Warning: Character death. A lot of blood. Cliffhanger ahead. Kaiba/Tristan POV.

Credits: This is an alternative path for D. Draggy's story "Being Dead Ain't Easy," which can be found on this site (for some reason this thing won't let me add the url...). I bow to Draggy's superior skill and only hope that this fic is taken in the spirit it is meant, remembering the old cliché, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Note: Set in the aftermath of Duelist Kingdom, before Battle City (mostly because I only own Seasons 1 & 5...)

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugi-Oh, any of the manga, anime, etc. No limos were harmed in the making of this fic.

~~~~~ ***ygo*** ~~~~~

Detention. That little prick got me detention!

I groused the entire way out of the school. It was raining.

Naturally.

I flipped open my cell phone and called for my driver. Rank hath its privileges. The limo picked me up and we were on our way to pick up my little brother before I'd barely gotten damp.

Wouldn't have been an issue if the little chihuahua had just kept his mouth to himself. Or if I could've just kept my idiotic mouth shut. What is it about Wheeler that makes me just have to snipe back at him every time he takes a pot shot at me? 'Moneybags,' indeed. Still, I can't afford to act like a child, not even in high school.

Mokuba was waiting when we pulled up, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw me in the back seat. Guess it has been a long time since I picked him up from school. Sorry, kid. Maybe Wheeler isn't such a jerk after all.

Well, well, well. Speak of the devil. I'd know that jacket anywhere. It was Wheeler, walking home, soaking in the rain. I considered rolling down the window to taunt him - the wonderful world of wet-dog-related humor lay wide open before me - but I let it pass. Too childish.

"Hey, big brother! Want to play a game tonight, or something?"

I grinned at Mokuba. He's the only one I know who can make me smile like that. I thought about all the work waiting for me at the office - even more, since I'd had to stay late at school. He could see me gearing up to say no, and his face fell. Darn it. I hate to disappoint him. "Sure," I told him. His face got all bright once again, and I knew that I'd been ignoring him for far too long. Sorry, sorry… One quick game, and I could stay up late, finishing my work. That's what laptops were for, after all.

"We can play Duel- What's that?" He pointed over my head, out the back window.

Smoke. Smoke! I pounded on the partition. "Gerry! Gerry, pull over! Yahh!" I screamed as the front compartment burst into flames.

Mokuba started screaming as I lunged for the door, wrestling with it. It was armor plated, solid, and not going anywhere. I kicked at it, willing it to move. My brother and I were both coughing now, smoke filling the limo's interior, making it hard to breathe. My lungs were on fire, and Mokuba looked like he was passing out. I slammed on the door with my feet, trying to kick it open.

"Kaiba!" It was Wheeler! What was that dumb mutt doing out there; didn't he know that the car could blow up any second? "You push and I'll pull!" he yelled.

I didn't waste my breath replying, I just started hammering away. Ten heart-stopping seconds later, the door was flying off. "Mokuba!" He wasn't moving. I grabbed him and pulled, hauling him out of the car and as far away as I could drag him. "Mokuba!" Oh, god, please don't be dead. I'll never forgive myself if you're dead… Wheeler shook my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. "Come on, kid, come back to me…" My kid brother coughed weakly, and I could feel my shoulders slump with relief. Not dead. Alive. Thank god.

Click. It was a quiet sound. Almost, one could ignore it, in the pattering of the rain on the pavement and the roaring of the fire and the pops and dings of warping metal.

Almost, but I knew what that sound was. It was the sound of a gun being cocked. A gun that was very, very close.

I spun around, trying to cover my brother, to protect him. I saw Wheeler, facing me, and behind him, a man in a black trench coat, shotgun raised to his shoulder, taking aim at me.

"Get down!" I tried to yell, but at that instant, the gunman pulled the trigger. "No!"

I flung myself over Mokuba, knowing that I was too late, spine tingling, expecting a white-hot slug to rip through my back and plunge into my little brother.

I heard the shot, heard it hit, heard the squelch of blood and tissue being torn to shreds… but felt nothing.

I blinked. Point-blank range. He couldn't have missed. Maybe it was a warning shot?

Looked up. Saw the gunman staring at me, then up the street where sirens were blaring, then down at his feet. Then he took off, running scared.

Surging to my feet, I lunged after him. Nobody takes a shot at me or my family and lives to brag about it!

Only my feet got tangled and I went down. Right on top of Joey Wheeler.

Who had a massive hole through his belly.

He didn't miss, a detached part of my brain observed. Wheeler just got in the way. Again.

"…K-Kaiba?"

What th- He's alive? I didn't think anybody could lose that much blood and survive. The sidewalk is coated with it. But maybe…maybe it's just that it mixed with the rain, that would make it look like there's more than there actually is. That has to be it.

But Wheeler was shot in the back…

Down on the sidewalk I go. I know it's not the right way to do things, but I've only got two hands and there's two wounds to hold pressure on, to try and stop the bleeding. I wedged his body up close to mine, hoping that his weight would help close the entry wound, while I reached around front, pressing my shirt to the hole in his abdomen. I can't even remember when I took it off.

"Damn it, Wheeler," I muttered to him. "Don't you die. Don't you dare die on me. I owe you my life; don't you dare die and leave me in debt. You live, you hear me!"

He coughed, and blood leaked from between his lips. He tried to speak, but I couldn't understand. "Shut up," I told him. "Don't try to talk. Fight it, Wheeler! You're too stubborn to die like this, on the street! Stay with me, damn it, stay with me!"

I push harder. We're soaked. The rain kept beating down, so cold. My hair's plastered to my head, and Wheeler's clothes are all soaked through. The rain - that has to be why my hands are wet, why they're slippery.

Doesn't explain why they're warm, though.

Sirens. They finally reach us. Police first, then firefighters. Finally, finally, an ambulance. "Here!" I yell. "Over here!"

One crew takes Joey. "He's been shot in the back," I tell them, struggling for composure. "Single shot, rifle, close range. Exit wound's through the abdomen. Left upper quadrant." I'm not even sure what I'm saying.

They haul him off of me, and I turn to watch the second crew hurrying towards me. "No," I tell them, waving them towards Mokuba. Mokuba. I'd almost forgotten him. How had I almost forgotten him? "My little brother needs more help than I do. He's unconscious. Smoke inhalation. Maybe burns." Maybe worse?

"Sir, I really think I ought to see you first. You're bleeding."

I look down at myself. Bleeding? From what? I hadn't been hit.

The front of my coat is soaked in blood. It's smeared down my chest, puddled on my trousers, dripping down on my shoes.

I blink. Joey… He'd lost all that? I didn't think that the human body held that much blood.

The world stops. I just… stop. Standing there, staring, at the body of the boy - the man - who'd just saved my life, as the medical workers crawl over him, hooking him up to tubes, wires, scuttling like beetles, trying to keep the spark of life in him. A second crew works on Mokuba, hooking up oxygen, stringing him with monitors. His eyes are closed. He looks so small, with a half dozen people kneeling around him.

And me, standing in the middle of the hurried frenzy, still as stone. My hands, scarlet with blood, hang at my sides. Little rivulets of rain slowly collect on my fingertips to drip, redly, to the pavement below, before being washed away into the gutter in a crimson tide.