Chapter Twelve

SSDF Orbital Station 002
Mars orbit

Mokuba slipped quietly into the ICU and looked around with a quick, almost furtive flick of his gaze. For the moment, the small, dimly-lit observation area was deserted. Swallowing hard, he made his way over to the thick glass wall that separated the waiting area from the actual intensive care unit. On the other side of the observation window, a row of beds held the victims of the aliens' strange energy weapon. In the bed nearest the window, a tousled blond head lay all-too-quietly against the sterile white pillow.

Pressing his nose to the glass, Mokuba stared at Joey Wheeler's pale, expressionless face. He would have liked to think that Joey looked as if he were simply asleep, but there was a vacant quality, a slackness to the skin perhaps, that no mere sleeper could ever acquire. He shivered. Seto had been in that battle with Joey, piloting a stupid Valkyrie instead of his own Dragon. It could just as easily have been Seto that the Orichalcos Soldier's weapon struck; it could just as easily be Seto lying as still as death in that bed.

"Mokuba?"

Startled by the soft voice that interrupted his morbid reverie, Mokuba almost tripped over his own feet as he spun around to confront the speaker. "Oh. Hi, Serenity. How are you?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his cheeks burn with an embarrassed flush. "Sorry. That was a stupid question."

"No, it wasn't." Serenity offered him a gentle, sad smile that didn't quite make it into her eyes. "It was a concerned question from a friend. Thank you."

His flush deepened. "I can't stay long. I'm on duty in a few minutes, but I wanted to see how Joey was doing. Has there been any improvement in his condition?"

She shook her head slowly, the pain in her eyes like an unexpected knife through his chest. "No. Not yet." She sighed and leaned forward to press her palms against the glass separating them from Joey. Her long red hair fell like a veil across her face, hiding her expression from him as she added, softly, "They're transferring him to the base hospital on Mars in a few hours. I'm going with him."

"Oh." The knife in his chest twisted. "Okay."

"I can call you sometime," Serenity said hesitantly, watching him from the corner of her eyes. "To keep you updated. If you want me to."

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great," he said, trying not to sound too eager. "We're all pulling for him, you know. Even Seto."

"I know." She turned away from the glass for a moment, and her unguarded expression made his breath catch in his throat. "It really means a lot to me, Mokuba. Thank you."

And then, catching him completely by surprise, she hugged him. Just for a heartbeat or two, her warmth enveloped him, and he breathed the subtle, clean scent of soap that clung to her skin. When she released him just as suddenly, Mokuba's face was lobster red, but he felt better than he had in... longer than he could remember, actually. The realization kind of scared him.

"When he wakes up," Serenity said, "I'll tell Joey you were worried about him."

Mokuba nodded. "Your brother's strong. He'll pull through this. I know he will."

"You're right, Mokuba," she said, with a more genuine smile that seemed to warm him all over. "I know he will, too."

----------------

Kame Street Game Shop
Domino City
Arcadia Planitia
Kaiba Corporation Colony, Mars

The bell over the game shop door jangled for the tenth time in as many minutes. Behind the counter, Yugi tried not to wince as he plastered on his 'greeting the customers' smile, which was a bit weary from the work-out it was getting on such a busy morning. Trying to keep one eye on the gaggle of pre-teens hanging out around one of the card displays, Yugi barely registered the person in the doorway as he delivered his standard greeting, "Welcome to the Kame Game Shop. Is there anything I can help you with, today?"

"Duel me!"

"What?" Focusing on the newcomer, Yugi finally recognized him as the same oddly-dressed man he had encountered earlier. The man was still wearing his strange costume, right down to the striped mask that covered his face. Light glinted off the small green stone nestled in the outrageous folds of his enormous bow-tie.

"Duel me, Yugi Mutou!" the man repeated, striking a dramatic pose that had the other customers gaping at him. Sensing free entertainment, the kids abandoned the card display and drifted toward the front counter.

Yugi wasted a moment to briefly wish the floor would open up and swallow him whole, as he suddenly found himself the center of attention. With a nervous laugh, he tried to wave off his unwanted audience. "Do any of you need help with your purchases?"

"You gonna duel the guy or what?" one of the kids demanded, one grubby hand clutching a half-eaten candy bar. His companions muttered in agreement, one of them nodding around the index finger shoved up his nose. Yugi grimaced.

"No," Yugi said firmly, addressing his remarks to both the listening kids and to the man in the striped costume. "I don't duel customers, and certainly not during regular business hours. Our official tournament schedule is posted on the Kame Game Shop website and there are hand-outs by the register, if you're interested in playing."

The man in the striped suit frowned at this announcement. "You won't duel me? But you said--"

"Look, I'm sorry," Yugi said, lowering his voice as the kids lost interest and slowly drifted back to their perusal of the stock on the shelves and display racks. "But I can't duel you like this. Store policy."

"So, you lied to me when you said you would be happy to duel me!"

