Thank you very much to everyone who read Chapter 1 of my little story, and that goes double for everyone who reviewed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the first!
Now, for my thanks;
Silver Sage: Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it? I'm glad that you missed me, and I hope that this story was worth the long wait. Thank you for remaining such a faithful fan! I always smile when I read your reviews.
Macduff's Mistress: Thank you for your dual reviews, on this story and on NYA. It's very much appreciated that you take the time to write a little note, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.
A Person: Thank you very much for such a nice compliment! It's always nice to hear from a long-time fan, and it's even nicer to be back. I look forward to hearing more from you; thank you once again!
Konniwa: I'm glad you agree with me about Seto's personality, and I certainly agree with you on the workaholism part. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you seemed to like the last one.
Her Esteemed Talentedness: Yes, it's definitely nice to be back. Thank you for the warm welcome! Don't worry; you don't need to have played Devil May Cry to understand this fic; as I said, this is pretty far removed from the actual story of that game, but since it reminded me of it, I used the title. I do agree that it has some humour value; most of all, though, it has a nice ring to it. Thank you once again, and I look forward to receiving more feedback from you!
Firewing: Thank you so much for everything you do for me. I appreciate every single instance of kindness with which I have been blessed by you, and I hope that one day, I can repay you a fraction of what you've given me. LOL, if it weren't for you, I doubt Seto May Cry would even have gotten off the ground! Thanks again.
Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OC's.
Chapter 2: Leftover Tokens (Joey's POV)
I awaken to bright lights, assorted aches and pains that I've come to associate with bruises over the years, and the mother of all migraines trying to hammer its way out of my skull. Groggily, I try to shift, only to feel the unfamiliar tug of tape clinging to my arm, holding down a needle embedded in it. The stinging sensation is enough to immobilize me, and before I have enough of my strength back to attempt to rise again, a nurse enters the room.
"Ah, Mr. Wheeler, you're awake. I was going to give you a few more days before I began to worry, but if your quick recovery is any indication, you're doing remarkably well."
I groan softly, try to raise my arm to block out the lights, and fail miserably. "Where am I?"
"Saint Mary's Hospital," she replies. "You got a nasty concussion, not to mention quite a few cuts from the window glass..."
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back, and I jerk as much as my sedative-laced body can manage. "The Kaiba Corp. building," I whisper.
"That's right," she says, closing the door behind her and moving closer to me. I'm still too blinded by the light to read her nametag, but she seems to have a nice face. "Do you remember anything else?"
I close my eyes again. I hear myself shouting to the building, feel the shockwave... My eyes snap open. "Seto," I breathe.
"Pardon?" the doctor says.
I rise just the slightest bit, the pain lost in my burning desire to know what happened to my lover. "Seto. Seto Kaiba. He was in the building when it... when it... what did it do, exactly?"
She bites her lip, and my heart sinks to my knees, taking my stomach and a few other internal organs with it. "There was an explosion in the central elevator shaft, followed by three more under the foundations," she says honestly. "The entire thing collapsed. There can't have been any survivors."
I lick my own lips, trying to stave off the realization for a few more precious seconds. "Didn't they search? There has to have been someone... he has to be alive." Another, more important question surfaces in my mind, and I blink quickly. "How long have I been out?"
"A couple of days," she replies. "Rescue workers are still looking for survivors, but they aren't holding out much hope." She reaches down, adjusts my loosened IV, and squeezes my hand softly. Her hands are smoother than any silk I've ever felt. "Do you want me to call a counsellor?"
I jerk my hand away, raising it to show her my ring. "You don't understand," I protest, on the verge of delirium. "I would know. I would know if he was gone." I swallow painfully. "I... I loved him." Why do you bother coming back?! "We had it all figured out; we were gonna die together, in our sleep, so neither of us would have to be left alone, or go through any pain..." Why don't you just stay there for good?!
"You must have loved each other very much," she says, and those words send it all pouring in. Seto's gone. He's dead, and the last thing I said to him, whether he heard it or not... oh, God...
"I'm going to be sick," I whimper, and she holds out a conveniently placed basin for me, dumping it out in the sink once I'm finished.
"Do you feel better?" she asks.
"No," I answer. I would cry if I weren't so broken.
"These things take time," she says, giving my hand one final pat as she gets up. "If you need anything at all, just use that call button. We have some very well trained grief and crisis counsellors who would be happy to help you."
"I just need some time, please," I answer, cutting her speech off. I know she means well, but I can't deal with pleasantries right now. I just need to think.
She nods silently. "I understand. I'll be back to check on you in an hour or so, Mr. Wheeler." The door clicks behind her as she closes it, and I shudder.
Even if she hadn't said anything, I would have known he was gone once the shock wore off. My ring feels like dead weight on my hand, and I can't feel that same spark in it anymore. It's like a wire that's been unplugged from its socket; drained and close to useless. A leftover token of a love that no longer exists.
Just like its owner.
---
I spend the next few days in a blur of tests and nightmares. My guilt is overwhelmed only by my pain; the blazing pain of loss, of separation. It's the pain of the survivor, a pain so strong that it makes you question the value of being alive at all.
A few times a day, that same nurse comes to visit. Her name is Catherine, and she was nice enough to call my best friend, Elizabeth, back home in Domino, as well as charge Elizabeth's airline ticket to mine and Seto's joint credit card account. If it hadn't been for Catherine, I swear I would have broken down completely just from looking at that laminated plastic card; I remember the day he gave it to me, along with a whole bunch of other legal documents that made us as 'married' as the law allowed. It meant so much to me then, but, like the ring, it's just another dead token now.
