Every Truth A Lie

Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. These. Characters.

Warnings: Mokuba thinking for himself...without Seto around.





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A whirlwind of spiky hair in three colors pounced on Mokuba almost before he was off the bike. “You’re okay!” Yuugi exclaimed, his arms wrapped so tightly around the black-haired teen’s middle that Mokuba was having trouble breathing.



“Let him breathe, Yuugi!” Anzu came to Mokuba’s rescue. The diminutive duelist removed his arms from where they were holding Mokuba hostage, still beaming like a lighthouse.



It made the black-haired teen acutely uncomfortable. Such a look simply shouldn’t exist, he decided. There was too much of the otherworldly about it.



“What happened? Where did you go? Are – ” It seemed Yuugi would have continued his insistent questioning if Jou hadn’t cut in, hands raised, eyes shining.



“What th’ell were ya doin’ in da west-side?” the blond demanded, folding his arms and glaring possessively at Mokuba.



The teen glared back, ignoring the curious look Yuugi passed him. He debated several answers, but before he could make a reply, Honda interrupted his thoughts.



“I found him, Jou; doesn’t mean anything.”



Jou turned and growled. “Don’ mean nuthin’, my foot,” he snapped. “Ain’t nobody goes inta my old neighborhood without some damn, f-ing reason!”



Apparently the blond expected Mokuba to be cowed, because he seemed very surprised when the slate-eyed teen drew himself up and met Jou’s eyes. “Are you threatening me?” Mokuba demanded.



Yuugi’s surprise melted into concern; Mokuba barely noticed the transition.



“No! ‘Course not.” Jou seemed honestly surprised at the insinuation.



“You can’t tell me where I can and can’t go,” Mokuba snarled, very well aware that he sounded like a little child using that sort of argument. “There isn’t a reason I shouldn’t have been allowed there.”



Jou’s mouth dropped open.



Honda raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, back off, Jou,” he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “If the little kid wants to go fooling around in the slums, who’re we to stop him?”



Mokuba glowered, but didn’t reply to the remark at all. He wouldn’t dignify it with a response. He couldn’t admit they might be right about something. There was a stubborn streak in Seto an ocean deep, and one in Mokuba to rival it.



Besides, if they were right about something, couldn’t it follow they were right where he was wrong? No, best to ignore the inconsistencies. It simplified them.





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“You’re hurt.” Just a simple statement, entirely lacking anything by way of inflection. Not a question – an uncomplicated fact.



Mokuba didn’t deny it. He stared at the wall, his hands folded in his lap, seeing things that weren’t there.



“What happened?”



He shrugged, not comfortable with the presence behind him, feeling the eyes on the back of his neck. How did Seto take the stares? he wondered in abstract.



“What happened?” More insistent, now; not asking to be told, but demanding it.



“Nothing…” He wasn’t even aware of giving the answer, but his own voice was in his ears. Denying –



“Nothing…” It felt right. “Nothing happened.” He spoke them, savoring each word as it passed his lips. Sugar-coated to perfection, a twisting of some truth to far from the mnd to be a care. Then once again –



“Nothing happened.”



The presence behind him departed, leaving a feeling of acute disappointment in its wake. He drank it in, reveling in the poison sweet touch.



Nothing happened.





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Mokuba felt like his mind was just waking up from being asleep, but that was impossible, considering that his body felt so very awake. He wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was standing, arms crossed in a way that reminded him of Seto. The door ahead of him…



It was a huge, iron door, ringed with numbers and wires and strange, blinking lights. Some touch in the back of his consciousness assured him. Safe, the voice whispered. Safe.



Have I been here before? Mokuba wondered as his fingers navigated the maze of codes that opened the door. He knew where he was now. This was the very bowels of the Kaiba mansion.



I must have been here, otherwise how would I know that? he reasoned. The opening door dispelled any remaining doubts and he slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of mechanisms activating echoed. The feeling of safety vanished to be replaced with a white hot anger and furious disappointment. Then that too was gone, leaving just Mokuba in himself, alone in his own skin and feeling very confused indeed.





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He picked out a cozy cement-lined and fell asleep – a difficult task. Things kept making noises and once he thought he saw a black rat scamper by.



Somehow though, Mokuba managed it anyway. He knew he was asleep because Seto was there, and even out of conscious thought, he knew his brother wasn’t around. Circular logic demanded he be dreaming then. Or hallucinating.



Dreams seemed more normal.



Mokuba watched his brother, enjoying the bodiless feeling that accompanied dreams – floating over the bed, watching Seto work on his laptop at his desk. Simple things, little things.



A hand through his tidy, brown hair. The coffee mug with a message scrawled across it. A hushed curse word when something didn’t cooperate. The gentle heat from the fireplace.



Growing warmer…



And warmer…



Beginning to burn –



Mokuba woke up to the sensation of fire eating his side and pulled back from the radiator he’d fallen asleep next to. It hadn’t been on when he’d shut his eyes. When had it kicked in?



Blinking slowly, the slate-eyed teenager stretched, feeling the super-heated skin on his side scream. It felt too tight, like a shirt that he hadn’t worn in years and now couldn’t get off.



I need a plan. It’s all well and good to go tearing after someone if you’ve got an idea of where they might be, but I’ve got no clue. I couldn’t find him online… I have no idea where he is! Mokuba bit his lip.



I don’t want to ask for help, he thought, half of him muttering rebelliously that he didn’t need help; he was doing just –



Just what? Falling on my face at every corner. Seto’s little baby brother. He felt bitter.



, even if I don’t ask, they still show up. Yuugi’s got a knack for ending up in the middle of anything important, and so does Seto. Much as he hated to consider it.



Maybe Yuugi can find him. Then I can save him.



A nice, rounded plan by all accounts, all but one.



Now how do I get out of here? he wondered, looking at the door. It was handle-less and set too closely in the frame to even consider prying open. Mokuba stared at it, trying to force his mind into thinking objectively.



Just when he was bout to give up and go back to sleep to wait for another brilliant idea, he heard voices on the other side of the door.



With an ear pressed against the steel, he could hear them better, but all the sounds were curiously muffled and no voice was distinct enough for him to recognize. He jumped back from the door in surprise when someone – or was it something? – banged heavily on the outside.



The voices increased in volume, but they still were peculiarly impossible to make out.



He backed off as the pounding increased to a steady tempo, growing louder with each passing second, it seemed.



The door groaned then, and was silent. Mokuba covered his ears, feeling the pressure in the room begin to rise above intolerable before a silent implosion ripped the door off its hinges.



In the shadowy light he caught sight of a set of several someones in the doorway.





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Author's Note:



--The mug Seto has that Mokuba recalls actually says Coffee: Do stupid stuff faster with more energy! I thought it was cute.