Seto struggled to open his eyes.

He felt weak, dehydrated, and severely nauseous. But that was nothing new. He ran his fingers blindly along his inner arm until he found the IV tube implanted in his skin and ripped it off. Several alarms sounded out as he pulled the plastic mask away from his face and took a deep breath in. He immediately recognized the smell of disinfectant and realized that he had landed in the hospital once again. A damned shame, as he knew that whatever ailment that put him there this time would no doubt force him to miss another few days of work.

He stifled a groan as he attempted to lift himself from the hospital bed. But there was a pressure on his chest - someone had thrown their arm around him. He smiled slightly when he caught the oh-so-familiar scent of shampoo and cologne. Mokuba was sprawled out next to him, one arm draped across his face and the other cast along Seto's chest. Back at the orphanage, Mokuba had made a habit of crawling into this bed and positioning himself in the same way. Some things never changed, even though Mokuba was older now and much too lanky for the small hospital bed.

There was a string of spit rolling from the corner of Mokuba's lips. Seto reached over and brushed it away as the young man's chest rose and fell slowly. His finger came in contact with the scruffy outline along Mokuba's jaw. Sixteen years old and he was already sporting the shadow of a goatee. He'd probably be able to grow a full beard in a few years - something that Seto had never been able to do - and he found this extremely endearing, if not a little alarming.

Two weeks ago, Mama Bundchen had sent him an email with a link to the latest GQ magazine. There, upon the front page, sat Mokuba in the back of a limousine lit with soft purple and pink light. The picture had been taken from a low angle, making Mokuba appear grander and larger than life. He had been wearing his signature white suit, with a purple taffeta button-up and polished purple loafers. One hand was draped along the backseat, the other held his phone to his ear as he gazed to the side. Hello, Heartthrob read the bold red byline beneath his crossed legs.

Seto had gazed at the picture for a long time. He could see his brother as if through the world's eye: handsome, strange, and powerful. No one was interested in Seto anymore. Japan had fallen hard for what it deemed Mokuba's exotic ethnic appeal. His brown skin, kinked hair, and dark, tropical eyes came in stark contrast to Seto's pale, angular lankiness.

It was only a matter of time before the women (and, maybe, men) came running for Mokuba, if they hadn't already. But Seto wasn't worried. If Marie had the gusto and Seto had the greatness, then Mokuba most definitely had the gravitas. He wouldn't easily be swayed by temptation.

Perhaps feeling Seto's eyes on him, Mokuba gave a curious 'hm?' and shifted around in the bed.

"What time is it?" He asked, his eyes closed as he felt around for his phone.

"Time for you to go home," Seto said, retrieving Mokuba's phone from the ripple of sheets and handing it to him."The last place I'd ever want to see you is in a hospital."

"I feel the same about you," Mokuba said as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yet you always manage to end up here."

"For the record, it's never my intention."

"Is it, though?" Mokuba asked. "With the way that you've been wearing yourself down these past few years, I don't know if I can believe that."

That was another thing about Mokuba. He had mastered the art of subtle reproachfulness. He had to, as it seemed as if their roles had flipped at some point during the past three years. For so long, Seto had been the father figure of the two. Now, it was Mokuba's turn to remind Seto to eat, drink water, and sleep more than three or four hours at a time. Yes, it was true that Seto had been running himself ragged lately, so much so that he had developed an arrhythmic condition that caused his heart to stutter and shock at the most random times. This was often followed by fainting spells, hence his many hospital visits. Dehydration, fatigue, overexertion - in the end, it wasn't the women but his own overworked body that had finally pushed him over the edge.

The only problem with being Seto Kaiba was the fact that he was human, and subjected to human limitations.

Mokuba twisted around on the bed and lifted a tray of hospital food from a small table. "When's the last time that you ate something?" He asked. Seto watched him stir a plastic spoon around a cup of red jello with mounting suspicion.

"I have the feeling that you're going to try and force-feed me that bland excuse for a children's dessert no matter what I say."