A day or two later, Elizabeth sweeps into the hospital. I can hear her as soon as she gets off the elevator, demanding to know where my room is in a voice that could probably wake the dead. If only it could. Under normal circumstances, her mother grizzly routine is enough to make me fall over laughing; as it is, though, my face is frozen into a mask of anguished despair that I don't think will ever melt away.
Within moments, she's standing in the doorway, and her appearance, if nothing else, manages to draw the barest glint of amusement into my eyes. She's still carrying her suitcase, and one strap of her purse is down around her elbow. Her ravenhair is supposed to be tied back, but there's more of it outside the elastic than in right now. There are dark circles under her eyes that her makeup doesn't even come close to covering, but she's here, and seeing her makes my desolate universe just the slightest bit brighter.
She smiles shakily as she drops her bags and runs over to my bed, throwing her arms around my neck. "I came as soon as I could," she says, and I drape a weak arm across her back. "I'm so sorry it wasn't sooner."
"Thank you for coming at all," I whisper.
She pulls away and stares at me as though I were talking in tongues. "You don't need to thank me," she deadpans, and her tone is so much like Seto's that I start to sob brokenly, haltingly, right on the spot.
She hugs me again, tighter this time, and I can feel the warm wetness of her sympathetic tears against my throat, just where his lips always used to fall. "I'm here now," she murmurs soothingly. "Let it out. I'm here now, and we're going to get through this together."
Before I can respond, however, a noise from the door interrupts us, and I look over Elizabeth's shoulder to see five men in suits, standing in a line just inside my room. A flash of memory ignites in my mind, and I frown. Seto's board of directors? What are they doing here?
"Forgive our intrusion, Mr. Wheeler," begins a man I know only as Lector. Seto never bothered to call his employees by their first names, even ones so high up as these.
"We've come to offer our condolences," continues another. His voice is extremely irritating, and I can't help but compare his build to that of a cannonball, or perhaps a snowman.
"Such a tragedy," sighs yet another, shaking his completely bald head.
I begin to feel nauseous, and look to Elizabeth for support. To my surprise, she's absolutely fuming. "It took you long enough," she says levelly.
"Some of us have responsibilities," retorts a man I remember as Nesbitt, head of robotics technology. "We can't just go gallivanting off wherever and whenever we please."
"Please. Your first responsibility is supposed to be to humanity." If looks could kill, or at least seriously injure, Nesbitt would be gasping on the floor at Elizabeth's feet. As things are, though, he's still glaring right back at her.
"And how long have you been here, hmm?" steps in the final, snobbish man, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he gestures to her forgotten bags.
Elizabeth shifts her glare to him, but I can see that her sails, previously filled with the gale-force winds of anger, are now completely shredded. Before he can take advantage of her momentary weakness, though, I interfere. "Look, everyone knows that you guys didn't come here to tell me how sorry you are that Seto's dead," I say, my voice hoarsened by suppressed tears. "Why don't you just cut the crap and get to the point?"
The man with the glasses looks over at me, and his glare softens just a little bit. Under normal circumstances, I might have found him disarming, but right now, I'm too numb to feel much of anything. "Alright, then," he agrees. "My name is Nathaniel Johnson, and before his untimely demise, I was Mr. Kaiba's corporate lawyer." He clears his throat. "As such, it is my job to handle the disbursement of the late Mr. Kaiba's stocks, which, for some unfathomable reason, he left to you."
I stare blankly at him. "Seto... left his share of Kaiba Corp. to me?" I repeat.
"Yes," replies Johnson before continuing. "In effect, this means that you can step into his role as CEO of Kaiba Corp., but being that you have no prior business experience, I would advise you instead to sell everything. There is far more than enough, at the current price, for you and any... heirs," he coughs on that last word, "to live comfortably for generations to come."
I let his thinly veiled insults go, thinking about this new turn of events. Seto left the company to me. He always said that, outside of our relationship, Kaiba Corp. was all he felt he could be proud of. For him to leave it in my hands has to be more than an empty gesture; he must have believed that I could handle it.
"No," I reply, and Johnson cocks one eyebrow.
"I beg your pardon?" he says.
"No," I repeat. "I won't sell my share of the company. I'm going to run it."
Elizabeth's mouth falls open, and the five board members seem at least twice as shocked as she is. "Mr. Wheeler, I must protest--" Johnson begins.
"Seto left it to me," I growl, fisting my hands in the thin blankets. "You don't get a say in this!" My grief changes into a rage, and I feel stronger than I have since the explosion. "It's all I have left of him," I go on, more quietly, "and if you try to take it from me..." I trail off, suddenly feeling closer to Seto than I have in a very long time, "I'll just fire you all."
The room goes totally silent. Elizabeth's fighting a smirk, and the five suits look like they're liable to start spitting bullets at any moment. "You're making a mistake," the bald one warns me.
"I don't give a damn," I spit. "Now, get out."
They obey, if only out of fear for their jobs, not to mention the assorted perks that go with them. Once they're out of earshot, Elizabeth turns back to me, a lopsided grin splitting her face. "You certainly haven't become any less direct."
I sigh, flopping back down onto my pillows. "I'm starting to think that that's the only thing that hasn't changed," I say softly.