Third Eye

So I was compelled to actually post a story...sue me.

This story is my love child, sent to me in a dream from its donor Imagination. I love to make up "what if" situations and this one actually fell nicely into story form. Also, this is a work-in-progress. If you're intelligent and have useful, interesting things to say about my piece, you know where they go. If you liked it, you know what to do. If you hated it, I don't mind you telling me, because I'm sure going to get a lot of flames for not having sex in my first chapter. Do you people know patience? The review board with tell.


Title: Third Eye
Rating:
THE FOLLOWING FAN FICTION PREVIEW HAS BEEN APPROVED FOR
ALL AUDIENCES
BY THE FAN FICTION ASSOCIATION IN
MY HEAD
Category: Drama/angst/crossover
Pairings: S/J
Summary: Enemies become allies, Hatred becomes heated. Will sad goodbyes and fitful dreams take you? Do you dare speak?
Warnings:
THE FAN FICITION ADVERTISED HAS BEEN RATED
PG: SOME MATERIAL MAY BE INAPPROPRIATE FOR YOUNGER CHILDREN
Spoilers: Basic, misleading summaries of the Anime up until the end of the Battle City tournament.


“He’s a Genius.”

“It will be unsuccessful…”

“…He’s not aware.”

“He will survive.” His deep voice overruled the others.

* * *

Chapter 1: Life as Labour

The life of wealth and fame was fine indeed, a seemingly perfect existence which granted its’ bearers a title of perfection as well. Those who aren’t blessed are doomed to envy, placing their stars on high pedestals and wishing their own lives were as wonderful.

Seto Kaiba was adopted when he was ten years old and, along with his younger brother, was brought to live with their new stepfather.

Losing both your parents to death would leave any child feeling abandoned and lost, but for Seto Kaiba he refused, even at a young age, to give in to his own despair. He wouldn’t let Mokuba feel it either, telling him “Don’t worry Mokuba. I’ll look after you.”

Seto did have another love besides Mokuba, and that was for Duel monster, the trading card game of hundreds of different duelling monsters that had swept across Japan and taken it by storm.
The game was the other small reminder of his childhood. Even though it was a game of skill, it was still a game and such, a relief to Seto. It was the way he got through his day.

The earlier events of his life after his parent’s deaths were always well known as amazing; another add-on to his already miraculous life. The company that he inherited, the genius that he rebuilt it with made him the most well-known business man in the country. And there was always that little piece of him that regretted that one little chess match, that one little choice.

Oh course, his company built and designed gaming technology specifically for the Duel Monsters game. Seto invented it all, the more products, the more fans he got. Being the ambitious and brilliant man that he was, he started designing bigger projects. KaibaCorp Duelling Arenas equipped with holographic technology began to appear, and more refined machines after.
Duelling had become an obsession. Seto dug his own hole for disaster, but someone else had pushed him in.
With all the amazing things that had happened to this young duellist, titles, trips, trademarks and even a meeting with the creator/owner Mr. Pegasus, when Seto fell from his pedestal, he fell hard.
Seto was cold and heartless, that’s why he lost to Yugi Muto, a nobody from Seto’s hometown. Some such magic or trickery and the boy had beaten the World Champion at Duel Monsters. It was then that the game had become an unholy fixation. Every moment was spent trying to win back his titles, but he failed time after time. His death had been replaced by mannerisms suggesting a drug addiction. Mokuba, of course, supported him in every way, but he could see his brother deteriorating rapidly.
It all changed the night he was invited to the Museum.

He didn’t believe what the woman had told him, and it wasn’t like he could do anything about it but what she asked, which was to hold a tournament. But something shifted in his senses; his very basic awareness was altered.
All his life he’d known the harsh realities of the real world, but suddenly, the thrill of being part of something more, even if it felt fake, was exhilarating. The frozen part in his brain started to thaw and once again he saw the world in glorious colour. Those colours seemed brighter than they were supposed to be, and all his senses became hyperactive. He wasn’t happy, nothing about his life had changed, and he was still bitter to everyone. However, perhaps a little more so to cover up his new side.
Along with the new sense of clarity came a theory, one that was incorporated in his tournament plan. His plan was to face Yugi Muto atop his stepfather’s tower and defeat him proving his superiority over the boy who he’d thought of nothing else, and proving his detachment from his stepfather, showing that he had finally got rid of his past.
It had all made perfect sense to him. The reason his life was so miserable was because of Gozoburo and his cruel teachings. He needed to shake this feeling of not being awake and finally open his own eyes and not his stepfather-fearing eyes.

