Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or Two Princesses.
A/N: Sorry this took so long, but RL intervened in the form of eight-hour marching band rehearsals, golf practice, four times my normal shifts at work . . . you get the idea. Plus this chapter and the site both decided to give me a bit of trouble. But I'm here now. Thanks to everybody who reviewed, and I'd really appreciate it if you lurkers would drop a line . . . I'll name names next chapter; right now I'm too tired to look them up. Enjoy!
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Chapter Three: Plans and Action
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Step follows step.
Hope follows courage.
Set your face toward danger.
Set your heart on victory.
--Gail Carson Levine
The Two Princesses of Bamarre
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"No," she said forcefully, as though she could make it so. "No. You can't be serious."
He didn't even have the grace to look ashamed. "Dead serious. I'm sorry, Mina, but this is my career. I can't be tied to . . . well . . . "
"Say it," she snapped. "An embarrassment. I'm an embarrassment."
"Well, yes."
Now she wished he hadn't said it: it hurt her heart. What little she had left.
"It was a charity match," she said, trying to keep tears out of her voice. "The media think I threw it."
"Whereas the serious community knows the truth."
"What serious community? It's chess. Just a stupid game."
"That 'stupid game,'" he said, eyes flashing, "is my life. There's money in it, Mina. Big money."
Money. Power. At least they still had a few things in common. She gathered her courage and looked him in the eye. "If you're going to put money ahead of me, then you will call me Madam Echeverria."
"Mina – "
"I don't want to hear it! You started it."
"You started it," he said, "by losing to an eight-year-old."
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Firelight was an odd thing, Tristan mused. It couldn't seem to stay at one brilliance or in one place, oh no. It flickered. And it was melancholy, reflecting his mood perfectly. Weren't campfires supposed to be happy places? Wasn't that where little girls sat and sang "Kumbayah?"
"Don't," Joey snapped, "please."
Only then did Tristan realize he was humming. Kumbayah.
"Wouldn't it be expected," Tea put in, irritated, "for a first aid kit to have some sort of manual?"
"No," Joey told her. "They left it out just to annoy you."
"This is more important than that!"
"No manual. No guide. 'S life, Tea. Get used to it."
Tea threw the kit down dangerously close to the fire. "I can't! I have no idea what to do! Nothing . . . I've got nothing."
"We've all got nothing right now," Tristan said moodily, feeding a thick branch into the fire. "The middle of nowhere. No transportation. No authority. Nothing."
"But if we don't get something soon . . . we may wind up with even less."
"Lay off the philosophy," Joey said, not moving from where he lay flat on his back next to the small tent they had set up for Yugi. "My brain's not working."
"So what else is new?" Tristan mumbled.
"Grow up!" Tea snapped. "Make your brain work, because this is important, Joey; this could be life and –"
"Shut up!" Tristan yelled.
"I need some female friends." Tea froze.
It had sounded robotic, as though she hadn't even thought about it. Silence reigned; Joey and Tristan stared at her, hearing the long-standing refrain in a new light. Then Tea scrambled to her feet and ran, driving her feet into the ground as though it had hurt her personally.
"She'll be back," the boys said in unison, then stared at each other.
"I know this is important," Joey said after a moment. Absently he brushed a hand over the flap of the tent. Yugi was sound asleep, had been even before they had stopped for the night, so that Tristan and Joey had had to take turns carrying him. Lucky Yugi was so small.
"We're in trouble," Tristan sighed. "Deep, deep trouble."
"I've got an idea," Joey said in a tone that would have been dangerous had he been standing. "Why don't you take your own advice and shut up?"
"Joey. I think you should take a break. Stop playing mother hen and watch the fire; I'll sit with Yugi."
Joey scowled but relented. Tristan leaned against a handy tree by the tent flap. When he closed his eyes, he could just hear Yugi's even breathing. For some reason, "Kumbayah" kept interfering. He started humming, hoping to work it out of his system, until Joey finally chucked a stick into the fire and told him in no uncertain terms to knock it off.
