[fic] Just Don't Look Back, Chapter 18 - Yugioh, YamixYugi, angst/romance, R, AU
Title: Just Don't Look Back
Chapter: 18
Author: Chey (duelist_gurl163)
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/romance
Pairing: YamixYugi
Archive: Here
Overall warnings: AU, implied sex, insanity, violence
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Before he met Yugi, Yami spent his days panhandling alone. Yugi put his heart into changing Yami’s life, giving him companionship, a home and his love. But even he can’t save Yami from the control of his past, nor the dark path he is set upon.
Disclaimer: Yugioh continues to not belong to me.
- 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 -
---
Yami’s eyes flew open. Gasping, he lifted himself from the floor of his cell and looked around. It was late. The jail was eerily quiet. Deep shadows from security lights left pits of darkness in the corners.
Just a dream.
He shivered. The chill from the cement had crept into his clothing and body while he’d been asleep. Slowly he got to his knees long enough to crawl to the thin bed and curl upon it.
He didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing he recalled was being deposited in a trembling, sobbing heap on the floor of the cell. At some point exhaustion must have overrode everything else. And with it came the same old nightmares. Except this time new voices echoed in the background, taunting him, questioning if Yugi would still love him if he spent the rest of his life in jail.
It was all that damn detective’s fault. He had been the one who suggested that Yami would lose the people who cared about him if he was in jail for too long.
That interrogation had lasted for hours. Detective Koga had wheedled, faked sympathy and nearly exploded with anger. He’d fired question after question at Yami about where he was that afternoon and why. He made threats, shouted, even kicked the table and Yami’s chair a few times. Upon discovering that loud noises unsettled his victim, he’d taken to slamming his palm against the table. He’d systematically hit every weak point he could find, sending Yami into deeper hysterics. Two hours into it and Yami had begun to stop hearing what Koga was even saying. A few more hours in and he’d begun to stop hearing himself. Several times he was sure he was no longer even in the room; there was no chance of coming up with a well-articulated argument. He could only cower and say “I didn’t do it!” over and over.
Still, one small spark of satisfaction burned. He hadn’t confessed.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the blank gray wall. His fists clenched. They could break him. They could reduce him to a weeping, insane shell. Hell, they could even torture him if they wanted to, but if they wanted to convict him they would have to find evidence on their own.
I’m not letting Mom or Yugi get in trouble over me. I won’t.
With only that small victory to comfort him, Yami pressed his back against the wall and covered his face with his arms. Whether he fell asleep again or was simply wrapped up in thoughts, he didn’t know. When he finally pulled himself back to the present and sat up the lights were all back on. The cellblock was still somewhat quiet, as most of the prisoners had been released to breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, a guard brought Yami his own tray.
“Eat quickly,” she said, thrusting it at him. “Your meeting is at nine-thirty.”
“Meeting?” Yami croaked, clutching the food.
“With the prosecutor.” She held out a folded pile of familiar clothing. Yami didn’t take it, unable to trust himself to hold the tray steady with only one hand. “Your clothes. Eat and get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”
His stomach was too knotted to eat and protested at the mere thought of accepting anything, even water, despite the dryness of his mouth. He put the food aside and picked up his clothes, which she had dumped on the floor. The simple act of changing tired him to the point that the room spun and he fell against the wall. He knew he should eat. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything since yesterday morning, and that had only been a glass of juice. But still the sickness of worry in his stomach overrode his body’s natural needs.
He returned to the bed to await the guard. Several minutes later she came to unlock the door, secured Yami’s hands with cuffs and escorted him to the lobby. Another officer led him out to a police cruiser and drove him down the block to the prosecutor’s office. Reporters and camerapersons were grouped around both the jail’s exit and the prosecutor’s entrance and pressed in for a closer look, each attempting to shout his or her questions louder than another.
“Is it true that this was a revenge killing? Do you feel justified?”
“Was it all in self-defense?”
