Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it? Do you really need me to point out to you that I don't, haven't, and never will own Yu Gi Oh!? No? Good. I didn't think so. I do own this story, though. Don't steal it – if you do, I'll be forced to let my yami steal your soul. Yami likes stealing souls…

Joan looked down at the object she held in her hands.

She had become bored several hours earlier. Carlson had left early in the morning, not even telling her where he had gone. Seto was still asleep, and there was nothing she could do to help in the search for Mokuba. She had begun to wander around the mansion, looking at the various odds and ends that cluttered the large house.

She had found an old room, which judging by the amount of dust that coated the floor and moth bitten furniture, hadn't been seen by human eyes in decades. The part that surprised her the most was that it appeared to have once been a child's bedroom. Fascinated, she had searched the room for any clues as to who had lived there.

She had found it in a dresser drawer, shoved in the back, as if the person who had long ago inhabited in this room had wanted to hide it even from themselves.

It was a photograph. It was clearly old: its colors were faded, and it sported multiple folds and tears. Even so, the image was still fairly easy to make out.

A child, no doubt the owner of the room, beamed back at her, sea green hair gleaming in the sun. A man stood next to the boy, glaring at the camera.

Joan frowned. Who were they? Why had the photograph been hidden away? And, most importantly, why had she taken an instant disliking to the man, even though she had never met him and didn't even know who he was?

"What are you doing here?" a voice growled from the doorway behind her. She jumped, startled. She hadn't heard her son enter the room.

"Seto! You're awake! Are you feeling better?" she asked. He certainly looked better. The color had returned to his face, fire once more burned in his eyes, and he was standing up straight, without assistance. Ever present, Willy sat at his feet, panting happily.

"I'm fine," Seto bit out. He came towards her, narrowing his eyes at the picture in her hands. He reached out, took it from her, and gazed at it for a minute.

Suddenly he scowled, hatred, pain, and even a trace of fear flashing across his eyes before being hidden away. "I thought I told Carlson to burn all of these," he muttered.

"Why?" she asked. "Who are they?"

He was silent for a moment, his eyes on the picture as his hand scratched Willy's head. Finally, he spoke. "Gozaburo Kaiba. And his son, Noa."

"Gozaburo…? Isn't he the one who…?" She looked at Seto, not finishing her question. He was holding the picture with a white knuckled grip, crinkling the edges.

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in that drawer over there." She pointed at the dresser.

He walked over to the dresser, pulling open the offending drawer to be sure that there weren't any other nasty surprises hidden there. There were not.

Satisfied, he turned to her. "Don't you know it's rude to go poking through other people's belongings?"

Joan raised her eyebrows. "It doesn't look like anyone's been in this room in years."

"You're right there," he said, looking about him. "This was Noa's room, if I'm not mistaken. I don't think anyone's touched it since he… died."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

Seto shook his head. "None of your business." He spun on his heel, walking to the door. He paused when he reached it. "You shouldn't even be here. Come with me."

She hurried to follow him, not wanting to become lost. He led her back to the sitting room from the day before.

He stood in the center of the room, once more staring at the picture. She sat down in one of the chairs, watching him. Silently, he lifted his head, crumpling the picture into a ball in his hand. He then stalked over to a desk that stood in the corner of the room, searching through one of its drawers for something.

Finding whatever he was looking for, he walked to the fireplace that was set in the far wall and knelt beside it. He placed the picture ball in the ashes that lined the floor of the fireplace.

Joan realized that what he had retrieved from the desk was a book of matches only when he pulled one free and struck it. An orange glow formed at his fingertips as he leaned forward, setting the flaming match against the photograph. It quickly caught light, and Seto sat back, watching it burn.

When the flames had died out and the photo had been reduced to nothing more than a blackened pile of shriveled ash, he slowly rose to his feet, placing the matchbook in his trench coat pocket. He walked over to a chair near hers and sank down into it.

He was silent for a long time, his hands on his knees and his head resting against the back of the chair, his eyes staring unseeingly into the distance. Finally, he spoke.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."

She blinked, surprised. "Not that I don't want to tell you, but shouldn't we be looking for Mokuba?"

He glared at her. "As you so kindly pointed out last night, everything I was trying was getting us no where. I need to think of a new plan. While I'm doing that, I see no reason why you shouldn't talk. How are you still alive?"

"Won't me talking distract you from thinking?" She knew that she had to tell him, but she was hardly enthusiastic about the task.

"I excel at multitasking," he growled.

