Thank you all for OVER 100 reviews! This calls for a celebration! Idk what yet, but I will figure that out sometime after this story is over! ;)

I'll just post the rest of the chapters on MONDAYS, WEDNESDAYS, and FRIDAYS since it is almost complete! OMG!

So, here we go with more of the trial!

Chapter 26

Seto

Darrell Mutou is my lock. Once the judge realizes that at least one of Yugi's parents agrees with his decision to stop being a donor for his brother, granting him emancipation won't be quite as great a leap. If Darrell does what I need him to—namely, tell Judge Solomon that he knows Yugi has rights, too, and that he's prepared to support him—then whatever Joey says in his report will be a moot point. And better still, Yugi's testimony would only be a formality.

Darrell shows up with Yugi early the next morning, wearing his captain's uniform. I paste a smile on my face and get up, waking towards them with Coco. "Morning," I say. "Everyone ready?"

Darrell looks at Yugi. Then he looks at me. There is a question right there on the verge of his lips, but he seems to be doing everything he can not to ask it.

"Hey," I say to Yugi, brainstorming. "Want to do me a favor? Coco could use a couple of quick runs up and down the stairs, or he's going to get restless in court."

"Yesterday you told me I couldn't walk him."

"Well, today you can."

Yugi shakes his head. "I am not going anywhere. The minute I leave you're just going to talk about me."

So I turn to Darrell again. "Is everything all right?"

At that moment, Michelle Mutou comes into the building. She hurries toward the courtroom, and seeing Darrell with me, pauses. Then she turns slowly away from her husband and continues inside.

Darrell Mutou's eyes follow his wife, even after the doors close behind her. "We're fine," he says, an answer not meant for me.

"Mr. Mutou, were there times that you disagreed with your wife about having Yugi participate in medical treatments for Yami's benefit?"

"Yes. The doctors said that it was only cord blood we needed for Yami. They'd be taking part of the umbilicus that usually gets thrown out after giving birth—it wasn't anything that the baby was ever going to miss, and it certainly wasn't going to hurt him." He meets Yugi's eye, gives him a smile. "And it worked for a little while, too. Yami went into submission. But in 1997, he relapsed again. The doctors wanted Yugi to donate some lymphocytes. It wasn't going to be a cure, but it would hold Yami over for a while.

I try to draw him along. "You and your wife didn't see eye to eye over this treatment?"

"I didn't know if it was such a great idea. This time Yugi was going to know what was happening, and he wasn't going to like it."

"What did your wife say to make you change your mind?"

"That if we didn't draw blood from Yugi this time, we'd need marrow soon anyway."

"How did you feel about that?"

Darrell shakes his head, clearly uncomfortable. "You don't know what it's like," he says quietly, "until your child is dying. You find yourself saying things and doing things you don't want to do or say. And you think it's something you have a choice about, but then you get up a little closer to it, and you see you had it all wrong." He looks up at Yugi, who is so still beside me I think he has forgotten to breathe. "I didn't want to do that to Yugi. But I couldn't lose Yami."

"Did you have to use Yugi's bone marrow, eventually?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Mutou, as a certified EMT, would you ever perform a procedure on a patient who didn't present with any physical problems?"

"Of course not."

"Then why did you, as Yugi's father, think this invasive procedure, which carried risk to Yugi himself and no personal physical benefit, was in his best interests?"

"Because," Darrell says. "I couldn't let Yami die."

"Were there other points, Mr. Mutou, when you and your wife disagreed over the use of Yugi's body for you other son's treatment?"

"A few years ago, Yami was hospitalized and...losing so much blood nobody thought he'd make it through. I thought maybe it was time to let him go. Michelle didn't."

"What happened?"

"The doctors gave him arsenic, and it kicked in, putting Yami into remission for one year."

"Are you saying that there was a treatment which saved Yami, that didn't involve the use of Yugi's body?"

Darrell shakes his head. "I'm saying...I'm saying I was so sure Yami was going to die. But Michelle, she didn't give up on Yami and he came back fighting." He looks over at his wife. "And now, Yami's kidneys are giving out. I don't want to see him suffering. But at the same time, I don't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't want to tell myself it's over, when it doesn't have to be."

