Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds
Tie a Yellow Ribbon
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters and the song are not mine and the story is! This is based more on the Over the Nexus video game rather than the anime, although I bring in elements from both. I don't usually write for that verse because I'm unhappy with Radley being sent to the Facility in it. He's different in the game than in the anime, but I still feel that he's portrayed as different from Malcolm in good ways and not necessarily deserving of that fate. There's too much that's unknown about the details of the mess in Crash Town and Radley's part in it and motivations. But I happened to get this idea and it wouldn't go away, so have an Over the Nexus-flavoredfic with inspiration from the classic Tony Orlando song. Also, I leave a trigger warning for a scene of attempted suicide.
Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree . . .
The old song's lyrics played repeatedly in the motorcyclist's mind as he rode through the darkened desert. He gripped the handlebars a little tighter, his knuckles going white under the black leather gloves as he sang the song under his breath.
"I'm coming home, I've done my time. . . . Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine . . .
". . . It's been three long years . . ."
Thank God it hadn't been that long for him, but it had still been plenty long enough. The Facility had changed him. It was different than it had been in the past, but it was still a prison and it was still a place that could break a man's spirit . . . especially if that spirit had already been close to shattered.
New evidence had come to light in the officers' investigation of the mess in Crash Town, evidence that had proved things weren't as cut-and-dry as they had initially thought. Radley had been the town's protector, pushing back against Malcolm and preventing him from a totalitarian takeover. The nightly duels had been horrible, but the alternative had been worse. Radley had never mistreated his miners, but Malcolm most certainly had mistreated his, and he and Lawton had oppressed the whole town when they had declared open war on Radley and the Bunch. Radley had not tried to retaliate.
Nor had he said much, if anything, in his defense after the fact. He had been shot point-blank by Lawton while trying to escape the lost battle in town and had hovered near-death for ages in the prison hospital. He still didn't know why he wasn't dead; his will to live was practically nil. But he had survived, and he had been among the Facility's most reclusive and silent prisoners ever since. Although he had longed to go home, and although he had usually summed up a spark of fighting spirit if approached for a duel, he had seen no way to leave as he wanted. Now he finally could.
"Why didn't you say something more?" Trudge had asked him when giving him his release. "You weren't the bad guy in this mess. You could have got free a lot sooner!"
"I failed," Radley had responded simply, bitterly. "I failed the town, and my friends failed me. None of them ever came to see me at all. They all knew it was really my fault, even if you guys are saying now it wasn't."
"Why don't you go back there and find out?" Trudge had said. "You loved those guys and they loved you. You owe yourself that much."
"Kalin's the sheriff, isn't he?" Radley had scoffed. "There's nothing for me there. Kalin always hated me and now he's the big kahuna."
"Just go back and try," Trudge had insisted. "They don't want you, then fine! Come back to the City to live."
And Radley had sighed heavily and taken his release papers to claim his Harley on his way out.
He still didn't know why he was going back. He had longed so desperately to go home, but Crash Town wasn't his home any more. The Bunch, Kalin, they had all turned on him. The whole town no doubt hated him, blaming him for the Hellish mine. It was Malcolm who had really made it Hell, but Radley had been locked in the fight with him and had sent out his Duelists every night to fight Malcolm's. Malcolm had forced his hand, but did anyone even remember that? Did they care? And even if he had tried to protect the town, had he let greed take him over? Had the wealth from the mine become the most important thing? He didn't know.
Of course he wouldn't have said anything in his defense, not with all of those factors.
He had once been hopeful, with many idealistic dreams and goals. In spite of the loneliness he had borne through much of his life, people had told him his eyes looked happy. He often wondered what people would say about him now. In his mind, the most cynical people had likely been the ones who had once loved life. Then reality had come calling and it had been a harsher blow than they had been prepared to take. In his case, he had come through many sorrows before finally being granted several short years of happiness and companionship. Now that was gone and he was back to being alone and unloved again. Having had joy and suffering it being pulled away from him was more devastating than if he had never known it at all.
He had always been a fighter, a scrapper. Apparently he had clawed his way back from death for some reason, but now he was just bitter and hurt. The betrayals dug deep. Kalin had always hated him, and after so many failed tries to make friends, Radley had grown critical and harsh towards him. And the Bunch . . . they really were ungrateful punks, weren't they? Radley had taken them in, tried to give them good lives, and they had turned on him too.
"I'm really still in prison, and my friends, they hold the key . . ."
What were they all going to say when he waltzed back into town? Would Kalin immediately try to lock him up? Would the Bunch all mock him? He was just a washed-up has-been, a fool who had tried to claim the mine and ended up punishing the whole town for it. He had deserved what he had gotten.
Why am I alive? Why . . .