"No!" Hastily, Yugi lowered his voice again. "I meant what I said. I like dueling, really! But I can't make an exception or everyone will want to duel me, and then I'd never be able to get any work done. Please, try to understand it from my point of view."

For one frozen moment, Yugi thought the man was going to continue to make a scene, as what was visible of the man's face behind his mask resembled an angry thundercloud. Fortunately, he was literally saved by the bell, as the door swung open again to admit a woman in the beige uniform of the Global Express Delivery Service.

"Delivery for Yugi Mutou?" she said, holding up her electronic clipboard and looking at Yugi for confirmation of his identity.

"That's me," he said, with a sigh of relief. He had no idea what the delivery might be, as he hadn't ordered anything recently. He was pretty sure his grandpa hadn't, either. At the moment, though, he wasn't going to quibble if it got him out of this awkward situation.

"Sign here, please," the woman said, handing him the clipboard and stylus.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Yugi," the man in the costume growled in a low tone that belied his comic appearance. The green stone on his tie-tack seemed to flash as if in agreement, then he spun on his heel and yanked open the door. The bell jangled again, and Yugi sighed as he watched the man's striped coat tails disappear out the door.

Yugi's shoulders slumped as some of the tension left his body, and he smiled at the woman as he signed her clipboard with a flourish. "Is there a package for me?"

She nodded. "It's out on the sidewalk. Sorry, but it's too large to bring inside."

Yugi's eyes widened. What could it be? Nearly bursting with curiosity, he called to his grandpa, who was puttering about in the storage room in back. "Grandpa? Can you come watch the counter for a minute?"

"What is it, Yugi?" Solomon Mutou poked his head out of the storeroom. "I'll only be another couple of minutes in here..."

"There's a delivery," Yugi said. "I need to go outside to get it."

"Oh?" Solomon looked every bit as curious as Yugi felt, which probably meant that whatever the package was, it wasn't something his grandpa had ordered for him. "All right, then. Don't take too long!"

"I won't," Yugi said. He followed the woman outside -- and felt his jaw drop when he saw what her co-worker was using a mechanical lift to lower from the back of their delivery truck. He stared at the new pedal-cart, all gleaming purple paint and shining chrome, then gulped. "I... There must be some mistake. I didn't order that!"

The woman consulted her clipboard. "Yugi Mutou, 1214 Kame Street, Domino City, Mars. That's you, right?"

"Well, yeah. But..."

"Then it's yours." She tore off a printed invoice from the bottom of her clipboard. He took the thin strip of paper without even looking at it, his gaze still fastened on the impossible cart. It looked like one of the latest models, too... He barely noticed when the delivery team climbed back into the truck and drove away.

Slowly, Yugi walked over to where the cart sat on the sidewalk, metallic paint gleaming in the sun. It was perfect: pedal-powered, but with solar panels to charge a battery for longer trips; a deluxe black leather seat with a water-bottle holder underneath; a headlight for night driving; a wide, chromed basket in the back for cargo and, in the basket, a Nevlar helmet decorated with purple flame designs that matched the paint job on the bike.

Yugi reached out and stroked one hand along the bright chrome of the handlebars. Who could have--? And then it hit him -- almost as hard as a certain motorcyclist had hit him only a couple of days ago. Yami. Yami had insisted that he would replace the pedal-cart he had damaged in the accident, even though Yugi had been equally insistent that he didn't have to.

I can't accept this, Yugi thought, even as he continued to gaze at the cart with covetous eyes. It really was gorgeous. And, maybe... Wouldn't it be rude to refuse such a generous gift? He shook himself. It was too generous. He knew Yami could probably afford it, but, still...

The bell sounded behind him as the shop door opened. "Yugi? Is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, Grandpa," Yugi said truthfully, still staring at Yami's gift and guiltily wondering just how fast it would go. "I'm really not sure, at all."

---------------------

SSDF Orbital Station 002
Mars orbit

"Is there a problem, Captain Kaiba?" asked a faintly irritated voice from somewhere behind Seto and slightly to his left. Since he had thought himself alone in the technicians' locker room, the question was enough to make him flinch.

With a start, Seto realized he had been staring blankly at the white coverall in his hands for several seconds without moving. He scowled at his reaction and turned his head slightly to share the expression with the person who had intruded on his thoughts. Forcing himself into action, Seto toed off his shoes and stepped into the legs of the technician's coverall. It might not be his regular flightsuit, but at least it wasn't pink. "No."

"Glad to hear it." The voice -- and the lazy drawl that went with it -- belonged to the head of the Blue-Eyes' ground crew, a man who went by the unlikely sobriquet of 'Bacardi.' Seto had no idea how Bacardi had acquired the nickname, but he did know that the man went to some lengths to keep his actual name under wraps. Seto only knew that it was Twarowski because he had stumbled across the man's personnel file in one of his late-night hacking sessions with the Kaiba Corp mainframe back on Earth. Bacardi was a lean man in his early fifties, with a full head of black hair just starting to gray at the temples, shrewd hazel eyes, and a trim salt-and-pepper mustache.

