Every Truth A Lie

Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. Them.

Warnings: Anzu.







/Can you get her off Ryou? It’s becoming sickening./



Yuugi laughed. /I thought you said you didn’t – /



/That I didn’t care who she touched as long as it wasn’t you or I, yes, yes,/ the Pharaoh groaned. /I’m taking that back. I think it’s more nauseating watching than being attacked./



/It’s flirting, not murder,/ Yuugi protested. The suppressed wince from the Pharaoh made him laugh again. /If you’re so anxious to stop her, why not get Bakura out?/ he suggested.



The Pharaoh stared at him.



/What? He wouldn’t let her get away with that./



The Pharaoh’s reply was carefully constructed and delivered deliberately. /Aibou, I was under the impression that you liked Anzu./



/Huh? No, of course I -/



/Then why by Osiris, would you want to unleash Bakura? Or have you forgotten exactly what he is?/



/Oh./ Yuugi’s voice was small. /I do keep forgetting,/ he admitted. /I mean, when he’s with us and Ryou, he seems…nice. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but nice./



The Pharaoh was gentle as he moved to comfort Yuugi. /He’s a thief, and a masterful one. He controls emotions, aibou. Never forget it./



The violet eyed teen relaxed into the other’s embrace. /I’ll try not to. It’s hard./



A soft chuckle. /You’re so trusting, aibou. No matter what. You never cease to amaze me./



Yuugi blushed softly. Before he could reply, the Pharaoh added, /Anzu’s trying to get your attention./



--------------------



“Earth to Yuugi. Earth to Yuug – ”



“I’m listening, Anzu,” Yuugi interrupted.



On the couch, looking distinctly relieved to have escaped the brunt of Anzu’s attention for the time being, was Ryou. Honda had vanished. Probably gone downstairs to see Mokuba, Yuugi reasoned. The biker had developed an attachment to the black-haired kid. Vaguely Yuugi wondered how Kaiba would react once he returned.



Because Kaiba was alive, or had been, just the other day, according to Malik. And while Bakura had made several snide remarks regarding the tomb keeper’s reliability, Yuugi hadn’t seen any reason not to believe him. Malik had no reason (other than the possibility of sheer malice) to lie.



/Before you start discussing the Items, call Honda. He should know too,/ the Pharaoh put in.



Yuugi gave a mental affirmative and skittered away to get the biker. Moments later, the two of them returned, and Honda casually claimed the seat beside Ryou. “So, what’s up this time?” The world in imminent danger again?”



/He shouldn’t take the world’s safety so lightly./



Yuugi couldn’t read from that flat lined voice if the Pharaoh was joking or being serious. /Um - /



/I’m joking aibou, though seriously, it shouldn’t be taken lightly./



So he’s joking about something serious that should be kept serious. Okay. At least it’s not as tangled as ‘he’s only pretending to look, so Kaiba must really be dead’ this time.



“Yuugi?” It was Honda, looking questioning.



The diminutive duelist blushed a bit. “Sorry – the Pharaoh had a few things to say. Anyway –”



The discussion took off from there. Vaguely, Yuugi sent a tendril of thought to curl around the image of Mokuba, wondering why exactly it was that the Pharaoh had insisted he be left out of this.



--------------------



Mokuba took advantage of the quiet to curl up. He felt tired, for some reason. It could have something to do with the air down here, he supposed. Rather imperfectly comfy on the concrete floor, he pillowed his head on his arms and stared off at nothing.



Sleep. You should sleep. Answers come to those who sleep.



He sighed inside, and answered the prompt, not really knowing why. He figured Honda would be down soon anyway to wake him up – it didn’t matter if he took a bit of time to catch some shut eye.



-------------------



“Mokuba!”



He turned, spinning on his heel like a demented thing, hearing that voice, knowing who it belonged to –



“Seto!”



Dreams were funny, he decided, getting swept up in his brother’s intangible arms. There was no smell to his brother, no solid physical presence to assure him everything was all right. Despite that though, there was still a comfort in seeing his brother, and knowing that his mind remembered every vivid detail about him.



“Mokuba, I’m only going to tell you this once.” Seto’s mouth was close to his ear, his voice hushed. The confidential tone, so urgent, made Mokuba tense up a little, preparing his memory to accept whatever he needed to memorize. Seto wasn’t the only one who had taken lessons at the hand of unmerciful tutors.



“I can’t come to you. I can’t come back. I’m sorry, so sorry.”



He couldn’t pull back out of those strong arms to see if there was genuine regret behind his brother’s blue eyes. It wasn’t readable in his voice – Seto had never been expressive with his voice. Sarcasm, anger and hatred all sounded the same.



“Why not, Nii-sama?” Mokuba asked softly. “Why won’t you come back?”



The tense arms around him tightened. “I would, but I can’t. You’ll have to come to me. You know where I am. You know where to find me.” Seto did pull back then, letting go of Mokuba with one arm to reach forward and tap him on the forehead gently with a long, slender finger. “It’s all up here, if you’ll remember. You can come find me anytime.” A scowl crossed his face. “Just leave the losers at home, okay?”



