Disclaimer: I. Do not. Own. Yu-Gi-Oh!. Simple as that.

"The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders."

~Paolo Bacigalupi

Chapter 9

At the beginning of September, Alistair received word from Kaiba that the following afternoon he would fly for the instructor who would determine his competence. He hadn't flown in several months, so the prospect of being judged on his abilities made him nervous; he had a lot riding on doing well. He spent the entire day studying, but it only ended up making him more anxious.

"No, offence, Alistair, but you sound kind of crazy," Mokuba commented when he bumped in Alistair in the hallway. Too wired to sit in his room, Alistair had been roaming the hallways, mumbling commands, scenarios, controls, and their names over and over again with Sewell meowing at his heels.

"You're right," Alistair apologized, running a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Mokuba replied quickly. "I just meant that you don't need to be so worried; I'm sure it'll be fine."

While they'd been talking, Sewell had taken the opportunity to wedge herself between Alistair's ankles, her paws tucked neatly beneath her. She watched on as one of the other humans tried to convince her human to go to bed. Her ear twitched at the word bed. She liked the bed.

"You're right," Alistair agreed even though he was convinced he'd end up half the night. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The moment he moved his foot, Sewell was up and on the move. She looked back at him and meowed impatiently before taking off down the hallway.

"Guess that settles that," Alistair said with a small smile. "Goodnight."

Up until he'd actually gotten to the room and stretched out on the bed to wait for Kaiba to get home, Alistair had felt wide awake. But something about the softness of the mattress caused his eyelids to droop.

"Come on Mikey! It'll be fun! Don't you like flying?" he asked his brother, who was nervously clutching his Dino Dude action figure.

Mikey shook his head, his overgrown bangs swinging violently back and forth. "I don't want to get on the plane; what if it crashes?"

Alistair smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It won't. I'm the pilot, remember? Don't you trust me?"

Mikey backed out of Alistair's grasp, his face uncharacteristically warped with anger and mistrust. "You told me the tank was safe and it wasn't. You're just a liar!"

"I'm not lying!" Alistair protested.

"Admit it," Mikey demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You just didn't want me around anymore; you knew that without me holding you back, you could escape."

"That's not true! I was trying to save you!"

Mikey turned away. "I don't believe you. If you really cared about me, you wouldn't have gotten me killed. I hate you!" He took off running away from the plane.

Somehow, Alistair knew that there was a landmine directly in Mikey's path.

"Mikey, stop! Look out!"

"Mikey!"

"Alistair, snap out of it!"

Alistair jarred awake, spurred into a sitting position by his pounding heart. He looked up at Kaiba. Even though it was dark, he imagined he saw concern in the slight furrowing of Kaiba's brow, imagined he saw the other man's arms twitch as though he was on the verge of reaching out to reassure him. It was enough.

With only a moment's hesitation, Alistair wrapped his arms around Kaiba's waist and leaned into his lower chest, his hands clutching the back of Kaiba's turtleneck. He knew he'd regret laying himself so bare, but that would come later.

If Alistair's face hadn't been pressed against his chest, he might have seen the look of complete surprise on Seto's face. He knew what Alistair wanted, of course. There had been times, though not many, when Mokuba had come to him for comfort. And Seto had always tried his best to provide that service. He tentatively rested one hand on Alistair's back, careful to apply as little pressure as possible.

But this wasn't Mokuba. He couldn't be expected to actually hold him. That would be too… Personal? Intimate? Dangerous.

"Pull yourself together, Alistair. It was just a nightmare," he said gruffly, swiftly disentangling himself from the redhead. His tone seemed to bring Alistair to himself. He took several deep breaths and wiped a lone tear onto the back of his hand.

"Thank you."

The thanks plus the sad gray eyes looking up at him so pathetically caused an ache in Seto's chest that he hadn't felt for a very long time.

Without answering, he all but fled from the room, unnerved by his own reaction to such a simple gesture.

Alistair was too absorbed in his own emotions to care about Kaiba being rude. He knew now that what had happened to Mikey hadn't really been his fault-he'd always known he couldn't help but feed his own masochistic need to punish himself by looking for things he could have done differently that would have saved him. It was foolish, he knew, to continue the pattern all these years later. Knew it wasn't what Mikey would want for him. But still he continued, unsure how he would fill the chasm his self loathing had occupied all this time if he let it go.