“Do you believe the judge will be lenient?”
The officer plowed ahead through them, muttering “damn press,” and dragging Yami behind. Yami kept his eyes trained on the ground, afraid they’d shout louder if they thought he was paying attention to them. At the prosecutor’s, the officer hurried Yami inside and down a dark hallway. They could hear terse voices echoing from around a corner.
“The hell do you mean?” A somewhat familiar voice hissed. An even more familiar voice snapped back:
“Look, it isn’t my fault, I did everything I could.”
“He’s already half gone, how could you fail to get a goddamned confession out of him? I told you exactly what methods to use and you manage to fuck it up! God, first Seidai’s questioning and now this-”
“If you could have done a better job, why didn’t you interrogate him?”
“Watch your tone, Koga; I’m a superior and this is your fault.”
The silence following the statement made clear that Koga had a great deal of things he was saying in his head.
The officer cleared his throat as he rounded the corner with Yami. Yami lifted his eyes to see his interrogator and Superintendent Ito straightening up, each struggling not to look as if he hadn’t just been glaring at the other.
Yami immediately lowered his eyes to the floor. He didn’t even have to guess who they’d been talking about. The awkward silence lasted another several minutes until the door opened and a medium-height, balding man, clad in a suit and with a distinctly foreign look, motioned them inside. He seated himself at the head of a table, with the superintendent and the detective on either side. The officer remained outside the closed doors. Yami, still in handcuffs, was seated beside he detective. Not knowing if he was expected to make a statement, he focused on being as quiet as he could and not shaking as the prosecutor verified the crime, defendant, and the meeting’s purpose. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and said simply, “Present your evidence.”
Superintendent Ito spoke first, passing documents from his briefcase across the table. “We have a statement from a victim, Hiroshi Yamada, giving Atemu-san’s name as the attacker. He has not been authorized to leave the hospital so a line-up wasn’t possible, however he selected Atemu-san’s picture from the variety we showed him. Atemu-san also has a motive - Yamada-san confirmed that the victim Ezui Sasaki had periodically harassed Atemu-san and acquaintances. He also confirmed that Ezui-san had attacked Yugi Mutou, the son of the family whom Atemu-san is living with, only a few days before, though Mutou-san claims it was someone else.”
The prosecutor, (whose name, James Estevez, Yami had finally gleaned from the numerous diplomas - most written in English - hanging on the wall), examined the paperwork, jotted notes and said, “I understand Yamada-san suffered memory loss from the attack and has displayed past contempt for the defendant. His testimony and reliability as a witness will be called into question.”
“Yes sir, however he was quite level-headed and positive that he wasn’t mistaken. He is willing to make an appearance in court to testify. We also have a statement from a doctor verifying that accurate recollections of an assault that has otherwise caused memory loss have been reported. The doctor is also willing to testify.”
“Fine, continue,” Estevez said, awaiting the next bit of information. Here, Superintendent Ito and Detective Koga looked uncomfortable. Yami finally glanced up, wondering what was holding them back.
Koga, still smarting from his failure to get Yami to confess, kept quiet. It was Ito who bit the bullet and said, “All of our other information has unfortunately contradicted Yamada-san. Atemu-san’s alibi given to us by his mother has been corroborated. A neighbor gave a statement to one of my officers that she had seen Atemu-san at his mother’s house, in her words, “nearly nine am.” The crime was estimated to have occurred at eight-thirty that morning.”
Yami struggled not to bolt upright - both his common sense and his lightheadedness warned him not to.
What?
"And the distance between the crime scene and residence?" Estevez asked.
"Ten point seven miles. No cab dispatchers or drivers recall giving a man fitting his description a ride," Ito said, defeated.
"An accomplice is always possible," Koga suggested. "If we had more time, perhaps..."
So that’s why they wanted me to confess, Yami thought vaguely.