"When you're suited up, Captain, meet me out on the floor by the Blue-Eyes, and I'll give you your assignment for today."

"Yes, Chief," Seto said, sliding his arms into the coverall and reaching for the zipper almost in one single, graceful motion. He removed the RID from its place on his uniform t-shirt and refastened it to the coverall. Without conscious decision on his part, he had taken to wearing the device almost directly over his heart.

After he had pulled on his shoes and the disposable slip-covers all the techs wore when working on an "opened" mech, he left the locker room through the door that let out directly into the hangar bay, bypassing the short, curving corridor that would have taken him past the lower-level Support Services office, technicians' break room, and emergency med-station.

But instead of a straight walk along the white guideline painted on the grating that made up the floor, Seto had to follow a broken, weaving pathway to avoid clusters of technicians gathered grimly around scattered chunks of armor and circuitry, like so many alchemists attempting to raise the dead. As he dodged a loader striding ponderously toward him with still more Frankenstein pieces, he glanced up and was startled to see the Red-Eyes Black Dragon -- or what was left of it. The mech was partially disassembled and more techs were swarming like scavenging crows over its surface, stripping off bits armor or digging inside its chest cavity for interesting tidbits of electronic viscera. It was the Red-Eyes whose parts were spread across every available surface between its gantry and the inner wall of the hangar, like the aftermath of some kind of mechanical slaughter.

A dark part of Seto's brain reminded him that if he had been a few seconds earlier in getting a bead on the Orichalcos Soldier that had fired on Red-Eyes, he might have prevented this. The Valkyrie was clumsy and slow compared to his Dragon; he had misjudged his reaction time, and Wheeler had paid the price for his mistake.

Ruthlessly, Seto quashed that line of thought. He had fucked up, he wasn't denying it; but the most important thing right now was getting back where he belonged, in the Blue-Eyes' cockpit. He allowed himself to run his fingertips over the contours of his Dragon's face on the RID pinned to his coverall. He might not be flying today, but at least he would be spending time with his Dragon. It wasn't quite as comforting a thought as the idea of curling up on the gantry and falling asleep beneath the Blue-Eyes' watchful gaze, but it beat the hell out of spending even one more second in Pink Purgatory with the Valkyries, he decided, as he rounded the last shielding bulwark and beheld his Dragon.

Bacardi was waiting for him, as promised, at the foot of the quiescent mech. The chief's gaze swept Seto briefly from head to toe, then returned to linger on the RID. "About that pin, Captain..."

Seto's jaw clenched. Not again. "I won't take it off," he said tightly, hands fisting at his sides in frustration. If Anderson was going to insist he use the damned thing, why couldn't he at least inform his underlings to stop harassing Seto about it?

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to, Captain," Bacardi said, one eyebrow raised as if surprised by Seto's assumption. "Just need ya to reposition that li'l beauty, that's all." He quirked a half-smile at the confused expression on Seto's face, and added, "Can't have anything obscuring the company logo. Corporate tends to frown on that -- as I'm sure you know, what with you bein' a Kaiba and all."

Seto did know. He looked down at his chest, for the first time aware of exactly where he had positioned the RID: directly over the Kaiba Corp patch on the left breast of the coverall. Resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, he carefully repositioned the RID above the logo, then looked at Bacardi. "Will that satisfy company policy, Chief?"

"Sure as a three-day weekend in Vegas, Captain." He flashed a full-fledged grin, there and gone, then got down to business. He held up what looked like a slightly thicker version of a standard datapad. "This here's your diagnostic pad. It's set to run in guide mode, what we use for all new techs."

Seto grimaced. "I'm not exactly a novice when it comes to these machines, Chief. I do know my way around my Dragon."

"You know that, and I know that." Bacardi gestured to first Seto, then himself with an oil-stained thumb. "I know you love that machine just as much, if not more, than her crew does, and I ain't about to insult you by saying you don't. But orders is orders, Captain."

"Try to see it my way." Bacardi sighed. "Word comes down to treat ya like one of my techs, I treat ya like a tech. But you ever crawled around inside one of these babies tracin' a bad circuit?" He took Seto's silence for assent, and nodded. "I didn't think so."

"Use the guide-mode. It'll talk you through the tests you'll be running, no worries. You have a problem, just holler. I'll be up there," Bacardi jerked a thumb at the gantry, "seein' to some thin spots in the armor sealant. Don't want our Blue-Eyes poppin' a seal out there, now, do we?"

It wasn't until the other man had already started up the gantry lift that Seto found his voice. "Chief."

"Yeah, Captain?" Bacardi paused the lift, waiting, both eyebrows raised expectantly.

"When's your next KC performance review?"

Cautiously, all humor slipping from his face, Bacardi said, "Two weeks. Why?"

