First of all, I must thank all the reviewers I got. It makes writing worthwhile. (Also, it inspired me to review one or two or ten stories myself.) Now, I have a few questions. I have now been a fan for three weeks, and have been introduced to the 'Noah' storyline. My question is: how exactly did Seto's foster father die? I've heard heart attack and fatal fall. Sooo.? I have a plot idea that is rapidly turning into an obsession, but I need details. Maybe I should buy the tapes, but this is cheaper. : )

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Mokuba sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window. He couldn't see anything; the kitchen was well lit in contrast to the night, so only reflections were visible on the glass. He wished they would let him turn off the lights- then he maybe wouldn't feel so isolated from his brother.

Kasumi, the cook, placed a steaming mug on the table before Mokuba. The small boy glanced up at pitying eyes and quickly looked away, wrapping his hands around the mug.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the tiled floor and three men in dark suits entered the room. Mokuba recognized the tall blond as Morris, the head of security at the mansion. The other two were business associates at Kaiba Corp.

Morris sat down opposite Mokuba and ran a considering eye over the raven- haired boy. Seemingly satisfied by the boy's composure, he launched straight into his report. "At 2:24 a.m. the alarm on the Southern boarder of the property was triggered. It's mostly forest bordering us on that side, and sometimes an animal sets it off. Kinari checked it out. He was still outside when you called for us."

"How did he. she. whoever it was get into my brother's room?"

"We've checked the cameras by all the doors. We haven't found anything. Right now, I'd say the window is the best bet."

Mokuba frowned. He didn't want bets. He wanted his brother. Blinking back tears, he willed himself not to cry. Just as long as Seto was safe, he didn't care about anything else. Even if his brother was in one of his moods, angry at Mokuba like he had been when he found out his little brother had gone to Yugi for help. Mokuba wouldn't mind. An angry Seto was better than no Seto.

Taking the boy's silence for dismissal, Morris stood up. "We're doing everything we can to find your brother." He tried on his most reassuring smile and left the room.

Mokuba closed his eyes. How was an attacker supposed to crawl through a second-story locked window, subdue Seto, and retreat through the window with Seto struggling or unconscious without anyone noticing? The whole night seemed surreal, from the fear that drove him from his room to the normality of bright kitchen lights and steaming tea. Maybe he should help search outside. The cold air would wake him up.

A shadow fell across Mokuba's face, and he opened his eyes to find the two businessmen standing over him. "What is it?" he snapped.

Neither man was fazed by the boy's anger. And why should they? They dealt with the elder Kaiba on a daily basis. The shorter of the two leaned over Mokuba. "Now, I know you're upset. We all are. But we need to discuss a few things. A billion dollar corporation like Kaiba Corp can't just stop overnight. I'm sure your brother wouldn't be pleased if he found his business had suffered in his absence. You don't want your brother to be angry when we find him, do you Mokuba?"

Mokuba nearly bristled at the man's condescending tone. He had a sudden urge to grab a computer and show this suit what he was capable of. But now was not the time, and the man did have a point. He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

The taller man slid a stack of papers across the table. "Under most circumstances, if Kaiba is somehow indisposed, we are in charge by proxy. However, in the case of a kidnapping- which seems to be what we have- or in the case of death, control of Kaiba Corp goes to you. All you have to do is sign these papers that allow us to keep things running smoothly until your brother returns."

The stack seemed an inch thick. Half-heartedly, Mokuba flipped through the papers. They were filled with law jargon and detailed terms. Every other page or so was a space for a signature. A pen was placed in front of him. Great. Did they expect him to sign now? What was that thing Seto was always telling him? 'Never sign a document until you've studied every word and every phrase, or until it has been reviewed by a lawyer you trust.' Well, he didn't know any lawyers, much less trust any. That meant. "It might take a while for me to read this."

Both men smiled, as if they were playing along in a game. "Take as much time as you need," The shorter man said. "We can stop by in the afternoon. Call us if you have any questions. And make sure to get some sleep. It's been a rough night for all of us."

When he was finally alone, Mokuba gathered the legal papers and headed up to his room. He couldn't handle any more reports, requests, or even reassurances. He just needed time to digest everything. Maybe he would take the advice and sleep.

As he passed his brother's room, a chill ran up his spine. The door was slightly ajar. Someone must have drawn back the curtains while searching the room, for now a thin line of moonlight sliced through the darkness. The ray ended upon a single face-up card. A morbid curiosity drove Mokuba into the room, where he knelt down, careful not to touch any bloodstains. It was a Blue-eyes, White-dragon card.

His hand paused in the act of picking it up. Should he.? Well, the police had already scanned the room, checking for fingerprints and bagging evidence. They had what they needed; he should be allowed what he needed. Slowly, examining each card for blood, Mokuba gathered together his big brother's deck.

When he had finished his task he slipped into his room and shut the door. Mokuba wrapped his arms around himself; it was very cold, and a soft breeze was pushing against his face. Confused, he looked up. For a split-second, Mokuba was sure he saw a billowing white trench coat wrapped about a tall figure. Then the image wavered, and he was left staring at his billowing white window curtains.

His window was open? He didn't remember doing that. He strode forward, following the stream of frigid air. Through the screen, the sky was beginning turn, the black stain of night draining past the horizon. There was a large oak that stood below, its branches lifted towards the boy. Mokuba studied the scene and frowned. Any skilled climber could reach his window from their yard. With the right planning, it would be fairly simple to break into his room. But there was no such tree near Seto's window. There the wall was open and smooth, offering no hand or footholds. It seemed absurd to Mokuba that a criminal would walk past an easy hostage to attempt a near-impossible feat.

A sudden gust of wind swelled the curtains, the white cloth surrounding Mokuba. His pulse sped with the returning fear of an unseen presence. He turned, but the curtains twisted about his body, embracing him.

The pressure of a hand, hidden behind the cool cloth, touched his arm. Mokuba gasped, the chill spreading in his chest.

"Mokuba." The word sounded from the soft murmmer of the wind.

"It's not safe here." Mokuba could feel his mouth moving, his voice producing the foreign words. He felt as if another mind was resting in his head. "Leave at once. Go somewhere safe."

And then the wind died. The curtains fell limp against the wall, and Mokuba was left trembling from the ethereal sensations. Without pausing to recover, the raven-haired boy pushed back the screen. He was mildly afraid of heights, but right now his room held a cold terror for him, and seeking sanctuary further inside the mansion was not an option. With the reassuring weight of his brother's deck in his pocket, he grasped a proffered branch and slithered his way to towards the tree's trunk. In a matter of minutes, Mokuba was running into the street, without a glance back at his home.