James Estevez took his time examining the documents, occasionally pointing something out or asking for clarification. It was unusually hot in the room, and Yami could feel sweat beading on his forehead. The back of his neck felt clammy and cold, though the rest of him was sickeningly warm. He felt unusually aware of how hard his heart was beating. The room was starting to spin around him again. Not accepting the water that morning had been a big mistake; his parched throat felt like sandpaper and the effects on his body were getting worse. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to answer if they did ask him any questions.
Finally, the prosecutor lowered the documents and said crisply, “The judge won’t accept the case if this is the only evidence you have.”
The looks on the Superintendent and detective’s faces revealed that it was the response they had feared. Yami strained to clear his head. The judge won’t take the case? But if they won’t take it then what happens to me?
“I could submit it to her,” Estevez continued, “however, I have seen enough cases to know that she will reject the request for detention. The bottom line is that you would be better off dropping it at this stage.”
Superintendent Ito bowed his head. “If you feel that is the best move.”
The prosecutor opened his own briefcase, pulled out a set of papers and signed and stamped them. Silently he handed them to the superintendent and stood. Ito stood as well, tucking the paperwork away.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” he said, as politely as he could muster. The lawyer bowed back.
“I wish you luck with your case.”
Nobody spoke to Yami, so he continued to stew in half-hope, half-bafflement as he was tugged to his feet by Detective Koga and maneuvered toward the exit. He was pushed through the tangle of reporters outside by the officer waiting beside the door for him, and driven back to the jail, the police car followed by the superintendent’s sleek sedan.
In the lobby, the officer unlocked his cuffs and left him waiting, luckily by the desk so that he had something to lean against. He spotted a water cooler and was about to make a wobbly attempt at reaching it - or at least an attempt to ask the officer behind the counter if he could have a drink - when Ito walked into the room and handed the paperwork from the prosecuting attorney to the man behind the desk. Yami pushed aside his fuzzy-headedness to pay attention. The officer behind the counter left and returned with a small, clear bag with his name labeled upon it. Inside, Yami recognized his wallet and set of keys they had taken from him. His heart leapt hopefully.
The superintendent held out the bag to him and said gruffly, “You’re free to go.”
Yami took the bag wordlessly, struggling between relief and an increasing desperation for something to drink. Ito looked as if he was waiting for Yami to say something - something less-than-polite, judging by his resigned expression - and finally said, “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Thanks,” Yami finally managed to rasp, before gathering up his strength and making a line for the water cooler. Oblivious to the officers staring at him, he gulped down a few cupfuls, until he choked and dropped the paper cup, coughing.
Ito, still looking surprised, took pity on him. He took his arm and guided him toward a hallway leading to the back and said, “If you go out the front, the reporters will mob you. I’ll show you the way out the back.”
Yami nodded, his eyes watering from the choking, but found himself a bit lost once he was standing outside. The sun half-blinded him with brightness after his time spent in the shadowed cell, and only made him feel fuzzy-headed again. The few cupfuls of water weren’t enough to satiate him, but it seemed they would have to do until he got home. Wherever home was…he wasn’t entirely sure of the direction. He unzipped the bag and checked his wallet, squinting at the out-of-focus numbers on the bills inside. A taxi, that would be his best choice. Walking was out of the question.
Vaguely mindful of the superintendent’s comment about the reporters, he staggered down a few back roads before he approached the street again to hail a cab and collapsed gratefully into the backseat.
“Kame Game Shop,” he said, closing his eyes. “Corner of…corner of sixth and thirty-first.”
The driver give him a suspicious look - Yami wondered if the reporters and their cameras had already plastered his face over the news - but said nothing until they arrived at the store and Yami handed him all the bills in his wallet, too tired to count them. As he closed the door and started a blurry-eyed, slow walk toward the front door, the driver called out the window, “Hey, this is too much, do you want change?”
Yami waved his hand vaguely behind him and called, “No, thanks.”