"No reason." Seto switched on the diagnostic pad and pretended to lose himself in contemplation of the text scrolling onto the small screen. Only when he heard the lift resume did he allow himself a tiny smile. Time to pay another visit to the Kaiba Corp mainframe. He had a feeling Bacardi's next review was going to be a good one.

--------------------------

Kame Street Game Shop
Domino City
Arcadia Planitia
Kaiba Corporation Colony, Mars

Yugi had finally stopped staring at his new pedal-cart after his grandpa threatened to cover it with advertisements for the game shop. Expressing his horror at ruining the glorious paint job with such blasphemy, Yugi had hastened to tuck the cart away in the garage, protected from old men armed with defacing stickers and signs. After he had wheeled the new cart into a safe spot against the wall, he glanced over at the old one, sitting crookedly just inside the doorway, where he and Yami had left it after their accident. The wrecked motorcycle was still parked beside it. Yami had departed so suddenly that Yugi hadn't been able to remind him about the bike, or even to ask him what the Mutous should do with it, if Yami didn't want to take it with him.

Yami...

Once again, Yugi found himself wishing that Yami hadn't run off so abruptly after their (completely innocent, as he had hastily assured his grandpa) night together. Of course, those two guys in the suits hadn't exactly given Yami much of a choice, but still... It would've been nice to have had breakfast together. And, maybe, he could've worked up the courage to find out what that kiss had really meant.

When Yugi had asked Yami if they would see each other again, Yami had said "no." But... Yugi found his gaze drawn back to the cart. Would Yami really have sent him such an expensive gift if he weren't at least a little bit interested? Maybe not romantically -- Yugi pouted a bit at the thought -- but, maybe, he would want to be friends?

Sighing, Yugi palmed off the garage light and headed upstairs to the apartment over the game shop. After Yugi's run-in with the crazy man in the striped costume, he had convinced Solomon to let him take an early lunch break. His mother was still sleeping, so Yugi puttered around the kitchen as quietly as he could, fixing himself a sandwich and soda. He decided to eat in his room, and took a tray with his food to the small, sunny bedroom at the end of the hallway.

After shoving a few books and stray games out of the way, he set the tray on his nightstand, then flopped onto the bed. He lay back for a moment, hands clasped behind his head, and contemplated the ceiling as if it held the key to the mysteries of the universe. Or one particular mystery, at least. How to unlock Yami's heart.

It was a puzzle he wasn't certain he could solve.

Speaking of puzzles... Yugi sat up, folded his legs beneath him, and reached for the box in which he kept the ancient puzzle his grandpa had given him. He dumped the puzzle pieces out onto the bed and studied them as they sparkled golden in the sunlight. When he picked up what would be the central piece once the puzzle was completed, the sculpted udjat seemed to return his unblinking stare.

Rapidly, he assembled those parts of the puzzle he had already figured out. The pieces were warm to his touch, perhaps from the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. The pieces seemed almost to glow as he carefully fitted them together.

His movements slowed as he began searching for ways to fit new pieces into the portion of the puzzle he had already solved. His fingers fumbled, turning the pieces this way and that. He chewed absently at his lower lip, smiling when he got a piece to click into place, frowning when an attempted strategy failed. As he worked, his focus narrowed to his hands and the puzzle resting on the bed before him. The very light around him seemed to dim as his vision tunneled in on itself.

"...Yugi!"

Yugi jumped, the puzzle piece he had been struggling with falling from his hand. Wide eyes blinked at the figure in the doorway. "Mom?"

Kimiko Mutou planted her hands on her hips and frowned at him in exasperation. "I've been calling you for five minutes, Yugi! What's so fascinating, anyway?"

"Sorry, Mom." Yugi ducked his head sheepishly. "I was just working on that Egyptian puzzle Grandpa gave me."

"Oh, that old thing." She waved her hand dismissively. "Well, put it away. I have to leave for work, soon, and Grandpa needs your help in the store."

"Okay, Mom. Sorry."

"Game-obsessed boy, always daydreaming," Kimiko murmured as she turned to go back up the hall. She still sounded annoyed, but her fondness for her only child came through clearly beneath the irritation. Yugi knew she wasn't really that angry; she hadn't even gotten out the ladle. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you!"

Hurrying to follow at her heels, Yugi laughed.

---------------

Kaiba Corp Enhanced-Mecha Production Facility
Amazonis Planitia
Kaiba Corporation Colony, Mars

The office Tanaka found for Yami's use was on the executive level, on the opposite side of the building from Nesbitt's office. Yami didn't think that was a coincidence; obviously, Tanaka was more perceptive than his timid appearance might at first suggest. The office was not as luxurious as his new accommodations back on Earth, but Yami wasn't interested in executive perks. As he had requested, there was a workstation with mainframe and global-net access; a telephone with a 'gate-sat line so he could, if need be, contact headquarters back on Earth in real-time; and an outer office with a desk for his newly-assigned assistant. In addition to the desk, the outer office held a potted ficus plant, an uncomfortable-looking visitor's chair, and a state-of-the-art coffee-maker.

