A/N: moving on!

Black as a Pit From Pole to Pole.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba - 17:27

Jou's out of surgery.

The text message had been read on the lock screen of Kaiba's phone, but he hadn't interacted with it. There was nothing to reply to, not in his mind. It was just enough information for him to know that, currently, Jounouchi was not dead.

His focus was more oriented towards Invictus, and the failure the rest of the day had become. Once the technicians had pulled him out of the test the first time, his mind was unable to reach a state that the device would activate again, regardless of how drained his body felt.

It wasn't his body that mattered, he had to realise. It was his mind, restless and curious about the prior test, about where the simulation had bled into his own dreams, where it became less of a tangible experience and more of a display or errant symbolism. Symbolism that had gotten to him and, worse yet, symbolism that he had reacted to.

Two hours were wasted in the lab, pouring over what may have caused the vividness, enough that Kaiba's body had reacted to it physically, as it had during the many prior tests. "When it comes to matters of the brain, not all functions are understood, Kaiba-san, least of all dreams and sleep," Usami explained, uninitiated and receiving a blank look from Kaiba in response. "From my data, you were having a nightmare. But, given the severity of your reaction, it was bordering on a night terror."

"Night terror." Kaiba repeated. A statement, not a question.

"Yes. Essentially its just a heightened nightmare, but it does seem more real to those that are experiencing them."

"I know what a night terror is," Kaiba replied. The headset and laptop was packed away. Data readouts were printed to be poured over later. "Your services are no longer needed today."

"One more bit of advice, Kaiba-san," Usami said, going to stand as Kaiba began towards the door. "Philosophy textbooks may aid you in this venture more than medical ones."

The advice hadn't been replied to, but it hung in his head, and when he returned back to his office, he wasted little time setting up his laptop and bookmarking a long list of the philosophies of dreams; once paperwork was finished for the day, the theories were skimmed through. They said that dreams were the true world; that they were an 'ignored, rejected self'; that they were a place that lessons could be learned.

They were pushed away in lieu of something more lucrative. Kaiba turned his attention to the code instead, thinking that it was a mistake in the lines. It must have been; perhaps the parameters hadn't been set correctly and it was causing overstimulation. A missed semi-colon, an unclear 'if'. In the end, a Kaiba was trying to make Invictus read a mind and make a controller out of it—perhaps it wasn't sensitive enough. It didn't know when he was wanting to take control.

So many possibilities, all of which needed to be tested. Several different variants of the code were going to need to be rewritten. When it went through testing again, he would make himself do it consecutively. His body wouldn't be so easily overburdened again.

Hours ticked by. Kaiba registered that Ebi-san had left, two knocks on his door to denote so, but hadn't moved from his seat anymore than to stretch his back when it became stiff. It was easy to lose time. Code; consult his scribbled notes and detailed drawings about brain functionality; delete everything, reheat the untouched coffee; code again.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba 20:42

Critical condition

stable

no visitation.

Three hours was a long time to hear nothing, Kaiba thought. Given his initial response, thinking back to Jounouchi's body laying before him, bleeding and pleading, he had figured Mokuba would give him a constant play by play over the course of the day. Two messages...maybe he would have sent more if Kaiba replied.

There was still no reason to reply.

No matter how many times Mokuba had been in the KaibaCorp. Tower after hours, the eerie emptiness it left behind was never familiar. The front lobby was devoid of the usual rush of employees and visitors. The desk, usually manned by a pair of smiling ladies, was empty, their computers blinking with the KC logo bouncing around corner to corner. A janitor was buffing the floor, so at least it wasn't quiet.

The security officer that sat for the night shift nodded to him, but they never met eyes. A magazine had his rapt attention.

Mokuba took the elevator up, sliding his access badge in order to get straight to Seto's office. The ride was just long enough that his back rested against the wall and his eyes started to close, sleep ready to overcome him, before the carriage shuttered to a stop and he instinctively walked out and towards Seto's door, able to hear machine-gun typing before pushing it open.