Once again, he failed. The whole plan was ruined. Yugi had taken his title from him again, his only hope for salvation. Not only that, weird things happened on that tower at the end of the tournament. Things that are blurred in Seto’s mind, but they triggered similar feelings to his new life. He felt as if he was slipping into the real world at last, but couldn’t quite get there, that a wall was blocking his way. Now that he was on the threshold, he wanted nothing more than to live. Before the museum trip he didn’t care, he didn’t want to be anything but dead inside, it was painless, death.
Now the tournament was over and he and Mokuba had gone home eventually after making a few business stops. Seto didn’t want life to return to normal. Now that he had a taste of that colour, that living feeling, he wanted more. But this just made his life for horrible.
He went back to school in the fall, wishing day after day that he could go back to how it was because this was all too painful to be a part of.
He started having horrible mood swings. Sometimes anger so outrageous that he had to leave the room. Sometimes so strong he would retreat to his chambers to cry. Anything to get those emotions out of his head. This felt so unreal, so desperate, so far away. Life had hidden him behind a glass wall and all he could do was tap on it. He needed to get out, but from where, he didn’t know.

* * *

The battle between good and evil raged on around Yugi Muto ever since he solved his Millennium puzzle. Without many breaks in between, new enemies would surface from nowhere and target this puny teenager from Domino. Adventure and excitement in all forms surrounded his little body wherever he went. As a result, his life was exponentially better. Normal things like sleeping in his own bed and hanging with his friends in the Muto living room had become a great comfort and relief. Nothing felt boring anymore.
Yugi wondered if the excitement would ever stop and whether or not he would appreciate a normal life as much as someone who hadn’t been through all these dangers would. How long could his high last?
But there wasn’t much time to think about himself during these fast paced times. Rarely did he ever get to, or want to think about the disparate and sometimes frightening relationship brewing inside his mind.
No one could understand what it was like to have another voice, another person really, invade his every breath. And if he had ever actually analysed his situation, he might have come to the conclusion that he had to do something about it, understand it. In the meantime though, he was content to be as incredulous as his friends were. As anyone could have guessed, this satisfaction would not last forever.