He had a feeling that last item might prove more useful than the assistant, who had a disturbing tendency to bat her baby-blues at him whenever he glanced her way. He was almost certain she was deliberately hiking up her skirt by increments; it was distinctly shorter than it had been when Tanaka introduced them. It was with no small sense of relief that Yami finally sent her off to pull hard-copies of progress reports and personnel evaluations from the last year and a half. She gave him a disappointed pout as she departed on her errand.

Yami heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. Determinedly not looking in Rafael's direction, he said, "You can go ahead and laugh, now."

The bodyguard made a strangled sound that was almost certainly not the cough it was meant to sound like, and said, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Right." Yami allowed himself a small, rueful smile of his own, as he shook his head. "I'll just go into my office before you do yourself permanent damage trying to hold it in."

Without waiting for a reply, Yami matched action to words. As the door closed behind him, he heard Rafael finally lose control of the laughter he had been manfully repressing, though to his credit, he tried to keep it quiet. Yami's smile widened into a fleeting grin. If he had to have a bodyguard shadowing his every step, at least he had gotten one with a sense of humor. No doubt that was one of the reasons Kazuki Kaiba had chosen Rafael to guard his son; he had known that Yami would resent the security officer's presence less if the man's personality did not clash too strongly with his own. Once again, Yami's father had surprised him with his understanding. Somehow, Yami had never quite realized just how well his father knew him.

Finally alone, Yami indulged in a minute to close his eyes and catch his metaphorical breath. He was determined to see his mission through to the bitter end, but he knew that he was not cut out to be a spy. He hated having to hide his true purpose from all around him. Deception didn't come naturally to him, and he chafed at the necessity of the subterfuge. Not knowing who he could trust was wearing on him, as well.

As he had done on Earth, he first made the rounds of the new office with his bug detector, checking for hidden surveillance devices. He ran the device over the door- and window-frames, the furniture, and the light fixtures. The red light on the handheld detector blinked, warning him as he passed it over the desk lamp. Yami quickly dismantled the lamp and found a tiny spy camera, perfectly positioned to record his every keystroke. The camera's lens could also have captured video of handwritten notes, he thought, noting the placement. Clever. He would, of course, disable the software that normally tracked a computer user's keystrokes before he made use of the workstation, but if he hadn't found the camera, there would have been a record of all his actions, anyway.

Just to be sure, Yami made another pass of the room with the detector. He was glad he had taken that extra precaution when the red light lit up a second time, this time as he swept the detector along the edge of a large -- and rather ugly -- painting hung on the wall behind his desk. The painting was of that particular school of "modern" art that, to him, resembled nothing so much as what might be found on the floor of a shower that had gone too long between scrubbings.

After he had disabled the second camera, Yami finally sat down behind his new desk. It was a far cry from the heavy antique he had been assigned back on Earth. This desk was about half the size, and constructed of translucent, smoky gray Lucite edged in brushed stainless steel. The telephone, computer station, lamp, and desk accessories were all encased in the same, coordinating metal. Even the stylus holder, which held a pair of real fountain pens as well as the expected plastic stylus for working on data pads and electronic tablets, was made of brushed stainless. Apparently, whoever had decorated the KC Mars offices had liked the "retro-future" look.

Activating the workstation, Yami quickly installed his ferret program and set it to run. The program was a useful one, he thought, remembering how he had come to have it. Seto had created the program a couple of years ago. As much as Yami hated to admit it, his cousin was the better programmer of the two, and one of Seto's hobbies was electronically poking around where he wasn't supposed to go.

After Yami had accidentally discovered Seto hacking into the corporate mainframe one night, he had wrangled a copy of the "ferret" for his own use. Now, he was very glad that he had. Even though it was several years old, Seto's program was still far more sophisticated than anything openly available on the market. It was even better than the infiltrator program Anderson had given him at the start of his mission, so he had opted to use Seto's ferret, instead. No doubt Seto had improved the program since Yami had gotten his copy, but there was no way Yami could ask for an upgrade without explaining what he needed it for -- and that he wasn't at liberty to do. Perhaps when this was all over he could convince Seto to sell the older version of the program to the company; he suspected they would have no problems marketing it to various government agencies...

Furtive movement caught his eye, startling him out of his distracted thoughts. Shadows swirled thickly in the near corner, almost as if they were slipping around the edges of the light to congregate there. Yami closed his eyes. It didn't help. He could still see them clearly in his mind's eye. The shadows were back.

No, he realized with a shudder, they had never left. Yami had just been too preoccupied with his mission, and his guilt, to notice them. He wondered if he should have spoken with Dr. Korone about them while he still had the chance. Yami knew that on some level the psychologist thought all Duel Mecha pilots were nuts. Korone maintained that no sane person would willingly tangle his mind and psyche so deeply with that of a machine, but he did his best to help those same pilots retain their human identities and their sense of self.