"Depends. Are you going to be cooperative?"

"You wanna hedge your bets?"

"Alright, then force-feed, it is! Open up, Seto! Here comes the choo-choo train!"

Seto sucked in his lips, shook his head, and muttered "mm-mm" with a shake of his head. Still, Mokuba held his hands down and leveraged the spoon against his mouth with a look of complete concentration on his face. At some point during the past few years, he had become alarmingly strong.

"Oh," he said as Seto's eyes watered. "You could have just told me you wanted to do this the hard way."

"Wait, no-" Seto cried. Mokuba grabbed his arm and began to tickle him beneath his armpits. Seto gave a surprised wheeze and began to wriggle around. He couldn't help but cackle with laughter, his high-pitched pleading and begging falling on deaf ears. Seeing an opening, Mokuba stuck the spoon in his mouth and Seto was forced to clamp down tight.

"Better?" Mokuba asked, watching him carefully. Seto maneuvered the spoon around in his mouth and shrugged, a faint smile lingering around his lips. It was better, actually. The jello immediately melted on his tongue and coated his dry mouth with its cool, sweet texture. His stomach rumbled in response to this and he accepted another spoonful.

"Remind me to fire the guy who taught you to be so cruel. He did his job a little too well."

Mokuba took the spoon from him, wiped it off on a napkin, and then stuck it back in the jello cup before sticking it back in his mouth. "We both know you're too cool to ever be fired."

"Glad you still think so, even if I have been a wreck lately."

"Mm-hm," Mokuba said distractedly, the handle of the spoon sticking out of the corner of his lips. He had begun to scratch the back of his left hand, a telling gesture that he had picked up from Seto.

"Spit it out. The spoon and whatever's on your mind," Seto said. Mokuba pulled the spoon out of his mouth and set it daintily on the side table.

"Maybe now's not the time to mention it but...I've been thinking, Seto."

"I find that phrase intimidating, coming from you."

Mokuba smiled. "You should. It's just that, well, this whole thing started ever since Marie left. The fainting, the dizzy spells, the overworking. You've been distracting yourself to the point of sheer exhaustion ever since she walked away. And I get that. You loved her - well, we both did in different ways. But...I just...I worry about you. You can't go on like this forever. Even if she never comes back, you have to pick yourself back up one day. And, Seto," he turned and fixed his brother with an unwavering gaze. "She may never come back."

Seto sighed and shook his head. This conversation was long in coming. He had known this, ever since he first landed in the hospital three years ago and woke to Mokuba's worrying eyes.

"Marie never left," he said, a bit roughly. "She just decided to work remotely."

"You know what I mean. She never left KC, but she did leave you. I've been doing some research. There's this thing called Broken Heart Syndrome. It's what happens when a person's body is overloaded with extreme emotion or stress. You have all the symptoms: the chest pain, the shortness of breath, the feeling like you're having a heart attack. You can die from that, you know."

"I'm not going to die anytime soon, kid."

"That may not be your intention," Mokuba said smartly, using Seto's very own words against him. "But there are some things that are out of your control, believe it or not."

"Women," Seto said with a smile. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Mokuba," he said, ruffling his hand through his brother's hair. "Give yourself some credit. I can have my heart broken a thousand times, and yet you'll always find a way to put it back together."

"Like a kintsugi teacup," Mokuba said wisely. "You can fill the cracks with gold, but every time it breaks it loses bits and pieces of itself. This time…" Mokuba looked away and wrung his hand over his cheeks. "I just worry that it lost a really big piece."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"As with the cruelty, I learned from the best." Mokuba sighed and smiled weakly. "What are we going to do with you, big bro?"

