A/N: Herewith, Chapter 22. Hope everyone's enjoying. The flow of reviews is running thinner, but I'm going to take that to mean that people are just so engrossed with the story that they don't want to say anything that might prove to be wrong later on. Well, I'm okay with that, just so long as you're enjoying the story!

Wolf: I dunno, sounds to me almost like a stereotypical white trash couple. But we wouldn't know anything about those, would we?

Skraku: Yep, the scene's meant to be humorous. Also kinda scary, if you think about it, though. Neither Kyle nor Monica knows what happened; the only person who does is Xander, and after that evening, who's to say he'll go anywhere near Kyle?

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When he was finished with his business outside, Kyle went back into the apartment, then shut, locked, and blinded the storm door behind him, and stared at the locked bathroom door. "Monica, it's safe here. You can come out now."

"Forget it, McCraine. With you around, no one's safe."

He crossed his arms. "Come on. What are you afraid of? There's no one in here but us."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You've got nothing to fear from me."

"There's a first," she sniffed. "You've been out for my blood since the beginning."

Kyle sat down on his couch. "What are you yammering on about, now? You were the one that hated me first. I didn't have any issues with you. All I wanted was for you to leave me alone. You just couldn't do that, though. You had to keep picking on me and berating me for being outside your realm. Newsflash: there's a lot out there that you're not willing to accept because you'd rather turn into a donut and stick your nose up your own rear end. That's why I harbored contempt for you. That's why I hated your guts. At least I had a reason for not liking you. What was your problem with me?"

"You're a complete asshole! It was obvious from the start. Nobody liked you. Why should I have been the one to break the chain? You didn't give anybody a reason to think you were anything but a self-absorbed freak. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, McCraine, if you hadn't noticed."

"So that's why you hate me? Not because of your own opinions, but because of everyone else's. I can't think of a more shallow reason. That sure sounds like the Monica Zocallos we've all come to know. But as for the self-absorbed freak bit, I'm glad we've finally found something in common."

"You bastard!" she screeched. "I hope you burn in hell!"

BAM-BAM-BAM. "Hey, McCraine, what's going on in there?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Nothing, Mr. Fitz."

"Sounds like something to me. It's been lights out for hours and you've got a screaming woman in there. What's going on?"

"It's a friend of mine, we're just having a lively late night discussion."

"Yeah, right. I hear another scream and I'm calling the cops. You got that?"

Kyle shot a look at the bathroom door, which was still closed and locked. A large shadow split the light that was seeping from under the door; he guessed Monica had sat down against it. If you want the cops to come running to your rescue, Monica, now's the time to start screaming.

But no response came from beyond that door. Only silence.

Kyle finally answered, "Yes, we understand. Call the cops whenever you need to."

A long pause came before any more sound was made. Then, a grumble. "I'm keeping my eye on you, kid."

The man's footsteps were light but audible on the hardwood floor as he walked away.

Kyle sighed and slumped against his couch. "You had your chance, you know."

"I don't want anyone knowing about this. No way in hell I'm letting this get out. And if you say anything about it–"

"I told you once already, Monica," Kyle interrupted, "I don't care about your threats, and I don't intend to say anything about it anyway. So keep the inanities to yourself. If I wanted to say anything, I'd have done it by now."

"Doesn't matter. Whatever game you're playing, it's not going to work on me."

"You still don't get it, do you? You're ignoring my behavior because you want to keep your prejudice against me. That's a great shame. Because at least everyone else has paid attention. I'm not your enemy."

"As far as I'm concerned, you are."

He sighed. "Fine. Want to duel?"

"...What?"

"If we're enemies, then we should go into battle with each other. Physical fighting will get us arrested, and any more verbal fighting will have your little horror story with Xander going public, whether you want it to or not, and there's nothing I'll be able to do to keep it under wraps anymore. But we've got Duel Monsters in common. We both play that game. So if we're enemies and can't fight any other way without getting in trouble, we may as well duel. If nothing else, to pass the time."

Silence reigned for a few moments, and Kyle wondered if she even felt like dignifying his statement with a response. Knowing her, probably not...