Perhaps it was for the best that he hadn't gone to Dr. Korone about these... delusions. If Yami had told Korone that the shadows were attracted to him and starting to whisper in his ear... Well, instead of being here, trying to find a traitor, he'd be visiting an entirely different sort of facility, the kind with padded white walls and highly restrictive travel opportunities.

No, far better for him to deal with the shadows on his own. Maybe, once he understood exactly what had happened and why Anzu had died, the guilt would lessen, and the shadows would retreat back into his subconscious. Maybe the whispering would stop and he could... could...

Without Anzu, without his Anchor, what could he do? After experiencing the life of a Duel Mech pilot, could he be anything else? He was supposed to be the CEO of Kaiba Corporation after his father stepped down. Once, perhaps, that would have been destiny enough for him. But now? After being the Dark Magician, could he truly be satisfied with any other life?

He suspected that he wouldn't be able to simply return to his desk job on Mars Station. He would probably stay at Kaiba Corp, heading up the enhanced-mecha division for his father until it was time for him to take his place as head of the company. His life would be one of suits and ties, business deals, formal dinners and charity events with prominent politicians, captains of industry... He would be forced to give in to his father's wishes, meet the nakodo, the go-between, and find someone to take Anzu's place. His heart cringed at the thought of the bleak prospects that lay before him.

"When did my life become so empty?" He groaned aloud, closing his eyes again and slumping over until his forehead touched the cool, Lucite surface of the desk.

When you let Anzu die.

"No... I tried... I couldn't save her... "

He had over-ridden the safety protocols built into the mech's AI to literally rip at his own chest armor in order to reach her. It had taken a supreme act of will; the mech's programming was supposed to prevent such deliberate self-damage. But the blast that had seared through the Dark Magician's torso, frying delicate circuitry and crisping random electronics, had also fused shut the escape hatch in the mech's chest plastron. Tearing himself apart once he reached the landing platform was the only was to ensure the rescue teams could reach her in time. Maybe, if his will had been stronger, if he hadn't wasted so much time battling the safety protocols... Maybe they would have reached her in time. Maybe she would have lived. He would give his own life in an instant, if it meant Anzu would not have had to die.

As if reacting to his thoughts, the shadows swirled with agitation. Now, not just the corner, but the entire wall nearest him had grown dark with thick tendrils that writhed and reached for him across the empty space between his desk and the wall. They crept along the ceiling, blacking out the light; they crawled along the floor, curling about his ankles like ephemeral kittens seeking his attention. He felt their icy caress on his flesh and yelped, leaping to his feet and looking around with wild, frightened eyes.

The door burst open, revealing Rafael, gun in hand. He leaped across the room to Yami's side, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him toward the door. The shadows had retreated at Yami's cry, however, and there was no obvious threat. Nonetheless, Rafael hastily ushered his principle into the outer office and closed the door firmly behind them. At her desk, Yami's temporary assistant stared at them with wide eyes.

"S-should I call security?" she stammered, reaching for the phone. When Rafael glared her to silence, she quickly shrank back behind the desk. He turned back to his principle.

"Are you all right, sir?" Rafael asked, steadying Yami against the wall and carefully placing himself between Yami and the rest of the room. "What happened?"

Yami hesitated. He couldn't very well tell Rafael that he had been frightened by figments of his imagination, the embodiment of his own guilt over Anzu's death. But his heart was still trip-hammering in his chest and Yami thought that he might throw up. He sagged, and Rafael caught him under the elbow and helped him over to the nearest chair, displacing the secretary, who alternated between glaring at Rafael for making her move and making solicitous noises at her obviously ill employer.

"Sir?"

Yami stared hard at the dark space underneath the secretary's desk, but the shadows were simply that, shadows, and not the living darkness that had tried to wrap itself around him before.

Am I going insane? he thought, eyes narrowing as pain stabbed abruptly through his temples. Yami gasped at the sudden onslaught, nearly doubling over as his hands flew up to clutch at his head. Not this, again! First the shadows, now the migraine... General Anderson could certainly have chosen his agent more wisely.

"You've been working too hard, sir," Rafael said quietly. "Perhaps you should take a break, maybe get something to eat? We can be at the Domino estate in less than an hour..."

Not trusting himself to speak, Yami simply nodded. He was too tired, and in too much pain, to argue.

"I'll call the car around for you," the secretary offered, reaching for the phone on her desk.

"No," Rafael said, his gravelly voice firm. "Call the helipad and tell them to get ready. We'll take the KC helicopter." Seeing the question in Yami's eyes, he added, "It's faster. And safer."

Again, Yami nodded. The helicopter could fly them to Arcadia Planitia, where Domino City was located, far more quickly than they could drive the distance.

"Fine," Yami rasped, as Rafael helped him to his feet. Maybe the bodyguard was right; maybe all he needed was some rest and some food, and then everything would make sense, again. Suddenly, retreating to the local family estate for a few hours seemed like a very good idea.

"I'll return... later," Yami said vaguely, in the general direction of his assistant. It was a measure of her worry for him that she didn't even attempt to flirt. "Please have the files I requested ready for me by tomorrow morning."