Seto hunched against his desk, his face paled with a light green glow from the computer screen.

"Still not reading my texts?" Mokuba asked.

"I've read them," Seto said.

"My phone still says 'sent'," Mokuba replied, and he pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk. "You were the one asking for updates."

"I've read them," Seto repeated. "Out of surgery, stable but critical. Sounds as if it's going about as well as can be expected."

"I guess," Mokuba shrugged. "They kicked us out," he said. "Only Shizuka-chan was allowed to stay for tonight. Family an' all that."

"Mm."

Mokuba leaned his cheek into his hand. "What are you still doing here? It's like...midnight."

"Going over Invictus' failure today," Seto replied. "It went about the same as the last time I tried it. Though it's pairing with the second mind this time."

Mokuba couldn't say he was really interested in the project. It had been abandoned over a year and a half ago after repeated failures, when Seto decided that it was best to focus his efforts elsewhere. "Who's mind were you using?"

"Yours," Seto replied. Mokuba softened. "The beach memory came up."

"That one's my favourite," Mokuba said. "Especially when Jounouchi ends up with the fish in his shorts, after the big wave?" He snorted a little bit, thinking to the blond jumping around to try and get it out. Mokuba wasn't sure if he was allowed to mention Jounouchi's name if it didn't involve the accident. Seto didn't seem to flinch, but his typing had stopped.

"I didn't get that far," Seto said. He reached out for the coffee mug, staring at the amber ring in the bottom. "That's where it started glitching."

"What happened?"

Seto looked up from beneath his lashes, his jaw ticking to the side. The coffee mug was sat down, and he leaned further forward, knitting his fingers together. "My mind took over. Took me to the street around your apartment, and..." Seto shrugged. "It just went strange. The sounds became too loud. The sky shattered..." he paused, making sure his eyes met with Mokuba's. "I saw Jounouchi, laying on the ground. Bleeding."

Mokuba leaned away from the desk, head bowed. "Maybe you were thinking about what happened today?"

"I don't know."

"It's okay, you know, to be upset," Mokuba said. Seto pushed his chair out, the laptop closed and unplugged. "You can talk to me if you're upset."

"I am not upset."

"You can't lie to me, nii-sama," Mokuba said. "You were with him for six years. That doesn't just go away."

"I beg to differ," Seto said.

Mokuba huffed. "If you want to go see him, you should."

"I don't want to go see him," Seto replied. "You'll tell me everything that's going on, he'll get better, and then we'll all move on with our lives."

Mokuba didn't even know if it was going to happen that way. There was no guarantees yet, with no information to go off of, other than the fact that Jounouchi was still hanging on. That could have changed overnight at this rate, Mokuba knew. He had asked Shizuka to keep them all updated, though he wasn't sure if she was coping any better than he was.

"I think it was my fault," Mokuba said.

The briefcase was locked down. Seto's hands flattened against the surface. "How do you mean?"

"I think they were after me," Mokuba said, and a shiver went through his body. "It's my fault Jou's like this, nii-sama. They were going for me, and I turned around and...and Jou was there instead..."

Seto rounded the desk quickly and pressed Mokuba into a tight embrace, rubbing his back, slow and calm. A hiccuped breath rippled through the younger brother. He'd felt small all day, just a child curling up into a plastic chair, having tantrums to find out information, when he should have been holding his head, being an adult. But in a Seto's grip, it felt right. Even if his face was able to reach Seto's shoulder instead of press into his hip.

"It alright, Moki," Seto whispered. "You're okay. And Katsuya will be fine, too."

Mokuba glanced up when he heard the use of the blond's first name, catching Seto's glassy eyes as they twitched, thinning and staring out over the skyline, wondering if Seto was just trying to console him or if he actually meant it.

"I hope so," Mokuba said. "I...talked to the police about it a bit. They're gonna look into it."

"They'd better," Seto said. Mokuba pushed himself away from the embrace, rubbing at the corners of his eyes, knowing the entire space was reddened and raw from his on and off feelings unable to be contained. "I'll speak with them if they don't take it seriously."