"...You don't have the brains to beat me."

"Maybe not, but I certainly have the cards," he responded, a slight grin crossing his features. "I can hold you off just fine without needing to think too hard."

"You seriously think you can take me on in a duel? You've got to be out of your mind."

"Why? It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Yeah, right. You've probably got a syringe around here somewhere."

Kyle scoffed. "Feel free to come out and look, y'know. You don't have to take my word for it that I don't. I'll show you every single corner of every single compartment in this apartment. I guarantee you I don't have anything. Will you please be sensible for once in your life?"

"What's to be sensible about?"

"I could call the cops. I could tell everyone I know that you became Xander's bitch. I could show people that you're nothing but a coward who won't stand up for herself. And I could prove it with the letter you sent me. And I haven't done any of that. And I don't plan to."

"Yeah, right."

"It's true. Whether you want to believe it or not. I'm not keeping quiet about it so I can preserve your reputation and save myself a lot of trouble. I've already had a lot of trouble, and there really isn't all that much more you can give me. No, I'm keeping quiet about it because I know it'd be too much for you to handle. Whatever you may think of me, even though I might not like you, I respect you as a person. So have your space. Keep your stories. They're not mine to take and use."

"Glad you see that. Now leave me the hell alone."

"You haven't answered my question yet. Would you care to duel?"

"Forget it."

"Surely you're not scared of an amateur such as myself. Not with that Blue-Eyes–"

"Stop, McCraine. I don't want to duel you, and I don't want to talk to you."

"Then what do you want? You came this direction for a reason. What was it?"

A muffled bang sounded against the door. "Don't act like I'm stupid, McCraine! I know what you're playing at! You want to get in under my skin just so you can stab me in the back when I'm not paying attention!"

"Oh, please," Kyle scoffed. "Your mind works in very interesting ways, Monica. But once again, you refuse to answer my question because you're too busy with your own constructs. Wake up and smell the roses. I could call the cops on you and have them pull you out of that bathroom. Then you'd have to explain to someone why you're there."

"Still acting like you don't know. What I want to know is what happened out there, McCraine. One minute I heard Xander threatening you, the next minute I heard someone beating the hell out of him. Maybe I heard him falling down the fire escape ladder, too... yeah... that could be it..."

"I'm acting like I don't know because I really don't know. Get used to hearing that, because it's the truth." Kyle stood up and went over to his mini-fridge. "But if you don't know what happened, either, I guess we're in the same boat. And I don't think I'll ask him."

"You'd better not."

"Relax." He rolled his eyes and pulled out a soda. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Like what, spiked punch?"

"Actually, I've got a nice selection of water, milk, soda, tea, and coffee. I think I might even have some lemonade mix around here somewhere."

There was more silence, accompanied by, "You're serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. I've got all sorts of beverages here and it's going to take a long time to down them all. If you'd like some, you're welcome to have some, straight out of the fridge, unopened. There, see? No need to worry I'm trying to poison you or anything. And if you're going to stay awake, you'll need some caffeine, right? I've got caffeinated soda."

Yet more silence. Kyle sighed. "Monica, please. I'm not going to hurt you. If you're going to stay here, I may as well at least try to make you comfortable, even if you're an unwilling guest in my home. There's no reason for me to try and make you uncomfortable here."

Finally, an answer came. "What kind of soda?"

--

Two Weeks Later

--

Kyle found himself sitting alone and brooding a lot more during his off-time. It was healthy for his inspiration, but on the other hand, it didn't really get anything done, besides put a major crick in his back.

There was so little he could talk about, it seemed. The voice had disappeared inexplicably, and while he had at first rejoiced at its apparent absence, he now found himself almost missing it. He and Chubs had both made it to the third duelist tier. Zack still refused to participate in tournaments, or even friendly duels, and he'd taken a vacation last week reportedly to get his mind off "some things".

"Some things" meaning Jade. That, at least, Kyle could talk about with Chubs. The stout sophomore still seemed to think there might be a way for Kyle to foster friendship with Jade, but neither of them had seen her once since that day in the park.

