Stepping Stones

Warning: Shonen-ai, possibly progressing to yaoi (though that'll be only on affnet~). This is an eventual prideship (SetoxYami) but it starts out as puzzle (YamixYuugi).
Disclaimer: YGO is not mine. I've taken a couple of lines from Loveless as well, which does not belong to me either. I make no money of fanficcing these.
Background: Not all bg info is placed out in the open...but the basic idea is that Mokuba Kaiba is dead (killed by Jounouchi) and that Seto has invited Yami and Yuugi to live with him because they cannot afford payments on their old apartment. Yami and Yuugi are lovers at present.
Dedication: To bahen and Shadow, both of whom know exactly how and when to kick me.

No matter what happens, you still get sleepy, and you still get hungry, and the sun still rises. Even if it mysteriously doesn't feel real.

Waking up is disorienting. There's a flash in the morning, or whenever consciousness attacks where you're entirely paralyzed but aware. Hypersensitive. These are the strangest times. Aware, and paralyzed because the mind hasn't fully loosened its hold. What things can be seen? I never can remember. The light of day chases all memory away.

The museum floor was cold. Kaiba's palms rested flat on the stone as he stared at Kura in distaste. The white-haired male seemed quite oblivious to the disturbance he caused, or if he knew, he didn't care.

"Why were you there?" Kaiba spoke, questioned, before he could stop himself. His child's self flinched. Gozaburo had instilled a lawyer's understanding of questions; one only asked a question whose answer was known.

"Where?" Kura stopped leaning forward, but didn't lean back.

Kaiba shook his head. "That old house. Jounou-"

"Jounouchi?" Kura asked, grinning. "He lived there, once upon a time. Then he moved and another guy took his space." The grinning male sat up straighter, giving Kaiba more breathing room. "Filthy bastard didn't pay the rent," was all Kura offered by way of explanation, but his demonic grin translated the rest. Kura had killed the house's second owner.

"But why the interest?" Kura pressed, head tilted to the side. In the right light, he might have looked innocent. In the museum, under the flickering ambiance that could make onyx look pale, Kura only looked sickly, shallow and waxen. Kaiba wondered if he looked the same.

"No reason," Kaiba answered, though a shade too quickly.

The wry smile that lit Kura's face betrayed the fact that he'd noticed. "Y'know," he purred, standing up, "I have a bit of a history with that boy's family."

Startled, Kaiba looked Kura in the eyes. He regretted it almost instantly, but refused to look away. The swirling dark brown eyes were unnerving.

"Oh yes," Kura murmured, breaking the eye contact. "His father was quite the addict…and his sister –" A laugh, balanced on the brink of sanity escaped Kura's lips.

Shizuka? A stone seemed to settle in the pit of Kaiba's stomach, twisting. His eyes narrowed. "What about Shizuka?"

XXX

A young woman. Very young. Barely more than a girl, smiling, with bright blonde hair and a wistful grin. She didn't speak all that often; her voice was high and breathy.

He had gotten well over a hundred fan letters from her. The message was always the same. He had taken to burning the mail that came in pastel envelopes with the soft purple writing.

Nothing beyond excess devotion to an idea. For the longest time, he hadn't known she was Jou's sister. And when he finally did know…well, it was a little too late, and nothing changed.

”You remember," Kura teased, stepping forward, only a little and motioning for Kaiba to rise.

"I have no –"

"You remember."

"I –"

XXX

The crowd was roaring happily as he stood on the stage, brandishing his newest project. The weight of the new disk felt comfortable on his arm. He drew five cards from his desk and spread them across the trays, sending the whirring mechanisms into life, recreating the holographic forms of monsters.

In the crowd, someone screamed and people parted. A young woman was climbing onstage, smiling, with blonde hair that sparkled. Too much glitter that morning.

Kaiba stepped forward to escort her off the stage. The screaming crowd grew louder. Hysterical. Kaiba felt the sudden weight of the girl's body, leaning on him.

Warmth seeped over his hand.

The girl's body fell to the stage.

A flash of white vanished in the crowd as Kaiba began to bark orders.

His hand was bloody.

For hours, he stared at it in disbelief.

The pieces never fell in place.

"You killed Shizuka?"

Kura grinned. "Quick aren't you? But no. That was my ex-partner." He shrugged. "Contract was up on you but the girl got in the way. Time came for another shot and the guy paying was dead." Kura's eyes grew thoughtful. "Or he'd chickened out. Some rival company of yours, I suspect."

Kaiba refrained from flinching when Kura smiled. But only just. It was like staring into the past, into Gozaburo's eyes once more, except this time there was nothing resembling sanity. Somehow that was comforting.

"Well, time to go." Kura turned.

Kaiba blinked. "What? No, wait –"

"Awww, how charming," the white-haired killer taunted. "Don't want me to leave? I'll be back. Don't piss yourself over that." And then he was gone.

The museum seemed more oppressive without the too-large presence of Kura's insanity to hold off the silence. Kaiba sighed and made his way up through the mess that littered the collection floor. When he reached the doors, he found them locked.

Kaiba swore he heard laughter, running down the halls.