Darrell has become an emotional avalanche, headed right for the glass house I have been meticulously crafting. I need to reel him in. "Mr. Mutou, did you know you son was going to file a lawsuit against you and your wife?"

"No."

"When he did, did you speak to Yugi about it?"

"Yes."

"Based on that conversation, Mr. Mutou, what did you do?"

"I moved out of the house with Yugi."

"Why?"

"At the time, I believed Yugi had the right to think this decision out, which wasn't something he'd be able to do living in our house."

"After having moved out with Yugi, after having spoken to him at great lengths about why he's initiated this lawsuit—do you agree with your wife's request to have Yugi continue to be a donor for Yami?"

The answer we have rehearsed is no; this is the crux of my case. Darrell leans forward to reply. "Yes, I do," he says.

"Mr. Mutou, in your opinion..." I begin, and then I realize what he's just done. "Excuse me?"

"I still wish Yugi would donate a kidney," Darrell admits.

Staring at this witness who has just completely fucked me over, I scramble for footing. If Darrell won't support Yugi's decision to stop being a donor, then the judge will find it far harder to rule in favor of emancipation.

At the same time, I'm patently aware of the smallest sound that has escaped from Yugi, the quiet break of soul that comes when you realize that what looked like a rainbow was actually only a trick of the light. "Mr. Mutou, you're willing to have Yugi undergo major surgery and the loss of an organ to benefit Yami?"

It is a curious thing, watching a strong man fall to pieces. "Can you tell me what the right answer is here?" Darrell asks, his voice raw. "Because I don't know where to look for it. I know what's right. I know what' fair. But neither of those apply here. I can sit, and I can think about it, and I can tell you what should be and what ought to be. I can even tell you there's got to be a better solution. But it's been fifteen years, Mr. Kaiba, and I still haven't found it."

He slowly sinks forward, too big in that tiny space, until his forehead rests on the cool bar of wood that borders the witness stand.

Judge Solomon calls for a ten-minute recess before Michelle Mutou will begin her cross-examination, so that the witness can have a few moments to himself. Yugi and I go downstairs to the vending machines, where you can spend a dollar on weak tea and weaker soup. He sits with his feet flat on the floor, and when I hand him his cup of hot chocolate and he sets it down on the table without drinking.

"I've never seen my dad cry," he says. "My mom, she would lose it all the time with Yami. But dad—well, if he fell apart, he made sure to do it where we weren't watching."

"Yugi—"

"Do you think I did that to him?" he asks, turning to me. "Do you think I shouldn't have asked him to come here today?"

"The judge would have asked him to testify even if you didn't." I shake my head. "Yugi, you're going to have to do it yourself."

He looks up at me, wary. "Do what?"

"Testify."

Yugi blinks at me. "Are you kidding?"

"I thought that the judge would clearly rule in your favor if he saw that your father was willing to support your choices. But unfortunately, that's not what just happened. And I have no idea what Joey's going to say—but even if he comes down on your side, Judge Solomon will still need to be convinced that you're mature enough to make these choices on your own, independent of your parents."

"You mean I have to get up there? Like a witness?"

I have always known that at some point, Yugi would have to take the stand. In a case about emancipation of a minor, it stand to reason that a judge would want to her from the minor himself. Yugi might be acting skittish about testifying, but I believe that subconsciously, it's what he really wants to do. Why else go to the trouble of instigating a lawsuit, if not to make sure that you finally get to speak your mind?

"You told me yesterday I wouldn't have to testify," Yugi says, getting agitated.

"I was wrong."

"I hired you so that you could tell everyone what I want."

"It doesn't work that way," I say. "You started this lawsuit. You wanted to be someone other than the person your family's made you for the past fifteen years. And that means you have to pull back the curtain and show us who he is."

"Half the grown-ups on this planet have no idea who they are, but they get to make decisions for themselves every day," Yugi argues.

"They aren't fifteen. Listen," I say, getting to what I imagine is the crux of the matter. "I know, in the past, standing up and speaking your mind hasn't gotten you anywhere. But I promise you, this time, when you talk, everyone will listen."