Mokuba piqued up. Was Seto...worried? "You will?"

"Of course," Seto said. "No one tries to hurt you and gets away with it."

Mokuba deflated. It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but he supposed it was better than nothing at all.

That said, as he began to walk out of the building with Seto, he could say that there was something a little different. There was something about Seto that he couldn't place, and when he looked up to at his brother, Mokuba noted how he looked a little lost. It may have been just Seto thinking, judging by the way that his eyes were flicking back and forth, thinning and widening. Mokuba knew he was debating with himself, arguing with some voice in the back of his head.

The kind of look, hungry and confused, that Seto would get long before, after Jounouchi said something to him that just didn't compute.

Mokuba leaned against Seto's shoulder. He could safely say that, yes, Seto was worried about Jounouchi.

In the middle of the next day, just as a meeting was about to wrap up, Kaiba received another set of texts, though, this time, he paid a little more attention to them.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba - 10m ago

Got to see Jou.

You want me to start with the good or the bad?

Because it all kinda sucks but...I don't know what you might think is important or not.

Kaiba contemplated the question. He didn't really need all the intimate details on Jounouchi's condition, but his curiosity got the better of him. Mokuba was going to give him everything, or so he suspected, judging by his phrasing.

He wasn't sure if knowing would hurt more or less than not.

Seto (¬_¬)

Wherever makes the most sense to start.

Mokuba wasted no time sending a quick succession of texts.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba -now

Leg's busted up pretty bad.

Couple of broken ribs, punctured lung.

He's not breathing on his own right now. Broken collar bone. Something to do with the eye socket and cheek? His face is a mess. But...

He's got a skull fracture, too. They had to relieve some swelling this morning...

Swelling. And Kaiba wondered if there was some kind of bleeding going on and Mokuba was just being kind to him by not saying. Then why tell him everything else?

Seto (¬_¬)

You're allowed to visit him now?

Even though the curiosity was still plaguing him, Kaiba didn't want to know anymore details. The image of Jounouchi, his sun-kissed skin marred with a rainbow of bruises, attached to all manner of devices while propped in a stark white bed, surrounded by family and friends who would all speak as if at a wake, was enough for him. Mokuba was just making the picture more vivid.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba - now

For a little bit. And one at time.

They don't want us around too long. We might overstimulate him, they say.

Whatever that means.

He's not awake...I don't think he hears us.

That was one of those debates Kaiba had no particular say in. He'd been in the room when Mokuba and Jounouchi used to binge through dramas that they swore they had no interest in, and plenty of them had the same old trope: a girl in a coma, waited on by her lover, reacting just enough to make everyone convinced that their words were making it through somehow. Such a cliche. If that was how everything worked, they would just be able to talk people out of comas and they wouldn't be as serious as everyone thought they were.

But it was something to speak about with Usami, he considered.

〜(^∇^~)Mokuba - now

Call me if you're upset Seto.

Seriously.

Making a brief trip back to his office, sweeping up all the things he would need, Kaiba began back down to the R and D labs for another scheduled alpha test, this time with the new parameters in place.

Everything was set up, the headset slipped on, his chest clustered with stickers, smaller ones planted against his temple, the needle pricked against his skin.

"...REM sleep triggered..."

But the simulation didn't come. It was a mess of corrupted data, or so the long walls of black covered in green text suggested. His mind was static that was trying to make the image real but finding nothing more than moving shadows.

Still, Kaiba felt present there, perhaps in a dream that lacked a simulated memory from Mokuba. It skipped the relay all together.

His feet didn't quite touch the ground, even when he walked towards the static.

Two figures were in the static, standing just meters from one another. One was making large, swooped arcs with their arms, pointing outwards, towards the long scrawls of green text. As if that was what he was talking about. The other stood still, stance a little wide. Defensive.

He? Was it a he?

Kaiba glided closer, the snow of the static widening into streamed rivulets, like rain washing over the pair.

