One of his Blue Eyes before him, two behind him, but Kaiba was halfway up the stairs before he realized he had left any of them behind, charging blindly, madly. The realization didn't slow him down. He didn't need his dragons; this was his responsibility, his alone. His brother's life had been his to protect for ten years. If he had failed in that--
His fault alone, if he had. The echo of the gunshot was ringing in his ears, resounding in his mind, still deafening. He should have assumed that the Ghoul upstairs with Mokuba would have also had a gun, knowing the immediate danger to his brother's life. Should have been more cautious, but he hadn't been capable of it. Hadn't been thinking at all. In his madness he had allowed rage to overwhelm all sense or prudence, everything but the satisfying fury of his dragons blasting his enemies away.
If he had failed, he didn't care; if he had lost, if that responsibility had been too much for him--Kaiba didn't care anymore. Life and death was the ultimate game but it no longer mattered whether he won or lost, whether the Ghouls or his own insanity or anything else defeated him, not now.
He just wanted his brother back, safe and sound. Alive.
Kuriboh was at the top of the stairs, bouncing and squealing; Black Magician beside him raised his staff to point down the hall. Kaiba ran down the dark corridors, guided every step by tall figures and fierce creatures, every one of them impossible, every one of them urging him on, toward his dragon, to his brother. Only to have his way blocked by a door--just a flimsy metal door, which buckled and rattled when he threw his shoulder against it.
There was a cry in the air that sounded like the roars of his dragons, except it seemed to be coming from his own throat. The door's metal dented under his kicks, though it didn't give way.
"Kaiba, what the hell are you trying to do, outrun a shadow game? Kaiba--Kaiba!" Hands on his shoulders yanked him back from the door, and he wrenched around, grabbed his assailant by the throat to toss him aside, out of his way. Black Magician Girl was screeching at him; the Flame Swordsman raised his burning blade. Jounouchi fought back, clouting him over the head, hardly hard enough to bring him down.
"Keys!" the bonkotsu panted, brown eyes locking onto Kaiba's, his dragon's scarlet glare reflecting in his pupils. "I got the keys off the guy downstairs, just let me get to the lock!"
He jangled the key ring in his hand assertively, and Kaiba let him go. Jounouchi staggered but didn't waste time catching his breath, just tried one key after another in the padlock until it snapped open, and Kaiba shoved him aside and slammed through the door.
His dragon trumpeted a greeting, the Blue Eyes filling the room, white wings spread wall to wall and its spiked neck arched to fit under the ceiling. Chairs and desks of computer equipment had been knocked asunder by the sweep of its long tail. Beneath one huge clawed talon lay the third Ghoul, unconscious or more, a pistol fallen beside his outstretched hand.
And on the other side of the room, crumpled by a tipped-over desk and sheltered under the dragon's wing, a small figure lay curled on his side, tangled black hair over his face, motionless.
"Mokuba-kun?" murmured Yugi, entering with the others behind him. Yugi again, not the pharaoh, though that other one was here, too; Kaiba could feel the sharpness of his gaze at his back, could hear his quiet, "Kaiba..."
"God--is he--he can't be--" the bonkotsu muttered, hushed and upset, and Honda just swore, in the same sensitive whisper.
Kaiba didn't answer them, couldn't have even if for whatever reasons he had wanted to; voice and breath were locked in his throat. In that mute silence the only sounds were the too-loud beating of his heart, and his footsteps as he crossed the floor, the rustle of his white coat as he knelt, gathered his little brother up in his arms.
"Mokuba?" he asked, and nothing else mattered, not the Ghoul, not the impossible white dragon looming over them, not Yugi and the others' cautious approach; nothing could have any meaning at all, until his brother answered him.
o o o
Mokuba was dreaming again. Seeing things again, and not only the dragon. Something even better. The big Ghoul had been beating him, kicking him, but then the Blue Eyes was roaring, and the Ghoul shouting, aiming his pistol up at the monster with shaking hands. The burst of white light just as the gun fired blinded him, overwhelmed him.