Seto sat heavily on his bed. He shouldn't have looked into Alistair's eyes. But how could he have known? The despair, sorrow, vulnerability, and desperation in such an expression didn't usually move him. As an orphan himself he knew that as time went on and memories of family faded, the pain subsided, and as long as one didn't go searching for it, what little remained stayed locked away. Alistair, however, had never had the opportunity those children who lose their families early on have to heal. His survivor's guilt still seemed fresh, the interlude in which he'd worked for Dartz acting as a pause rather than a full stop. And now, because there was no more mission to save the world, however twisted it had been, he was clearly being forced to face it.

And that Seto could understand. If something were to ever happen to Mokuba, he'd never forgive himself. He could hardly forgive himself for the times when something had almost happened. And his deepest shame was that there had been times when he had failed, Mokuba's safety resting in Yugi's hands instead of his. He'd failed to defeat Pegasus, he'd failed to defeat Noah, and most recently, he'd failed to defeat Dartz. He grimaced briefly at the memories.

If he felt so ashamed and guilty over his failings, he could easily imagine the crippling despair that still haunted Alistair.

The realization that the slight ache in his chest was not caused by pity, but empathy, left Seto completely spooked. He resolved to make his observations from a distance for the time being.

Despite having a restless night, Alistair forced himself to put his internal turmoil on hold l so that when Alfred arrived the next morning to drive him to the aviation academy, he was able to focus.

Alistair could hear that they were approaching long before the building actually came into view. The engine roar grew louder and then they could see several small planes slicing through the morning air. Alistair couldn't help but feel smug when he saw one of them wobble slightly. If that was the standard, he had nothing to worry about.

The academy was an ugly modern building with far more edges than seemed necessary. A simple white sign stamped with the insignia of a generic blue plane stated that the building was home to the Domino Aviation Academy. It was so ordinary, Alistair had a hard time placing Kaiba there.

Alfred pulled around to the front door and Alistair couldn't help but look at him uncertainly. "Do I just...go in?" he asked.

"I believe so," Alfred replied with a small smile. "Just tell the receptionist you have an appointment with Henry Ogawa."

"Ok."

As Alistair was getting out of the car, Alfred rolled down the window. "Good luck," he said.

Once he'd entered the building, Alistair saw that the humble exterior was just a facade. An enormous lobby housed an original Mitsubishi Diamond jet that hung proudly from the ceiling. The receptionist's desk was a long slab of what looked like black granite behind which a plethora of awards and accolades hung on the wall.

His footsteps echoing off the marble floor, Alistair approached the desk where a woman with sleek dark hair sat at a computer, talking into a telephone.

"One moment," she said to whoever was on the line. "Can I help you?" she asked Alistair after giving him a subtle once‐over.

"I have an appointment with Henry Ogawa at ten."

"Name?" she asked as she typed in the information.

"Alistair."

She nodded. "He'll be out in a moment," she said, though he hadn't seen her hit any buttons. "Please, have a seat while you wait."

Alistair had far too much energy to want to sit, but nonetheless felt obliged to force himself onto one of the lobby's two massive grey couches.

Just as his mind started to wander to his latest novel, Alistair's stupor was interrupted by a door on the far side of the room opening with an echoey creak.

"Donna, we really need to get that oiled or something-it sounds like a haunted house in here," a jovial male voice boomed from the doorway.

Both Alistair and Donna looked up to see a short, portly man striding towards the reception desk, a grin as wide as his attache case forcing his cheeks into two cherubic blobs Alistair was surprised he could see over.

"And you must be the young man Mr. Kaiba's told me so much about," Henry Ogawa exclaimed without breaking stride so that Alistair was forced to stand up and veer sideways lest the man walk directly into the couch. Without waiting for more of a response than Alistair's nod of confirmation, Henry continued, steering them both back through the door he'd entered from. "Normally, of course, the Academy would never provide such a service, but when an old friend asks for a favor, you can hardly say no." He swerved suddenly to the left and almost caused Alistair to bump into him. "How is Mr. Kaiba? Busy as ever, I can only imagine." Alistair nodded again. "Well, of course, running a company that size...Still, he never missed a lesson when he studied here. Top of his class, of course. And so young!" This time, Alistair anticipated the abrupt change in direction when Henry swung sideways as though on a badly designed track and stepped out of the way before they turned the corner into another bare hallway lined with offices and what looked like a small library.