He was half asleep some time later when Tea returned, red-eyed and sniffling. Joey held out an arm for her and said, "C'mere, sis."
Tea curled up by the fire and rested her head on his shoulder. "Did you just call me 'sis'?"
"Yep."
"But I'm not Serenity."
"Well, you act like her."
"Tristan's not in love with me."
"Hey!" Tristan protested sleepily.
"You know what I mean," Joey said softly, putting an arm around her.
"Sort of sad," Tristan remarked, "that you can't tell your sister and your friend apart."
Tea laughed a shaky sort of laugh and gave Joey a quick hug. "Thanks. I'll see you guys in the morning." She disentangled herself from Joey's arm and made her way over to the other tent.
"I'm going to hit the sack," Joey yawned.
"Toss me a blanket," Tristan said. "And for heaven's sake, keep yours away from the fire."
"How stupid d'you think I am?"
"Very."
"Oh, shut up."
Tristan settled himself against the tree trunk and peered up at the sky. Patches of stars peeped through the branches, and suddenly he wished he knew their names. It was the sort of thing Yugi would know.
All sounded peaceful. The bugs were making a racket, but they had all gotten used to that. There was nothing amiss out there, yet Tristan couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, something to do with –
"Tristan," Joey growled, "stop humming."
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A gilded cage, Seto decided. That was what he was stuck in. The room was nice. The food Cintya brought was good. Cintya herself was, inexplicably, turning into an ally. She assured him again and again that Mokuba was doing fine, just fine, and that if it had been up to her none of this would have been started in the first place.
Somehow, Seto couldn't help believing her.
"Why do you put up with this?" he asked her once.
"Madam Echeverria has connections," Cintya said miserably. "Dangerous connections all over the Orient and Central Asia. I wouldn't be safe if I left.
"So you're just going to stay with her for the rest of your life?"
She never answered him.
So Cintya was all right. The amenities were all right. And if Cintya was to be trusted, then Mokuba was all right.
Seto just wanted the damned plane to arrive, and Mokuba to be returned to him, and the whole thing to be over and done with.
It was three days after his arrival that he finally met the infamous Madam Massimina Echeverria. She unlocked his door – now he was jealous – swept into the room, and surveyed him with a satisfied smirk. Seto glanced up, looked back down at his laptop, and did a double take. She had a commanding presence, taller than he, though far too thin, and something in those eyes wasn't quite right. She seemed half drunk, but it was more than that . . .
When she spoke, it was in a low gravelly voice: "Where is your partner?"
Seto closed his laptop and stood to face her. "I daresay you'd know better than I." Something about this lady reeked of foul play.
Unexpectedly, she stuck out a hand. "Massimina Echeverria. Remember me?"
"Never met you, and glad of it. Where is my brother?"
She looked disgusted. "I expected better of you. When you ruin someone's life, you ought to remember it."
He stared at her for a moment. "Nope, definitely don't recall ruining your life. Can we get back to the topic at hand?"
"Oh, you ruined my life all right." She took a step towards him. He did not back away. "You see, an eight-year-old should never be victorious over an adult. Particularly an adult with a relationship on the line."
He could only recall playing anything against one woman as a child, but that had been a charity event, sponsored by some big-name corporations, orphans playing professionals, blah, blah, blah. It hadn't meant anything. Surely not . . .
"Let me get this straight," he said incredulously, interrupting her rant. "You did all this just because I beat you in a chess game nine years ago?"
"Oh, it was more than a chess game," she said quietly, a manic glint in her eyes. "It was much, much more. This will be our rematch, Seto Kaiba. Only this time, we will play a different game – "
"I know the difference between chess and Duel Monsters," he said testily. "Look, give me . . . three days. Then my partner will be here."
She opened her mouth as if to say Wanna bet? but changed her mind at the last second. Instead she sighed gustily, like a small impatient child, and said, "Fine. Three days."
Her look read, And then you'll be sorry.
