Mokuba could feel a knot forming in his stomach as he sat in the chair facing his brother's desk. This used to be Gozaburo's home office, and it hadn't changed much since then. The scent of cigar smoke had been scrubbed from the room, the crystal ash-tray removed, the outdated desk-lamp replaced, some of the books on the shelves interchanged for others, and a new desktop computer gracing the desk's dark wooden surface. All other changes were imperceptible to him.

Seto would be here any minute, and Mokuba gripped the edge of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. The chair had been placed in the middle of the room, making him feel like an island in a sea of shiny brass, dark walnut, and antique books. He was a child stranded in the adult world, a place he simply wasn't ready to be, yet circumstances had marooned him here, and he didn't know how to escape.

Of course the servants had found their way into Mokuba's room when he'd tried to lock them out, and of course they'd recognized certain signs on his body that he hadn't even known he bore. Of course they'd promptly informed his brother, their employer, of the child's state. Tipped off by the smell of his breath, they'd tested a urine sample and found that he'd consumed far more alcohol than they would have thought he could get his hands on. He'd fought them every step of the way, but he wore out quickly and was soon subject to their will.

Not that they'd hurt him or done anything wrong, he simply hadn't wanted anyone to touch him or look at him. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge or speak about that awful, empty evening forming a painful hole in his memory. He wanted to go on with his life and pretend nothing had ever happened just as much as he wanted to be hugged by his brother and told that everything would be okay. He doubted either wish would come true, though.

The door behind him opened, making him flinch. Mokuba seemed to shrink as his brother entered, closed the door, and walked around the chair to stand before it. His eyes narrowed as he watched his brother, appraising him with those icy eyes. He sat on the edge of the front of his desk and crossed his arms over his broad chest, Mokuba still staring at the floor.

"Look at me."

Mokuba held his breath as he obeyed, the knot in his stomach growing tighter, making him feel queasier. Seto's gaze was steady, and that made it hard for Mokuba to hold it. He knew what was coming next, but he still feared it.

"What happened?" His question was as cold as his command had been.

"I-I don't know," he whimpered breathlessly, dropping his eyes to his lap.

"Look at me, Mokuba."

He looked back at his brother, afraid and ashamed. His stern expression prompted the child to speak again without being prompted.

"I can't remember," he explained, swallowing hard as he tried to breathe normally, but couldn't.

Kaiba uncrossed his arms and took a piece of paper from his desk, taking a step forward as he held it out for his brother to see.

"Do you know her?"

Mokuba lifted his head and leaned forward a little to get a better look.

"Y-Yes, that's Suki. She's my friend."

"Apparently not." Kaiba put the paper back on his desk. "She's been missing ever since last week." Last week, when Mokuba'd had his... incident. "The police haven't found her yet."

"The police?" Mokuba gasped, looking up in shock. "Why are they—?"

"Because she took advantage of you and she needs to be punished," Kaiba explained slowly, looking irritated.

"But she's my friend!" Mokuba protested again, making his brother sigh, close his eyes, and pinch the bridge of his nose. He never thought that he would have to have this conversation with his little brother. Ever. The worst case scenario that he'd previously envisioned was that when his baby brother grew to be a teenager, he dated some skank who used him for his money and introduced him to drugs. He'd never conceived a scenario where his little brother was the victim of... this.

"She's not your friend," he repeated, dropping his hand from his face and crossing his arms again, giving the child such a harsh glare that he didn't dare protest. "She hurt you and she needs to be punished by the law."

"How do you know it was her?" Mokuba challenged, wanting to defend the only person who'd been consistently kind to him.

"Everyone else is accounted for, and her absence implies her guilt." He didn't mention the vaginal fluids found on the towel she'd left in the wine-cellar. It was a condition of employment at the Kaiba mansion that the employee voluntarily surrender a DNA sample as well as their fingerprints. That precaution was proving to be quite useful in the current situation.

"But—"

"Why are you defending her?" Seto demanded suddenly, looking angry enough to make Mokuba whither. "What is so hard about this for you to understand?"