Or at least, he thought he called it. It might have only been in his mind. The cab driver might have already been gone. It might have been hours, days since the cab dropped him off. His foot caught the edge of the step and he stumbled to his knees.
He didn’t try to stand back up. It was so hot out. It might be nice to stop and rest a moment.
On his hands and knees, he heard a door open nearby. The voices on the edge of his thoughts murmured amongst themselves.
It was so goddamned humid out, yet his skin felt icy.
He felt his cheek meet the hot concrete.
It might help to lie down for a few minutes. Just a few…
- - -
Yugi waved good-bye to Anzu, opened the front door, took off his shoes and was halfway up the stairs when his grandfather hurried down from the upper floor and blocked his way.
“Um…hi Grandpa,” Yugi said slowly, raising his eyebrows.
Sugoroku had been trying to think of a gentle way to break the news for the last few hours, but had come up with nothing. Deciding that some topics were best launched straight into, he looked down at Yugi’s confused expression and said, “Yami’s here.”
Yugi’s body tensed. “What? He’s here? They let him out? Is he still a suspect?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything.”
The ecstatic shine vanished from Yugi’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He collapsed outside this morning, after getting out of a cab-”
“He collapsed?!” Yugi reached out, showing every sign of preparing to shove his way by. His grandfather stopped him by taking his wrist.
“Yugi, wait.”
“I don’t want to wait,” Yugi said distractedly. “You’re saying Yami is here and he collapsed! I want to see him now, screw waiting-”
“Yugi, he’s not really in any condition to be bothered, he hasn’t spoken since he got here and he looks ill- Yugi!”
His grandson had succeeded in struggling loose and sprinting upstairs. Sugoroku sighed.
“Yami? Yami!” Yugi skidded into the living room and darted for the couch, upon which laid a familiar figure. He dropped to his knees and flung his arms around Yami’s chest. His leg hit an empty water bottle and sent it skittering across the floor. “They let you out, thank God…”
He felt fingers slowly brush against his hair and pulled away to see Yami reaching up for him. Yugi’s euphoria faded away.
“Yami?”
Something was wrong. He didn’t look right. His expression was twisted, his eyes…they were all wrong - too dark, too dull to be the eyes Yugi knew.
He looked broken.
Then, as Yugi struggled between concern and confusion, Yami’s expression changed.
The voices were gone. The moment he met Yugi’s gaze, his mind went blissfully blank. For the first time since the arrest, the only voice in his head was his own. There was finally a sense of control and safety. He struggled to smile and touched Yugi’s hair again. “Hi,” he whispered.
Yugi beamed and hugged him again. “Hi yourself.”
“I don’t suppose…you have another bottle of water around?”
“Oh, are you thirsty? I’ll get you one.” Yugi jumped to his feet. Yami sat up a bit more slowly, accepting the water gratefully.
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” Yugi seated himself beside him. “Grandpa said that you collapsed and wouldn’t speak.”
Yami lowered the bottle. His voice sounded stronger. “I’m fine. I was just too nervous to eat or drink in jail. My throat hurt, I didn’t feel like talking.”
Yugi’s expression asked his next question for him. Yami was already answering before he could begin to ask.
“It’s okay. I’m not a suspect anymore, they let me out. They didn’t have enough evidence, and...” Here, he faltered and glanced at the door. Yugi got up and checked both staircases before returning.
“Grandpa’s back downstairs and Mom’s not here, it’s okay.”
Yami lowered his voice anyway. “The superintendent said something odd, about a neighbor seeing me at my mom’s apartment before the killings. How is that possible? I wasn’t anywhere near there.”
“It was me.”
“What?”
“The neighbor must have seen me,” Yugi said. The happiness had begun to wear off as he remembered his doubts from the day before. “I was at your mom’s that morning looking for you. From a distance I imagine we look alike.”
“Oh…I guess it was a lucky coincidence.”
“Yeah,” Yugi said quietly. “I guess it was.”