And then somehow the Ghoul had become his brother--not the nightmare of before, but his real brother. His brother holding him, carefully, closely, calling his name. "Mokuba. Mokuba, wake up..."
It had to be a dream. This wasn't his brother's voice, not his brother's voice now, too tender to be Kaiba Seto--this was just Seto, his brother as he had been years ago. The brother who used to play chess with him at the orphanage, smiling openly.
Just a dream, another hallucination, the mind escaping from trauma--but the arms holding him were warm and gentle, supporting his bruised body without hurting. He felt safe, being held like that, as if it really were his brother here, and he was protected, saved, and the Ghouls could never hurt him again.
"Nii-sama," he sighed, not wanting to open his eyes and wake up, "I wish you were really here..."
"Mokuba?" The arms around him tightened, enough pressure on his bruises to make him twitch, and gave him a small cautious shake. "Mokuba, are you awake? Can you hear me?"
That sounded a little more like his brother, but only a little, because his brother's voice never wavered like that. "...Nii-sama?"
Mokuba opened his eyes, but the vision didn't end; his brother was still there, was still holding him. But everything was mixed up, the way it was in dreams, because his brother looked the age he was right now, but when Mokuba opened his eyes Seto smiled, and it was the smile of his old brother at the orphanage. Not triumphant or gloating or menacing, just happy.
"Nii-sama," Mokuba said, as fast as he could, because if somehow this truly was his brother, then maybe he didn't understand, "I'm sorry about everything, I'm sorry I let myself get grabbed like that, and that I couldn't get away by myself, and I'm sorry about the Blue Eyes--"
"Mokuba," his brother said, like he wasn't even hearing him, "are you all right? Are you injured?"
Mokuba felt the lump in his throat; it was all he could do not to start crying again, but any tears wouldn't be to trick the Ghouls now, would just be humiliating, weak, and he had already let down his brother enough. "I'm really sorry about the Blue Eyes, it was all I could think of. I'm sorry I let them use your dragon, even if it wasn't real, and I wish it was really you, Nii-sama, so I could tell you--"
"It's me, Mokuba," his brother told him, "I'm here. I found you," and he squeezed his arms, painfully tight, but it was real pain, a real touch.
As if this were real after all, and Mokuba blinked hard to force his gaze into focus. "You're really here, Nii-sama?"
"I am." Those were really his brother's eyes, as blue as the dragon's.
Mokuba could hear other voices now, muttering behind them. He tried to sit up, only to gasp at the pain that shot through his ribs, bright reds and purples streaking his vision. His brother held him still. "Don't move."
If he breathed shallowly he could just about manage not to black out. He didn't dare turn his head toward those other voices, or else he might make himself sick. And his brother didn't seem to hear them, or bother paying attention to them if he did. Like they weren't a threat. "But--where are the Ghouls?"
"Gone," his brother said, so savagely that there could be no doubts or questions.
The Blue Eyes roared with him in emphasis. And his brother raised his head, as if responding to that thunder.
"You can hear it, too, Nii-sama?" Mokuba asked. If his brother also heard the dragon, then he wasn't crazy after all.
His brother didn't answer, though; instead he again lowered his head to Mokuba's. "Mokuba," he said, only a rough whisper, "I'm sorry it took so long for me to come, so long to find you. Forgive me."
"Nii-sama," Mokuba said. He was safe, and his brother was here, so the prickling of tears in his eyes must be from the pain, even though the sharp spasms had receded to only a dull heavy ache. Everything else was receding, too, his brother's voice sounding softer and farther away, even the dragon's bright white darkening. "Nii-sama, thank you...thank you for lending me the Blue Eyes. It helped me," he managed to say, and then he closed his eyes and let everything go away, everything but the assurance that his brother would still be there when he woke.
o o o
For the moment when Mokuba's eyes closed, Kaiba's heart seized up, a cold fused tightness in his chest. But he could feel his brother's chest move with his even breathing, and that reassurance was enough for it to begin beating again.
