My apologies to those of you who have been following this story for the long long long departure. This is a difficult point in the plot for me to write and I hope I was able to convey it appropriately. That being said, this section features some heavily implied mentions of child abuse. There is nothing explicit but the content could easily be disturbing to some.

On another note, I am still desperately seeking a beta reader for this story! If anyone who is a beta and wants some work happens to read this and is interested please let me know! I just can't catch all the problems by myself!

This chapter is really Seto-intense. I mean, obviously the whole story is but here I really try to put together some more back-story. I hope to eventually get more into Joey (although I have hopefully dabbled enough to satisfy Joey fans)/

The walk back to my office from the small café seemed to take longer than it had before. The streets were mostly empty aside from a few clusters of people who walked close together, huddled against the wind. A thin layer of snow had accumulated on the ground so that with every step I took I left behind track marks from my shoes. I found a strange pleasure in this and distracted myself from the cold by looking down at the ground and watching as my shoes breached the undisturbed snow again and again.

Once I was in front of the Kaiba Corp. building I took a moment to brush the clumps of fallen snow out of my hair and off my jacket. Then I stomped out my shoes, careful not to bring any snow inside. The first floor was empty. Even the initial receptionist was absent. She had left her lunch unwrapped by her desk. I didn't appreciate workers eating food so close to the expensive company computers, so I stopped for moment to move her sandwich away from the keyboard. In the elevator I was completely alone. I looked up into the elevator's reflective ceiling and saw only my own face, distorted and expressionless.

Once inside of my office I took a deep breath. My jangled nerves had been left dulled by the cold but it was only now that I was able come back to my senses. I took off my jacket and carefully hung it up on the coat hanger. I made sure to straighten out the sleeves so that it draped in a smooth, flat way. I walked over to my desk and quickly examined it for any signs that anything was out of place. I turned my computer back on and spent a minute or so entering all of the various passwords that I had put in place. Doing all of these little tasks felt comfortable to me. It gave me a sense of order and purpose.

I was just feeling myself relax back into the routine of work when my office phone rang and startled me. I picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Kaiba, this is Jeanie from the reception desk calling, I have a message for you left by Mr. Donovan Hearst's personal assistant ".

I froze for a moment, forgetting myself.

"Mr. Kaiba?"

"Give me the message".

"Okay well he requested that you contact his office at your convenience. Would you like the number?"

"No I have it."

"Oh, okay then-"

"Is that all?"

Jeanie paused and I could hear her chew and swallow. "Yes Mr. Kaiba".

"Thank you."

I hung up and continued working. About fifteen minutes later when my stomach started hurting and I had an awful headache, I popped some aspirin and tried to get back to that feeling of cold.

It was a few hours later when Mokuba called me. He sounded tired and hoarse.

"Are you getting sick?" I asked.

"I dunno. I might be."

"You should sleep more".

Mokuba coughed on the other end. "Yeah. So what's up?"

I ignored his question for a minute while I clicked through some files on my computer screen. "Seto?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"You sound distracted". I could hear him sniffling and it started to annoy me.

"Yes well. It's cold."

"Ha-ha what? What does that have to do with anything?" Mokuba laughed in the dumb way he sometimes resorted to when he could not think of anything else to say. I wondered if he had called out of a feeling of duty and obligation.

"Mokuba."

"Yes mon frère?"

"You don't need to call me."

Mokuba was quiet in a way that I could tell was deliberate from the muted noises of him trying to hold in his sniffles, barely audible through the slight static of the phone.

"You don't want me to call?" He asked, slipping into a flat, apathetic tone that I heard in my own voice so often.

"I don't want you to waste your time. That's- "

"Oh."

"-All."

Mokuba sneezed on the other end of the line and it jolted me. I looked helplessly at my hand, resting on the keyboard, limp and useless.

"I don't want you to waste your time either, Seto." And then I heard the click of someone hanging up.

It was after I had gotten off the phone with Mokuba that I called Hearst's office. It was only a matter of minutes after that until I was in my personal limo, thoughtlessly giving the driver the address to a place I had visited only in my memories and dreams for the past decade.

Hearst's home was, much like the man himself, well guarded and formal with a kind of dull, glamour-less film on all of its riches. Two stone box buildings where security guards closely monitored the immediate surroundings conspicuously framed the front gate. As the limo pulled up the guard on the right got to his feet and came outside. As he was about to begin questioning us I instructed my driver to unroll my back window, which I then peered out of so that the guard could see me properly. Without another word he activated the unlocking mechanism of the gate and, as we drove through, made a point to tip his hat at me while not looking me in the eye.