If anything, this has the reverse effect of what I've intended. Yugi crosses his arms. "There is no way I'm getting up there," he says.

"Yugi, being a witness isn't really that big of a deal—"

"It is a big deal, Seto. It's the hugest deal. And I'm not doing it."

"If you don't testify, then we lose," I explain.

"Then find another way to win. You're the lawyer."

I'm not going to rise to that bait. I drum my fingers on the table for patience. "Do you want to tell me why you're so dead set against this?"

He glances up. "No."

"No, you're not doing it? Or no, you won't tell me?"

"There are some thing I don't like talking about." His face hardens. "I thought you, of all people, would be able to understand that."

He knows exactly what buttons to push. "Sleep on it," I suggest tightly.

"I'm not going to change my mind."

I stand up and dump my full cup of coffee into the trash and grab my cell phone. "Well then," I tell him as I'm speed-dialing Mokuba (someone just to talk to). "Don't expect me to be able to change your life."

Michelle (Present Day)

There is a curious thing that happens with the passage of time: a calcification of character. See, if the light hits Darrell's face the right way, I can still see the pale purple-ish gray hue of his eyes that has always made me think of a sunset I have yet to see. Beneath the fine lines of his smile, there is the cleft of his chin—the first feature I looked for in the faces of my newborn children. There is his resolve, his quiet will, and a steady peace with himself that I have always wished would rub off on me. These are the base elements that made me fall in love with my husband; if there are times I do not recognize him now, maybe this isn't a drawback. Change isn't always for the worst; the shell that forms around a piece of sand looks to some people like an irritation, and to others, like a pearl.

Darrell's eyes dart from Yugi, who is picking at a tiny scab on his elbow, to me. He watches me like a mouse watches a hawk. There is something about this that makes me ache; is this really what he thinks of me?

Does everyone?

I wish there was not a courtroom between us. I wish I could walk up to him. Listen, I would say, this is not how I thought our lives would go; and maybe we cannot find our way out of this alley. But there is no one I'd rather be lost with.

Listen, I'd say, maybe I was wrong.

"Mrs. Mutou," Judge Solomon asks, "do you have any questions for the witness?"

It is, I realize, a good term for a spouse. What else does a husband or a wife do, but attest to each other's errors in judgment?

I get up slowly from my seat. "Hello, Darrell," I say, and my voice is not nearly as steady as I would have hoped.

"Michelle," he answers.

Following that exchange, I have no idea what to say.

A memory washes over me. We had wanted to get away, but couldn't decide where to go. So we got into the car and drove, and every half hour we'd let one of the kids pick an exit, or tell us to turn right or left. We wound up in Cincinnati, Ohio, and then stopped, because Atemu's next direction would have allowed us going over a cliff. We found a cabin with no heat, no electricity—and our three kids are scared of the dark.

I don't realize I have been speaking out loud until Darrell answers. "I know," he says. "We put so many candles on that floor I thought for sure we'd burn the place down. It rained for four days."

"And on the fifth day, when the weather cleared, the greenheads were so bad we couldn't even stand to be outside."

"And then Atemu got poison ivy and his eyes swelled shut..."

"Excuse me," Seto Kaiba interrupts.

"Sustained," Judge Solomon says. "Where is this going, Counselor?"

We hadn't been going anywhere, and the place we wound up was awful, and still I wouldn't have traded that week for the world. When you don't know where you're headed, you find places no one else would ever think to explore. "When Yami wasn't sick," Darrell says slowly, carefully, "we've had some great times."

"Don't you think Yugi would miss those, if Yami were gone?"

Seto is out of his seat, just as I'd expect. "Objection!"

The judge holds up his hand, and nods to Darrell for his answer.

"We all will," he says.

And in that moment, the strangest thing happens. Suddenly, it does not matter that he has moved out with Yugi, that he has questioned some of the decisions about Yami. He did what he thought was right, just the same as me, and I can't fault him for it. Life sometimes gets so bogged down in the details, you forget you are living it. There is always another appointment to be met, another bill to pay, another symptom presenting, another uneventful day to be notched onto the wooden wall. We have synchronized our watches, studied our calendars, existing in minutes, and completely forgotten to step back and see what we've accomplished.

