Chapter 4

The silent room, the heavy creeping shade,

The dead that travel fast, the opening door,

The murdered brother rising through the floor...

- Oscar Wilde

Joey Wheeler hadn't known what to think when Seto Kaiba, of all people, called and basically demanded that Joey come to Seto's mansion, right now. Naturally, the jackass refused to tell Joey what he wanted, just hinted vaguely that it was something "important." In Joey's experience, Kaiba's idea of important rarely intersected with his own. Still, when the white town car arrived on the street outside Joey's apartment building, he got in. If nothing else, he wanted to know what kind of bug Kaiba had up his butt this time.

The driver apparently wasn't one for casual conversation, since he didn't say a word to Joey for the length of the short drive to Kaiba's overpriced mansion on the outskirts of town. To be fair, Joey supposed he shouldn't blame Kaiba for the house, since that had been Gozaburo Kaiba's choice, but Seto still lived there, so maybe he deserved fifty percent of Joey's derision. The place was huge, of course, and way more than a bachelor needed, even one with a younger brother who spent the occasional weekend in the old mausoleum.

Joey smirked; he knew it still galled Kaiba that Mokuba had moved out. He huffed a tiny laugh. Served the guy right for not supporting Mokuba's career choices. Just because Kaiba didn't think starting a band was a good idea.

Or maybe it was because Mokuba had named the band The Dark Magicians. Dragon-boy never had liked it when anyone preferred any Duel Monsters card over his precious Dragons. Joey shook his head. They were all a long way from those teenagers playing card games. It was definitely past time for Seto Kaiba to get over it (and himself). Maybe Joey'd offer to build him a bridge.

The town car (and Joey was only now, with thoughts of Kaiba's Blue-Eyes White Dragons fresh on his mind, realizing that it fit Kaiba's usual theme: blue interior, gleaming white exterior) glided to a halt in front of the mansion and the driver opened the door for him.

"Thanks, pal." Joey wondered briefly if he should offer a tip, but the guy slid back into the car and pulled away before Joey could make up his mind. "Okay, then. Nice talkin' at ya."

He sauntered up the steps to the double doors, which opened at his approach. A freakin' butler, of all things, bowed him into the house.

"Mr. Kaiba is waiting in his study," the butler said, somehow managing to judge Joey with his tone without actually saying anything insulting. That was some impressive skills, there. Joey was vaguely jealous, and thought about asking the dude if he gave lessons. That kind of talent would come in handy when dealing with smug little shits on the professional tournament circuit.

The butler had the kind of ramrod stiff posture that made Joey's spine ache just to look at, so he turned his gaze to his surroundings as he strolled after the guy on the way to (presumably) Kaiba's study. The damn house was huge, and Joey was glad for the escort. You probably needed GPS to find your way around in this place, or at least a map and a compass. The rooms echoed, ridiculously high ceilings and stone or hardwood floors making every tap of the butler's shoe heels crack like gunshots. Joey's own rubber soles squeaked obnoxiously against the floor, which made him grin when the butler shot him an annoyed-without-having-an-actual-expression look over his shoulder.

Finally, they reached the "study," which turned out to be a home office or library or something, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a massive wooden desk roughly the size of the Titanic. Seated behind the desk, in a leather upholstered chair that could've moonlighted as a throne, was Seto Kaiba.

"About time you got here, Wheeler," Kaiba growled, after the butler had announced Joey like they were in an episode of some period drama on PBS. The butler had then promptly fucked off to go do butler things. Given that Kaiba's presence generally made Joey go from chill to pissed in zero point two seconds, Joey half-wished he'd gone with him.

"Charmin' as ever, Kaiba." Joey flopped down onto the stiff chair positioned in front of the desk and tried to sit as offensively as humanly possible. From the look on Kaiba's face, he was succeeding. "Mind telling me what you dragged me all the way out here for? If it's to try to talk me into talking Mokuba into giving up his teenage rebellion, you can forget it."

"Musician is no career for-" Kaiba broke off before the rant really got going and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to squeeze a headache to death between his fingers. "That's not why- I don't even-"

"Wow. I ain't seen you this flustered since the Battle City finals, when that one guy was trippin' balls and thought he was seein' real monsters instead of holograms." Joey was torn between sitting back to enjoy the show and being genuinely worried. It took a lot to throw Seto Kaiba off his game. In fact... He squinted at the other man, only now notiicing his rather beat-up appearance. There was a long red scratch on one cheek, another on his chin, a ring of purple bruises around one wrist, and Kaiba was moving stiffly, as if sore from recent injury. "What happened to you? You look like you lost a fight with a weed whacker."

