Yu-Gi-Oh!

Too Much That Time Cannot Erase

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This picks up shortly after my story Static Code Analysis and is kind of a follow-up to explore some things touched on at the end of it.

Chapter One

Mokuba frowned to himself as he sat at his desk with his homework. He was trying to concentrate, but every few minutes his mind wandered again. Finally he threw the pencil to the desk and groaned, digging his fingers into his hair. It was hopeless.

The recent misadventure with the Big Five had really dug deep into Mokuba's heart and soul. He had been furious at them going after Seto again, and being used against Seto again, and the memories the experience had dredged up would not leave him alone. Now he was left with a desperate longing to talk to Lector and demand to know if he had ever cared. None of the others had, but at one time Mokuba had thought Lector did.

Still, it wasn't like there was any way for Mokuba to talk to Lector and ask him and get closure. Atem and Yami Bakura had sent all of the Big Five to the Shadow Realm, where they could no longer torment Seto or anyone else. And while Mokuba was glad they were out of the way, he still longed for the closure he could not have.

He frowned. Maybe it was better not to have it. What if Lector said he truly had cared once, but no longer did? Or what if he said he never had? Which would be worse? Considering all the cruel things Lector had both done and supported, Mokuba honestly wasn't sure.

He certainly couldn't talk to Seto about it. The Big Five was always a touchy subject for Seto, and he definitely didn't believe that Lector had ever cared. Mokuba had brought up the subject right after their defeat, anyway. He didn't imagine that talking about it a second time would be any different than the first time. And he didn't want to cause Seto any more pain. Seto had been through more than enough already.

He crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head against them. "This is stupid," he muttered to himself. "I knew a long time ago that Lector really couldn't care. Why is it bothering me so much now? Why does it matter?" But tears pricked his eyes regardless of his words, and since he was alone, for the moment he didn't even try to brush them away.

"Why?" a voice seemed to whisper in the room. "Because it's one straw too many, little Mokuba. After holding it together so well for so long, you're finally about to crack. But I can help you so you don't."

Mokuba leaped up so fast the chair fell over. "What's going on?!" he demanded. "How did you get in here?!"

A dark laugh. "You should know by now that I don't need a door."

"And why should I even believe you?!" Mokuba cried. "You've never caused us anything but trouble!"

"Maybe, but you know I am capable of helping you obtain your desire."

"I also know you'd never do it unless you thought it was going to cause more trouble!" Mokuba ran for the door as the figure began to materialize. "I'm out of here!"

He never made it. Instead the intruder grabbed him from behind and pulled him back, clutching him close. Then, even as the boy struggled and screamed, they both disappeared.

xxxx

Bakura smiled to himself as he entered the living room and found Yami Bakura sitting in the windowseat with a book. He seemed to be thoroughly involved in whatever horror adventure he was reading at the moment, but Bakura was sure he was actually attentive enough to hear sounds around him. Once, Bakura had tripped and Yami Bakura had immediately snapped to, reaching to catch him without batting an eye. He was excellent at multi-tasking, which was, Bakura supposed, logical when he had been a thief.

Bakura had been initially surprised at how much his ancestor enjoyed reading. Yami Bakura had been surprised too, when he had first picked up a book out of idle curiosity. But, as he had put it, it was something to do to pass the time and to learn about all manner of things, both important and trivial. He had always believed in gaining knowledge. And sometimes, honestly, he just liked a good escape.

He was in his form from mortality at the moment, and wearing both his favorite red robe and some knee-length shorts he had acquired recently. He had discovered that he far preferred shorts to full-length trousers when he was in this form. Bakura had to chuckle to himself. He probably liked showing off his legs and his ankle bracelets. The man was very vain.

He had been spending less time in this form of late. Overall, he liked appearing more as Bakura's contemporary, as he had said. But sometimes he still liked to revisit his mortal form, or probably more specifically, the muscle he had with it. Thief King Bakura was bigger and stronger than his descendant. But he was thoroughly protective in both forms, and Bakura felt completely safe with him, which was something he had once thought would never be the case.

