Chapter 50

Why had he agreed to this? Why did he agree to put himself through this? This whole situation was a nightmare. It was never going to be anything other than a nightmare. The way the crowd of people swarmed around him, pushing against him, holding him back, he felt trapped, suffocated and so far out of his depth he couldn't breathe. This was a mistake, he was never going to be able to conquer this nightmare, not now he knew it was real and the price he would have to pay if he failed.

A part of him was almost willing him to fail. It would serve him right after all; the most suitable punishment he could think of for failing Tristan. The Sharpshooter was wrong, this whole place was just a representation of his own guilt; how could it be anything else?

'Seto.'

Just the sound of Tristan's voice rising above the din of the crowd made his heart race; he wasn't just doing this for himself, he was doing this for Tristan too. Whatever it was he thought he deserved, he knew full well Tristan would not be able to live with himself if he indivertibly killed him. The thought alone filled him with a strange new kind of determination and he found himself coming to a complete stop within the swarming sea of people. Struggling through them was getting him nowhere because the more he fought against them the harder they became to ignore.

He found himself frowning at his own train of thoughts. It wasn't exactly easy to ignore a swarming crowd of people, especially when you were in the middle of them. Ignore shouldn't have been the word he used in relation to this situation and yet it was. A small eye shaped island of free space began to circle around him. It allowed him to study the crowd in more detail. He'd never noticed before but every single one of their faces was filled with a different emotion. Sure there was more than a few repeats amongst the crowd, with so many of them there had to be, but within the crowd as a whole the whole range of human emotions was properly represented. Because they weren't a crowd of swarming people, they were a confusing mesh of feelings. His feelings.

Suddenly it made so much sense. The whole reason he couldn't fight his way through them was because they were a metaphor for himself and his emotions and not just a barrier of guilt separating him from Tristan. The dream represented his own inner battle with himself. It started on the opposite note to the one it ended on because he allowed all of his fears, guilt, worry and anxieties to ruin everything. Because he didn't believe he deserved happiness, it was taken away from him. Because he didn't want to face up to himself, he was crushed, lost and eventually killed by the weight of his own self-denial. He even used his own sense of guilt to keep his real self at bay, using it as a reason for this nightmare, rather than just a single piece within the complex pool of his subconscious.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the scene around him to change into that of the dimly lit ballroom. If he was right, if he had it all figured out, then he knew exactly what to do in order to change the events of the dream's final moments. But if he was wrong it was about to cost him his life. The din of the crowd died away into soft murmurings. Opening his eyes again, he quickly examined his familiar new surroundings. Instinctively his eyes glanced down towards the card he was holding. For a few seconds he found himself almost mesmerised by it, then he slipped it safely into his pocket and turned his attention towards the figure he knew was standing at the top of the staircase.

'Are you okay?' He made it to the staircase just as Tristan was finishing his slow decent.

'I... I'm not sure,' Tristan's voice was small and childlike. 'Do you know what this is?' He held up the blank, damaged soul card he was holding.

'Does it bother you that it's like that?' He placed a hand over Tristan's causing the other boy to lift his gaze towards him.

'I... I'm not sure,' Tristan shook his head, 'should it?'

'It bothers me, because it's my fault it's like this.'

'You're fault how?'

'I didn't stop it from happening. I wanted to, but I didn't, so it's my fault.'

'You didn't mean for it to happen,' Tristan studied him carefully. 'You said you didn't want it to happen, so you didn't mean for it to happen. Does that mean it was an accident?'

'No,' he shook his head, 'the person who did it meant to do it, I just couldn't stop them... I wanted to, but... I couldn't.'

'It makes you sad,' Tristan studied his features as he gently stroked some of the hair out of his eyes, 'I don't want you to be sad. It wasn't your fault.'

'But... it is...'

'No, it isn't. It isn't your fault because you wanted to stop it. You didn't want it to happen, but there was nothing you could do. That doesn't make it your fault.'

'So then why does it feel like it is?' He lowered his gaze. 'I want... I want to find some way to fix this. I don't want you to be this way forever and I promise you... I promise you I will find some way of fixing it. And if I can't fix it then I'll find some way of controlling it. I'll do whatever it takes to help you... to make this right because... because I don't want this to come between us. I don't want anything to come between us.'

'Come between us?' Tristan frowned.

'Tristan I…'

'I think I want a new card,' he interrupted. 'Could you buy me one?'

'It doesn't work like that.'

'Why not?'

'Because it doesn't, but I will do whatever it takes to get you the next best thing, I promise.'

'The next best thing...'

'Yes, I told you, I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. Tristan I...'

'Why did the person tare it anyway? Why would they do that?'

'They weren't a very nice person. They hated me and decided to take that hatred out on you.'

'I see,' Tristan pressed his lips together, 'I think this does bother me. I think it bothers me because I don't know who I am. I don't think I'm me anymore.'

'You are; believe me you are. It's in all the little things you do, even when you're like this.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because I would know you anywhere, in any form, with any level of memory, because I...'

'But...'

'Shut up,' without hesitation, he leant in and kissed him.

As he did everything around them dissolved into a blinding white light. The light itself was so bright he had to close his eyes against it, only opening them again when the backs of his eyelids turned to black. He now found himself lying in a bed in a familiar room, with white curtains billowing in the bay of the French windows. Curled up on the bed next to him, with his head resting against his chest, was Tristan. After a few minutes of watching him sleep, he gently moved his head onto the pillow and slowly got up.

His eyes were drawn towards his reflection in the full length mirror on the wardrobe. For a few moments he couldn't work out what was so strange about his reflection, then little signs of age became more and more obvious. It was impossible to tell exactly how much older he was, but he definitely looked good for it. Glancing back down at Tristan he noticed the same was true of him. This had to be the glimpse of the future the Sharpshooter had promised him, but what exactly did he have to gain from such a tranquil scene?

He found himself drawn towards the mirror as he tried to better examine his matured reflection. For half a second he placed a hand against the glass and was surprised by just how solid and real it felt. A curious frown pulled across his face as he noticed the edge of a scar just visible above the line of his pyjama bottoms. There was also a noticeable weakness to his body and the longer he remained standing, the harder it was to do so. Before he had a chance to know what to make of either discovery, Tristan wrapped his arms around his chest. On his right wrist was a black leather cuff bracelet which looked remarkably like the prototype he was working on. On his left ring finger was a gold ring with a purple inset.

The sight of the ring made Kaiba's whole body flame with heat. For the first few seconds the heat was tinged with embarrassment and fear, then a strange feeling of excitement replaced it. If this truly was a vision of their future then it was nice to know things were going to work out for them. But at the same time... Kaiba felt his fingers lightly touch the scar on his lower stomach as he got the sense things weren't going to be so straight forward for them.

A sudden knock at the bedroom door startled him; he turned towards it and watched silently as it slowly swung open to reveal a blinding white light.