A Gentle Hand

"Together we'll stand, if only you'll offer me you're gentle hand; my brother, my friend.

My one true reason to look to the future, and smile, knowing you'll be by my side."

It was a Saturday evening. A peaceful, calming evening. Perfect weather, a beautiful sunset, and the promise of a good night for all. The children were still out and about, playing happily amongst one another, enjoying the last bit of sunlight left before exchanging to night, while their parents remained within the house, cooking a meal or spending time with their significant others.

For me, this was a different kind of Saturday, as was every day that passed us by since the death of my mother. The days couldn't seem as bright, especially when I would wake up every morning to my younger brother's cries and an empty bed in my father's room. He had grown fond to doing that, it was the rest of the day that would worry me.

Some days, my father would be gone for hours. I simply wouldn't know where he was, and I would be left to fend for myself and my own brother to keep things going. But the truth was, nothing was right. The house was a mess, the fridge was empty, and worst of all, the baby was sick. The baby was sick; all he would do was cry and cry and it would break my heart because I couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"Please Mokuba…" I asked in a tired tone, "Please eat the formula, it'll make you feel better." I was holding the tiny life in one of my arms, and had a baby bottle in my other hand. I tried, once more, to pushed the bottle into Mokuba's mouth, but Mokuba would refuse once again, screaming louder when I would take back the bottle.

"Mokuba… don't cry, come on…" Mokuba's tiny, plump face was covered in tears, continuing to cry and cry. "You need to eat Mokuba… you haven't eaten all day." I begged, why wouldn't he just take the bottle? What was going on with Mokuba?

I placed him back into his rocker and tried rocking him back and forth calmly. His cries were more silent in volume, but hadn't ceased. I looked about the room, trying to get another idea of what I should do. Mokuba's behavior was really starting to scare me. I didn't know what to do with him; he needed to eat, especially since he had barely anything to eat the night before.

I quickly rushed over to the fridge, deciding to maybe try to give him some different kind of baby food. I opened it, only to find that there was barely anything left to even qualify for him to eat. There was practically nothing left, except food that had expired a very long time ago and an empty beer can or two.

My lower lip quivered as I looked back at Mokuba. There had to be something that could be done, just until Dad got home. In that moment, I heard the twisting of the front door knob. My face brightened as I raced down the hallway over to the front door. My father had just walked in with a dazed look on his face.

"Dad! Dad! You gotta help me, Mokuba keeps crying and he won't eat!" His eyes were looking down at me, but at the same time, it felt like he wasn't really looking at me.

"Go to bed," He said in a deep voice, "Now." I opened my mouth to protest when I got a whiff of Dad's smell. It smelt of that strong scent that Dad seemed to have a lot these days since Mom has been gone. The smell usually meant that Dad wasn't going to be much help, and most likely pass out on the stairs as he attempts to go upstairs. I frowned; my father wasn't going to be able to help me at all.

I went back to the baby bottle I had set on the table and placed it in the microwave. Maybe if it was heated up a little bit, Mokuba would be more likely to eat it. I plugged in the numbers and shut the microwave door, letting the microwave do the rest. I spotted Dad walking into the living room and towards the baby's crib.

"What the hell is with this racket?" Dad said in an unusually loud tone. Although when Dad was like this, nothing was unusual. I ran over to his side and tried to explain the situation to him again, even though it didn't seem like he was really there.

"Mokuba's sick, Dad! We need to get him to a hospital!" I stated, hoping my father would hear me out. Instead, he just looked angry.

"The only thing we have to do is shut this kid up," Dad bent forward, his extended towards the baby's neck. My heart raced and I ran forward, thrusting my whole body at my extremely large father and tipped his over. His body fell to the ground and made a loud THUD! The vase on the coffee table fell to the floor, and Mokuba screamed louder.

"You damn kid! I outta… come're!" He yelled, struggling to get to his feet. I reached in and took Mokuba up gently in my arms. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed the formula from the microwave, and ran up the stairs just as Dad was getting up and coming towards me. "I'm gonna… git you for this!" I could hear him yell.

I held my breath as I shut the door to my room and locked it. I could hear his footsteps nearing my room from the hallway. "Come out here!" He yelled, pounding on the door. I was rocking Mokuba back and forth, whispering sweet words to him and letting him know it was going to be okay.