Kaiba glared at him, brushed absent fingers over his battered face, then swiveled his throne to let him direct his next words to the darker shadows at the back of the room. "You explain it to him!"

Curious as to what the hell was going on, Joey leaned to the side and peered in the direction Kaiba was looking. A slight figure stood in the gloom, little more than a vague outline in the dim lighting near the bookcases. It walked toward them, steps slow and measured, gaining definition as it neared. And then the figure stepped fully into the light of the desk lamp and Joey felt his heart stutter in his chest and the bottom drop outta his stomach, because what he was seeing wasn't possible.

"Yugi?!" For a moment, Joey thought his heart had stopped. Time seemed to freeze, darkness swooping around him like he'd pass out at any second. Then everything started moving again, including him, as he leaped from his chair. "Oh, my god. How-? Yugi, is that really you?"

The impossible vision waved a tentative hand. "Hey, Joey."

The hesitation in that familiar voice struck Joey as wrong on many levels. Something was wonky about this entire situation, and not just the fact that Joey was staring at someone who looked just like his friend, who'd been dead and buried a year to the day. Joey shot a glance at Kaiba that demanded answers right this minute. "What the hell is goin' on, rich boy?!"

"That's the question of the hour, isn't it," Kaiba said, in a voice weighted down with the kind of exhaustion that only came from a fuck-ton of mental stress.

Joey, who had been exposed to this for about three seconds and already felt like he needed a week-long nap, could sympathize. He decided to cut to the chase. "Is that really Yugi?"

"As far as I can tell, yes." Kaiba scrubbed a hand over his face. "There was- He showed me- Never mind. Suffice it to say, I'm convinced of his identity. If you want more proof than that, you're on your own."

There was obviously a story there, but Joey let it go for now.

Brows furrowing, Joey studied the person who might be Yugi Mutou. The other man was just standing there, hands loose at his sides, head tilted down so his gaze was focused somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. His trademark head of unruly hair was suffering the affects of humidity and what looked to be the aftermath of a thorough soaking, bedraggled blond bangs clinging to his forehead and cheeks and the usual red-tipped spikes wilted and tangled. He was dressed all in black, from his muscle shirt and jeans to the silver-studded boots on his feet. The only color, aside from his hair, came from the hooded jacket draped over his shoulders like a cape. While the jacket itself was black, it was lined in a slick red fabric that, in the half-light, looked disturbingly like fresh blood.

"Hey, pal. You, uh, you remember me?" Joey asked, feeling his gut twist.

Maybe-Yugi raised his head - and, yeah, those were Yugi's eyes, big and twilight-blue, and gentle enough to melt the coldest heart. He met Joey's gaze for a moment, then looked away again. "I kind of do. I remember playing cards with you? Maybe some kind of contests, too."

"Duel Monsters, yeah! We used to play that all the time. Your grandpa-" Joey had to swallow before he could finish that thought. "He taught me how to play. I used to come over to your place and practice all the time."

"Oh."

In the ensuing silence, the ghost of Solomon Mutou seemed to hover among the shadows lurking at the edges of the room. Naturally, it was Kaiba who bulled into the emotional moment, and for once Joey was grateful for the other man's stubborn lack of emotional awareness.

"This is all very touching," Kaiba said, in a voice entirely devoid of sentiment. "But I'd like you dweebs out of my house before dinnertime. I've done my part-" He shot Yugi another dark look. "-so you two can handle things from here."

Yeah, 'cause Joey handled his best friend coming back from the dead every damn day. No sweat. Fists clenching, he was about half a second from giving Kaiba a piece of his mind for real when he caught a glimpse of the utter devastation in Yugi's eyes. It cut the ground right out from under him. Instead of punching Kaiba in his smug face, Joey forced his fists to open and moved around the desk to lay hand on Yugi's shoulder.

"Just tell me what you need, pal."

Eyes like bruises met his, and a voice filled with all the earnestness Joey remembered Yugi being capable of mustering said, "Help me find the ones who killed me."

o0o

"No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible."

- George Chakiris