Meanwhile, Kyle had taken to registering himself for summer courses at Trent University, a small college in southeastern Oregon. It allowed for a major in English (including many other majors – it had a wide range of studies for such a small school), and had several excellent writing courses. The summer classes started at the end of June and ran through July and half of August.

Yep. I'm actually doing this. Unbelievable.

Chubs, of course, had protested Kyle's decision to move all the way out to the northwestern edge of the States. To this, Kyle had simply shrugged and responded, "It's better than California. I can at least afford to live in Oregon. To them, a dollar means something; in Sacramento they hurl around a million dollars like pocket change every day."

Chubs mumbled something about great exaggeration in response, but otherwise said nothing to continue arguing the point. Kyle had made it clear that he didn't want anything to do with this town anymore, and frankly, escaping the state of Indiana altogether wasn't a bad thing either – not because of the overall population, but because of two particular members of that population who still rode on his mind every once in a while.

What most surprised him was that after that night, Monica left Kyle alone. She didn't say a single word to him, didn't leave any notes for him to find, didn't make trouble for him... nothing. They'd shared a soda and a pseudo-conversation, but that had been it. They hadn't become best friends overnight and he wouldn't have expected that anyway.

He was just as glad, though, that the petty enmity had ended, if not the enmity in itself.

High school's almost over. Time to move on to bigger and better things.

But something was still missing. When Monica and Kyle had arrived at school the next day, they'd both noted that Xander had several cuts and bruises visible during P.E. Xander actively avoided Monica in the hallways of the school and made an even greater show of avoiding Kyle.

What had happened that night?

And where had the voice gone?

--

Zack glanced at his watch, then the clock up on the opposite wall, and heaved a sigh. There hadn't been much business today, and for that he felt rather thankful. It had given him time for him to deal with his own thoughts. He'd put some of his own money into the cash register to buy a couple of the gaming magazines that had come in today; in fact, he'd probably put more money into the register than all of the customers he'd dealt with today combined.

He got to his feet and pulled his store keys out, grateful to finally be closing up and going home. But just as he approached the door, it swung open and revealed the absolute last person he'd wanted to see today. He grimaced instinctively.

She strolled into the shop breezily and threw a careless glance up at the clock before commenting, "You know, some businesses have rules against closing up shop before closing time. Which means I have precisely..." – she checked again – "...four minutes of your time. Why the sour face, my friend?"

"Life just threw me a lemon," he responded wryly, "and I don't much feel like making lemonade right now." He stepped back behind the counter and leaned over it in a businesslike manner. "Something I can do for you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes there is, Zack. But I'd rather we dispense with the pointless pleasantries, so if you don't mind...?"

At this, he bristled slightly and fixed her with a cold stare. "Fine, then let's get down to it. What do you want?"

"Your Labyrinth Brother. Sanga. And I'm willing to pay in either cards or cash, whichever your preference runs to," she said. Her sentences were precise, as though she'd planned them out ahead of time.
He tried to suppress a shudder. Chills ran up and down his spine. "How do you know I have that card?"

Her eyes glittered. "Maybe a little birdie told me."

"Must have been one hell of a mockingbird." He tried to present a casual front, and leaned back, crossing his arms. "Sanga's rather valuable to me, in more ways than one. I'm a card supplier, so as far as I'm concerned, you don't have anything worth offering me in that department. And I've already got the cash I need to make a rather comfortable living for myself."

He sat down on the stool. "I do have plenty of contacts in my department, though, and I'm more than willing to help you look for another one. There's more than just the one I happen to have."

"Actually, Zack, I'm rather set on this one. You're also a collector... name a card. Any card. I'll bring it to you."

A pained expression passed over his features, and his head shook slowly. "I can't place a value on Sanga like that. No, plain and simple."

"'No' is a word I don't care to hear. How about this, then, if you're hung up over parting with it for money: a duel. Any point system you want, I'll agree to. Winner gets Sanga."

He frowned. "What's the point of dueling over a card I already have rights to? What would I get for winning?"

"You're not being very helpful, Zack."