Yami Bakura looked up over the top of the book. "What is it?"

Bakura started. "Oh . . . nothing. I was just thinking about things." He came over and sat in the windowseat. "It won't be long and that tournament will start."

Yami Bakura gave an absent nod. He was certainly wondering how that would turn out. It would be his first attempt at entering the world of professional Duelists. They had both thought it might be a good career choice for him. They would soon see.

"I know Joey is entering as well," Bakura said. "I wonder if Mai will."

A shrug. "I don't know if she has enough confidence in herself yet to enter a tournament that Joey will be in. If she doesn't, perhaps Joey will convince her to enter."

Bakura smiled. "I'm sure he would."

Yami Bakura leaned back, keeping his finger in the book to mark his place. From his eyes, he was far away and thoughtful. What he was thinking about was anyone's guess.

"Yami?"

He started at the sound of Bakura's voice. "What is the Shadow Realm like?"

That certainly kept his attention. He stared at the boy. "What?"

Bakura flushed. "I mean . . . well, I know it's the darkness, but it seems to be an actual physical place, with horrible creatures like those Shadow Leeches that drain people's memories. . . ."

Yami Bakura frowned at him. "You've been there, you know."

"I know . . . but I really don't remember much about that time," Bakura said. "It feels like a long-ago dream that has mostly faded."

"Then be glad of it," Yami Bakura grunted. He opened the book again.

Bakura could see that he didn't want to talk about it. From the look in his eyes, something regarding it was haunting him.

"I'm sorry," Bakura said now. "It must have been a terrible experience, being there. And it must have been even worse when you had to worry about me."

"Yes," Yami Bakura said flatly. "On both accounts."

Bakura laid a hand on his shoulder and stood. "Dinner should be almost ready," he said. "I'll go check on it."

Yami Bakura gave a grunt of approval and a nod.

Bakura let him go back to his book.

xxxx

Tristan was deep in thought as he rode his motorcycle through town that night. So deep in thought he didn't even notice Marik coming from another direction until they were almost on top of each other. Stunned, they each swerved to avoid a collision.

"Marik!" Tristan quickly took off his helmet. "Are you okay, man?!"

"Fine." Marik also removed his helmet. "What on Earth is the problem, Tristan? I don't think you even saw me right in front of you!"

Tristan sighed. "I didn't. Sorry. I guess I've just got my mind on a lot of things."

Marik leaned on the handlebars. "Anything I can help you with?"

Tristan hesitated. They weren't that close, really, although they shared a love of motorcycles and could talk shop for hours. Sometimes they raced, much to Ishizu's alarm. But maybe seriously talking to Marik was a good idea. He might have some idea where Tristan was coming from.

"Yeah, maybe so," he said. "Let's go to that restaurant over there and talk. My treat."

Marik blinked in surprise. "It really must be bothering you."

Tristan shrugged. "I don't know if I'd say that, exactly, but it's sure been on my mind."

Soon they were comfortably situated in a booth. Marik was enjoying a salad, while Tristan relished a large cheeseburger. After a few bites, Marik looked up. "Alright. Now, what's been occupying your mind so deeply?"

Tristan sighed. "I guess I've just been thinking overtime about how crazy everything's been. And I know crazy things have been happening ever since I met Yugi. I wouldn't change meeting him for anything. But . . . I don't know, the last weeks have been hard to take in."

"Are you thinking about Yami Bakura?" Marik asked.

Tristan froze. Well, he should have remembered Marik was never one to beat around the bush. ". . . Yeah." He pushed a stray piece of tomato back into the burger. "I mean, he tried to conquer the world! Now he's our friend. I actually want him to be my friend! How nuts is that?"

Marik smirked a bit, but in a self-depreciating way. "Is it any more nuts than considering me a friend after I nearly destroyed all of you?"

