In order to make my story work, there a few quick details that I've changed or altered from the canon. First, I'm using the Japanese names for all the characters except for Joey and Serenity. Their last name, however, is Katsuya like it is in the manga, not Wheeler. Second, Joey's parents get divorced when he's 16, instead of 10. Thirdly, I decided to cut out the whole thing with Ushio that occurs in the first episode of Season 0. I wanted the focus to be more on Joey than on the unfolding story of Yugi and the Millennium Puzzle, which I feel was the main point of the Ushio-conflict. I also was going for more realism in this story, which would be much harder to accomplish when dealing with that little story arch, so Joey's relationship with Yugi and the others is going to come about in a different way than it does in the canon. And finally, Honda (Tristan) is friends with Yugi and Anzu (Téa) prior to meeting Joey in this story, so their friendship will also develop as this story goes along.

oOo

In the end, Joey wasn't sure why he took the money. He sat under the Brooklyn Bridge, tossing pebbles into the East River with a wad of cash crushed in his fist, wondering vaguely if he should toss the bills in along with the stones. It was just paper. Stupid, useless paper with pictures of useless dead guys plastered on the front. Like they'd be any help. Why'd he done it? It wasn't like taking the cash had done anything, changed anything. He didn't even feel better.

He pulled a crinkled twenty out of the stack, looking down at the pinched expression of Andrew Jackson with a furrowed brow.

"'Money can't buy happiness,' huh?" he said, scooping another damp pebble from the riverside. It was weighty and smooth, rounded by water beating against it year after year, gray and lined with tiny white lines that shone in the lights of distant neon and traffic. It was a good bit prettier than some stuffy old president on a greenback.

He plopped the stone into his palm right on top of Jackson's face and wrapped the bill around the rock, twisting the paper tightly at the top like a candy wrapper, then chucked the whole package into the rushing water with a yell of, "Damn straight!"

The rock hit the river with a dense ker-plop! and sank out of sight in less than a second. Joey imagined the bill disintegrating into the water, melting into a million soggy, green particles and floating away to get swallowed by a passing fish.

He wrapped up another rock in a ten and threw it in. Better fish food than never used at all. Not like he could take it home. Even if Ma and Pops wouldn't notice, he knew Serenity would, and he didn't want to upset her. Besides, he was supposed to be the responsible one. He didn't want his sister knowing he'd stolen from some poor sop on the street just because he felt like crap. Pathetic.

He crumpled up a five and chucked it. Then a twenty again. A ten. A one.

He didn't stop until the money was gone.

oOo

When Joey got home, the house was deathly silent. On any other day, he would have counted that as a blessing. On any other day, he would have prayed for this kind of silence. But today he hated it. He could hear the clink of dishes in the sink as his mom cleaned up after a dinner he had skipped, the pop-hiss of a beer can opening over the muffled sounds of a baseball game on TV in the den where his dad sat in his favorite chair. No voices. No yelling.

Joey wished there was. If his parents were arguing, it would mean there was still something for them to argue over. There would still be one more disagreement to settle, one more technicality to iron out. Borrowed time. One more day that they'd still be a family, even if it was a broken one.

But there was nothing. Just a heavy, unbroken silence. The storm that had raged for as long as Joey could remember was over, but the calm that followed was worse than anything that had come before. It was the silence of a decision made; a discussion-over, you-don't-get-a-choice, don't-be-so-selfish silence that made Joey want to march into that kitchen and take those stupid, clinking dishes and throw them at the TV baseball game just so he could draw out the dregs of the storm a little longer.

He almost did it. His legs tensed under him, and he started toward the kitchen, but in that moment his mother poked her head through the doorway.

"Joseph?" she said. "Where on earth were you? We were all worried about you."

A heavy, black rage hit Joey like a truck, so sudden and hot that he was afraid to get closer. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if he walked into that kitchen, if he was close enough to reach his mother. His hands shook and it took every ounce of self-control he had just to turn away and march toward the stairs.

"Joseph!" she called after him, but Joey didn't turn around.

I won't hit her, he told himself. I won't hit my mom. I won't hit her.

He wanted to. Every nerve, every cell, every fiber of his being wanted to hit her so badly. What did she mean spouting that crap!? "We were all worried about you"? What a joke! If they'd really been worried about him or Serenity a day in their lives they wouldn't be getting a divorce. They wouldn't be splitting him and his sister apart to live in two separate countries. At the very least, if they were worried, they wouldn't be sitting around pretending everything was fine and that they were a big, happy family on the night before Joey's world shattered.