"I hope to get his brother some day soon. In fact: that's who I expected him to be calling about, but instead I end up with a friend of his-no offence to you, of course," he added over his shoulder, turning around before Alistair even had a chance to nod. Henry continued to babble, his feet and jaw working at breakneck speed until without warning, he stopped dead in front of the door at the end of the hall.

This time, Alistair did bump into him, his chest colliding painfully with Henry's fleshy shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, noticing how Henry's mouth finally closed only to form a disapproving line as though the collision had been the result of Alistair's clumsiness.

"Never mind," Henry answered snippily, ushering Alistair into what appeared to be his office.

The spacious room, like the lobby, comprised of one wall made entirely of glass, and the other packed with awards, certificates, and photographs of Henry standing beside some of his more famous protégés. While Henry went to sit at his desk, Alistair's eyes flitted across the photos, searching for Kaiba, whose picture he located smack in the middle of the wall. Henry sported the same grin he'd worn in the lobby, but of course Kaiba, then in his mid-teens, merely stared icily into the camera. Alistair could imagine that Kaiba's thoughts had been on how annoyed he was to have the flight instructor's likely sweaty arm around his shoulders.

"So," Henry said, his voice jarringly void of the good-humor that had characterized his manner up until that point. "What types of machines do you feel qualified to fly?"

After a forty minute oral exam during which Henry asked probing questions about his background in aviation that had made Alistair distinctly uncomfortable to answer, Henry brought him to the academy's eye specialist to test his vision. With the green-light from the doctor and Henry's initial qualms soothed, Alistair was brought back to Henry's office to sit the written exam which turned out to be a 3 hour long ordeal of multiple-choice questions about commands, and essay questions about emergency procedures.

Finally, it was time for the practical exam-the only part Alistair knew really mattered. As soon as Henry saw him behind the controls, there would be no question that he had more than earned his licenses. For he'd made it clear at the beginning of his oral exam that he wanted to be tested for a commercial license with a multi-engine rating so that he would be qualified to pilot essentially any kind of aircraft rather than just small, private jets. Henry had been quite surprised. Though the academy regularly awarded such licenses, the recipients were rarely under the age of thirty, and never as young as nineteen. That a teenager could possibly be qualified was ludicrous and he'd demanded a justification.

"I've been working with helicopters and jets since I was twelve," Alistair explained. "I know that sounds crazy," he went on when Henry seemed on the verge of interrupting. "But it was a skill I needed, you know, given the circumstances." As with the vague explanation of his relationship to Kaiba that he'd given Trudy, Alistair hoped the flight instructor would fill in the blanks.

Henry, despite appearances, was not a stupid man. It was plain that the young man was being purposefully evasive. The part of him that was an honorable man who cared about other people balked at the notion of signing the death certificates of anyone unlucky enough to find themselves on a flight with someone whose piloting experience had clearly been obtained during the revolution across the border.

His gaze flitted to his desk drawer where he'd stashed the signed check from Mr. Kaiba. On the other hand, what difference did it make where Alistair had gotten his experience from? If he was competent, he was competent.

And he most certainly was. There were no scenarios on the several simulators Henry tested him out on that he failed to manage appropriately and without a degree of finesse that far outstripped the flight instructor's low expectations.

Finally, it was time to actually fly in first a helicopter, then a small jet. A light drizzle had begun to fall while they boarded the helicopter. Henry made a note of the conditions on his evaluation form, and once they were both strapped in, he watched carefully as Alistair deftly started the engine and lifted the craft into the air.

As they rose into the gray sky, Alistair fancied he could actually feel his chest growing lighter. His own newfound buoyancy proved invaluable as he'd never flown better, elated as he was to be behind the controls of an aircraft again. There was nowhere in the world he felt more at home than in the air where there was no one but the weather to bother him, and rainclouds presented a challenge, not an annoyance.