Ironically, in the song he could not get out of his mind and was tweaking to fit his situation, there was a harmonica solo. He couldn't hear harmonicas without thinking of Kalin. But Kalin had never played for him and never would. Any attempt to ask had been met with a cold stare and flat rejection.
He still didn't know why Kalin hated him so much. Even if Kalin had disapproved of the nightly duels, he had certainly agreed to participate without any arm-twisting on Radley's part. Was he such a hypocrite that he would detest Radley for the plan while dueling for him completely voluntarily?
. . . Kalin was such a weirdo that, yeah, it was possible.
The town was just up ahead now, a beacon in the dark desert. The sign said Satisfaction Town now, but it was definitely the right place. He rode under it and along the old dirt street. He could never forget this place. It was all as he remembered.
The sound of his motorcycle was bringing the people to their windows. They peered out at him, curious, leery, wondering why a new motorcycle was riding in at this time of night. He rode on, not really sure where he was going until he stopped in front of a familiar building.
Radley's Diner
The signs were still there. He stopped his motorcycle and got off, going over to the nearest one. He reached out with a gloved hand, running his fingers over the words. He had thought it would be gone, or turned into Kalin's Diner or some such.
Why was it still his?
"Hey! What are you doing?"
He jumped at the defensive voice. Scotch, one of his most loyal companions, was standing in the road with arms akimbo, glaring at him.
". . . The sign says this place is still mine," he replied slowly, deliberately. "I guess I have a right to touch it." He took off his helmet.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Scotch stiffening and staring at him and then charging him wasn't it. "Radley! Radley! You're alive! You're alive!" He pulled Radley close in a tight hug. "How?!"
Radley was stiff now. For some reason, this explanation had never occurred to him. Hadn't Sector Security told them he was alive?! He could tell Scotch was not faking his reaction. Scotch had truly believed Radley was dead. Now he was rejoicing, crying shocked tears as he hugged Radley close.
Finally Radley brought his arms up, hugging back. It had been so long . . . so very long since anyone had held him like this. . . .
"I'm trying to figure that one out myself," he said honestly. "I thought . . . I thought no one cared about me anymore because I failed. . . ."
"What fail?! We all failed you!" Scotch cried. "They told us Lawton shot you after we all ran away being scared! We saw the blood all over the ground and . . . and . . ." He burrowed against Radley's shoulder.
". . . You guys really thought I was gone?" Radley finally said. "All this time . . . you really thought. . . ."
"That was all we knew!" Scotch insisted. "We've all been mourning you, and being heartbroken, and . . ." He trailed off, still clutching Radley close and not wanting to let go.
". . . I'm sorry," Radley said sorrowfully, still reeling. He had felt so hurt, so bitter, but all of that was washed away by this knowledge. They still loved him. They had been hurting too.
"It wasn't your fault!" Scotch said. "But where were you?!"
"In the Facility," Radley admitted.
Scotch pulled back, staring at him in horror. "In prison?! Radley, are you okay?! Did they beat you?! Didn't they put a mark on you?!"
Radley smiled a bit. "No, no, I'm okay." Physically, I'm okay. "They don't mar people's faces anymore or beat them."
"But they just let us think you were dead!" Scotch cried.
"I'm definitely gonna be asking about that," Radley growled. "That Trudge guy was nice, so maybe he didn't know. But who knows; he could've been in on it too."
Scotch just hugged him again. For all of his tough guy bravado, he was really a nice kid deep down, and thoroughly idolizing of Radley.
"They're creeps," he muttered. "They think we don't matter."
Radley couldn't deny he was thinking similar things. Maybe it had been a mistake, an oversight, that no one had been called. But it was intolerable. That kind of mistake should never be made, and he doubted it would have been with someone other than him. Still, he had to be grateful that at least they had kept investigating and had turned up enough of the truth that they had determined he was free to go. And that Trudge had kept encouraging him to come home. . . .
". . . What did Kalin think about me being dead?" Radley wasn't sure why he was asking, but he wanted to know. He needed to know.
"We don't know!" Scotch exclaimed. "He won't let us talk about you around him at all!"
"Are you serious?!" Radley pulled back to stare at Scotch in shock. "Why?! He hates me that much?!"
"He sure feels something," Scotch said. "We don't know what it is. Yusei told us Kalin was suffering from depression and self-hatred when he was working for you, but even he couldn't figure out why Kalin wouldn't talk about you anymore at all."
Radley stared at Scotch, thunderstruck. This was all unexpected too. Depression and self-hatred could explain all the times Kalin had been so rude to him. All along, Radley had thought it was either personal or that Kalin hated everyone. Maybe Kalin had only hated himself. But even if that explained the past, what about now? Nothing seemed to explain that.
"Where is he?" he finally asked.
"He lives in a house near the edge of town," Scotch said. "He probably heard you ride in!"