"And you're not being very accommodating, either. You can't expect me to take a challenge seriously without putting something of your own on the line. You want Sanga so badly, you'll have to prove you've already got something that's just as worth it... otherwise, don't challenge me like that."

"I can challenge any way I want. But all right, I can see your point. What if I said I had something of similar value, all yours if you won?" She lifted the cover of one of the magazines lined neatly on the counter, not watching him. "Look at that. The next booster line's been moved up by a month. Going to be a big seller, then."

"I already know about your Kazejin. But I wouldn't accept the challenge even if you offered a Blue-Eyes White Dragon as your prize."

Her smile widened, although it was not intended as a friendly expression. "How ironic you should mention a Blue-Eyes White Dragon."

"What about it?"

"Well, anyone who knows anything about this game knows that the Blue-Eyes White Dragons belong to Seto Kaiba in Japan, right? And seeing as how they were stolen, well... I'd imagine he's furious, and he's just one of those people it's not smart to piss off. And I'm just picturing what he could possibly do, learning that one of his precious Blue-Eyes turned up here. Personally, I'd be enraged. Wouldn't you?" Her tone made it clear that he didn't need to answer. "And honestly, I just respect the amount of influence he carries, even over here. Enough, I'd think, to maybe punish anyone involved, make sure it never happened again." She tilted her head. "I hear he's got a ruthless temper, too."

Another set of shivers ran across his spine. "That's what I hear, too. Are you presuming to threaten me with that temper?"

"You insult me," she said silkily. "How could I possibly take responsibility for Seto Kaiba's temper, much less any resulting actions?"

"You can take responsibility for telling him, however misguided your information may be, that a Blue-Eyes even showed up here in the first place. And what he'd do afterward would be a direct result of that information. You can take responsibility for that." He set his expression. "Question is... will you?"

"I very rarely, if ever, have misguided information, Zack. But if it'll ease your conscience, keep repeating it to yourself. The fact remains that a Blue-Eyes showed up in your shop, and it's almost guaranteed that Seto Kaiba will hear about it eventually. Even if I did tell him, I'd only be helping along the process. But if I didn't have to dedicate myself to getting Sanga, I could turn my attention to other things... like making your new popularity problem go away."

His jaw worked this way and that. "You... are quite mad."

"Insanity makes perfect sense to the insane, my friend."

"And to the rest of us, it's sickening. You'd seriously try to wreck me all over one card?"

She picked up the magazine she had commented on earlier and put a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Actually, I think I'll take this one after all. I seem to have taken up all your time. Go home, it's closing time! Don't worry about the sign, I'll flip it on the way out."

"I could tear it up, you know," he said, unwilling to let the conversation go. "And I can endure Kaiba's wrath. What would you do then?"

Halfway through the door, she paused, settling her green eyes on him again. "That, my friend, is what is known as an empty threat. Maybe you should take tomorrow off... you're looking a little pale."

His mind began racing for a solution even before she'd finished talking. Take tomorrow off. Yeah, I can do that. She'll come in the next day looking for an answer, though, and I'll still have to deal with it.

Unless...

Unless I don't have it.

He shook his head. I can't tear it up. She's right. It's too valuable for that. I'd sooner see it in someone else's hands than in pieces. Just not hers.

Maybe that's what I should do. Just let go of it. Let someone else have it. Someone who'll take care of it. Give it the respect it deserves.

Which means that person has to be a duelist. That narrows the field by a pretty wide margin. I know plenty of duelists, but only a few of them give their cards respect, and even fewer give the respect those cards deserve.

And whoever it is has to be able to stand up to her. She's got too much on me, I can't do it. Whoever it is, they have to be able to say "no".

A face suddenly popped into his mind. One he likely would never have considered to receive his Sanga of the Thunder card... but given the extreme circumstances...

He went over to the door and poked his head outside, looking this way and that for a moment before locking it. He turned the light out, then went back to the counter, picked up the phone, and began dialing.

Scant moments later... "Hello?"

"Kyle... we need to talk."

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About what, you ask? Find out next chapter! And don't be shy about reviewing; I do love to hear your opinions. Stay tuned!