on the reality in front of him. For some reason he was staring into the crimson-scarlet irises of his adversary. Somehow he was looking up into eyes that were full of disquiet, no: pity that was aimed at him. And he also realized that Yami had been holding him. On. His. Lap.

He scrambled away from Yami, getting to his feet in such a hurry before the shakiness of the night's events took its toll on his limbs, causing him to stumble for a handhold on the kitchen-table. He grasped the edge with weak fingers, panting with the effort. Yami came towards him but Seto shoved himself away from his touch. Yami stood there, looking helpless, but in Seto's mind, oh so righteous. Some part of Seto was still confused, a young boy desperate for the contact it had had when it was in Yami's arms; the other was furious, cold, welling up in him, overpowering the small boy, shutting him out.

"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it? You wanted to get Seto Kaiba when he was down and weak," he spat out. He threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "Well, you got it. So why don't you get the hell out of MY house, and go and brag to all your little friends? It'll be the accomplishment of the week, no, the month, no, their entire lifetimes!" he exclaimed venomously. Yami reached a hand towards him, palm open. He stopped before it could get too far, left it hanging frozen in the air. As Seto glared at him, Yami's eyes began to change; where once they had been full of worry they now became filled with a blank mask of anger. He turned away from Seto, drawing his hand to him that had begun clenching into a fist. He closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth. Seto gripped the table edge tighter.

"I said, get out." Seto hissed at him. Yami's head snapped up, eyes locked onto Seto. He studied him like a wounded animal would his attacker before he struck the mortal his death wound: eyes calm with a blazing bloodlust for justice. Seto held down the fear that clawed up his spine. Yami had no right being furious: he had been the one that had, that had…

"I try. By Ra, I try; no one can say I never did. I look at you, Kaiba, and there's something that tells me to save you. And it won't let me yield!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the table. He turned towards Kaiba and walked to him till he was almost in his face, looking straight into cobalt eyes that were level with his own. "I've battled you at every turn. You've aimed to hurt me every time we meet. We are, were adversaries. You refuse to take our offers of friendship. I don't know whether it's my character that's fixed on saving you, or the obligations that I've had to take on in my past, but I cannot give up on you," he said quietly. Kaiba continued to look at him. Yami sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. "I don't even know what I'm saying. I…I don't know. Kaiba, tell me, why do I have to rescue you?" he asked Kaiba, looking at him. Kaiba stood there shakily, shivering still with shock, answers still not forthcoming. Yami's eyes filled with distress at the silence before he abruptly turned away from Kaiba and ran out, doors banging wildly behind him.

He ran until he reached the street outside the mansion, his chest heaving with the exertion of running and unrest. He fell bodily to the curb, hands shakily raised to his face that was fast becoming wet with sweat and hated tears. Never an answer, always a question, why must I help him?!

"Please Ra, yield me some answers!" he shouted to the sky. The heavens remained silent, leaving him afraid of what else might happen that night. He looked behind him, stared at the still open front door. There was no movement from within the house, no sign of the change that had come about between the two souls. He turned back, forcing his gaze away. What else was he supposed to do? Nothing, he told himself, absolutely nothing. Yami rose dejectedly from the curb, brushing the invisible dirt from his black jeans. He buttoned his jacket and then stuck his hands into his jean pockets. He glanced back once, his eyes slowly drying. He could see that here, there wasn't going to be any understanding, and no healing. For either of them.

"Goodbye Kaiba," he whispered, letting himself melt back into the darkness, his namesake..

Seto was still where Yami had left him. He stumbled to the kitchen chair, sitting down heavily. Yami's last words echoed round his skull. Kaiba, tell me, why do I have to rescue you? Seto tried looking at himself through Yami's eyes. Did he need saving? Was he as vulnerable as Yami saw he was? Was he more unguarded than he thought he was? Why hadn't Yami just spouted one of his many platitudes? Why, why, fucking why?! he yelled to himself, screwing his eyes shut.

Out there he knew was a person who wanted to be his friend.

An End.