Kaiba opened his hands and tried to force the curtain of static to move out of the way, to give him a better view. As he gazed around, the only thing that seemed to change was the ability to augment the static and make the screen full of green text disappear. Another swipe of the hand in front of it, trying to force it away. He sighed, and focused again on the image playing in front of him.

The first shadow glided over to the second, hands on shoulders and shaking it. The hands were thrown away. Kaiba pressed himself forward, pushing his hand through the static, wondering if he could simply step through it. It felt like cold and wet, powdery, more like snow even if it looked like rain. Both hands were held out to the static, the flakes settling in his hands, sticking to his fingers before melting against the heat of his skin.

A flash made him look up. Another flash, somewhere in the peripheral.

The second shadow had come over to the first, and he saw a hand raise and strike against the head, the cheek, of the first shadow. The 'he'. The first shadow launched forward, only to be stopped by a third shadow that came out from the vastness of the static, pressing between the pair, arms widening to spread the pair apart.

Kaiba pressed his hand deeper into the static, trying to push his body through, but it was frigid. His joints immediately felt pained, his skin turning papery and numb. He was barely up to the shoulder before he had to back out. And as he did, something else emerged from the static.

A small object clinked out, jumping twice before landing at the toe of his shoe. Reaching down, he plucked the small ring up. A silver band with four prongs, bent, the inset missing. When he looked back up, the shadows were gone. It was just static.

"...entering NREM sleep...ahh, waking..."

Opening his eyes, Kaiba was much more conscious of the world around him. The ceiling lights were much brighter than his dream had been. The cold of the snow lingered on his body, up to his shoulder, and as he brought his hand up, his fingers were pinched like he held the ring, even though it wasn't there.

"You woke on your own, Kaiba-sama," Nakajima said. "Did it go well?"

"There's no audio now," he replied. Isono stepped over to him, helping him sit up. "The controls still don't work. I can't manipulate anything. Load the next set of codes we'll test that next."

"Yessir."

Lulling his head to his left, eyeing where Usami sat calmly adjusting a machine, Kaiba asked: "I can hear you as I drift off," he said. "And I heard you in the midst before."

"You are under light sedation. You can hear us because you're not truly asleep."

"I see," Kaiba said. "I wonder if I could hear you if I were fully unconscious."

"Perhaps," Usami said. "It depends on the person."

"Do comatose people dream?" Kaiba asked. Isono handed him a water bottle, and he muttered thanks.

"Depends on high their brain function is. Some people think so, but there's nothing conclusive," Usami said. He eyed Kaiba with a questioning gaze, as if a little scared by the question. "You aren't thinking of making yourself comatose for this project, are you Kaiba-san?"

The thought was entertained for a few seconds.

Kaiba's head lulled away. "No."

The office wasn't left until somewhere after nine in the evening. Time had to be made up for Kaiba was testing Invictus, feeling as if he had wasted it by napping in the middle of day, playing around in dreams. Well, one dream. The second hadn't even managed to manufacture anything other than him staring at the back of his eye lids, occasionally drifting off, before waking up to be disappointed.

The code would be tweaked some more.

Mokuba's last text message, to which he simply replied 'I'll call you regardless of my emotions', still weighed on him.

Kaiba couldn't say he was upset. Even when he reread the list of issues that laid ahead of Jounouchi, he felt little more than indigested, and that wasn't strictly a feeling so much as it was a reaction. Mokuba would argue that a reaction was a feeling. If he had been indifferent, he wouldn't have reacted to the the list of injuries, and would have been more clinical about it all.

Going through the back and forth of the kind of petty banter he would have with imaginary Mokuba over the semantics of his feelings was interrupted by the actual Mokuba calling him. He answered it through his car's dashboard touchscreen.

"What's up, kiddo?"

"You leave the office yet?" Mokuba asked.

"On the road now," he replied. "Why, were you heading over?"

"No. I just wanted to ask if maybe you'd want to grab a late dinner. I'm guessing you haven't ate yet."