It was with reluctance that Alistair returned to the ground after completing the final manoeuvre Henry set him.

"I'll be honest in saying that I had my reservations," Henry said once they were back in his office. "But you're a very fine pilot."

"Thank you," Alistair replied, unable to keep a brief smile off his face.

Henry held up a hand to beley the young man's excitement. "But here's my problem. You're incredibly young, and even though you've proven to me that in terms of talent and knowledge you're qualified for this license, it will be difficult for you to prove that to any future employer that you've put in the hours, and I don't feel comfortable risking my reputation and the reputation of this school. So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to grant you a private licence, just for now, so that you can start officially logging flight hours, and then once you hit the 250 mark, I'll gladly upgrade you."

Alistair's stomach sank slightly, but he made a gallant attempt at keeping the smile on his face. Without a commercial license, he wouldn't be able to earn any money as a pilot which meant that he'd have to look elsewhere for a job because he had no means of logging flight hours outside of applying for commercial work. It was a colossal disappointment, but he held out a small hope that Kaiba might have a solution. And he hated himself for hoping it.

Nonetheless, after shaking hands with Henry and being told he would receive his licence in November, Alistair couldn't help but feel rather proud. Up until that moment he'd never had anything to show for his life, and now he had the approval of an expert flight instructor, and a particularly supercilious and self-important one at that.

Upon arriving at the Kaiba estate, Mokuba all but jumped him at the door. "How did it go? Did you pass?"

Alistair found himself smiling broadly. "With flying colors. He said that I'm better than most of his own students at one point."

"That is so awesome!" Mokuba exclaimed, holding up a hand for a high five. Alistair uncertainly slapped his palm against that of the younger teen's. "We were pretty sure you'd be fine, so Trudy made a cake, come on!"

Startled, Alistair followed Mokuba, not to the dining hall, but down some stairs to Trudy's cozy basement apartment where, unsurprisingly, a kettle was bubbling on the stove.

"Hey, Trudy, he passed!"

She looked up from setting plates on a simple small oak table."Oh! I'm not quite ready!" she said, looking at Mokuba reproachfully and tucking several strands of gray hair behind her ears. The raven-haired teen widened his eyes innocently. "I suppose it doesn't really matter," she relented. "Please, take a seat." Mokuba eagerly plopped down on one of the spindly chairs encircling the modest table, and Alistair followed suit. Trudy produced a two layered chocolate cake with a plane drawn in white icing from the top of the stove.

"Congratulations, Alistair!" she said warmly, presenting him with the dessert. "I'm very proud of you!"

"Oh, I…" Alistair didn't know how to respond. He hadn't had a cake made for him since he was a child, and even then only once just before the stores started rationing things like sugar. "Thank you, that was really thoughtful. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all. Baking is quite fun, especially when you have someone to bake for. Drawing the plane wasn't easy though. I hope you like chocolate."

Between the three of them they were able to eat half as Alistair gave them a run-down of how the test had gone, mindful that they might not know some of the terminology. After they were finished eating, Trudy told Alistair she'd put the other half of the cake in the upstairs refrigerator so that he could eat the rest at his leisure. He thanked her profusely, and insisted on helping with the dishes while Mokuba recapitulated, for the third or fourth time, how his second date with Hilary the previous Friday had gone, emphasizing that she'd told him how much fun she'd had and that she'd love to see him again. Trudy and Alistair listened patiently, exclaiming at all the right points as Mokuba continued to gloat.

"What does Seto think about you seeing girls?" Trudy asked while Mokuba paused for breath.

"He hasn't really said anything about it. I know he doesn't like it, but I don't really care; he's just jealous because I have something he doesn't."

Alistair smiled to himself. He found it incredibly funny that Mokuba truly believed he was in no way spoiled or bratty.

"Now Mokuba, there's no need to be like that," Trudy reprimanded him, handing Alistair a plate to dry. "Although," she added, "I can't help but hope that seeing you going on dates will help Seto see what he's missing out on. I'd love to see him open up to someone; Lord knows how lonely he must get. He's practically married to Kaibacorp, but that's hardly the same. And what about you, Alistair?You're no better: keeping yourself cooped up in this place all day; you'd do well to go out and meet people too."