And then, Seto thought, I'll get you good.
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Tea was piggybacking a sleeping but restless Yugi – they hadn't been able to wake him – when they found the bikes. Joey was the one who found them, actually; he was walking in the underbrush beside the path and tripped over one. It was trapped under roots and vines, but he and Tristan managed to wrestle out an old, rusty, faintly blue bicycle. A red one had also been abandoned a few paces ahead.
"Do they work?" Tea asked curiously.
Tristan hit a pedal and it spun wildly. "The chain's fallen off. But I can fix that."
"Sure you can," Joey muttered skeptically. "And what would be the point of this again?"
Tristan gave him a look clearly dismissing him as too stupid to deal with and went to work on the chain.
"It's transportation," Tea said patiently, although privately she wanted to sigh and roll her eyes. No longer walking, she felt as though she was about to fall under Yugi's weight. "If one or two of us can get ahead, they can send help back. We'll all get out of here quicker." And Yugi needs it, she added silently.
"Oh," was all Joey said.
There was a heavy pause, in which Joey considered this, Tristan fiddled with the bikes and cursed under his breath, and Tea tried not to fall over. Normally she had very good balance, but Yugi's deadweight was too much. I can't be the one to stay behind. I'd never be able to carry him constantly. Besides, he should have one of the guys with him . . . but who?
Presently Joey spoke. "You two go. I'll stay with Yug." Then he proceeded to justify his decision – something Joey rarely did. "Tristan's a faster rider'n I am – actually you are too, Tea – and you can't stay with him; you're about to drop him – here." He lifted Yugi's limp form off Tea's back and she straightened, rolling her head on her neck.
"Maybe two of us should stay behind," she suggested. "Just in case, you know."
"Nope." Tristan stood up and gave the pedal and experimental kick. It moved as far as he pushed it and stopped.
"The more of us get out of here, the better," Joey said darkly.
Tristan ignored the cynicism. "Whoever we find out there – please let it be someone useful – will be more likely to listen to two people than one. And two people have a better chance of making them understand. We're in a foreign country," he added at their confused looks. "I think Joey's right; we are faster riders. Good to know he's seen the light."
"Only 'cause I can whup your butt at Duel Monsters any day!" Joey retorted, looking uncomfortable.
"Any day of what calendar?" Tristan grinned crazily.
They spent the next quarter of a hour divvying up supplies. Tristan insisted that Joey keep the larger tent and most of the medicines. Joey wanted the others to take more food: "You guys'll need the energy – "
"But you'll be out here longer – "
"But Yugi's not eating anything," Tea reminded them, taking her turn at Voice of Reason.
In the end they split the food and water equally. Tea placed the stack of blankets in Yugi's lap so that Joey would have them. Food, water, shelter, medicine, she was thinking. They've got it – though the medicine'll run out by sundown – and we don't need medicine, so we're good. That she could even think the word "good" came as a surprise. And even more so – lucky. Lucky we found the bikes.
Finished repacking the backpacks, Tristan shrugged his onto his shoulders, then took Yugi so that Joey could put his on. Once the smaller boy was settled back in Joey's arms, there was an awkward silence.
Tea tugged anxiously on her backpack straps and looked at Yugi's white face. She wanted to get a move on and at the same time needed to stay: she couldn't bear to let Yugi out of her sight. She tried not to think that this might be the last time she ever saw him; such thoughts would only make her cry. Instead she focused on all the reasons she would see him again:
Because Yugi was strong; he could beat this.
Because he had Joey to watch out for him, and Joey wasn't about to let anything happen to his best friend.
Because she and Tristan were going for help now.
Because – dammit, because I need him! Tea felt tears prick her eyes; her legs carried her forward and before she knew it, she had kissed Yugi on the cheek.
He moaned and pulled away slightly, his skin papery and hot. Tea could feel her face flaming, knew Joey and Tristan were staring at her. Refusing to meet their eyes, she busied herself with righting a bike and slid onto the seat.
