7 years later... Kaiba Manor. Bedroom.

"Why is it pitch black in here? Are we saving light bills?"

"The lights are on, Téa. Even your bedside lamp."

"You think I'm mad. You think I see darkness where there is light?"

Seto sighed. To avoid the conflict, he sidestepped her question. He knew a senseless battle when he saw one. Téa seemed crankier than usual. A week ago, she had returned from a work related trip to Moscow. Since then, she hadn't been herself.

"I don't." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was merely stating that the entire room is well lit."

Ignoring her bizarre temper, he removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and gave his briefcase to the house-staff. A maid offered him water. Which he silently took with a grateful nod, his eyes landed on the grandfather clock. It was sharp seven in the evening. He was home early after another hectic, stressful, but productive day at work.

His wife was severely ill. And there was nothing more important to him than her health.

"You're quiet. Are you troubled? Tough day at work?"

"No."

"Then am I your personal entertainer? Why are you making me talk?"

An amused smile cut across the angled planes of his face. But it soon disappeared as Téa stilled. A hint of despair flicked through her delicate features. She became silent... self-conscious. Her eyes dulled, shoulders sagged. Her pulse rate dropped. Seto narrowed his eyes, and fixed her with a pointed look. But she continued to stare in the space, zoned out, unaware of his presence, as if solving a cosmic problem.

"Téa..."

"Snakes! Everywhere! All around me! Turn on the lights, Seto. They're freaking me out. Turn on the damn lights."

Nervous dread feathered a path along his spine as he watched another bout of her insanity.

"I won't let them hurt you." Standing by the threshold, Mokuba choked back a guttural sob. His head sank lower, pained to see her unhinged. Seto eyed him sternly.

"Don't cry, Mokie. Come in. Come sit with me." With much difficulty, she raised herself.

A haunted smile came to his lips as Mokuba approached her bed-ridden form. Bending low, he kissed her, and swore. "You're burning up. You have fever?"

Mokuba instantly issued the orders to call for a doctor. Seto felt Téa's forehead. True to his words she was burning up.

"Look, she's bleeding." Mokuba pointed towards her right leg where a thick patch of blood stained the sheets. "Seto, check if there's any new eruption."

Seto cast aside the covers. As gently as he could, he scrutinised her leg, and found the source of her blood. The puncture wound on her right shinbone had opened up. The cut was deep, and a lot of pus was oozing through it, accumulating on the side.

A week ago, Téa had returned from Moscow with a broken leg. She didn't disclose anything about the nature of her accident. Keeping the details to her, but since her return, she had been extremely frustrated around Yugi, often refusing to see him. All his life, Seto had never seen her so unstable. And together, they had been through some real tough times.

"Téa why didn't you say something?" Seto demanded angry.

"Sorry. I think I'm in pain. Terrible pain." This pain knows no pity.

"Get some rest." Mokuba pleaded, as Seto cleaned her wound.

"Can you please fix my head before you attend my leg? I feel hollow inside."

"Shut up, Gardner. I've had enough of your stupidity for one day."

"What are you guys so sacred of?"

I'm scared to lose you, you moron. – Felt Seto.

"I'm scared of your pain, sis. You have no idea what its making you say."

"Get rid of it. Get rid of this vulnerability. It's making you weak. Weak can't survive. The solid ground is harsh. It's dictated by gravity, the pull. When you fall, ground offers no concession in pain. It doesn't see you as a boy or a girl. These are only human weaknesses. You fall, you break, and you bleed. Nature knows no compassion. Nature doesn't discriminate. You know that, don't you Seto?"

The brothers exchanged worried looks. A maid changed the sheets. Gently putting her back on the clean bed, Seto sat on a nearby chair. Téa patted the empty space near her head, signalling Mokuba to sit. When he did, she took his hand in hers.

"Tell me honestly, do I sound insane?"

"No. You're just unwell. You're running high fever. And you're under the influence of strong drugs. "

A vague hope filled her insensible self. She stifled a sob and held on to his hand. Grasping his trust, and feeling a sense of belonging she hadn't felt since her return.

"I don't feel myself anymore. Have I disappeared?"

"No, Gardner. You're here." Seto issued in a low voice, getting tired of her melodrama. "I won't let you go. You're stuck with me. Now get some rest."