"We're going to start by getting all of these tubes and patches away from me. Then you're going to hand over the keys to my Charger and-"

There was a sound coming from the hall. Seto paused and listened closely. He knew that sound well enough, thanks to his lifestyle and choice of acquaintances. It was the sound of high heels on linoleum. He shuddered as he tried to collect his breath. The air forced itself raggedly through his lungs and he struggled to sit up. Several alarms began to beep again as he tore the patches from his skin in a mad rush. Mokuba watched in surprise and then tried to settle him but Seto pushed him away and swung his legs out of the bed. He was in full panic mode now, his heart thumping frantically in his chest. Whoever was walking in heels was doing so in slow, measured steps. He could even tell the type of shoes by the sound they made: Jimmy Choo white leather pumps with the stiletto heel - a favorite of Mizumi's.

"No," he said, clutching his chest. "No, no, no!"

The thought of the woman was enough to send him over the edge. Despite her death, she tormented his dreams with her wicked face and Devil's eyes. Except, she wasn't dead. Once again, Mizumi had performed some treacherous trickery: defied the very laws of mortality and clambered her way back out of her casket.

"NO-" Seto leaned forward and tumbled out of the bed. He landed face-down on the ground and his body froze from the shock of it. A shadow stretched across the doorway. The Jimmy Choos appeared and then crossed as the woman braced one ankle over the other. Seto looked up slowly, tracing her pale calves, the stockinged knees, the strong thighs beneath the white skirt, and then…

"You keep falling for me like that, you're gonna break your neck," she said. And he gasped.

"Marie!" Mokuba said before launching himself off the bed.

She bent her knees, caught him in a strong embrace, and then spun him around twice before setting him back on the ground.

"I'm so happy you made it!" Mokuba said. "Thanks for coming! I didn't think you would, not after you left me on 'read.'"

"I was worried that my presence would do more harm than good," she said, glancing at Seto who was still sprawled out on the floor. "And...I wasn't sure if the invitation came courtesy of all parties involved."

"No worries, Marie. I wouldn't have invited you to the hospital if I thought that it would be detrimental to my brother's health. Granted, I didn't know that he'd fall off the bed when he saw you. Er...give him a minute, I'm sure he'll come around."

Marie stood by awkwardly as Mokuba helped Seto off the floor and onto a chair. He watched Marie as if in shock as she set her bouquet of flowers down on the table and shrugged off her coat. She had changed so much, and he hadn't even been there to witness it. Once a 'fine, young lady,' she had made a graceful transition into 'grown-ass woman.' Her normally untamable hair had been ironed into slick blond waves around her head and pinned back neatly with a brooch. Her face had lost its roundness and was now set sharply beneath a thin coating of neutral makeup and harsh hospital lighting. She moved with a confident precision that hadn't been there before. He watched her slightly ruddy hands readjust the petals of the bouquet and wondered if this was the same woman who used to bounce around on his furniture in penguin onesies and witchy hats. She glanced over at him and froze when their eyes met. There was a silver undertone to her blue irises that flashed in the bright light. She had always taken his breath away but now, whatever it was that she had become positively suffocated him.

If they were to ever get married, he was sure that he would look at her in the exact same way.

Her eyes slid away and he thought he saw an embarrassed shade of pink cross her cheeks. Mokuba was saying something to her and she was responding, but he could hear none of it over the watery roar in his ears. She was nodding and fussing with the flower petals, her pink lips tracing out words that he could decipher. All he could think about was the fact she had been gone for so, so long without a word or thought at his expense.

"Three years," he finally croaked. She and Mokuba looked up at him in surprise. "That's how long you've been gone. Never thought to call or send a text, did you?"

"I-"

"No," he said with a sardonic smile, waving away whatever excuse she was on the verge of conjuring up. "It's fine, really. You're here now, right? And it only took me getting admitted to the hospital for you to come around."

"Don't be like that," she said in a low voice.

"Don't tell me how to be," he said back. "You don't even know me anymore."

There was silence in the room, save for the soft buzz and whir of the machinery and overhead lights. Mokuba looked between them and then slowly lifted himself out of his chair.

"It's obvious that you two have a lot to talk about," he said, pushing the chair back and walking towards the door. "I'm going to wait outside. And Seto," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at his brother. "I've always trusted you to make the right decisions. I want you to know that."