"I mean, I'm not really lonely or anything."

"Still," she continued, handing him a second plate. "Cutting yourself off from society won't do you any good. It's easy to say that you'd rather be alone when you're young, but once you're thirty or so you'll look around and see everyone else with their families and realize what you could have had. The bottom line is: it wouldn't kill you to find a nice girl and go on a date."

Alistair was spared the necessity of responding when Mokuba stepped in on his behalf.

"But Alistair already has a nice girl, Trudy," Mokuba interjected. "He's got Sewell, doesn't he?"

Gratefully, Alistair nodded. "Yeah. Sewell and I have something pretty serious going. I wouldn't want to make her jealous."

Trudy sighed but could see that the conversation was closed.

Seto walked out of the boardroom in much higher spirits than he'd been in since before Dartz's takeover. Stock prices were continuing to rise, albeit very slowly, and he'd just convinced the major shareholders that the best way to promote the latest Kaiba Corp software would be to host another major tournament. As the icing on the cake, he'd finalized the newest duel arena incarnation, having worked out the last bug in the holographic beamer, and was ready to send an order to Sapphire. Mentally, he was halfway to his office when his cell phone started to vibrate.

"What is it, Mokuba?" he asked, holding it up to his ear.

"Are you coming home for dinner?" his brother's suspiciously innocent voice inquired.

"I wasn't planning on it, why?"

"Well…I just texted Hillary to invite her to dinner and I-."

Seto stopped walking. "You what? You can't just invite people to the house, you have to run that by me first!"

"I know, I know." Now Mokuba sounded annoyed. "But you would have said no."

"Of course!" Seto replied, quickly lowering his voice as several stragglers from the meeting who'd been hoping for oneonone time walked passed him in disappointment. "We barely know this girl; we have no idea what she wants."

"You mean that you don't know her," Mokuba corrected him.

The purpose of his brother's initial inquiry suddenly became clear. "Oh I see, and you want me to come home for this dinner date of yours in order to change that?"

"She's just going to stay for dinner and then she's going to go home, I promise! I really want you to meet her. Please, Seto?"

Seto hated the desperation in Mokuba's voice because he'd always sworn to himself never to cause his brother to worry that their bond was anything but unshakable. Even though he had no interest in meeting some floozy with whom Mokuba would likely soon lose interest, it was important to his brother now, so he acquiesced.

"Thank you!" Mokuba exclaimed, and Seto could imagine the excitement shining in his brother's eyes. It was enough to make being subjected to an evening of teenage prattle worth it. "You'll like her! I mean, it would be hard not to, she's pretty, and smart, and funny, and-."

"There is a condition," Seto interrupted him. "And I need you to listen very carefully." He paused paused to make sure he was alone before briefly ducking back into the conference room. "You have to tell Alistair that he can't be there."

"Huh, why?"

"How would that look?" Even though he was sure no one could hear their conversation, Seto was unwilling to spell it out.

Mokuba shrugged, then remembered his brother couldn't see him."I don't know."

"Where is he from?"

Suddenly, Mokuba understood. "Ooh...But I mean, she wouldn't think-."

"Just humor me."

"Ok," Mokuba replied slowly. "But I really don't think she would think Alistair was your...I dunno, 'mistress' or whatever." The idea actually caused him to start laughing.

Seto felt his face grow hot and knew that he must be blushing. Grateful that there was no one else around to witness something so undignified and childish, Seto decided it was time to end the conversation.

"Never mind. I'll be back around seven, just remember to tell Alistair he needs to stay away so that I can focus on getting through this little soiree of yours."

"Please be nice, Seto."

"Yes, yes," Seto sighed. "For your sake, I'll behave. I know how important this is to you. Your first girlfriend and all of that. I'll see you tonight."

After getting off the phone, Seto continued to stare blankly at the wall for a moment. Mokuba really was growing up, it seemed, and there was clearly very little he could do about it. Amazingly, it seemed that his best option would be to follow Alistair's advice and play along rather than force Mokuba to choose between him and his budding independence.