"Probably the whole town heard me ride in," Radley said. He sighed. "I want to talk to Kalin. Will you take me to him?"
Scotch blinked. "Sure, Radley, if you want me to. But he doesn't want anything to do with you! Why would you want to go to him?!"
"Hey, if I'm trying to come back to town, I kinda need to know if he'll let me stay or not, don't I?" Radley smirked a bit.
"It's not up to him!" Scotch said. "I mean, not alone! The whole town would decide, and they'd vote for you!"
Radley sobered, not convinced. "Are you sure? I don't think any of us made that good an impression when things really started heating up."
Scotch's shoulders slumped. "Especially me," he said softly. "I know I got acting like an urban gang member trying to get people to our side. . . . I don't know why they let me stay on."
"You were trying to help," Radley said. "Maybe now they know Malcolm was the real threat."
"They do!" Scotch said. "We put up a grave for you in the cemetery and we . . . we visit it a lot. . . . Sometimes other people come too. . . ." He looked awkward now.
"Really?" Radley stared at him, more moved than anything else.
"Really!" Scotch exclaimed.
Something else occurred to Radley and he frowned again. ". . . Why didn't anyone try to get my body back? That should've started an investigation that would've proved I'm alive."
"We did try!" Scotch said. "It got all tangled up in red tape or something and we never got an answer!" His shoulders slumped. "Then I guess we wondered if we'd really be able to stand to see you . . . like that . . . and we didn't push it."
Radley sighed and patted his cheek. "Yeah, I'm definitely gonna find out what happened," he said in disgust. "But right now I wanna see Kalin, okay?"
"Right!" Scotch waited for Radley to get back on his motorcycle and then climbed on behind him. "It's the old house right by the town sign! You probably passed it on your way in!"
"Yeah, I did," Radley said in surprise. "I saw the curtains move when I rode past."
The house was in darkness when they arrived. Radley frowned, parking near the porch. "Do you think he went out, or does he like to sit around in the dark?" The latter sounded like a very Kalin thing to do.
"He's probably there and trying to make people think he isn't," Scotch said.
"Great." Radley heaved a sigh and took off his helmet. "It sounds like nothing's changed then."
"He's nice to the kids, but a lot of the time he acts like he's off in another world with us," Scotch said. He sounded affronted about that.
"Huh. I wonder why. Just because you're connected with me, maybe?" Radley headed for the steps.
"Probably," Scotch said. "You know, he won't even ever come to the diner at all?! He eats at the old saloon."
Radley quirked an eyebrow. "Wow. He's really serious about not having anything to do with me. I guess I'm still poison to him." For a few moments he had thought maybe Kalin really didn't hate him, but this information made him doubt again. He knocked on the door.
Scotch rocked back and forth with impatience. "Why bother with him anyway? Let's go back and see all the guys! They'll be happy no matter how Kalin feels!"
Radley smiled a bit. "They will, won't they?" he mused. "Tell you what, you go round them up at the diner and I'll be along."
". . . You're sure?" Scotch looked worried as Radley knocked again. "You really think it's okay to be alone with him?!"
"Oh, I don't think he'd hurt me, unless he's figured out how to kill with a look," Radley said dryly. He tried the knob and the door creaked open in his hand. ". . . Hello? Kalin?"
Scotch lingered, still worried to leave. But he stayed at the bottom of the stairs, watching as Radley dared step into the darkness of the house. "Watch out for the trap door," he said. "It might be open."
"Trap door?" Radley frowned. "I'll be careful." He took out his phone to shine around the room.
He jumped when he caught Kalin sitting in the corner on the floor, a gun in his hand. The other man's eyes were dead and soulless, much as Radley remembered.
". . . Are you planning to put a bullet through me?" Radley asked.
"Why would I do that?" Kalin replied. "You're already dead." He started to bring the gun to his temple. "Just like I'm going to be."
Horror and shock stabbed Radley through the heart and he ran over, grabbing for Kalin's wrist. "Hey hey hey! What the hell?! Are you crazy?! Don't do that on my watch!"
He only belatedly realized the danger of his actions. Kalin could have pulled the trigger from the shock of the motion, shooting either himself or Radley. As it was, the gun just lay in Kalin's trembling hand. He stared up at Radley in disbelief. "You're touching me. . . ."
"You just tried to shoot yourself right in front of me!" Radley burst out. "Why would you do that?!"
"I was going to do it anyway," Kalin rasped. "I'm always haunted by you day and night. Now, to actually see you come back to town, I didn't think I could take that happening too. But you . . . you're not dead. You're solid!" He dropped the gun and grabbed at Radley's arm in desperation.
"Of course I am! I'm not dead! Why didn't anyone tell you?! I survived!" Still badly shaken, Radley just let Kalin grab him. He had wanted Kalin's touch in the past. He had tried so hard to reach out and had been pushed away again and again until it had finally embittered him. But . . . he felt so bitter because he still cared. For Kalin to want to be with him . . . he still wanted that. The feel of Kalin's hand going up his arm felt all at once wonderful and strange and unreal.