When she risked a look back, Tristan had one hand resting on Yugi's blond head and was clapping Joey on the shoulder with the other. "Take care of him for us," he said quietly.
Joey nodded and shifted slightly, tucking Yugi's head securely in the hollow between his shoulder and collarbone. "I will."
Tea looked back once more as they rode away and saw Joey still standing there, just watching them go. Then determined, he began to walk. Tristan was humming softly, but Tea ignored him and turned her face into the wind, thinking of how there had been no emotion in the boys' voices.
No apparent emotion, anyway.
Just a request . . . and a promise.
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"Where does she get all her money, anyway?" Mokuba asked.
Cintya paused outside the locked door of his room, then stepped forward and pressed her ear against it. She wanted to hear how Michael would handle this.
"How do you think?" a low voice growled. Michael never liked giving straight answers: a trick he'd learned in America.
"I don't know," Mokuba said testily. "I asked you first."
Cintya forced herself not to laugh. She had spent a lot of time with each Kaiba brother over the last few days and found herself coming to like them more and more.
"Let's just say . . . " Michael said, "not legally. Face it, she'd never've got anywhere playing fair."
"Hey!" There was a loud clatter as though someone had knocked his chair over. "My brother's the head of a multi-million dollar corporation and he never once cheated or stole!"
"Your brother, your brother, your brother. Blah, blah, blah." Really, it was remarkable how much Michael sounded like said brother. "And how long you think he's gonna stay that way, kid?"
Michael must have had some threatening move to accompany that, for Mokuba's next words were not defense of his brother but of himself. "I'm not afraid of you!"
"Yeah, well, maybe you should be." A key rattled in the door and Cintya jumped out of the way as Michael stormed out and locked the door behind him. He noticed her grinning at him. "What?"
"Looks like he's seen through you."
"What?"
"He knows you're really a marshmallow at heart."
"Yeah, right," Michael grunted. "If you see my heart around, let it know."
Cintya rolled her eyes and fell into step next to him as he headed outside. There were two sets of doors to be unlocked and locked behind them, and each set required a passcode as well as a key. The mistress of the estate was not quite rich enough to afford voice or retina scans, but security was still darn good. All the systems were separate and self-sustaining, so it was especially good to contain the Kaiba brothers: They couldn't hack in.
Cintya watched Michael suck in great chestfuls of fresh air and considered what little she knew: it had been done that way on purpose. What she did not know was for how long, and why, Massimina had been planning her revenge.
"Michael?"
"Shut up."
"See, you are a marshmallow; you're 'communing with nature.'"
"I am not!"
"You said it, not me."
"I was drunk!"
"So? Maybe we're most ourselves when we're drunk," Cintya mused. "Anyway, Michael – "
"Didn't I just say to shut up?"
"Make me."
"Oh, I'll make you all right – " Michael swung at her head; she had already ducked, and he made an impromptu pirouette.
"Missed me, missed me," she taunted.
Michael glared. A man twice Cintya's size would have turned tail and run, but she smiled sweetly at her brother and waited.
"What," he growled. "Is it."
"What do you think about – all this . . . " She gestured fruitlessly at nothing.
"All what? The jungle, China, the world, God?"
Cintya slapped him absentmindedly. "The whole Kaiba affair, idiot."
"I think the supposed 'partner' had better get here quick," Michael said mechanically.
"I mean really." Cintya licked her lips nervously. "They're really nice, you know, and – "
"I don't know what Kaiba did," Michael interrupted. There must have been something. I got no problem with revenge. Necessary action sometimes. But . . . "
Cintya was on the verge of vital information. She could smell it. "But?"
"But possible murder of four innocents – that I have a problem with," he said all in a rush, as though he had been waiting for the opportunity.
"What?" Cintya couldn't believe her ears. Murder? Surely even dear Massimina would never stoop so low. . .
She was, after all, their mother.
Michael didn't meet her eyes. "A bunch of kids," he muttered. "Maybe about the same age as the older Kaiba – "
"He's seventeen," Cintya put in shakily.
