It's been a while, hasn't it? My apologies for that. I've been working out a lot of kinks with the remainder of this story. There's a lot left to tell with this one in particular, and as such I can pretty safely say that we've now reached the halfway mark.
The only thing I can promise is that the second half won't take as long as the first. I wasn't sure what I was doing when I started this one, but I have a decent outline written out now, so everything is a bit more organized.
Shall we check in?
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Her eyes were distant but her pupils weren't dilated. The panic rising in Roland's entire body abated the slightest bit. Are you feeling nauseated? Lightheaded? Any chest pain? What about your heart rate? Are you cold?
And so it went, long enough that Yuki eventually showed signs of irritation, as though Roland were insulting Seto by worrying about her, and he stepped aside. When Kohaku asked what that was about, Roland said:
"It . . . crossed my mind that she might be going into shock. But she seems fine. As fine as can be expected . . . considering the circumstances. How's your son?"
Kohaku opened his mouth to say something (perhaps "He's in surgery, and we don't know, that's the fucking problem"), but closed it and looked over at Sotaro instead. "Calm. Confused. More concerned about Mokuba than anything else. I don't think he realizes what this might mean. He's only seven. He might be quick as a whip, but there's some things you just . . . don't get at that age."
Roland nodded distractedly.
There were two waiting rooms, sitting adjacent to each other. The one where they currently congregated like a cult at vigil was theirs, and no one outside the immediate family—of which Roland rather violently counted himself—would have been permitted under pain of death.
Travis had been given very specific instructions, and so Roland found himself supremely confused when he stepped into the doorway separating the two rooms, and said, "Ah . . . might be a problem, boss."
"What?" Roland snapped.
"Regarding your definition of 'family,' sir."
"What the hell are you talking ab—"
Travis opened his mouth to answer, then flinched violently. "Ow! What the—" But he'd moved out of the doorway just enough for Rebecca Hawkins to squeeze her way past him and rush into the room; she was dragging Connor Brinkley by his left wrist.
Roland found himself at a loss for words, as he watched the two children fly at Mokuba without a word of acknowledgement to anyone else in the room. Yuki watched them, and looked at Roland like she wasn't sure if she was supposed to tackle them now.
"Mokuba!" Rebecca whispered breathlessly as she barreled into the young Kaiba and pulled him immediately into a hug. Mokuba, for his part, barely noticed. He was still staring at the floor. Hospital staff had already checked him, the moment he'd walked into the hospital; physically, he was fine. Mentally, and emotionally, he didn't exist.
Connor sat on the opposite side of his friend, and took hold of his hand. Solemn silence was the young blond boy's only companion right now. He said nothing. It was a foreign gesture that he'd made—Roland had seen Mokuba and Connor together any number of times, and they'd never held hands even once—but somehow it seemed . . . right.
Roland didn't know what kind of demon it took to toss these two children out of the room on a technicality, but he knew it wasn't possessing him, so he gave Travis a look. "It's fine," he said. "You'd need a crowbar to remove them at this point, anyway."
Sotaro watched silently, as Connor stared at nothing and rubbed the top of Mokuba's hand absently with his thumb; as Rebecca held Mokuba against her like she was his mother, damn it, and a mother had rights.
Sotaro said nothing. He simply . . . watched.
The black-haired statue made no sign that he knew his cohorts were there, except that his eyes barely—just barely—regained focus, before he closed them and leaned against Rebecca like he intended to sleep.
Roland glanced at Kohaku. "Keep an eye on things for a moment," he said. "Travis still looks beleaguered. I'm guessing more than just two have made their way here on pilgrimage."
". . . Friends, I take it."
"Those two?" Roland gestured. Kohaku nodded. "They're the, ah . . . Ron and Hermione to the young master's Harry Potter." At the other man's clueless look, Roland did a quick calculation in his head and said, "Never mind. You'll get it in about three years. Yes. They're friends."
He passed Travis and entered the main waiting room. Yugi Mutou, Joey Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, Téa Gardner, Professor Arthur Hawkins, Leo Brinkley, and Enid Brinkley milled about the place, each looking more flustered than the last.
Except the professor, who was stone-faced.
Roland looked around. "All right, let's clear this up." He gestured behind him. "That room is too small for a circus. You can come in, two at a time. Say a few words to him, sit, keep it down. Understood? Don't ask him any questions about his brother. He doesn't know. None of us do. I doubt I have to tell you the shape he's in, but I'll say it in the interest of full disclosure. He's in no position to answer questions. Is all this clear?"