"Kaiba-kun?"
When Kaiba raised his head, his dragon was gone, leaving the room dim and dingy, artificial lights a pale substitute in the wake of its brilliance. They were alone but for Yugi and the other two, and what was left of the Ghoul. Kaiba could barely make any of them out, still blinded by that imaginary light. Honda was leaning over the prone man, waving a hand before his unseeing eyes. "This bastard's...out."
"Yeah." Jounouchi had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he stared up at the bullet hole in the ceiling. "What'd you expect, that was one hell of a shadow game penalty." The frowning furrows in his brow deepened. "...It was a shadow game, right, Yugi?"
The other Yugi was looking at Kaiba, directly at him, satisfaction in that regal countenance. Subtly different from his usual triumphant smirk, not just a victor's conceit but something more, a different sort of pride. Almost like that he got when watching the bonkotsu play. Or when playing alongside his friend. Sharing a victory, but proudly, as if that sharing somehow didn't diminish the achievement but made it all the more worthwhile.
What are you grinning at? Kaiba could have said, could have challenged the pharaoh, but he didn't. Didn't care; couldn't. Not at this moment, not when his brother was safe.
It was finally over, and the relief was dizzying, so profound that everything felt unreal, like another hallucination. His awareness was drifting, as if the knowledge of success loosed his spirit to float away, with nothing to anchor it. Except Mokuba was in his arms, a warm and solid weight.
"Kaiba-kun?" Yugi's voice. Yugi's hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he swayed where he sat. That cautious, reinforcing touch was unmistakable. Though Kaiba could barely make out his face when he looked up, his vision blurred, not sharpening when he blinked.
"We better get going," Jounouchi said from the fuzziness behind him. "If someone reported that gunshot, the cops'll be on their way."
"He's right, Kaiba-kun. You should call your security in, have them handle things here," Yugi said. "We should go now, we ought to be taking Mokuba-kun to the hospital..."
Kaiba listened to him speak, but none of the words resolved into sense, like hearing a foreign language he hadn't practiced in too long. There was a buzzing in his ears, rising and falling with the pulsing of the black spots that were encroaching on his vision. Irritably he identified the familiar symptoms of exhaustion, frowned and tried to banish them back, but they remained. Much like the obstinate hallucination of the dual edition of his rival, which hadn't had the courtesy to depart with the rest of the monsters, the pharaoh still standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his other self.
Or else he was just seeing double by now. It would be an improvement.
"Kaiba-kun, are you listening? Mokuba-kun looks hurt, we should get him help. I can carry him, if you're tired--" Yugi crouched by him, put out his arms to take Mokuba.
That, at least, Kaiba understood; he growled warning and tightened his hold on his brother, hunched his shoulders to shield him from that undetermined threat. Yugi stopped trying, rocked back on his heels. "Kaiba-kun, you really have to..."
"Yugi," Jounouchi said, sounding almost amused, a tired, rueful humor, "give it up." Another hand came to rest on his shoulder, rougher than Yugi's but no less supportive. "Kaiba, you just rest now. We'll take care of this."
Which was unacceptable, impossible--but he was too exhausted to figure out why. Yugi was here, with his friends, as they had been all along. As they would be, if he needed them; and the certainty of that went deeper than any meaningless twinges of pride or mistrust. And they wouldn't hurt Mokuba, which was all that really mattered.
Besides, it was just as impossible to move. Free his spirit might be, but every cell in his body had become denser than lead. Impossible not to let his heavy eyes close, his heavy head fall.
"Be damned if I'll follow your orders, bonkotsu," Kaiba managed to say, and then, with the bonkotsu squawking in reassuringly predictable outrage, and his brother safe in his arms and four days of insanity behind them, he finally went to sleep.
to be concluded...