"No, I guess not. Only I don't really think of Yami Marik as you. He's someone else again."

"I did horrible things too," Marik said quietly. "It took you and I a while to really connect. I didn't tell Yami Bakura because he didn't ask and I knew you had wanted to keep it secret. After all, with the Pharaoh trying to recover his lost memories and then faced with saying Goodbye to everyone, there was so much more at stake than your feelings of distrust. You didn't want to burden anyone with your inner struggle over meeting me again."

"That's true." Tristan looked away. "And I know Yami Bakura is not the same guy who did all the rotten things to us. Now that he's been left to himself without either Zorc or the Millennium Ring, I can see who he really is. And while on the one hand it's still hard to take in, on the other hand . . . I feel like a crumb for not recognizing it sooner. We almost lost him in that fire. What if we had? Shadi never said what would happen if the body generated by the Infinity Ring died. I know he kind of died during that White Death mess, but that wasn't the same thing since it was an enchanted death that could be broken. What if he really died? Would he get another chance because of that battle he's supposed to fight in? Or would that be it? What if he had died thinking he'd see Bakura again, only Bakura wasn't dead and he would've come just a few minutes later. . . ." He glowered at the table. "I keep thinking it should have been me in the fire and Yami Bakura going to find a Water Duel Monster."

"I don't think that would have worked," Marik said quietly. "We needed Yami Bakura because he had the Infinity Ring. He used that as a compass to guide us to the exit. The fire was too thick and the building too confusing to make it through there without it."

"Yeah," Tristan relented. "You're probably right."

"And he's alright. I know it's tempting to keep thinking of the 'What ifs.' Heaven knows I still do it sometimes. But you have to remind yourself that everything turned out okay. Something was protecting him from the fire. Something wanted him to live."

"That something was his little sister," Tristan said. "I heard him and Bakura talking about it in the van."

Marik blinked in surprise. "I didn't even know he had a sister."

"I didn't either. She must have died with the rest of the village." Tristan paused. ". . . You've been trying to help me with my problems, but what about yours?"

Marik raised an eyebrow. "Mine?"

"You acted pretty distracted on the road tonight too," Tristan pointed out. "So what were you thinking about?"

It was Marik's turn to sigh. "I'm worried about Mokuba," he admitted. "He's been so quiet and withdrawn since everything happened. I don't know if it's because of Yami Bakura or something else. He was devastated when it looked like Yami Bakura was dead after he saved us. But he was also upset about being used against his brother again, and angry that his brother's game had been turned into something deadly."

"That's a lot for a kid to be thinking about," Tristan said.

Marik nodded. "I've become protective of Mokuba, as Kaiba is, of course. I think about all the anger and pain that built up inside of me and I don't want that fate to befall Mokuba. I don't want him to ever walk a path like I did."

"I can't picture that ever happening to Mokuba," Tristan said. "No offense."

"I don't want to believe it," Marik agreed, "but anyone can fall prey to dark feelings, especially if they have a lot to deal with."

"Didn't you ask Mokuba what he was upset about?" Tristan asked.

"Of course I did," Marik retorted. "He said he was upset about 'a lot of stuff' and he didn't want to talk about it. I tried to encourage him to talk to Kaiba, and he said he didn't want to bother his brother about it."

Tristan winced. "Yeah. . . . That's not good."

"I went to KaibaCorp to talk to Kaiba about it," Marik said, "but I couldn't get in to see him. He was on a conference call to Germany. I left a message with his secretary and left."

Tristan sighed. "So, what now?"

Marik took out his phone and looked at it. "Well, he hasn't called back. By now Mokuba should be in bed. Kaiba insisted he stay home and study for some test he has at school tomorrow. I'm half-tempted to go back to the manor and ask Velma if he went to bed, but I don't want to risk disturbing him by being at the door."

"Yeah, maybe it'd be better to go home and wait on it," Tristan said. "I'm sure Kaiba can sort out whatever's going on in Mokuba's head."