Mokuba nodded and pressed back into his brother’s arms, trying to prove to himself it wasn’t a dream, even though he knew it was. He couldn’t feel Seto properly, for one thing. It was like hugging morning mist tightly – intangible at best.



“How do I know? Where are you, Nii-sama?”



“You know,” Seto assured him, but it didn’t feel like reassurance to Mokuba. There was a hint of dangerous anger hidden beneath the quilted exterior, like someone else was speaking through his brother. Someone without the patience to deal with a – a little kid.



Little kid. Little kid. Is Nii-sama trying to tell me to grow up? Or am I trying to tell myself I need to?



In the midst of his musings, Mokuba looked up to see his brother walking off in the stilted manner of dream-beings, not so much moving forward as shifting from place to place in a general direction. And he was unable to follow, restrained by Swords of Revealing Light, played by the duelist across from him sporting vicious spikes and eyes that blazed like pools of liquid flame.



--------------------



A hand on his shoulder was shaking him, back and forth, back and forth, back and –



“Wha – Honda?” Mokuba jerked out of his dream, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The brunet was leaning over him, and was the owner of the hand that had pulled him out of the dream-turned-nightmare.



“Last time I checked, yeah,” the biker answered with small laugh. “You having a nightmare?”



Mokuba denied it, though from the concern in Honda’s eyes, he guessed he had no real reason to. No reason, except that only babies have nightmares. Only little kids.



Dark eyes didn’t seem inclined to agree with him, however. Honda took a seat next to him, and took back his hand, just sitting there, rocking thoughtfully in silence. It took a while for Mokuba to break that silence, but finally, he did.



“What time is it?” It seemed an innocent enough question to ask.



“Can’t read your own watch?” Honda teased.



Feeling inexplicably guilty, Mokuba moved the wrist with the watch out of view. “It’s not always accurate,” he lied.



Honda shrugged. “Well, mine says it’s about twelve-thirty in the morning.”



Mokuba made a disbelieving sound. “It can’t be that early.”



“Why not?”



Well…it had been light out when they’d brought him, hadn’t it? And wasn’t it…still…?



Oh. No windows, he remembered sheepishly. “Would I be tired if it was that early?” he challenged, only to force himself to suppress a yawn a few seconds later.



“Give it up,” Honda advised. “I just got out of the ‘Save The World’ meeting. I’m not in a mood to be arguing particulars.”



“What were they talking about?” Mokuba asked.



The biker shrugged. “Probably the same stuff Bakura said he was trying to explain to you,” he said dismissively. “Nothing of real importance unless you happen to be an ancient spirit, its host or related to someone believed to be reincarnated. Since I’m none of those…”



“Neither am I.”



Honda gave him a look that seemed to ask ‘Are you so sure?’ but said nothing further on that particular subject. “There was one other topic though.” Dark eyes met his. “Kaiba.”



“What about him?” Did his words betray the way his heart jumped at the mention of his brother’s name? Was he so transparent when Seto was brought up that it was obvious to anyone with eyes? Judging by the look on Honda’s face, Mokuba thought it probably was. In general circumstances, that wouldn’t have presented a problem. It seemed like it could potentially become one now, though, so tried to keep it to a minimum. Talking about his brother had that effect on him.



Honda favored him with an odd look and a casual silence before replying. “Well, he’s alive for one thing.”



Mokuba shot him a sharp look. “What would have made you think he wasn’t?” the teen demanded.



For the time being, Mokuba found his question evaded as Honda continued. “According to the Pharaoh, Malik thinks the Rod is controlling Kaiba. More magic stuff – I just tune that out, so I can’t tell you much more than that.”



“And?” Mokuba pressed eagerly.



The door at the top of the stairs opened and Bakura came down. “Pouring sweet nothings into the brat’s ear are we?” the white-haired male inquired, flopping down on the cement. He looked so damned comfortable that Mokuba wondered how he managed it.



“Just telling him what isn’t too much for sane minds to comprehend,” Honda corrected.



Bakura frowned. “You know the Pharaoh wouldn’t approve.” A devious grin stole across his face. “Let’s tell him everything then!”



Mokuba made a face. “You already tried the explaining stuff, didn’t you?” he countered. “Fat lot of good that did me. I can still tell up from down and left from right, but if you lined up the Items with name plates, I’d get them all wrong.”



“Even the Puzzle?” Bakura wanted to know. “Because that would take an idiot of pyramid proportions to manage that.”



He glared at the white-haired male.



“I guess we know which half got all the brains then,” Bakura taunted. “I guess Kaiba took your share as well?”



Honda moved between them before Mokuba could attack. “The Pharaoh would kick your ass if you touched him,” the biker warned.



“I’d only kill him a little bit.”



“Not funny, Bakura.”



“Remind me again why we’re keeping the brat. He’s disposable – that’s the first time I’ve agreed with the Pharaoh, and I never intend to do so again.”



Mokuba stood up and moved off, away from the brunet and the white-haired male. So I’m ‘disposable,’ am I? he thought bitterly. Maybe it’s about time I left. They can’t keep me locked up. The beginning of his dream came flooding back to him. Seto said I’d know where to find him. I can find him without Yuugi’s help. That decided him.



“I’m leaving.”



“No, you’re not.”



When had Yuugi’s stranger come in?