He slid the door closed softly behind him, leaving Marie and Seto alone in the room together. There was a tension between them that was reminiscent of their first meeting. But back then, the power play had been much different. Now it was he who found himself breathless before her, anger battling out the awe and fear inspired by the sight of her. She slid her hands over the textured cotton of her dress and took a deep breath in.

"Why didn't I call," she repeated. She was trying to sound strong, but he could hear the fatigue and regret in her voice. "Do you really want to know?"

"Don't be coy, Tonette. Now's not the time."

"Fine, whatever. No harm in telling you." She shrugged and took another deep breath in. "I had found someone, Seto."

"What?"

"I was in a relationship. Well, maybe more of a situationship."

She might as well have taken a red-hot poker and rammed it straight through his ribs. He clenched his hand over his chest and looked away with a grimace that he could not hide. "Who's the lucky fella," he asked, his question coming out more venomous and sarcastic than intended.

"Andrei," she said flatly. "Andrei Volkov."

"You can't be serious," he said, whipping his head back around to look at her. "The shareholder? The one with the thin gold glasses?" He gave a derisive laugh. "Marie, Marie. You really do enjoy finding creative ways to torment me. How did that happen?"

Marie shrugged. "He was there when I set all those people on you, back at the police station. He knew that things were rocky between us. So...one night he just appeared at my door with a bottle of Chardonnay and Chinese takeout and I...I didn't know how to say no, not with the state that I was in."

"And you never learned how to say 'no' in the three years of you being together, apparently."

"It's not like that. I grew to love him eventually...in my own way. He was cool and suave and different. He spoke like a true gentleman, took me to opera houses and plays, and helped me to get my finances together. Even bought me a greyhound puppy. We named her Freida-"

"But…" Seto said, watching her from the corner of his eye as he crossed her arms.

"But?"

"You're speaking in past tense."

"Right, well." She picked a petal off of one of the flowers and rubbed it between her fingers until it was a flat, moist pulp. "He was great but he wasn't...you." She took a shuddering breath in and sighed in a way that made her sound close to tears. "Last week he proposed to me while we were on a PR tour in Italy. The ring was giant and fantastic - I mean, the diamond was huge! And as he knelt there on one knee in front of the Duomo di Orvieto with all of these people cheering and taking pictures, all I could think of was you in my living room singing Sway in that fantastic falsetto of yours." She gave a small laugh. "I realized, then, that if I married him then he'd only ever be a distraction from what I really wanted. Three years, Seto, I had the audacity to think that I could distract myself from you. And you obviously thought that you could distract yourself from me."

"I'm guessing a little birdie told you that."

"Not so little anymore. Have you seen the latest issue of GQ?" She hopped up onto the hospital bed and wedged her hands in her lap. He leaned forward on the chair and laced his fingers beneath his chin, regarding her with open curiosity. It was so, so hard for him to ignore the sense of excitement that he felt in her presence - like an adrenaline shot straight to the thigh. She had always said that he made her feel that way, but now it was his turn to try and maintain a cool and unaffected facade.

"What would you have done, if you thought the person that you loved was capable of murder?" She asked, balling her fist beneath her chin and holding him with a calculating gaze. He shot a glance around the room but there were no cameras. "Admit, Seto. You would've called me a desperate, stupid, lovelorn fool if I clung to you despite all the red flags."

He snickered and her eyes narrowed. "So what does that make me, I wonder?" He asked. "I have reason to believe that you're not a saint yourself and yet I haven't turned you away yet. Or do you not even remember what happened, that night on the boat? Truly takes a psychopath to forget something like that."

"I'm no more judge, jury, and executioner than you are."

"Wrong-" he said, pointing at her. "I am judge, jury, and executioner in KaibaCorp's world. So let's say for argument's sake that I did orchestrate Mizumi's demise. You said so yourself: Mizumi groomed me. She threatened your life and Mokuba's, and tried to take over my company. What would you have done if you were in my place-"

"Nuh-uh, no." She leaned forward and placed her finger on his lips. "Don't break your back trying to bend my will to yours. My moral compass is not swayed by your vengeful sense of justice, Seto. It never was and it never will be."