"Of course, Mr. Kaiba," she said, with a respectful bow. "Please feel better, soon."

"Come, sir," Rafael said, gently but firmly taking his arm and hustling him toward the elevator. "Let's get you home."

Weary beyond words, Yami let him.

---------------------

SSDF Orbital Station 002
Mars orbit

The office door slid open at his touch on the control plate, but still Mokuba hesitated. This wasn't something he did lightly. When he faltered on the threshold, a friendly male voice called out to him from the room beyond.

"Hey, if it isn't my favorite Kaiba!" Dr. Korone's light tenor was warm and teasing. Mokuba didn't try to hide the answering smile that bloomed at the welcome. Even though he was a psychologist, someone that Seto instinctively regarded as 'the enemy', Dr. Korone had never been anything but a friend to Mokuba. "Don't just stand in the door, kid. You're letting all the flies out -- and do you have any idea how hard it is to collect flies in outer space?"

Laughing under his breath, Mokuba stepped into the office. The room was furnished in welcoming colors and comfortable furniture. Soft carpet muffled his footsteps as he crossed over to the observation window, its metal shutters open to reveal the bright jewel of the terraformed world 'below' them. He joined the tall man already standing at the window, gazing out at the majestically rotating planet. Mokuba had hit a growth-spurt at seventeen; while he wasn't yet as tall as his big brother, he and Korone were almost the same height. "Hey, Doctor K."

"Haven't seen you in a while, Mokuba," Korone noted, glancing over at him. "Things been going okay for you?"

Mokuba nodded automatically, though inside he was wondering. "I guess so."

"Okay." Korone settled one shoulder more comfortably against the window frame, a knowing half-smile coming to rest on his lips. "So... What can I do for you, today?"

"Um..." Again, Mokuba hesitated. He felt guilty about coming to see the psychologist like this, as if he were somehow betraying Seto, who practically had to be dragged into the doctor's office by security for his compulsory monthly appointments. "I'm a little worried about Se--" Somehow, he couldn't quite form his brother's name. Instead, he heard himself blurt out, "--S-Serenity."

Both of Korone's eyebrows went up, but he didn't say anything yet, just waited patiently for Mokuba to continue.

"Do you think her brother's going to be all right?" Mokuba asked. It was far easier to talk about the Wheeler siblings than his own. "She's really scared..."

Just like he was scared that something terrible was going to happen to Seto. It almost had, after all. First the crippling hit to Blue-Eyes that had sent Mokuba into such a panic that he had almost forgotten all of his Anchor training, and now this. It was hard enough to deal with when Seto had his Dragon to protect him; the thought of him out there with nothing but a Valkyrie between him and the dangers of combat was featuring strongly in Mokuba's most recent nightmares.

"Do you... Do you think Joey's going to be all right?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Saying the words out loud felt too much like making them reality.

Dr. Korone reached out and clasped his shoulder briefly. "I think Joey is getting the best medical care in the solar system, and that if anything can be done for him, it will be."

"But... What if it can't?" Mokuba persisted. "What if... What if there's nothing anyone can do? That weird weapon that hit him--"

"I won't lie to you, buddy," Korone said. The solemn expression on the doctor's face was far from reassuring. "It doesn't look good, right now. But where there's life, there's hope. It's a hokey old saying, but it's true. We have to remember that, and not give up on Joey. For Serenity's sake, if nothing else."

"Yeah." Mokuba stared at the floor. Doctor K was right, but that didn't make the heavy weight in Mokuba's chest any lighter. Neither did it lessen his worry over Seto. The nightmares were coming more and more frequently lately, and Seto had begun to say things in his sleep -- things that made Mokuba fear for his brother's sanity. "I know you're right, I just... It's hard, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," Korone said gently. He gestured invitingly toward the cozy grouping of chairs on the opposite side of the room. "Want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," Mokuba whispered around the tightness in his throat. "I think maybe I do."

----------------------

For such a routinely busy place, Medical was eerily quiet, Mai thought as she made her way through the medical ring to the ICU. In the observation area, she found the pair of rookie pilots standing awkwardly in front of the glass wall. The pair of them looked as if they weren't quite sure what to do with themselves as they took turns alternately staring at the ceiling or the toes of their own shoes. Mai gave a tiny shake of her head. Men...

"Hello, boys," she said, sauntering into the room with far more swagger in her step than she really felt like assaying. "How's..." She had to swallow in order to continue, but made a valiant effort to keep up the jocular tone. "How's our hero?"

"There's been no perceptible change," Bakura said quietly. He was currently studying the tips of his shoes, white-blond hair obscuring his features from view. Mai wondered absently is the color was natural or the result of a fancy dye-job. Either way, it was striking, especially with those chocolate-brown eyes. "The nurse says they'll be transferring him to the base hospital, later today."