She sighed. "Very well. First… may I ask what changed your mind? What convinced you that I wasn't lying?"

"Sure you can ask. That doesn't mean you'll get an answer."

She shook her head at him, smiling ruefully. "Of course." Taking a deep breath, she began with a question of her own. "What do you know of… what happened?"

He shrugged. "Apparently nothing. I was told you died in childbirth. I had no reason to assume differently. It would appear, however, that I was wrong."

"What can you remember?"

He hesitated, his hands clenching on his knees. Though there was no way for Joan to know it, he was thinking back to his most recent memory/dream. "My memories are… vague. Distorted. Faded," he said at last. "The fact that I was so young that I didn't understand most of what was happening at the time doesn't help. I can remember… Dad waking me up… the ride to the hospital… You both went inside without me," he added dryly. "I remember going to one of the nurses, and being led to a waiting room. And waiting. And then…"

"Yes?"

"Nothing. I can't remember anything after that. Except for…"

"Except for what?" she pressed.

"No… it's nothing. It's not important." His expression had softened ever so slightly, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes, and she somehow knew that he was thinking of Mokuba. Then it was gone, and his face was hidden behind his mask once more.

He looked at her. "I always assumed there had been some kind of complication–"

She cut him off. "There were no complications. Everything went smoothly, at least as smoothly as labor ever goes."

He looked down at his hands. "But then… why?"

Joan ran a hand through her ponytail. "That's a… complicated story, Seto. I can't tell you all of it. I want to, but I can't."

He sat up straight, fury in his eyes. "Excuse me? You leave us alone for twelve Duel-Monsters-be-damned years, put us through hell like you wouldn't believe, and you won't even say why? I think I have a right to know–"

"I know you do, Seto! I want to tell you, I really do, but I can't." Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked them away.

He sat back in his chair, still angry, but under control now. Sighing, he said, "What can you tell me?" He folded his arms across his chest as he waited for her speak.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Like I said, there were no complications. Everything went smoothly. I stayed in the hospital for the required time period, and Mokuba and I were going to be released. Everything was going to be great." She smiled sadly, blinking back tears again.

"So what happened?"

"It was the night before we were going to come home. I remember… You were there, you know. School – well, kindergarten – had gotten out, and you and your father had been staying at the hospital with us. You came into my room and were sleeping at my side when…"

"When…?"

"I… I had to leave. Something came up, something that I couldn't ignore."

"You just… left?" He sounded like he didn't believe her.

"You don't understand, Seto. You can't understand–"

"Then make me understand!"

"I can't! It would put you in danger–"

"Bloody hell, woman, I'm used to danger!"

"Not like this!"

"I doubt that."

They were silent for a moment. When Seto finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "You just… left? In the middle of the night?"

"There was something I thought I was done with, that I thought I wouldn't ever have to worry about again, but it… I couldn't abandon something that important."

"…So you abandoned us instead?"

"Seto, it nearly killed me to leave you behind. You can't know…" She stopped at the quiet, seething anger in his face.

"'Nearly killed you,' is that what you said? It 'nearly killed you? No. I don't care how hard it was, it didn't 'nearly kill you.'"

He didn't finish that thought, but she knew what it was that he refused to add. 'It nearly killed me.'

"Seto…" she began. "Carlson… told me a little bit about what happened to you. About what your adopted father–"

"Carlson has a big mouth," he snarled, interrupting her. "Whatever it was Gozaburo," he spat the name, "did is absolutely none of your concern."

"I'm your mother, Seto! Whether you like it or not, whether you like me or not, that won't change! I can help you, Seto, I can–"

"I don't need your help," he said coldly. "I don't need anyone's help. I need to find my little brother, and I need you to crawl back under whatever rock you came from."

She didn't answer him. His words hurt, just like he had meant them to. She could understand his reaction; she had known that he would probably be angry at her for leaving them, but it hurt all the same.

He was silent as well, staring absently at the pile of ashes that was all that was left of the photograph. The room was still as each person became lost in their own thoughts.

The quiet stillness was abruptly broken as the door slammed open, admitting a breathless, frantic-looking Carlson. He was holding a bulky something under one arm.

Seto rose to his feet as the goon stumbled over to him. "Carlson? What the hell…? Report." The last word was a barked order as the CEO demanded to know what was going on.

"M-Mr. Kaiba! I just got back from the police, sir–"

"The police? What were you doing there?"

"Somethin'd been botherin' me, sir, I thought I'd check it out while you were sleepin', and…"

"And what?"