Kaiba smiled to himself. "Not unless you've begun to count coffee as a food."

"In your dreams," Mokuba snorted. "There's that noodle place near me that I like a lot. It's usually open pretty late. That sound okay?"

The noodle place that Kaiba was sure he knew Mokuba's exact order to, because it was the same place that Mokuba always went when he was upset, whether it be over something at school, a bad break-up, something innocuous at work, or, when worst came to worst, the aftermath of one of the kidnap attempts when he was younger.

Already changing lanes with the destination in mind, Kaiba agreed, and he met Mokuba at the small shop, seeing where he was already inside and at a back corner both, talking to the waitress.

They spoke of nothing important. Even though Mokuba had spent the last thirty six hours convincing Kaiba to open up about his feelings and, in the midst, Kaiba must have asked Mokuba plenty of times if he was alright, to a positive answer, it was only now that Mokuba seemed to want to vent otherwise about the whole ordeal. Kaiba asked no questions, just listened to Mokuba while he slurped through a large bowl that was double noodle, double egg, and eaten almost twice as fast as usual.

Once Mokuba finished, both with his sadness and his food, the topics trickled elsewhere, none of which involved Jounouchi, even though Kaiba kept expecting a waterfall of memories to come pouring out of Mokuba. Kaiba was aware of the close proximity to the hospital, and was waiting somewhere along the line for Mokuba to suggest that he go, but it never came. It was just talk, mindless chit-chat that they had while watching people pass by outside.

They must have sat for the better part of an hour and a half, and bowls had long since been swept away, before Kaiba asked: "What did you do with the things that Jounouchi never picked up from the house?"

Mokuba's eyes had wandered out the window, cheek leaning in his hand, his face washed with blue and red light from the 'Open' sign that they sat behind. "He was 'Katsuya' yesterday."

"A slip of the tongue."

"Mm-hm," Mokuba didn't press it. "He didn't want them back, so I didn't force him to take anything. But I kept them, just in case he changed his mind."

"He still hasn't?"

"Nope," Mokuba sighed. "Why you ask?"

Kaiba thought back to the feeling of holding the ring in his hand, and slid his fingers together. "Then you still have that ring, don't you?"

Mokuba's eyes widened, hand slipping from his face. "Why...?"

"All this just had me thinking on it, that's all," Kaiba said. The stare that Mokuba gave him in response was disbelieving, his lips pursing. He leaned back in the booth. "Really, Mokuba, that's as much as there is to it."

"Yeah, I...have a hard time believing that, nii-sama," Mokuba said, and he began to smile, buttoning it down when Kaiba lowered his head, disapproving of Mokuba's interpretation. "Do you want—?"

"No," Kaiba replied.

A light snicker from Mokuba. "Whatever," he began to slip out of the booth. "I'm gonna head home. I'll...probably be in to work tomorrow, okay?"

Kaiba nodded. "I'll let Ebi-san know."

He stood with his little brother, and they walked out together, with Mokuba touching Kaiba's shoulder as he began to gravitate towards his own car. The elder brother looked back, expecting more words, the final push for him to go and visit Jounouchi, but it still didn't come. Mokuba smiled.

Kaiba smiled back, weary, nodding. "Go home, Moki."

"I will."

"Get some sleep," Kaiba ordered.

Mokuba shrugged. "Maybe. Only if you do."

"Not likely."

Another shrug. "I'll see ya in the morning, nii-sama." Mokuba said, and he raised a hand as he turned away, fishing out his keys soon after.

The laughter in his chest didn't feel like it belonged, and Kaiba tried to force it back down as he slipped into his own car, getting back on the road. The manor wasn't far from here, he would go home and try to get a few hours of sleep, not that it particularly mattered to him after that day's testing. But he found himself pulled in the opposite direction, turning around on a side street and heading towards the hospital, coming up closer on it sooner than he realised.

The entire time he sat with Mokuba, he expected his little brother to offer for him to go and sit with Jounouchi. Had Mokuba offered, he had planned to decline. Mokuba was already heartbroken and, though he hadn't said anything, looked like hell. The kid needed sleep more than anything else, perhaps to clear his mind like the venting had.