Inside the ground the land seemed quite empty, although there was no real reason for anyone to be outside this time of year. It lacked the pulse of Domino City and offered only expanse in return. The actual home, or rather, mansion, was well designed but drab. The long driveway circled a central entrance and I instructed my driver to drop me off in front and then circle about until I called for him.

A young woman opened the door for me. She was dressed as if ready to attend a funeral, all in sad black with her hair piously pinned back. Her mouth hung at the corners as if a testament to years of experience that she seemed not old enough to have. Inside, we walked up a grand staircase together and I could tell that out of the corner of her eye she was trying her best to appraise me.

"Mr. Hearst is very happy you could come today." She says, factual and not in the least bit welcoming.

I swallow the last bits of saliva in my throat. "Well, anything for an old friend".

Old friend

The words seem cruel and ironic as I repeat them in my head. But truthfully, what had Hearst been to me if not a friend?

The steady beat of her heals and my own shoes battering against the marble stairs helped to relax me and my mind wandered to my earliest memories of Hearst.

I recalled, with a sudden emotion the first time I met him. At one of Gozaburo's stale dinner affairs. Hearst had caught me peering in through the door and ushered me inside with a smile. As the rest of the men discussed trade and the arms market, Hearst would look over at me and wink then suddenly ask me my opinion of something.

"Seto, what don't you tell us your feelings on the Austrian School of Economics?"

And then I would give him my best , most intelligent answer so that he would ruffle my hair and pat my back and tell Gozaburo how bright I was.

Sometimes his questions were simpler, stupider. "What's your favorite color?" He asked me once as we walked together. "Blue." I said, without thinking, wondering why in the world it mattered and yet feeling happy that he now knew.

My thoughts were halted as we appeared in front of a deep mahogany door. The woman knocked ominously upon it and without so much a second of wait, an older man in a white coat opened the door and smiled quietly at me.

"Mr. Kaiba, I presume". He extended his hand and I shook it stiffly, trying to peer into the dark room. "Mr. Hearst is a bit tired at the moment but, in good spirits." I looked back to him now, seeing a small clipboard in his arm and stethoscope around his neck.

The woman then spoke up. "How is he breathing?"

The doctor sighed, as if trying very hard to show his disappointment. "Well it's a struggle as it has been recently. We have him propped up now and the oxygen helps but he still has a lot of shortness of breath." Then the doctor turned to me. "He is very adamant about wanting to speak to you but I warn you against asking any questions the require long, drawn out response as he will have a hard time due to his loss of breath."

The woman piped in again. "And how is the swelling?"

"Well his ankles have become really swollen over the past day or so. We're trying to make him as comfortable as possible but…" The doctor looked down at his clipboard.

"Yes, I understand. " The woman said, mostly to herself. I had known Hearst was in bad health for sometime but the nature and severity of it had been kept out of the press.

"If you'll excuse me doctor, what exactly is Mr. Hearst suffering from?"

The doctor looked back up at me and answered briskly "congestive heart failure. It's been getting progressively worse for some time."

I nodded down to the ground as the three of us stood by the doorway in silence.

"Well, why don't we take Mr. Kaiba inside?" the doctor offered and moved behind the doorframe to allow the woman and me into the room.

I now had a proper appreciation of how large the room was. The low lighting left shadows to disappear into every corner. It was bare of any decorative flourishes aside from a large, ornate bed in the center and a few finely made chairs throughout the room. I could now see another person was in the room, close to the bedside. A heavyset woman, dressed in white, quietly tending to Hearst. As the three of us walked closer to the bed Hearst came into better view. He was concealed beneath thick blankets with a few tubes running in and out of him. Behind his neck was a stack of pillows and his eyes were closed, chin tilted upwards. As if distinguishing us by footstep alone he opened his eyes, set square on me.

"Seto." He said, lips curling back into a thin smile. He ushered me forward and I obeyed, as I always had. Without turning to the others he commanded, "Leave us please. "

The doctor approached the bedside cautiously. "If you need me for any reason sir, the bell in right by your right hand". But Hearst impatiently waved him away. Moments later I heard the deep noise of the heavy door closing.

"Pull up a chair, please." Hearst had closed his eyes again.

Uncomfortably, I dragged one of the chairs to rest by Hearst's bed.

"Seto. It has been years."

I could now smell his stale skin. I saw the swelling wrists against the papery flesh. His tired face still shrewd and sharp as ever.