*~*~*~*~*

I stayed up late one night. I stayed up until false dawn. The pale sky outside made me think the sun was readying itself to rise. The sky lies, Seto. Maybe you know that. You didn't go to bed that night.

Yami stayed in the library, long after Kaiba had left. The place where Kaiba had touched him, on the shoulder, burned. Yami felt almost afraid to touch it. Something inside had stirred at that contact, but it lingered only on the edges of his consciousness, blocked by something. The feeling, the sense of loss, rippled through his body like contractions, each bringing a sound of pain from his lips.

When he closed his eyes, all he saw was a pair of violet eyes, so achingly familiar that a part of him, long dormant, wanted to push them away. Destroy that connection to the present and reach for the future –

Madness, Yami thought, horror-stricken at the images his mind conjured, of a young male, splayed out. Crying piteously, tears leaking from purple eyes –

XXX

He smiled. Hesitantly the boy smiled back. He settled on the edge of the bed and reached for the boy, lust boiling in his veins.

The child's wide eyes grew even wider, and a hot blush came to his cheeks. The prince drew the boy in close, pulling at the scanty hip wrap; it came off easily. For a moment, the prince studied his prize, one wrist in either hand, looking the trembling child over. Delicate. Lovely. One worth for a prince. He leaned forward, transferring the two wrists to one hand, and pinning those against the bed as his free hand went to undo his own hip wrap.

The boy's violet eyes turned misty.

When the hip wrap fell away, the boy began to struggled. He leaned down and kissed the child anyway, his mouth absorbing the protests…and the screams.

Yami wasn't sure what had recalled him to awareness this time. There were hot tears coursing down his face at the thought of anyone hurting Yuugi…that boy in his hallucinations, that had to be Yuugi. Their eyes were the same.

And I hurt him, every time, Yami thought, feeling sick. Why? I'd never hurt Yuugi….

Then again, he'd have sworn Jou would 'never' kill Mokuba, and that Kaiba would 'never' invite him and Yuugi to live in the mansion. Never didn't quite hold the same power as it once had.

Why am I seeing these things? Yami wondered, dragging himself to his feet and stumbling further into the library. Libraries held answers…so where was the answer to his question?

This stranger in his hallucinations, this man who harmed Yuugi, who rode horses into dying suns, and faced death –

That's not me, Yami though firmly. No matter what I see…it's all in my head. I'm just…just imagining it.

Because he would never do that. Never hurt Yuugi, or do something as far-fetched as saving human-kind.

Another vision threatened, and Yami pressed his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as if by such insignificant acts, he could prevent the sense from appearing in his mind's eye. Hopeless of course…but he did it anyway, and the feeling of pressure began to raced, and amused tingle left in its wake. Yami was only grateful that it was gone.

"Yami?"

He looked up, vision darkening momentarily from the sharpness of the motion. As the grey sparkles cleared from his sight, Yami focused on Yuugi, wrapped delicately around the door post, peering into the library with his wide, violet eyes. Yami smiled softly and knelt. Yuugi raced towards him and enveloped him in a big hug. Yami hugged him back, smiling.

You could hurt him, you know, a voice suggested. It would be so easy… A few sharp words and he would run away from you.

Yami's eyes widened, then narrowed. What am I thinking –

Soft laughter. Keep ignoring me. You're getting good at it.

Then it was gone. Yami wondered if he was imagining things. That voice…no. It wasn't who he thought. It couldn't be. Just…just imagination, Yami decided, and left it at that ,nuzzling into Yuugi's hair. His young lover purred back, contentedly, but though Yami had dismissed the possibilities, a seed of discontent rested as of yet in his mind.

I will never hurt you, Yuugi, he vowed. I will never hurt you. I promise.

*~*~*~*~*

Promises were made to be broken. I remember that lesson; you gave it to me yourself Nii-sama. I bet you don't remember, though. You can't possibly recall all the times when you said you would tuck me in and I cried myself to sleep instead because you forgot. I won't forget, Seto, but I'm glad you never knew.

The phone was ringing. Kaiba glanced at it annoyed, but picked it up after another two rings, right before it connected to voicemail. "What is it?" he growled.

There was laughter from the other end. "No wonder you have such a nasty reputation."

"Who is this?" Kaiba demanded, but he thought he knew. It had been a little over two weeks since he had last seen the assassin in the museum. Work had absorbed him. He had almost forgotten –

It's Wednesday. He would never forget.

When the time is right, you will.

"Twelve guesses, and the first thirteen don't count," Kura teased. He sounded incredibly smug. "I have a gift for you, if you're still interested in the dog who killed your brother."

Those words hit Kaiba like a bucket full of cold water. He blinked twice, then growled into the telephone. Information traded hands.

When Kaiba hung up, he had mostly forgotten about the work he was supposed to be doing on his spreadsheet. He closed the laptop roughly and shoved it into his back. He had places to be. He had coordinate points, a north star. He had a destination, with justice waiting at the end.

Brother…is this truly justice? Or is it revenge?

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A/N: I realized about halfway through writing this that I haven't been doing Author's notes since forever ago. That struck me as a bit silly, since Author's Notes clear up a bit (maybe I'll make sense!) and also take up space, so it looks like I've written more. That makes a reader happy. I am brilliant. Just though ya'll might have wanted to know.