Now that he was alone? Kaiba couldn't say what the pull was, but he was in the parking lot before he argued to himself that he wasn't going to go inside. And he was at the desk, asking the triage nurse about Jounouchi when he told himself that he wasn't going to walk up to the ICU, on the fourth floor.

"Jounouchi-san can only have one visitor at a time," she told him as he went to the elevator. This time of night, he imagined, there would only be one person there. Maybe two.

Once up there, staring down the long and empty halls, Kaiba slowed his gait, passing by many doors and hearing ominous noises. Light beeping, the hissing of tubes that were doing more work than a body. Heavy coughing came from one room as the door was on its way to be closed.

As Kaiba approached the room, he knew he had the right place. A mousy-haired, older woman sat outside of it, a book in her hands, tissues balled in her lap. If she was outside, someone else was in. "Kawai-san," He said, addressing Jounouchi's mother.

The woman looked up. "Kaiba-san," She said, a little cold. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see your son," Kaiba said. "I take it his sister is with him?"

Kawai-san shook her head, closing her book. "She went home with Anzu. The nurses are doing something," she mentioned. "It's been a while, they should be out soon. But I don't want you in there with him."

"I don't particularly care what you want."

The woman scowled, the book cracked back open. "You're just going to make him sad. That's all your good at."

The door opened up, a nurse walking out and bowing politely, holding the door open. "Ten minutes," she said.

A passing glare was given to Kawai-san as Kaiba entered the room, the door closed behind him. The place was dim for the evening, even if the occupant was unaware of the day and night cycle. It was private room with enough space that, when it was allowed, all of Jounouchi's friends could have sat around him. For the time being, there was only a single, unoccupied chair. A small, pink purse left beside it. Shizuka's, he imagined.

The room was filled with the same hissing and beeping sounds Kaiba had heard on his way in, though much louder, harder to tune out. At first, he didn't look at Jounouchi, but instead at the machines that surrounded him. Some of the same that he had been hooked up to not much earlier, though these seemed to be double the size and number. He traced a tube down Jounouchi's left hand, set level with his shoulder. His nails were still uneven messes, where he choose instead to bite them rather than learn to use a nail file.

There were a few bruises. Some shaped scrapes from hitting the road. His skin was still very much tanned, probably from still spending too long in the sun doing whatever oddjobs he felt like picking up when the tournament season was slow.

A second was spared to look at Jounouchi's face, darting away just as fast. Not yet. Instead, he went down, tracing the different wires that curled against the hard collar around his neck and disappeared into the neckline of the gown. Further down still, there was little to see under the blanket, except for where it was moved aside for his leg, propped up on pillows and covered in thick bandages that went above the knee and underneath the end of the gown.

A heavy breath was sucked in, and Kaiba took a step closer to lean against the railing on the bed. Finally, he looked up to Jounouchi's face. He was still distinguishable, though barely, through the swelling and blackened bruising, the myriad of little cuts that were sealed closed with little bandages, though one of them ran thick over his nose. It was the spot over his ear, where a square of gauze sat heaviy over a space where his hair had been shaved, that had Kaiba's stomach turn into a maelstrom.

He collapsed backwards into the chair, landing on the edge of it and gripping the arms tight. His lips twitched, begging to say something, but shaking his head. Jounouchi wouldn't hear him.

The chair was scooted a little closer, and Kaiba leaned forward against the railing, arms over and the tips of his fingers touching against Jounouchi's wrist, slipping beneath the bracelet. He didn't want to touch the blond any further, though he knew that he wasn't about to break.

Curling his arm up and away, Kaiba buried his face in the crook of his elbow, wiping away the wetness from his tear ducts and concealing the sob that began stealing the air from his lungs. His hand grabbed at the hairs on the back of his head, trying to stop himself.

"Katsuya...goddamn you..."

A/N: hope you enjoyed! Til next time, KenSan out!