Never, ever in Seto's life had anyone ever spoken so brazenly against him. He could only watch in mute admiration as she withdrew her finger and wiped a speck of jello onto the bedsheets. For the first time in his life, he felt cowed and intimidated by another person's presence. It was uncanny how similar it felt to pure, bleeding love. She wasn't dropping f-bombs, waving her fists, or raising her voice. This soft reprimandation by the new, evolved Marie truly was an electric force to be reckoned with.

"Anyway," she said in a faraway voice, dragging her acrylic nail along the patterns of the bedsheet. "You missed something. I wasn't just talking in past tense about Andrei. I was talking in past tense about my suspicions regarding you. See, I'm sort of like one of those sharks that like to swim around in the KC culture. There was blood in the water, and there came a point where I realized that it wasn't coming from your hands-"

"Don't-" he warned, the surprised outrage battling the fatigue within him. So she knew. Understandably so - she had always had a nose for conspiracy. Of course, she was bound to find out about Mokuba's involvement in Mizumi's death eventually. She smiled and shook her head slightly, all the while avoiding his eyes.

"All traces that led me to your brother have been destroyed, courtesy of myself and Sara Suzuki," she continued. "Mokuba's a fine, young man but - that's the thing - he's young. I won't see him crucified for his knee-jerk attempt to save you and the company. I think he'd look much better on the cover of GQ magazines than behind bars."

"-Marie-"

"-maybe I am a psychopath for cleaning up his mess. But what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for children." She suddenly threw her head back and laughed, reminding him all too much of the Lunatic Laugh that he was famous for. "Oh, Seto. Maybe you're a lunatic like people say. Maybe you're trigger-happy when it comes to firing people. Maybe you have no sense of boundaries or consequences. Maybe you're a rich, hot, crazy sociopath with too much money and too little empathy. But despite all that combined, you're not the most sinful person in this room."

He watched as she wiped the corner of her eyes on her collar. He didn't know what to do with the well of relief and appreciation that had suddenly flooded within him. Marie had actually gone out on a limb to protect Mokuba's name at the expense of whatever rightful sense of justice she still had left to cling on to. It all must have felt like a burden on her shoulders - he could see that in the way that her watering eyes had taken on a slightly haunted, vacant look. Her affection and protectiveness over his brother rivaled his own, and that was impressive in and of itself.

"Marie-" he said again, reaching out to touch her. She stood up abruptly and suddenly breezed past him, causing him to lose balance and almost fall out of his chair. He was left clutching at the air as she paused and turned around in the door.

"I should go-"

"No-"

"I've already been here too long-"

"Marie-"

"I can't-"

"Christ, Marie! Just stay with me, will you?"

She pursed her lips against the tears rolling down her cheeks and chuckled. "You mean, like, stay with you here in the hospital?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of 'the rest of my life.' "

"Um-" she hiccoughed and quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment. "I don't know…"

He crossed his arms and gave a dramatic shrug/sigh combo. "I have authority over this entire godforsaken city," he said, kicking his leg up and crossing it at the knee. "But I have absolutely no authority over you, woman. You can leave if you want but just know this: if you stay, I will be more than willing to change for you. For us. It's about time that I cast some old habits aside, and make room for something that's actually worth keeping in my life. Hmph," he peered at her out the corner of his eye, a slight smile hovering around his lips. "I have no authority over you. But you can have all the authority over me."

"You saying that you're willing to bend to my will, Mr. Salacious?"

"I'll do all the bending you want. And then some."

She walked up and knelt in front of him, her hands slowly snaking around his waist as her eyes sparkled with mischievousness. "That's what you'll do if I say 'I do?'"

"KaibaCorps patented promise."

"Hm-" she said, sliding her hands up to cradle his face. "I'll think about it."

"Don't think too long, Marie."

"Oh, Seto," she said before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "We have all the time in the world."

X

The End...for now?