The knocking finally ceased as my father had collapsed outside my door after about five minutes or so. Unfortunately, my brother was still crying. I tried offering the bottle again for the baby, but Mokuba still refused. I placed the bottle back down on the night stand and climbed onto my bed.

"Shhhshh… it's gonna be okay, Mokuba… you're fine…" I said in a soft voice, laying Mokuba down on his belly on my bed. I laid down on my bed myself, right next to Mokuba, staring right into his teary eyes. "It's gonna be fine." I brushed his little mess of hair and his cries finally started to stop.

"That's right… calm down…" I said softly. I stared right back into Mokuba's, watching him as he succumbed to sleep. I kept doing so until there was no sound coming from Mokuba. Then my heart quickened a little; was he okay?

I had heard about babies dying in their sleep, and suddenly I had thought that maybe Mokuba had died too. I slowly placed my hand onto his back; feeling as his back went up and down in a rhythmic motion. He was still breathing, which meant he was alive.

I took back my hand… staring at him lovingly. But the worry came back again, and images of dead babies started flooding my mind. My hand stretched out once more and I placed it back onto Mokuba's soft, delicate back. He was so peaceful, even though I knew Mokuba was in incredible pain and suffering.

I believed that not only was Mokuba sick, but he missed Mom too. He missed her the most out of everyone, because every day he searches for the woman that gave birth to him, and can't even find the man whom helped create him. All he has is me to look out for him, to make sure he's okay, to make sure he's still alive.

Even into the late hours of night, the paranoia would not leave my mind, so I stayed awake the whole time, with my hand placed on his back. I wouldn't dare move it, because his gentle breathing was the only security I had. Our father was gone at this point, and Mokuba was all I had left. He was going to be all I had left for a very long time.

In a way, we needed one another. To keep each other safe and warm. To keep the other from falling deeper and deeper into that dark hole of madness. But most of all, it was my duty to be the parent Mokuba would never have. To be the gentle hand that would always catch him and keep him safe.

"Nii-sama…" Seto stirred a little and then rolled onto his side, still asleep. "Nii-sama, please wake up…" A little voice said. Seto was shaken a little before he woke up quite quickly, for he was a light sleeper. He looked around into the darkness.

"What's going on?" Seto asked, rubbing his eyes.

"…Nii-sama…" Seto turned on the lamp next to his bed and found Mokuba standing beside his bed, tears could be traced going down the side of his face.

"What's wrong, Mokuba?" Seto asked, a hint of worry, looking upon his face lovingly. Mokuba sniffled, wiping away his tears in shame using his pajama sleeve.

"I keep hearing noises on the blimp… I hate not having a room with you on this thing… I get scared." Seto sat up and looked at him.

"Mokuba… you're going to have to learn how to sleep on your own someday. You're eleven years old, and you were the very person whom said you wanted to have your own room during the semi-finals of Battle City." Mokuba looked down, trying to hide the fact that tears were finding their way onto the surface again.

"Please Nii-sama… I… I had a dream about her." Seto's initial feeling to deny Mokuba his proposal disappeared instantly with the mention of his mother. He frowned and allowed Mokuba to climb onto the bed beside him. Mokuba sprawled out on his stomach and softly sobbed into the pillow.

"Sssssh… it's gonna be okay, Mokuba… you're fine…" Seto ran his hand through Mokuba's hair again and again, until the sobbing had slowly and his breathing became calm again. Seto assumed he had fallen asleep, but he knew now that he would wouldn't get sleep for the rest of the night.

Seto pulled Mokuba close, curling his arm around Mokuba's small frame. Mokuba's soft breathing was all that could be heard, and was all Seto needed to feel secure. It brought him back to his younger years, when all he needed was his brother by his side to be happy. Seto gave a small smile, letting sleep finally make it's way to the rest of his body.

In truth, that was all Seto Kaiba ever needed. His little brother by his side, and a hand to hold onto. It was what made him happy, it was what let him know everything was going to be okay.

A/N: And you thought I had no more one-shots let in me… well guess who was wrong! Yeah, just a little something-something to get you through the night or day(whatever it may be for all my various readers out there, which adds up to about 30 different countries according to Reader Traffic :D) It was something that came to me, randomly, and was inspired by a mother of a close friend I know. I just had to write it, and hopefully you enjoyed it. Thanks for stopping by!