He stormed up the stairs to his room and slammed the door behind him, turning the lock with a spiteful twist, then stood there, not wanting to turn around. He didn't want to look at all the neatly stacked boxes, the suitcase and carry-on, the empty shelves and spotless carpet. His room had never been so clean a day in his life, and no matter how much he wanted to fling his belongings everywhere and grind the river mud on his shoes into the carpet, he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. Trashing his room, stealing money he didn't need, throwing a fit, or socking his mother… None of it would make a difference. He was powerless here.

Joey let his head fall forward, resting his forehead on the door, shaggy, blond hair tickling his eyelids. What was the point trying to hold on to what he had, anyway? A broken family. Parents who didn't love each other. Spending nights out on the street with the wrong crowd just because he felt included, wanted among them, even if it wasn't true.

Maybe it really was better this way. If he thought about, it was vastly better. It really was. It was.

But it sure didn't feel that way.

A knock vibrated the door next to his head, prompting him to open his eyes.

"Joey?" Serenity's voice called from the other side, quiet and worried. "Open the door. It's me."

Get it together.

Serenity needed him. Maybe he was powerless, but for her sake, he had to pretend that he wasn't. He had to pretend that this would be okay.

Joey unlocked the door and opened it, revealing Serenity's concerned face. She had her pajamas on already, and she held her pillow tightly against her chest. Her green eyes were rimmed in red, her nose tinged pink. Joey mustered up a smile for her.

"Heya, sis," he said.

Serenity's lip quivered, but she held back the tears that Joey knew were close to the surface.

"I was worried you wouldn't get back before I fell asleep," she said.

"Aw, c'mon! You know I wouldn't leave for that long when I haven't eaten! Home is where the food is, after all!"

His grin felt like plastic, and the lump in his throat made talking hard, but he'd keep it up for as long as Serenity needed. This was something he could do. If he could make his sister smile, that'd be enough. It would have to be.

Serenity didn't smile back. She met his eyes steadily and didn't reply to his meager attempt at a joke.

"Joey," she said after a brief silence, "it's okay. You don't have to smile."

His grin fell and that damn lump in his throat threatened to choke him. This wasn't right. None of this was right. Serenity shouldn't comfort him. He was her big brother. He was supposed to be the one who said what she needed to hear most when she cried and come knock on her door when she was upset, not the other way around.

But today wasn't a day that worked the way it was supposed to. Today was a messed-up, twisted-around, broken sort of day, and Joey didn't know how to play along anymore.

Serenity's figure blurred in front of him, and he blinked furiously because there was no way he was letting his sister see him break down.

"It's bullshit, isn't it?" he said thickly. "Splitting us apart just because they don't want to be alone?"

Serenity nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it is."

And there it was. Out in the open now, there wasn't a need to say anything more about it, because there wasn't anything else to say. The whole situation was so wrong, and all either of them could do was swear about it without caring if their parents heard. Somehow, there was a certain satisfaction to that. If they had to go, at least they wouldn't be going quietly.

"You wanna come in?" Joey asked, swinging the door wider to make room. Serenity nodded again, and Joey closed the door behind her as she entered. She plopped down on Joey's bed, and he joined her, sitting side by side as they studied the room. They didn't look at the boxes stacked along the walls—they'd both done enough of that for the past few weeks—but at the all the tiny memories left in the corners. Along the baseboard on the far side of the room were the faded unicorn stickers Serenity had stuck there when she was four, ones that Joey had never scraped off because she'd told him they were a present. By the desk, there was a dent in the wall covered by masking tape where Joey's elbow had slammed into it during a play fight the two of them had once had. On the ceiling above his pillow was a smiley face drawn in sharpie they'd put there just last year by jumping on the bed, adding one feature at a time until the whole thing was complete.

Trivial things, but ones Joey wished he could take with him to his new house when he left.

The two of them sat there together for the rest of the evening, talking about nothing and everything as the hours ticked by. At midnight, they sneaked down to the kitchen to raid the fridge like they used to when they were kids, piling food in their arms and holding back snickers as they smuggled it back to Joey's room. They ate every last bite, speaking in hushed voices, laughing and remembering. When Serenity fell asleep on Joey's shoulder around four, he sat alone in the silence with his arm around her, watching the sky lighten to gray.

"One more day," he begged, resting his chin on Serenity's head. "Please. Just one more."

He'd give anything for that. If he could only buy twenty-four more hours, he'd be content. But the clock kept moving, the sky faded from gray to gold, and the knock on his door telling him it was time to go came all too soon.

And Joey had to let Serenity go. Because what choice did he have?