"Why do you even care?!" Radley demanded. "Why would you shoot yourself because of me?!"
". . . Because I . . . I . . ." Kalin trailed off, still shaking, and then sank forward, sobbing as he crashed against Radley's chest. "I failed you. I didn't care what happened to you and then I heard that Lawton shot you! I found your blood all over the street after they took you away. I slipped and it got on my hand. I could never wash it off. . . ."
Neither of his hands had bloodstains on them. Radley sank down, overwhelmed by the weeping, agonized man. He had never thought, never dreamed that Kalin could have this much feeling, especially about him.
". . . And that's why you won't let anybody talk about me or even eat at the diner?" he said at last.
"I don't need any more reminders of you! You're always haunting me as it is!" Kalin shook his head. "I . . . I discovered too late that I . . . that I care about you . . . so much. But I'd lost you and it was my own fault!"
"Kalin . . ." Radley gripped Kalin's shoulders and pushed him back enough to see into his eyes. No longer dead, they were alive but filled with a lifetime of pain and agony. "You . . . you really care about me?" It seemed incomprehensible.
"I hurt you . . . so much," Kalin said helplessly. "Every day I hurt you more, until you finally turned against me like I deserved! You just wanted to be friendly and I wouldn't accept you! When my mind finally cleared, I realized I cared about you . . . but you were gone."
"Oh Kalin. . . ." Finally Radley reached out, slowly, hesitantly, and drew him into an embrace. "It's not too late. I'm still here. I still just wanna be cared about. And . . . I still care about you too."
"Why?!" Kalin cried. "How can you?!"
"I don't know," Radley said. "I cared even before I saw you like this. I wanted to see you, to talk to you, to get things straightened out between us. I'm free now; they released me and I came here to see if I still have a home here. I wasn't sure you'd let me live here."
"Of course I will!" Kalin choked out. "Of course I will. . . ." He shuddered, clutching Radley close.
Radley hugged back, slowly stroking Kalin's hair. It was a calming motion his family had used on him and that he had sometimes used on the Bunch when they were upset. Although he was certainly aware it could have other connotations, he hardly cared about that right now. ". . . Do I still have a house?" he asked, only half-joking.
"Yes," Kalin said. "The Bunch wouldn't let anything be done with it. It's just the way you left it."
"It must be pretty dusty by now then," Radley grimaced. Dust could collect over a period of days, and this had been weeks.
But Kalin shook his head. "They go in and straighten up all the time. I don't know why. They knew you weren't coming back. Or . . . they thought they knew."
Radley smiled sadly. "It was their way of coping, then."
"I guess so," Kalin agreed. He had started to relax in Radley's embrace, very accepting of Radley's calming methods.
Radley was glad of that. "Well . . . I need to see all of the Bunch and they'll probably wanna have a party even though it's almost midnight." He chuckled. "Why don't you come along, Kalin? I know you're not a party kind of guy, but maybe, just once . . . ?"
Kalin nodded. "I . . . I'd like that." He started to get up. ". . . You saved my life. I'd be angry, but . . . by being alive, you gave me a life worth living. Thank you."
"Thank you for being alive?" Radley smirked as he got up with Kalin. "I couldn't help that."
Or had he? He must have had some will to live, to fight his way back from death. He had been told he had been dead when brought in, but that suddenly he had struggled back and gasped for breath. Maybe . . . maybe he really did want to live. . . .
And now he had a possible reason why he had been spared. . . .
"Thank you anyway," Kalin said, drawing him back to the present.
"Maybe, in some way, we helped each other," Radley mused.
Kalin blinked. "How?"
"Oh . . . maybe my life was spared at least partially so I could help you," Radley said. "Maybe we need each other. Maybe it's just mushy, sappy talk, but . . ."
"I like it," Kalin interrupted. "I don't know why my life would be so important, but I do know that I couldn't recover as long as I thought you were gone. Now you're safe and I feel like I can live again, as Yusei and the kids wanted for me so much."
"And knowing I'm cared about, I can live again too," Radley said. He smiled. "Let's go to the diner."
Scotch had made good on his word. As soon as he had been sure Radley was safe with Kalin, he had hurried off to round up the rest of the Bunch. When Radley and Kalin stepped outside, they were immediately mobbed and Radley was swept up in many hugs at once. He laughed in surprise. "You guys . . . !"
"Radley!"
"We missed you so much!"
"We thought you were never coming home!"
He hugged them all close.
Now everyone is cheering
And I can't believe I see . . .
A hundred yellow ribbons round the old oak tree.
He was loved. He was truly, deeply loved.
And he was home.