- - -
That night Yugi lay awake. He felt tired, but could only toss and turn and never fall asleep. Groaning, he kicked at his sheets in frustration and threw them off the bed, falling back to the mattress with a heavy sigh.
Great. Now I can’t sleep and I’m cold.
He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed to pick up the sheets. As he did, he glanced toward his open door.
A figure had appeared in the doorway.
Yugi threw himself backward with a startled gasp. The figure jumped too and Yami stepped into the room, the light from the windows making his features clear.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you-”
“What…what were you doing in my doorway?” Yugi asked, trying to calm his racing heart.
“I was trying to decide if I should wake you or not.” In the moonlight, Yami’s features looked softer than usual.
“I was awake,” Yugi said, fetching his sheets and sitting up. “Is something wrong?”
“Um…I just…didn’t get a lot of sleep in jail and…now I can’t sleep because I keep remembering it and they won’t shut up and earlier you made them go away, so I thought…if I could sleep in here…”
None of what he was saying made much sense, but Yugi figured the late hour was to blame. He patted the bed. “It’s alright, sit down.”
Yami walked over and sat. Yugi put one arm around him. “It was pretty bad, huh?” he whispered.
Yami nodded. His voice was still weak. “Really bad. The cell was so tiny and the detective wouldn’t stop yelling at me and…everything kept coming back. Now, even though I’m here, it still keeps coming back.”
Yugi bit his lip. “Yami, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry…because…when you were arrested there was part of me that tried to make myself believe you deserved it. I tried to tell myself that you were a murderer and you deserved to go to jail and that I shouldn’t feel bad. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. No matter how much I love you, I can’t condone what happened. But it was torture for you and now all I can think is how glad I am that I visited your mom and that the neighbor saw me, and I feel weird thinking that-”
“Yugi,” Yami said, stopping his rambling.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you mad…that you helped me?”
Shaking his head, Yugi said, “No, I’m glad, really. I can’t even imagine how horrible it must have been, and I’m mad at myself for thinking you deserved that kind of punishment. Another part of me is mad for being happy that you got away. And I’m mad that right and wrong have to be so complicated. I don’t even know what my own morals are anymore, I just…I’m glad you’re here.” He buried his face in Yami’s shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”
Yami hugged him, but didn’t reply. Yugi pulled away to ask, his voice toughening, “You are okay, aren’t you?”
Yami just hugged him tighter and Yugi silently hugged him back, and for a moment neither of them could tell who was comforting whom anymore.
X - X - X
Notes: All the honorifics in this chapter bug me. xD The characters have all talked so informally so far and suddenly they’re all “-san”ing it up left and right. ^^; But for such a formal situation, it only seemed appropriate.
We're kind of officially entering part three of this fic now. Part one was them getting to know each other, part two the whole murder issue, and part three...well, let's just say I really like part three. >D
My replies to reviews/comments will be a bit late this time around. I'm leaving today to go to my first convention and won't be back till Sunday. And there's still so much to do before I leave!
Chapter: 18
Author: Chey (duelist_gurl163)
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/romance
Pairing: YamixYugi
Archive: Here
Overall warnings: AU, implied sex, insanity, violence
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Before he met Yugi, Yami spent his days panhandling alone. Yugi put his heart into changing Yami’s life, giving him companionship, a home and his love. But even he can’t save Yami from the control of his past, nor the dark path he is set upon.
Disclaimer: Yugioh continues to not belong to me.
- 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 -
---
Yami’s eyes flew open. Gasping, he lifted himself from the floor of his cell and looked around. It was late. The jail was eerily quiet. Deep shadows from security lights left pits of darkness in the corners.
Just a dream.
He shivered. The chill from the cement had crept into his clothing and body while he’d been asleep. Slowly he got to his knees long enough to crawl to the thin bed and curl upon it.
He didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing he recalled was being deposited in a trembling, sobbing heap on the floor of the cell. At some point exhaustion must have overrode everything else. And with it came the same old nightmares. Except this time new voices echoed in the background, taunting him, questioning if Yugi would still love him if he spent the rest of his life in jail.
It was all that damn detective’s fault. He had been the one who suggested that Yami would lose the people who cared about him if he was in jail for too long.
That interrogation had lasted for hours. Detective Koga had wheedled, faked sympathy and nearly exploded with anger. He’d fired question after question at Yami about where he was that afternoon and why. He made threats, shouted, even kicked the table and Yami’s chair a few times. Upon discovering that loud noises unsettled his victim, he’d taken to slamming his palm against the table. He’d systematically hit every weak point he could find, sending Yami into deeper hysterics. Two hours into it and Yami had begun to stop hearing what Koga was even saying. A few more hours in and he’d begun to stop hearing himself. Several times he was sure he was no longer even in the room; there was no chance of coming up with a well-articulated argument. He could only cower and say “I didn’t do it!” over and over.
Still, one small spark of satisfaction burned. He hadn’t confessed.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the blank gray wall. His fists clenched. They could break him. They could reduce him to a weeping, insane shell. Hell, they could even torture him if they wanted to, but if they wanted to convict him they would have to find evidence on their own.
I’m not letting Mom or Yugi get in trouble over me. I won’t.
With only that small victory to comfort him, Yami pressed his back against the wall and covered his face with his arms. Whether he fell asleep again or was simply wrapped up in thoughts, he didn’t know. When he finally pulled himself back to the present and sat up the lights were all back on. The cellblock was still somewhat quiet, as most of the prisoners had been released to breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, a guard brought Yami his own tray.
“Eat quickly,” she said, thrusting it at him. “Your meeting is at nine-thirty.”
“Meeting?” Yami croaked, clutching the food.
“With the prosecutor.” She held out a folded pile of familiar clothing. Yami didn’t take it, unable to trust himself to hold the tray steady with only one hand. “Your clothes. Eat and get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”
His stomach was too knotted to eat and protested at the mere thought of accepting anything, even water, despite the dryness of his mouth. He put the food aside and picked up his clothes, which she had dumped on the floor. The simple act of changing tired him to the point that the room spun and he fell against the wall. He knew he should eat. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything since yesterday morning, and that had only been a glass of juice. But still the sickness of worry in his stomach overrode his body’s natural needs.
He returned to the bed to await the guard. Several minutes later she came to unlock the door, secured Yami’s hands with cuffs and escorted him to the lobby. Another officer led him out to a police cruiser and drove him down the block to the prosecutor’s office. Reporters and camerapersons were grouped around both the jail’s exit and the prosecutor’s entrance and pressed in for a closer look, each attempting to shout his or her questions louder than another.
“Is it true that this was a revenge killing? Do you feel justified?”
“Was it all in self-defense?”
“Do you believe the judge will be lenient?”
The officer plowed ahead through them, muttering “damn press,” and dragging Yami behind. Yami kept his eyes trained on the ground, afraid they’d shout louder if they thought he was paying attention to them. At the prosecutor’s, the officer hurried Yami inside and down a dark hallway. They could hear terse voices echoing from around a corner.
“The hell do you mean?” A somewhat familiar voice hissed. An even more familiar voice snapped back:
“Look, it isn’t my fault, I did everything I could.”
“He’s already half gone, how could you fail to get a goddamned confession out of him? I told you exactly what methods to use and you manage to fuck it up! God, first Seidai’s questioning and now this-”
“If you could have done a better job, why didn’t you interrogate him?”
“Watch your tone, Koga; I’m a superior and this is your fault.”
The silence following the statement made clear that Koga had a great deal of things he was saying in his head.
The officer cleared his throat as he rounded the corner with Yami. Yami lifted his eyes to see his interrogator and Superintendent Ito straightening up, each struggling not to look as if he hadn’t just been glaring at the other.