"Yeah, that sounds right. These kids were boarding the plane. They seemed all right, you know, and I – I bailed on them. They crashed in South Korea . . . "
Something clicked. "Seto's partner," she breathed, then added hurriedly, "I mean Kaiba's partner."
"Yeah."
"Michael?" She was almost afraid to ask.
"Yep," he said, then swallowed and looked even further away. "They . . . they were supposed to."
"Oh, dear God." Cintya wasn't even religious. "Oh, holy – " She continued ranting to every deity she could think of until she ran out and switched to swearing in three languages.
She hardly noticed when Michael slipped away.
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Joey didn't want to slow down, much less stop. I gotta keep going, he repeated to himself over and over, until it became a mantra and everything else fell away. I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going.
Step after step. One foot in front of the other. Don't stop.
I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going.
Yugi was in his arms, a frail, unconscious bundle of deadweight. No, dead was a bad word, very bad. He was heavy for such a little guy.
I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going.
It would be all right. Help was coming. Everything was going to be okay. He knew this, though he couldn't see through the fog to pick out the reasons why. "Stop thinking before you hurt yourself," that was what Yugi would say.
I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going. I gotta keep going. I gotta keep . . . .
Joey was on his knees for a full minute before he realized he had stopped. When he tried to get up, his legs wouldn't support him. He set Yugi down in the middle of the path and tried again. Better. What time was it, anyway? The woods were moonlit. He glanced at his wrist, but his watch must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.
That was the last straw. Joey put his hands up to his face and screamed into them until the tension had drained out of him. He then sank back to the ground and tried to think.
More walking was out of the question. He decided that it wasn't worth it to build a fire; he wasn't hungry anyway. They could just camp out right in the middle of the path, that was it. At least it was level. He turned to Yugi, who still slept fitfully, and picked up the folded blankets, making up a makeshift bed for his friend and one for himself. Maybe not the safest of situations, but it still seemed simpler than going to bed at home.
When he tried to sleep, he realized that screaming hadn't released quite all his tension. There was still that tightness just there, in his chest. A small bit, really.
So small, and yet so big. Joey wished Yugi were awake to talk to. He wished Yugi were awake, period.
"Yugi?" he said into the darkness. Of course there was no answer. He continued anyway, "Yug, I . . . "
I want to know that everything'll be all right. I'm worried about you. I wish we were home.
I'm scared. And alone.
"I'm scared," he said aloud. After all, nobody would hear. Then he closed his eyes and tried again to sleep.
Even breathing filled the night silence, and he couldn't tell whether it was Yugi's or his own.
Maybe Yugi had heard.
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They were asleep, unguarded, and shadows moved in the trees. Something flashed in the darkness. She had to get to them, to warn them, but something was wrong; when she reached out, she met resistance. Sense told her to look for a way through, but she wanted to just scream until it shattered into tiny pieces. The shadows were coming closer, covering them up – an then one of them opened an eye and yelled, and then she was yelling and he was yelling and then –
Tea's face hit dirt and something cold and hard fell on her legs, trapping her. She lay there, trying to figure out what had just happened.
"Tea! Are you okay? God – " Tristan shoved the bike aside and tugged her to her feet; in that split second she remembered everything.
"Note to self, " she mumbled, "do not fall asleep while steering a moving vehicle."
"Bad idea," Tristan agreed, righting her bike. He bent over the pedals and chain, intent on checking for damage; and Tea was glad he couldn't see her shaking.
When Tristan was satisfied, he surveyed her closely. "Do you want to stop for the night?"
"Just give me a minute." Tea sat in the dead leaves on the edge of the path with a sigh.
The need for safety, both for themselves and for Yugi and Joey, sooon drove her to her feet again. "C'mon. Let's go."
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Tbc . . .
Today at golf I took five shots out of one bunker, lost two balls, and hit the same tree twice. You can help cheer me up. See the purple button, love the purple button . . .
