Final Interlude

A sound reached Seto in the darkness, like the gentle crash of ocean waves. Rhythmic, but with changing tone. Not waves, humming. Someone was humming. The tune was familiar, but he couldn't recall where he'd heard it.

"Shhh, Seto. Everything's okay, sweetheart."

Fingers brushed through his hair, swept his bangs out of his eyes. He let them open. He was curled on his side on a bed, too small for his long frame. He was back in his childhood bedroom. Outside the window, the world was nothing but pure white space.

"There you are."

His mother sat next to him on the edge of the bed. She looked no different than she did in that first dream.

"Mother?" he asked.

She smiled and tucked errant hairs behind his ear. "That's right."

Seto pushed himself to sit, his feet flat on the floor. The lower height of the bed forced his knees up higher than was comfortable.

"How…?" He stopped, rethought his question, then turned to his mother. "Is this real?"

She raised one shoulder, her head tilting to meet it. "About as real as anything else you've experienced today."

"But how…?" He looked at his hand, flexed his fingers. "I'm not dead, am I? I can't be. Mokuba-"

"Shhh…" She took his face in her hands. "No, sweetheart, you're not dead."

"Then how are you here? How am I talking to you?"

"This is just a space between spaces. Your friend made it to show us to you. The space between life and death is filled with memories. I only wish-" Her eyes watered. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm just happy I get to see you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I heard your voice. A mother always knows her baby's voice, no matter how big they get. And I couldn't very well let you go back without seeing you."

"Where's father?"

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, which was no more than a bottomless sea of white. "You know your father. Hard-headed to a fault. I tried to tell him, but the illusion was too strong. I had to let it fade on its own before I could try to reach you."

Her thumbs caressed the sharp jut of his cheekbones. "Just look at you." She sighed and dropped her hands. "Goodness, I am the shortest one in the family, aren't I?"

Seto felt his lips curl. "Not yet."

"Oh, trust me, if Mokuba's anything like you and your father, he will be."

Seto didn't have the heart to tell her she was right. "What happens now?"

"Now? Well…" She stretched out her legs. "You could tell your mama what you've been getting up to. Gets mighty boring sitting around just watching everything happen. I don't even get the privilege of seeing everything from every angle. And you have to tell me what this whole Duel Monsters thing's about. Are they like baseball cards or…"

Seto almost laughed, despite himself. "No, they're not baseball cards."

"And that thing." She lifted her left arm and wriggled the fingers of her other hand over her wrist. "What the hell even is that? Your dad thinks they're some kind of projection, like the screens they used to use in schools. Looks like magic to me, but what do I know?"

"It would take too long to explain."

His mother leaned back on her hands. "I've got the time."

"I don't know that I do."

Her smile fell. "Oh… right. I never liked a ticking clock, except for the one that tells me when it was time to clock out. How about this?" She pulled her legs up onto the bed, pivoted to face him, and crossed them beneath her. "How are you? And I mean really. Don't feed me some line, I can tell when you're lying."

"No, you can't."

"Boy, I'm your mother. Don't say what I can or can't do."

"I'm-" He almost said 'fine', but was he really? He didn't know anymore. She watched him with such calm patience that he couldn't keep eye contact. "I don't know. I thought I knew what I was doing. I planned everything perfectly. I set us up for life, but it feels pointless knowing what it's leading to."

"You were never very good at following your heart."

Seto rubbed a hand over his chest, jostling the locket that hung there. "I don't know if I even have one."

"Don't you?" His mother took the locket in her hand and opened it. She smiled down at the picture of her younger son. "You keep your heart locked up tight, like this. It's not gone, just damaged. It takes a lot of trust and time to heal it. You just need to learn to give and take both."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"By living. And I mean really living. Sure, you'll get hurt a little along the way, but it beats sitting around waiting for the end, don't you think? Your father and I may have had short lives, but you can't say we didn't live happy ones. We loved with our whole hearts and took every moment for what they were."

"And what's that?"

"A gift." She closed the lid over Mokuba's picture and let it go. She took his wrist and laid his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed firm into his fingers. "I still remember the day you were born. I was never the strongest, physically, but your father never left my side. They put you in my arms and I just-" She sniffed, swallowed, and looked up at him with glistening eyes. "I was in love. This precious thing I brought into the world. He was the most beautiful thing I've ever achieved. Screw the nursing degree. You were all that mattered.

"Your hand was so small then." She manipulated his fingers, then chuckled. "I should've been more adamant about signing you up for piano lessons. Just look at these fingers! I don't know whose side of the family you got them from, but God bless them."

Seto couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. His chest could have burst. Heat prickled behind his eyes, but he swallowed and blinked back the emotion.

"I wish you could have stayed," he said.

"Me too, sweetheart. Every day. But I am so proud of you. We both are."

The happiness that threatened to overwhelm him soured. "After everything I've done, all the people I've had to step over to get to where I am-"

"No." His mother stuck a finger in his face. "Don't you do that. I didn't drag you here for you to do the pity party thing with me. You're my baby and I will always be proud of you. You kept your promise, like you said. You stayed by Mokuba's side, you took care of him, which was a damn sight more than I was able to do. That's a lot for me to be proud of."

Seto's throat tightened. His sight wavered. He shook his head and lifted a hand to cover his face. His mother took his shoulders and pulled him to her, cradled his head against her shoulder. Seto wrapped his arms around her. He could almost believe she was alive. She was warm and soft and smelled of hospital disinfectant and perfume.

Her fingers brushed through his hair. "You're still so young. There's so much life left ahead of you. Next time I see you, you had better be old and grey with lots of grandbabies running around that big house of yours, okay?"

He nodded into her neck.

"Promise me," she said. "Promise me that when you wake up, you'll start living. That you won't take your days for granted."

"I promise."

She squeezed him tight. "I love you, baby."

"I want you to come with me. Mokuba should have the chance to see you."

"I know, sweetheart, but I'll still be around. When the wind blows through your hair, that'll be me brushing it out of your eyes. When the sun kisses your face, that'll be me looking down on you with all the love in my heart. I'll be the song you hear when the night is quiet and the cicadas are singing. The people you love never truly leave you, baby. They're just standing in the wings, waiting to see you again."

Seto let his tears fall, clutching to his mother as if he could merge with her, force her back to the world of the living with him.

"Close your eyes, baby." She cooed, her voice already growing distant. "It's time to wake up."

Seto pulled back to look at his mother one last time, at how the tears that spilled from eyes that looked so much like his own mirrored his. He placed a kiss on her cheek, embraced her one final time, and closed his eyes.