"Indeed". I offered coldly.

I heard Hearst's breathless chuckle.

"Seto I'm dying".

Well, clearly he was. And it was just like Hearst to be clear.

"What business do you have with me today?"

Hearst's eyes opened forcefully and he looked into my face, fully lucid.

"My last will and testament. I would like-" a pause for breath. "I would like to leave you with some things."

It was my turn to smile. "You know I have no use of your money or things."

Hearst reached out a frail but deliberate hand and quietly petted my knee. "You've done well for yourself. As I always knew you would."

I shifted in my seat but his hand tightened on my knee. All it took was his tiny exercise of power and I gave in.

"Then what is the purpose of this?"

"Sentimental," cough. "value".

And this was nearly enough to make sick. Hearst moved his hand up my leg until it was securely clutching the meat of my thigh. He squeezed, much harder than he should have been able to, digging his fingernails in through my pants.

"I don't care for sentiment."

"Seto. " He closed his eye again and sucked in a ragged breath. "You're an angel."

My stomach churned viciously and I almost wished I could suddenly puke and disrupt the moment. But instead I sat still and listened to Hearst's words and tried very hard not to think.

"I would like you to have that chest, over there." He used his free, wobbly hand to point to a dark block in the corner of the room. "It is full of many treasures." He loosened his grip on my thigh and moved the hand further until it came to rest at the line of my trousers. He fingered the fabric there, thoughtfully. "Will you accept?"

I said nothing.

"Good". Hearst said.

We both sat together in the darkness of the room, both deteriorating.

"Seto. Seto please take my hand." And I did so, hesitantly, removing the fingers and palm from my pants and awkwardly displaying it infront of me, using my own hand as a platter. There were brown spots and prominent veins. Hearst must have only been in his early sixties but his body acted and looked older. He was never a healthy person.

"You are very warm, Seto. Do you know, even as a child you had very warm hands? Do you remember that? Being warm and being a child. I remember."

I stared at the old, feeble hand in my lap until my eyes glazed over. "No. I don't remember."

"You were very sweet, very bright. Of all the ones that have come and gone through the years you-" He then coughed violently, savagely. "You were my favorite."

And then, because I was too warm and sick and swollen I wept, getting the tears all over my face until they flooded my mouth and all I could taste was salt.

I was composed by the time I left the room, chest under my arm. At the end of the hallway in front of the staircase the same woman who had brought me inside waited to see me out. I had already called my limo driver and the only thought I forced through me head as we walked down the stairs together was how long the drive back to Domino would be.

As the woman opened the looming door for me she smiled into herself. "You know, he loved you very very much. He said you were like a son to him".

And as I walked out on my own wobbling rage, my stomach could not longer handle it contents. My driver came out to take the chest from me and as he did so I ran to the edge of the steps. And as the sun was setting in the sky, making the whole dead landscape glow prettily, I hunched over and heaved until the last orange bands of light disappeared back into the earth.

I spent the rest of the late night recovering in the safe solitude of my bed. The chest, like a recluse, lurked in the corner of my room unopened and dangerous. But for now it was out of my sight and so I was ok. To distract myself from Hearst I thought instead of Kaiba Corp. And when I couldn't force myself to think of business anymore I thought of Mokuba, and of calling him and apologizing and asking if he wanted to have dinner with me and maybe we could have a nice conversation and laugh about everything else. And when I could think of Mokuba no more I thought of Joey and his terrifying proximity and what would happen if he could understand what was wrong with me.

The first thing I did in the morning was calling Mokuba.

"Seto?" My name sounded distorted through his yawn.

"Mokuba. I'm sorry."

I heard another yawn. "Oh well. Ok. Thanks. You couldn't have been sorry a little later in the morning?"

Oh. In my eagerness to call him I had forgotten that he (and I suppose he was in the majority here) was not usually awake at 4:30 A.M.

"Sorry, I just, I just wanted to tell you before I forgot."

"Mmmm. Well, thank you. I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"Well," Mokuba fumbled for a minute "I'm not really sure, I just thought it best that we be even. Look, it's really early!"

I smiled hard. Out of relief. To hear him casually laughing and joking.

"Oh well, I'll let you get back to sleep."

Mokuba made a sound like he was deflating. "Mmmm. But- but it's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's because I'm tired as fuck."

I laughed because there was a light note in his voice. "Hey-" Mokuba implored, "didn't you just tell me I should get more sleep? God, I can't make any sense out of you. "

I laughed harder, until I could feel it in my stomach.