"The problem is, they don't talk to each other that much about things that upset them," Marik pointed out. "Neither of them want to burden the other."

"Ho boy." Tristan sighed. "And the irony is, they'd both do so much better if they talked. Right?"

Marik nodded. "Ishizu and Rishid and I always talk about our problems. . . . Although I'll admit it's hard to get Rishid to want to. He doesn't like to burden us or worry us or make us sad. We have to practically twist his arm and let him know we want him to talk."

"And it works?" Tristan blinked.

"Eventually," Marik nodded.

The sudden ringing of his phone startled him. He took one look at the caller I.D. and answered. "Hello? Kaiba?"

He went stiff and pale in the next moment. "Are you sure?!" He listened, then said, "I'll be right over."

Tristan was staring at him as he hung up. "Well?!" he exclaimed. "What the heck, Marik?! What was that all about?!"

Marik gave him a look that only barely concealed how frantic he was. "Kaiba just got home," he reported. "Mokuba is missing without a trace!"

xxxx

Seto was beside himself. It had been a long day at the office, made even longer by having to take a call from Siegfried von Schroeder. Now he got home only to discover that his beloved brother had completely vanished. There was no video footage of him leaving the house—not that he didn't know how to bypass the cameras if he really wanted to. But would he have wanted to? Seto couldn't believe it, not unless Mokuba went to KaibaCorp, and he hadn't.

He knew Mokuba had been out of sorts lately. The boy hadn't returned to his usual cheerful self after the disaster with the Big Five had ended, although he had certainly been glad that they had all come out of things alive. Maybe he was still haunted by the sight of Yami Bakura being struck down by a beam in that burning building. Or he could be smarting from the Big Five using him and Seto's game in cruel ways. Possibly even all of the above and something else.

Seto stiffened. Mokuba had expressed sorrow about Lector having turned against them and wondering if he had ever truly cared. Could he still be thinking about that? Seto wouldn't have thought so, but Mokuba didn't often share his pain with Seto. It had been a surprise when Mokuba had started talking about that after the Big Five's defeat. He could still be upset about it and not have said anything.

Seto clenched a fist almost tightly enough to draw blood. Couldn't the Big Five ever leave them alone? They had done more than enough damage already, but now their cruelty was extending even beyond their schemes.

He had to admit, he had never put a great deal of thought into whether or not Lector had really cared. He had always thought Lector looked after them because it was part of his duty as Gozaburo's right-hand man, and when Lector had betrayed them, Seto had been sure of it. Maybe Seto would have thought Lector cared had he been a naive child, but by the time Gozaburo had adopted them he had already grown up a good deal. He had known that people usually only helped others to further their own interests and rarely ever genuinely cared about anyone. Gozaburo had drilled that lesson into him all the more until he could never forget it or consider other possibilities.

Only Yugi and the others had shown him a different attitude and way of life, and even though he had resisted, it had penetrated just as deeply as Gozaburo's teachings. He knew they were sincere, and after all the time they had spent together, he actually wanted them around and wished that he still believed in people the way they did. Occasionally it backfired, but usually it opened the way for others to have a change of heart and join with them.

Seto badly wanted their help now. He took out his phone, dialing the Game Shop.

"Hello?" Yugi answered after a moment, not having any idea who was on the other end.

"Yugi, Mokuba's missing," Seto greeted. He saw no need for formalities like "Hello" under the circumstances.

Immediately Yugi snapped to. "What?! Oh no! Do you think someone took him?!"

"I don't know. There's no evidence that anyone came in and no one saw Mokuba go out. I thought maybe he went to see you."

"He's not here," Yugi frowned. "But we'll start looking for him right away! We won't give up until we've found him!"

"Thank you, Yugi." Seto hung up, badly troubled. In spite of himself, even though he had long ago stopped knowing what he thought about God, he prayed desperately for Mokuba's safety.