It was a satisfaction that the dark soul that clung so desperately to his other half didn’t know. His existence was made up of nothing but time. He had time to worry, time to plan and to think. What he worried about most was all the evil that targeted him specifically. He was putting the most important person in the world in constant danger, but he couldn’t help that. Yugi never questioned why all this happened to him, his other self was in constant guilt. Yugi never complained, which made his guilt worst.
So the dark soul did whatever he could to help Yugi in things that weren’t outright duelling. Anything that could help pay his debt if ever something was to happen to Yugi. He encouraged him and gave him advice and comforted him. He was an amazing boy and the dark soul often admitted to him.
The dark soul didn’t ever want to cause Yugi any grief, not with happenings or worrying. He never bothered Yugi with his thoughts, he wanted him to enjoy whatever experiences he had in his young life. Yugi had very good friends to take care of him too. Joey being his best, and he knew that Joey would always take good care of Yugi because he felt the same was as the dark spirit did. Innocence and courage and all the other wonderful things that stood out so proudly in Yugi needed to be preserved. Tristan and Téa knew that as well. The spirit knew that deep down all of Yugi’s friends knew that they had something special and weren’t going to give Yugi up without a fight. Plus he’d done so much for all of them, it was hard to let go.
So Yugi was blissfully ignorant of his partners worries, just like the spirit wanted things to be. Even he didn’t know why he had this horrid feeling of doubt and suspicion that something was wrong all the time. It was how he’d felt the second he’d come into consciousness. The world around him was not right. At first he’d contributed it to the unmistakable fact that he was 5000 years out of date, even though he didn’t remember anything. This feeling had been growing and making him more anxious since the beginning of their latest tournament that Kaiba held. Actually, his fears had solidified earlier than that.
It was the day they had defeated Pegasus and won the Duellist Kingdom tournament. As per their deal, Pegasus had released the three souls that he had captured back to their rightful bodies. Yugi’s Grandfather was still in the hospital in Domino, Mokuba Kaiba was with them and they had found Seto Kaiba as they left the Castle. Yugi and his other half remembered inwardly smiling as the Kaiba brothers reunited. It was truly a rare moment to see Seto Kaiba being so emotional and benevolent, even if it was just towards the only person he loved. A little bead of hope was placed inside all the onlooker’s hearts.
Luckily for Yugi and his friends, Kaiba agreed to take them home in the helicopter he’d brought. It was lucky because really there was no other way off the island.
Everyone was in a good mood as they all climbed into the aircraft. Kaiba buckled Mokuba into the navigator’s seat and them himself into the pilot’s as the rest of them found spots on the two horizontal benches on either side of the back area of the craft. Kaiba didn’t speak for most of the trip, which took quite awhile. Yugi had fallen asleep on Joey’s shoulder before too long and it seemed to the spirit, who didn’t sleep, that everyone else (Save Kaiba) had drifted off after finding comfortable positions. He didn’t really have good senses but he could hear what was going on. Heavy breathing and no talking meant that everyone had nodded off. Soon however, like a soft-spoken melody over the chords of sleep, he could hear the quiet talking of the Kaiba brothers up front.

“Were you scared, even if it was only for a little while?” Mokuba was obviously talking about being soulless.

“Yes. I was more worried about you though.”
It was the same deep voice that he always spoke in.

“I was terrified. When they took me away, they said they were going to hurt you.”

“I’m fine. It was just a nightmare, not real, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You don’t have to be scared if it’s all fake do you?”

Seto was just comforting his little brother, but that phrase was disturbing and haunted his thoughts. The spirit would often catch himself hearing and analysing those phrases. What did he mean? He probably meant nothing, nothing out of the ordinary. But truth rang in every syllable. Nothing is real after all, we are all just pawns in a great game of chess. The images we see are only in our mind and the people we meet are just as dead as we are. Many things went through his mind…

***
Seto Kaiba threw his cards across the room, they scattered all over the grey carpet. The music he’d placed in the CD player was pounding and pulsing, some animalistic beat and Seto tore around the room and destroyed the order. His precious cards went everywhere, he wouldn’t rip them, they had all been placed in protective seals, but all the standing furniture was turned over, the order destroyed into chaos. The beat coursed through his veins, the blood he so hated, because it kept him alive. Harder, he took cushions from the bed and ripped them.
Suddenly he stopped, collapsed as his world spun, ripping and twirling in his eyes. He heard the bass, the sent the blood through his veins, the beating of his heart that proved to him he was alive, but he didn’t believe his heart. He lost continuousness, though he didn’t know it until he woke up.

Black and utter darkness, he felt despair. He recognised his state, the all-too-familiar backdrop of all his dreams of late, or, what were thought of as dreams. Like in waking, he could never see anything properly and almost always it was too dark to peer through with his mind’s eye.
These dreams were always the same, always filled with voices. These voices didn’t have pitch, they didn’t have a duration or a signature, course or sweet. They had no language, he could not discern whether they were any of the tongues he knew, but understood none-the-less. They were not soft, nor harsh. Though they always sounded as what they would sound like as they were being carried through the wind. They flew past his face, his hair whirling. They would come at him full force, and then fade as new phrases and dialects replaced them. And they would always whisper the same thing.

“Get Out,”

“Help,”

“We’re coming,”

“Look for us,”

“Don’t fail,”

“Don’t fall,”

“Alone, am I alone?”

“They’re coming,”

He would always feel himself answer “Who are you?” but he couldn’t hear it through the maze and the mess of vibration in his head.