"You remember how Master Mokuba… was hit? Walkin' home from school?"

"Of course," Seto growled.

"Someone had called the office that day, sir. They were bein' a real jackass; I thought it'd be better if I took care of it instead of one of the less experienced goons, or sendin' it through to you. I had to send someone else to get him."

"Who was it that called?" he demanded.

"I don't know, sir, that's the thing. That was what was troublin' me, that and the fact that the limo never showed up. I thought it was a little suspicious that there was a call that kept me from pickin' him up. I thought I was just bein' paranoid, but now…"

"Spit it out, Carlson!"

"Yes, sir. At the time of the call, there was only one goon who wasn't busy. I was hesitant to send him, he was real new, but I didn't have any choice."

"And?"

"I checked his files this mornin', sir. He quit the day after the accident. I thought… I thought maybe he was just afraid, since Master Mokuba wouldn't have gotten hit if he'd done his job right, but then I remembered somethin' else."

"Which would be…?"

"When we were still in the hospital, sir, I remember overhearin' somethin' one of the nurses said. The car that hit Master Mokuba? There wasn't anyone in it."

"…Hit and run?"

"I thought so, sir, so I went to the police to ask them if they knew anythin'. Master Mokuba was hit on a fairly busy street, sir, and there were a lot of people watchin'. No one saw anyone get out of the car."

Seto's eyes widened, his face paling. "But that would mean…"

Joan frowned. "I don't understand. What does it mean?"

"It means someone did this on purpose," Seto said. His voice was deathly quiet at first, but it gained force as he spoke, his tone becoming angry. "It mean that someone wanted this to happen."

Joan gasped. "But…!"

Seto began to pace, his eyes narrowed in angry thought. "How could I have missed it? It all makes sense now. A phone call that tied up Carlson – I remember him telling me about it – Mokuba walking home from school, the kidnapping… The goon you sent must have been working for them, Carlson, that's why he was new, and why he quit after his job was done. He was placed there for the sole purpose of hurting him! They wanted to hit my brother; they wanted him to become handicapped like this! It made him a sitting duck for their taking!"

"But how? How could they do that?"Joan asked.

"Remote control, probably," he muttered, his pacing becoming more furious.

Carlson opened his mouth as if to say something, but Joan cut him off.

"But that doesn't make sense," she protested. "How could they know that he wouldn't be killed when they hit him? They couldn't possilbly make sure that he was handicapped, and not just injured or worse!"

"No… With modern day technology and mathematical knowledge, there's undoubtedly some kind of formula that would minimize the chances of that happening enough for them to risk it. When you take into mind the speed and weight of the car, divide it by the speed and weight of whatever it is you want to hit, factor in the angle that… But there's no way to be that precise with a remote control…" He trailed off suddenly, giving Carlson a sharp look. "Except it wasn't a remote control, was it, Carlson?"

Carlson smirked and offered him the item he had brought into the room. "Took me a while to convince 'em to give it to me, but I got it, sir. They found it in the car – it was the only thing there."

Joan blinked, confused. Why was Carlson smirking? She looked at Seto and found that a slow, predatory grin was growing on his face as he reached forward and took whatever it was. He examined it, giving a low, dark chuckle. "Fools…" he murmured.

And then he was gone, Willy at his heels as he left the room with a determined stride. Still smirking, Carlson followed him.

Joan hurried after them. "Carlson?" she asked when she had caught up with him. "What's going on?"

"They've slipped up, Ma'am. They've made the biggest mistake they've could've made."

"How? What is that thing? Is it the remote he was talking about?"

"In a way," he explained. "That box is connected to a satellite, up in space. The bastards were controllin' the car from safe in their hideaway, wherever that is, but they were doin' it by satellite."

"What does that mean?" she inquired, still not understanding.

"It means we've found them."

A/N: So! How is this latest development going to help Seto find his brother? Heheh, I'm not telling yet…

And what about Joan? I'm sure this chapter made more questions than answered them. Don't worry, you'll find out everything soon enough. All in good time, dear readers, all in good time.

Mokuba: Hey! I think you're missing the main point!

Tawnykit: Oh, yes. The ultimate evil. Told ya I'd be revealing it this chapter.

Mokuba: What, do you hate me or something! You made that happen on purpose?!

Tawnykit: I don't hate you, Moki. I adore you. I had to have it not be an accident.

Mokuba: (deadpan)

Tawnykit: While I wait for him to recover from the shock, I'll ask you to kindly leave a review.