If we lose Yami today, we will have had him for seventeen years, and no one can take that away. And ages from now, when it is hard to bring back the picture of his face when he laughed or the feel of his hand inside mine or the perfect pitch of his voice, I will have Darrell to say, Don't you remember? It was like this.

The judge's voice breaks into my reverie. "Mrs. Mutou, are you finished?"

There has never been a need for me to cross-examine Darrell; I have always known his answers. What I've forgotten are the questions.

"Almost." I turn to my husband. "Darrell?" I ask. "When are you coming home?"

In the bowels of the court building are a sturdy row of vending machines, none of which have anything you'd want to eat. After Judge Solomon calls a recess, I wander down there, and stare at the Starbursts and the Pringles and the Cheetos trapped in their corkscrew cells.

"The Oreos are your best shot," Darrell says from behind me. I turn around in time to see him feed the machine seventy cents. "Simple. Classic." He pushes two buttons and the cookies begin their suicidal fall.

He leads me to the table, scarred and stained by people who have carved their eternal initials and graffitied their inner thoughts across the top. "I didn't know what to say to you on the stand," I admit, and then hesistate. "Darrell? Do you think we've been good parents?" I am thinking of Atemu, who I gave up on so long ago. Of Yami, who I could not fix. Of Yugi.

"I don't know," Darrell says. "Does anyone?"

He hands me the package of Oreos. When I open my mouth to tell him I'm not hungry, Darrell pushes a cookie inside. It is rich and rough against my tongue; suddenly I am famished. Darrell brushes the crumbs from my lips as if I am made of fine china. I let him. I think maybe I have never tasted anything this sweet.

Darrell and Yugi move back home that night. We both tuck him in; we both kiss him. Darrell goes to take a shower. In a little while, I will go to the hospital, but right now I sit down across from Yugi, in Yami's chair that I brought over. "Are you going to lecture me?" he asks.

"Not the way you think." I finger the edge of one of Yugi's pillows. "You're not a bad person because you want to be yourself."

"I never—"

I hold up a hand. "What I mean is that those thoughts, they're human. And just because you turn out differently than everyone's imagained you would doesn't mean that you've failed in some way. A kid who gets teased in one school might move to a different one, and be the most popular boy there, just because no one has any other expectations of him. Or a person who goes to med school because her entire family is full of doctors might find out that what she really wants to be is an artist instead." I take a deep breath, and shake my head. "Am I making some sense?"

"Not really."

That makes me smile. "I guess I'm saying that you remind me of someone."

Yugi comes up on an elbow. "Who?"

"Me," I say.

Darrell lies beside me on the bed. He doesn't say anything, just puts his hand on the valley made by the curve of my neck. Then he kisses me, long and bittersweet. This I expect, but not the next—he bites down on my lip so hard that I taste blood. "Ow," I say, trying to laugh a little, make light of this. But he doesn't laugh, or apologize. He leans forward, licks it off.

It makes me jump inside. This is Darrell, and this isn't Darrell, and both of these things are remarkable. I run my own tongue over the blood, copper and slick. I open like an orchid, make my body cradle, and feel his breath travel down my throat, over my breasts. He rests his head for a moment on my belly, and just as much as that bite was unexpected, there is now a pang of the familiar—this is what he would do each night, a ritual, when I was pregnant.

Then he moves again. He rises over me, a second sun, and fills me with light and heat. We are a study of contrasts—hard to soft, fair to dark, frantic to smooth—and yet there is something about the fit of us that makes me realize neither of us would be quite right without the other. We are a Mobius strip, two continuous bodies, an impossible tangle.

"We're going to lose him," I whisper, and even I don't know if I'm talking about Yami or about Yugi.

Darrell kisses me. "Stop," he says.

After that we don't talk anymore. That's safest.

So, they finally move back in... Is that a good or bad thing?

And what do you all feel about how the trial is going?

How about you leave me a review? :)