After I was off the phone with Mokuba I spent the next two hours preparing for a budget meeting I had in the morning. Because it was so tedious I kept up a running debate in the back of my mind about whether or not I should call Joey. When I realized what I was doing I felt embarrassed for myself. Acting like a nervous schoolgirl with a crush. Why should I be nervous about calling him? After all, we were "friends" or at least, some semblance of it now. And I didn't have many friends. I had to at least make an effort to see the ones I had. Once I finished my last bit of preparation I picked up my phone. My fingers were on the numbers when I realized that I didn't even have his phone number.

Sure there was an easy solution, I could either call Mokuba or look it up online. Despite my rationalizations I was still too embarrassed to call Mokuba so I did a quick search on Joey's information and easily found the number. In another context it would have been a perfectly reasonable thing to do but it made me feel creepy to be searching him online all the same. I hoped he wouldn't ask, "Kaiba, how'd you get my number?" If he did, I decided I would just lie and say Mokuba gave it to me or better yet, Joey had given it to me and must not remember. I was so prepared for this conversation.

Cautiously I dialed the numbers and waited in suspense as the tone repeated over and over in my ear. Then came the click and a rough voice on the other line saying hello.

"It's Seto. "

"Oh hey Kaiba!" His voice picked up a little. Was he excited that I called? "What's up?"

"I wanted to- well, say it was nice to see you. That other day."

"Oh, yeah well, you too." He sounded uncertain on the other line.

"Yeah well I'm glad you aren't, as annoying as you used to be-" Oh that probably wasn't the socially correct thing to say.

I could hear Joey kind of laugh like he was simultaneously being punched in the stomach. "Look, Wheeler, that came out wrong."

"Don't worry 'bout it. We're all friends now, ain't we?"

"Yes, we are."

"Look, how about we hang out again and I'll um, I'll make you dinner or lunch or something, if that's not…you know…weird."

"That would. Be good. " I was surprised. I kneaded my fingers against each other and hoped I wasn't breathing too loudly over the phone.

"Ok well then, you wanna do it, uh, tomorrow night? Like 8?"

"That sounds perfectly fine Wheeler".

I was tripping over my own thoughts. Happy. I think I was a little bit happy.

I went through the rest of the day effortlessly. It was not until I returned home that I was reminded.

The chest still lay in the corner of my room, peering out from behind my bed and giving me a guilty stare. I felt sick thinking about it, but my curiosity was strong. I knelt beside the chest and with unsteady fingers, began to unlock it. My mind no longer thought about Mokuba, or Kaiba Corp. or Joey. As I began opening it up the chest unleashed a strong, musty odor, familiar to the rest of Hearst's house. Vividly I remembered walking through the long thin hallways as a boy, drinking in the scent. I had found it wildly sophisticated. A house filled with magic and knowledge. I smelled it on all of Hearst's clothes when he walked and sat close to me, telling me things about the universe and exciting my imagination.

The lid of the chest fell backwards and a withered blue blanket, the same one that I had made my bed with years and years ago covered the contents. I gingerly peeled back the blanket.

Underneath I recognized various trinkets and mementos of my later childhood. There were lots of books. There was a book on economic theory that Hearst had bestowed upon me for my thirteenth birthday. Some books were about physics and others about art history but then there were some that were just children's books. Hearst had supplied me with fantasy. He gave me books about dragons and kings and queens. I looked inside the covers of all the books; all of them were signed from Hearst. some with affectionate notes accompanying his signature.

Underneath the layer of books were odd, but significant items. There was a tape measure. I remembered being barely a teenager, still skinny and short as ever. I used to beg Hearst to get out the tape measure and tell me if I had gotten any taller.

He would laugh at me, as I strained on my tippy toes saying "maybe you will just be a small little thing forever" and I would nearly cry out in frustration.

But I was tall now. Things were different.

Then there were a few pairs of my old underpants, folded neatly. I picked them up and they felt crusty, having gone unwashed for years. Tucked inside of the underwear were a few strips of photos. Hearst and me. Taken at the amusement park Hearst used to sneak me out to visit when Gozaburo was otherwise distracted. His arm around my shoulders and me smiling like, well, like a child.

The last item was a letter stuffed into a thick envelope with my name written in Hearst's neat scrawl on the outside. I opened the top but couldn't read a thing through my blurry eyes. Quickly I stuffed everything back into the chest, furious at myself for ever opening it and even more furious knowing that I would come back.