He would never know he was dreaming until he woke up, because he never felt himself fall asleep. Strange things were uttered along with the usual string of phrases. And one name would sometimes wake him, Thaddeus.

He’d read it on a website one night, right after the death of his stepfather. It was the name of an artist, a painter who poster his pictures on a website. It showed up on his computer like a popup, but it wasn’t. At the time he thought it was a virus, or a hacker, but after browsing the pages with their alluring complexities, he decided he didn’t care. The art was always simple and dark, with obvious disturbing hints of green. They were landscapes of war. Grey fields of dead grass and the occasional body missing limbs. Sometimes the pictures would have red starring eyes behind the bodies, as if feasting on them. They skyline was always black and clouded.

Though he would never admit it to anyone, even himself, Seto enjoyed viewing this Thaddeus’ frequent updates. It was his secret pleasure and secret shame. But he never looked for very long, only enough time to see the newly posted paintings then he exited just as quickly. But the name of the artist, which always hung right below the art, drifted in and out of his dreams. Seto envied this man, he envied his knowledge, his understanding. He knew something, and stored away with his secret fantasies, Seto resolved to find out what it was.

Seto had fallen asleep at his desk again. Stupid! He scolded himself. He went right back to work pushing that little voice of doubt to why he was awake to a dark corner of his mind. Why should he stay awake, what did it matter?
That song that he listened to while destroying his living room and all the illusions of the dreams that followed kept creeping into the mind that was trying to work through hologram calculations. It was nearly impossible to think through the mental noise, but somehow, everyday he did it, only resenting his own life more and more as he went on.

***

He could almost feel the security of the flannel sheets of his bed, almost. But they felt so far away, like a memory. This didn’t worry him, even though his breaths were harsh and his skin cold.
Why am I cold? He realised he was lying on a cold floor, it wasn’t even carpeted. But this didn’t bother him either. The tunnel vision view of his surroundings seemed normal and the same to him somehow, but he could see light. There was a light in his face, soft, like the glow of the moon and stars on a clear night. And he could see the moon, through a window. A Window? It was a skylight, above him, And a long way up.
His arms, one was comfortably and weightlessly at his side, the other, across his chest, his hand resting on his heart. He couldn’t feel his own heartbeat, but he heard it. The glow of the moon fascinated him, so he didn’t notice anything else. Still breathing hard, his view never shifted, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat. Nothing was to happen, he felt calm, as if sleeping. His mind was empty of thought and logic.
‘Seto!’ The voice woke him up seemingly from his trance, it scared him, though it was familiar.
‘I can’t get out. Seto! I’m caught.’ The heartbeat played faster, as his breathing increased. Suddenly, without even moving to see where the voice was coming from, images blurred into the moonlit glow. Someone was lying close to him, on their side with their head inches away from his, and their face was covered with fair locks of hair.
‘What if no one finds me? I’m scared. Seto, I can’t see you, I can’t see your blue eyes!’
The voice was panicked now. This body was restless and the head tossed left and right.
But the moon was so intoxicating, so seductive. He wanted to touch it, to reach it, to be eaten by it. He couldn’t reach it, yet. And even though the glow on his exposed face had drifted into a swaying green, he wanted it even more.
‘Take me with you, Seto. I can’t see you from here.’
Like a powerful force the glow transformed into a fiery explosion. Trying as he could to keep his eyes open, the distant memories of the flannel sharpened, almost painfully. He was jerked from his dream.

“Were you dreaming big brother?”

Heh, I’m not even in my bed. Strangely enough, he’d thought of his own sheets and not the cushioned seat of his main office chair. These long nights Mokuba had stayed with him for company, and suggestions. He turned to answer his brother.
He nodded.

“You don’t look so hot, was it a nightmare?” Again, he nodded.
“Was it about…you know, our stepfather.”
He didn’t answer that question, but merely reassured his little brother.
“He’s gone now, remember, he’ll never hurt us again.” Mokuba smiled.
“I know.”

***

Has anyone figured out the crossover yet? Hmm, what is making Seto so anxious? And it's a little bigger than sexual frustration. Stick around for part two which is written but has yet to end.