"Perhaps you're right, Mokie. I feel confused. These drugs play havoc on my system. They get in my blood and dry me up. I smell funny. Do I smell funny to you? Let your brother answer. He knows my natural body odour."

Mokuba blushed to the roots of his hair, and Seto burst into laughter. Even half-mad, he loved his crazy wife to bits.

Ten minutes later, the Kaiba family doctor arrived. He took her temperature, prescribed new medicines, ignored her protests, cleaned her wounds, and injected her with pain-killers and a mild sleep inducing drug. Consequentially, Téa fell asleep in a record time.

The doctor left them with new instructions. Mokuba retired to his room.

And Seto was finally alone with his wife in the privacy of their bedroom. He poured himself a large scotch. His thoughts turned to the strange course their life had taken this past week.

Seto Kaiba, twenty five years old, had been married to Téa Gardner, twenty four, for the last five years. Theirs was a workable marriage, and occasionally - a happy one.

Seto's work demanded late night hours. Téa believed in sleep anyhow. This made her an early riser, while he was hypotensive, and usually despised leaving the bed until 9:00 am. It was on rare occasions that they shared breakfast together. And even then, she avoided talking to his grouchy self. He just wasn't a morning person.

Téa knew there were aspects about her husband that were akin to madness. For starters, he was a demon for work. Having lived in a virtual world, he preferred thunder thighs, and thunder pants, his old pal battle-ox, and designing frothing lizard lips, or decoding errors from an overgrown dragon software. She knew her husband's priorities. He was a busy man. Managing a billion dollar empire wasn't an easy task. But Seto was incredibly intelligent. He could talk on any topic under the sun. He could also insult anyone on any topic under the sun.

Still, despite his busy schedules, and meetings abroad, she had laid the foundations of the new Kaiba family law. By demanding that they keep alternate Saturday nights, and every Sundays to themselves.

Since the trio's death, the gang had been on a roller-coaster ride, with many lows and little highs. Things were no longer fascinating or eventful in their world. In a tacit agreement, they all felt three parts dead. And in sharing the same misery, together, they had learned to laugh, cry, cherish, forget, and forgive somewhere. Even Seto had turned down the heat of his old Kaiba self a notch or two. It was compulsory that the Sunday brunch was to be held at Yugi's place. And the rest of the gang had to be present. Come what may!

Another reason, why Téa woke-up early, was because that was the only time she had to herself.

After that horrifying incident, she couldn't find it in herself to dance anymore. On some level, she repelled happiness or anything that remotely made her happy. So much so, she had succumbed to a major depression for a year. Somehow Seto and Yugi had pulled her out of it. Still, pursuing a dancing career, regardless of her friends' support, had been out of the question. After her post graduation from the Domino University, she took up the associate professor's job. A year later, she landed the professor's role at an elite university. She taught Political Science. The academics and her students occupied most of her working days.

Seto sighed, finishing his drink. He stood up, took a quick shower, and changed into comfortable pyjamas. Téa was fast asleep. She looked pale white and deathly sick. Ignoring his unease on her behalf, he quietly slipped into the bed, and pulled her close. A second later, he threw off the covers and got up, swearing under his breath.

A maid rushed to his side at his beckoning. He ordered her to bring a set of nail cutter. Téa's overgrown nails were stained in blood. It didn't took him long to understand how her well bandaged, semi-healed wound opened up. But what he couldn't understand was - why?

Why would Téa inflict self-harm?

Was it a conscious decision? Or was it inspired by drugs?

What was pushing her to this fit of lunacy? It didn't make much sense. She had never displayed this kind of behaviour. To him, she was the fighter type. If something concerned her she voiced it out. She was someone who looked at the problem in a rational manner, and solved it. She valued life.

After cutting her nails clean, Seto wrapped her hands in soft cotton bandages. On some emotional level, it upset him that she didn't trust him enough to discuss her problem. But the realistic side of his mind knew that she was also the self-martyr type. She would have never burdened him with her dilemmas.

It hurt him again to see her cry. Lately, she had been crying a lot in her sleep. Wiping her tears, he kissed her cheeks. He stared at her gently heaving bosom, and slightly opened mouth. Curbing his heart's desire, he placed another gentle kiss on her forehead. Mindful of her leg, he gathered her close.

He had no doubt that something or someone was instigating her to impose this self-damage. But what and why?

'This whole thing began since her return from Moscow.' He knew he didn't have to look too far.