Mai nodded absently, her attention focused tightly on Joey's face. She wished she could say he looked like he was only sleeping, but there was an... absence there that chilled her to the bone. Her fingertips pressed to the glass, she whispered, "Oh, Joey... How do you always get yourself into these things?"

Leon cleared his throat. "Um, we'd better go, Bakura. We're supposed to run through the practice course, again..."

Listening to him trail off like that, Mai realized that Joey had been scheduled to be their proctor on the course. Her slender fingers curled against the glass, lacquered nails biting into her palms. "Who's your Guardian Mech?" she asked, trying -- and failing -- to force lightness into her tone.

"My brother," Leon said. The was a strange tension in his voice; when she looked at him, Mai realized that he was torn between pride at having his brother watch over him, and sorrow over what had made it necessary.

"Don't you worry about it, kiddo," Mai said, drawing herself up to her full height and straightening her shoulders. She planted one hand firmly on her hip and shook back her long blonde hair. "Joey Wheeler's as tough as they come. It won't be long before he's back in the saddle."

"Yes," Bakura said, seeming to take strength from her determination. "I'm sure you're right. We should have faith in him."

"You got it," Mai said. "I've known Joey for awhile, now, and let me tell you -- he's no pushover! Give him a few days, and he'll be back out there, showing those ugly aliens who's the boss."

"Right!"

Bakura and Leon both nodded, obviously cheered by her speech. Mai held the pose -- chin up, shoulders back, confident smile plastered firmly on her lips -- until the two boys had murmured their good-byes and departed for their training run. Then she sagged back against the glass divider, and tried valiantly to ignore the hot moisture burning her eyes. Slowly, she lost the battle and, as she slid gracelessly to the cold tile floor, the tears finally spilled over.

Huddled around her grief and loneliness, Mai wept.

----------------------

The next test indicated by Seto's diagnostic pad used one of the interface ports tucked up out of the way on the back of the Blue-Eyes' skull. On the gantry, an attached "creeper" could be extended to allow a technician access to the underside of the mech's head. The pad offered a step-by-step guide for use of the creeper, highlighted the port Seto needed, and gave detailed instructions for attaching his pad to the interface port. Luckily, he suffered from neither a fear of heights, nor, he thought as he eyed the cramped access hatch on the underside of the Dragon's skull, enclosed spaces. However, when he had ridden the gantry lift up to the hatch in question, he found it already occupied.

Only the lower half of the purple-jumpsuited tech was visible on the fully-extended creeper. Even across the space between them, Seto could hear the cadence of her voice as it rose and fell; she was talking to the mech. Sighing, he briefly considered skipping this particular reading and coming back to it when she was gone. He had no desire to have even a brief encounter with the trust-obsessed Gears. However, before he could put his (admittedly cowardly) plan into action, the platform began to lower and, servos humming, smoothly retracted to become part of the gantry again.

Gears looked up from where she was focused myopically on her datalink screen, then blinked in apparent confusion. Scrambling to her feet, she exclaimed, "Captain Kaiba? What are you doing here?"

"Working," Seto said shortly, in the vain hope that would end the conversation before it began. He held up his diagnostic pad and gestured vaguely toward the hatchway she had just vacated.

"But you're not a --" she began. Seto cut her off.

"I'm being punished," he said sharply. Seto was beginning to think General Anderson was far more sadistic than he had previously given the man credit for -- especially when Gears stepped forward to peer at the circuit diagram on his display screen.

"Ah," she said, nodding as she read the display. "I see you've got the B-E-Alpha-Delta-two-four-nine direct feed reading next. The coupling for that one's a bit tricky. I'm used to it, since I take that reading pretty much all the time. Do you want me to connect it for you?"

He stared at her earnest expression, and wondered if she were deliberately baiting him. "I can handle my job, Dr. Mann. I suggest you do the same."

"Fine." She clipped out the word and shoved past him, her face flushed with either irritation or embarrassment -- or possibly both.

She stepped onto the lift platform as he moved easily onto the creeper, and Seto thought he heard her mutter something about having better things to do than babysit arrogant pilots who wanted to play technician. Seto snorted softly. He could count on one hand the people whose opinion of him mattered, and Gears most definitely wasn't one of them. He shrugged, dismissing her from his mind, already focusing back on the task at hand.

Following the on-screen directions, he maneuvered the creeper out to the back of the Dragon's skull and gained access to the hatchway. The coupling was tricky, he admitted to himself as he lay on the creeper, the upper half of his body buried in the tangle of wires and hoses that made up the interior of this section of the mech. After a bit of inspired cursing, he finally got the lead from his pad to line up and link properly with the port inside the mech. Only after he had successfully taken the required reading did it occur to Seto how the Dragon might have interpreted his frustration. Hastily, he brushed his hand over the RID, projecting reassurances.

"I'm not angry with you," Seto said firmly. "It's not your fault some idiot designed this access-port for midget contortionists."

Even though he wasn't in gestalt, and thus wasn't privy to his Dragon's thoughts, Seto could have sworn he felt the Blue-Eyes laugh.