Yami immediately lowered his eyes to the floor. He didn’t even have to guess who they’d been talking about. The awkward silence lasted another several minutes until the door opened and a medium-height, balding man, clad in a suit and with a distinctly foreign look, motioned them inside. He seated himself at the head of a table, with the superintendent and the detective on either side. The officer remained outside the closed doors. Yami, still in handcuffs, was seated beside he detective. Not knowing if he was expected to make a statement, he focused on being as quiet as he could and not shaking as the prosecutor verified the crime, defendant, and the meeting’s purpose. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and said simply, “Present your evidence.”
Superintendent Ito spoke first, passing documents from his briefcase across the table. “We have a statement from a victim, Hiroshi Yamada, giving Atemu-san’s name as the attacker. He has not been authorized to leave the hospital so a line-up wasn’t possible, however he selected Atemu-san’s picture from the variety we showed him. Atemu-san also has a motive - Yamada-san confirmed that the victim Ezui Sasaki had periodically harassed Atemu-san and acquaintances. He also confirmed that Ezui-san had attacked Yugi Mutou, the son of the family whom Atemu-san is living with, only a few days before, though Mutou-san claims it was someone else.”
The prosecutor, (whose name, James Estevez, Yami had finally gleaned from the numerous diplomas - most written in English - hanging on the wall), examined the paperwork, jotted notes and said, “I understand Yamada-san suffered memory loss from the attack and has displayed past contempt for the defendant. His testimony and reliability as a witness will be called into question.”
“Yes sir, however he was quite level-headed and positive that he wasn’t mistaken. He is willing to make an appearance in court to testify. We also have a statement from a doctor verifying that accurate recollections of an assault that has otherwise caused memory loss have been reported. The doctor is also willing to testify.”
“Fine, continue,” Estevez said, awaiting the next bit of information. Here, Superintendent Ito and Detective Koga looked uncomfortable. Yami finally glanced up, wondering what was holding them back.
Koga, still smarting from his failure to get Yami to confess, kept quiet. It was Ito who bit the bullet and said, “All of our other information has unfortunately contradicted Yamada-san. Atemu-san’s alibi given to us by his mother has been corroborated. A neighbor gave a statement to one of my officers that she had seen Atemu-san at his mother’s house, in her words, “nearly nine am.” The crime was estimated to have occurred at eight-thirty that morning.”
Yami struggled not to bolt upright - both his common sense and his lightheadedness warned him not to.
What?
"And the distance between the crime scene and residence?" Estevez asked.
"Ten point seven miles. No cab dispatchers or drivers recall giving a man fitting his description a ride," Ito said, defeated.
"An accomplice is always possible," Koga suggested. "If we had more time, perhaps..."
So that’s why they wanted me to confess, Yami thought vaguely.
James Estevez took his time examining the documents, occasionally pointing something out or asking for clarification. It was unusually hot in the room, and Yami could feel sweat beading on his forehead. The back of his neck felt clammy and cold, though the rest of him was sickeningly warm. He felt unusually aware of how hard his heart was beating. The room was starting to spin around him again. Not accepting the water that morning had been a big mistake; his parched throat felt like sandpaper and the effects on his body were getting worse. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to answer if they did ask him any questions.
Finally, the prosecutor lowered the documents and said crisply, “The judge won’t accept the case if this is the only evidence you have.”
The looks on the Superintendent and detective’s faces revealed that it was the response they had feared. Yami strained to clear his head. The judge won’t take the case? But if they won’t take it then what happens to me?
“I could submit it to her,” Estevez continued, “however, I have seen enough cases to know that she will reject the request for detention. The bottom line is that you would be better off dropping it at this stage.”
Superintendent Ito bowed his head. “If you feel that is the best move.”
The prosecutor opened his own briefcase, pulled out a set of papers and signed and stamped them. Silently he handed them to the superintendent and stood. Ito stood as well, tucking the paperwork away.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” he said, as politely as he could muster. The lawyer bowed back.