"She was nice to me." With his head ducked and his voice so low, Seto had to strain to hear him. He stepped forward and tugged his pants at the knees as he got down on one knee in front of the chair so that he could hear him better.

"Was she nice to you when she got you drunk?"

"That was my idea," Mokuba whispered, even though he couldn't say it with any degree of certainty.

"No it wasn't." His voice softened for the first time in the whole conversation. "You're better than that." He took a deep breath, trying to get back on task. "What do you remember of that night, Mokuba?"

"I was swimming." He began hesitantly, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "When I was done, Suki was there. She'd brought me a towel, because sometimes I forget to bring one with me." He swallowed hard, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Then, we were talking, and then she took me to the basement, and... and..."

"Why did she take you there in the first place?"

"B-Because..." Mokuba gasped for air as he panicked. He didn't want to tell Seto that he got anxious when he left. He didn't want to make himself a burden to his brother. He didn't want—

"Breathe, Mokuba," Seto whispered as he put his arms around his little brother. "Breathe. You're not in trouble, I just need to know what happened."

The child threw his arms around his brother's neck and started to cry, sobbing so vehemently that he hiccuped with every breath he tried to take. Seto almost wished that he knew how to be kind, because then he would know what to say that would make these tears cease. He didn't want his brother crying. He didn't want him upset, but he didn't know how to make it stop. He just held him close, letting the child weep into his shoulder as he absorbed the elder teen's body heat.

"Why are you so upset?" He didn't mean it as an accusation, but it still sounded that way.

"B-Because, I-I don't w-want—" Mokuba was still hysterical, so Seto sighed and placed his hand on the back of his head, holding him close again. He could tell that it would take some time for him to calm down. That made sense. Mokuba was traumatized. Naturally he'd have a severe emotional reaction when trying to recall the trauma. Kaiba thought he understood, but he didn't, not really. He didn't understand the deep-rooted anxiety his little brother felt or how it had gotten there.

Finding this current position awkward and uncomfortable, Kaiba slid an arm under his brother and lifted him into his arms as he stood. Mokuba wrapped around him tightly and Seto began to slowly pace around the room, waiting for the hysteria to spend itself. Mokuba tried speaking again before he was ready to, but Seto hushed him. It could wait until he reached some level of composure. It could wait.

"She knows that... I get worried whenever you leave," he whispered at last, gripping the fabric of his brother's shirt in both of his impotent fists, but Seto didn't seem to care. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I'm afraid that you won't come home." He was afraid of confessing these things even now. "And she told me that I should tell someone, but I said that... I didn't want to worry you." Kaiba could feel the way Mokuba shuddered as he breathed. "She wanted to... give me something to help me sleep."

"That was when she took you to the wine cellar."

"Yeah." Mokuba nodded a little, wiping his eyes on his brother's evergreen shirt. "I-I'm sorry, I can't remember what ha-happened next..."

"That's okay." Seto pat Mokuba's back, then carefully set him down. "You should have told me, though." He already needed to find a therapist for him since he was traumatized from last week. Asking the therapist to help Mokuba with his separation anxiety was a simple task.

"Are you mad at me?" Mokuba asked meekly, rubbing at his red eyes with his small hands.

"No, Mokuba, I'm not mad. Just be more careful in the future. Don't be so quick to trust people."

Mokuba nodded in obedience.

"And don't go anywhere alone with people at night. From now on, you're not allowed to wander around the house after nine."

"Yes, Seto."

"Good. You need to give your statement to the police now. You're not in trouble, they just need to hear from you what happened. Okay?"

"Okay."

If Seto ever got his hands on the girl that had raped his little brother, he'd probably kill the girl himself. That was why he'd sent the police after her instead. He wasn't like Gozaburo, he told himself. He didn't eliminate his enemies through such dirty methods. Besides, it was now clear that Mokuba needed more protection than he'd previously realized, and if he was arrested for murder, how could he safeguard his family from any other predators?

Besides, child molesters were most hated by prison inmates. She wouldn't survive half a year in prison, and he did derive some satisfaction from that fact.