A sequence of seven solemn nods.
Roland pointed with two fingers at Yugi and Joey. "You first."
They got up from their seats—well, Yugi did; Joey had been pacing along a far wall—and followed Roland.
Yugi got one solid look at Mokuba before whatever words of greeting that had been on his lips decided to shrivel up and die. He simply drew in a breath, walked over to a corner, and stood there.
Joey looked far more calculating. Like he was stewing on something. He eyed Mokuba. Then his gaze roved over to Kohaku, Yuki, Sotaro, before he finally stopped on Roland. His eyes went narrow, and something sparked in them.
No one, especially Yugi, could have been prepared when he suddenly snapped, "What the fuck happened?" in a voice that would have done Seto proud. It was so harsh, so deep, so uncharacteristically cold, that for one stuttering moment Roland thought the man's eyes had turned blue.
Mokuba flinched.
"Now's not the time t—" Roland began slowly.
"Don't give me that shit!" Joey hissed. "You stupid son of a bitch! What's your job?" When Roland didn't answer, Joey asked again: "What's your fucking job?!"
"Joey, you need to calm . . ." Yugi started, but couldn't find the right words in the face of his friend's sudden fury.
"My job is to ensure the safety and security of every member of the Kaiba Cor—"
"Your job is to keep him safe!" Joey all but screeched, jabbing a finger at Mokuba. "And you keep him safe by keeping his fucking brother safe! What the holy fuck were you doing that you let him get shot in front of his own goddamned building?! Where the fuck were you?!"
"I . . ." But Roland realized that these weren't questions that could be answered. He closed his mouth and stood silent.
Rebecca was practically covering Mokuba's ears, leveling a horrific glare on the back of Joey's head. "Joey! Knock it off! This isn't the time to play macho!"
"No!" Joey roared. "You don't get to stand there and act like a fucking statue!" He grabbed Roland by the jacket and pulled him forward. "What good are you if you can't do your goddamned job when it's actually in front of you? Are you window dressing? Is that what you are? Maybe you oughtta go back to refereeing card games, 'cuz you're fucking useless as a bodyguard—"
"That's enough."
The person who spoke was the least likely of all the choices in that room. It wasn't Kohaku, reprising his role as the level head. It wasn't Yuki, finding her voice and her inner fire. It wasn't Yugi, and it wasn't Yami.
Joey turned and eyed Mokuba as the boy stood up. His grey-violet eyes were fierce. A dragon had risen from sleep in them, and was spitting lightning. "My brother doesn't need you defending him, Wheeler, and neither do I. Talk like that to my employee again, and I'll have you thrown out on your ass."
The words were clinical. Mechanical. They sounded like Seto's words, not Mokuba's. The young Kaiba had elected for a new type of defense mechanism now. Instead of shutting down everything, he had opted to shut down his emotions.
Just like Niisama.
Joey took a slow step backward, and turned. Every trace of anger had sloughed off his face, and he actually looked amused when he glanced Mokuba's way. "There he is."
Mokuba blinked. ". . . What?"
Roland whispered, without moving his lips: "You slick son of a . . ."
Joey flashed a grin, clapped Roland on the shoulder, and said, "You're welcome."
He left the room.
Yugi held out his hands. "I . . . I . . ."
"Don't . . . worry about it," Mokuba said without looking. "It's fine." He sat back down between his friends and looked at each of them in turn. "I . . . thanks, you guys. I think I'm okay now. Sort of. Well . . . no, I guess I'm—I'm gonna stop talking now."
He took hold of Rebecca's hand with his right, Connor's with his left, and just sat there.
Rebecca smiled, and kissed Mokuba's cheek. "Welcome back, Superstar," she said.
Connor blinked. "Am I supposed to kiss you, too? 'Cuz I didn't bring any ChapStick."
Mokuba actually laughed.
Roland smirked, nodded to Kohaku again, and left the room.
Before he could usher one of the others into the inner sanctum, his phone rang quietly in his jacket pocket. He took it out, flipped it open. "Ackerman," he said mechanically.
A soft female voice, barely holding back tears, whispered in his ear: "Hello? I called the house, and I was given this number. Are you . . . are you Seto's chief of staff?"
Roland blinked. "I, uh . . . I'm his head of security, ma'am. Roland Ackerman. Pardon my rudeness, but I don't recognize your voice. Who is this?"
"My name is Valery Hitcher."