“I wish you luck with your case.”
Nobody spoke to Yami, so he continued to stew in half-hope, half-bafflement as he was tugged to his feet by Detective Koga and maneuvered toward the exit. He was pushed through the tangle of reporters outside by the officer waiting beside the door for him, and driven back to the jail, the police car followed by the superintendent’s sleek sedan.
In the lobby, the officer unlocked his cuffs and left him waiting, luckily by the desk so that he had something to lean against. He spotted a water cooler and was about to make a wobbly attempt at reaching it - or at least an attempt to ask the officer behind the counter if he could have a drink - when Ito walked into the room and handed the paperwork from the prosecuting attorney to the man behind the desk. Yami pushed aside his fuzzy-headedness to pay attention. The officer behind the counter left and returned with a small, clear bag with his name labeled upon it. Inside, Yami recognized his wallet and set of keys they had taken from him. His heart leapt hopefully.
The superintendent held out the bag to him and said gruffly, “You’re free to go.”
Yami took the bag wordlessly, struggling between relief and an increasing desperation for something to drink. Ito looked as if he was waiting for Yami to say something - something less-than-polite, judging by his resigned expression - and finally said, “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Thanks,” Yami finally managed to rasp, before gathering up his strength and making a line for the water cooler. Oblivious to the officers staring at him, he gulped down a few cupfuls, until he choked and dropped the paper cup, coughing.
Ito, still looking surprised, took pity on him. He took his arm and guided him toward a hallway leading to the back and said, “If you go out the front, the reporters will mob you. I’ll show you the way out the back.”
Yami nodded, his eyes watering from the choking, but found himself a bit lost once he was standing outside. The sun half-blinded him with brightness after his time spent in the shadowed cell, and only made him feel fuzzy-headed again. The few cupfuls of water weren’t enough to satiate him, but it seemed they would have to do until he got home. Wherever home was…he wasn’t entirely sure of the direction. He unzipped the bag and checked his wallet, squinting at the out-of-focus numbers on the bills inside. A taxi, that would be his best choice. Walking was out of the question.
Vaguely mindful of the superintendent’s comment about the reporters, he staggered down a few back roads before he approached the street again to hail a cab and collapsed gratefully into the backseat.
“Kame Game Shop,” he said, closing his eyes. “Corner of…corner of sixth and thirty-first.”
The driver give him a suspicious look - Yami wondered if the reporters and their cameras had already plastered his face over the news - but said nothing until they arrived at the store and Yami handed him all the bills in his wallet, too tired to count them. As he closed the door and started a blurry-eyed, slow walk toward the front door, the driver called out the window, “Hey, this is too much, do you want change?”
Yami waved his hand vaguely behind him and called, “No, thanks.”
Or at least, he thought he called it. It might have only been in his mind. The cab driver might have already been gone. It might have been hours, days since the cab dropped him off. His foot caught the edge of the step and he stumbled to his knees.
He didn’t try to stand back up. It was so hot out. It might be nice to stop and rest a moment.
On his hands and knees, he heard a door open nearby. The voices on the edge of his thoughts murmured amongst themselves.
It was so goddamned humid out, yet his skin felt icy.
He felt his cheek meet the hot concrete.
It might help to lie down for a few minutes. Just a few…
- - -
Yugi waved good-bye to Anzu, opened the front door, took off his shoes and was halfway up the stairs when his grandfather hurried down from the upper floor and blocked his way.
“Um…hi Grandpa,” Yugi said slowly, raising his eyebrows.
Sugoroku had been trying to think of a gentle way to break the news for the last few hours, but had come up with nothing. Deciding that some topics were best launched straight into, he looked down at Yugi’s confused expression and said, “Yami’s here.”
Yugi’s body tensed. “What? He’s here? They let him out? Is he still a suspect?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything.”
The ecstatic shine vanished from Yugi’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He collapsed outside this morning, after getting out of a cab-”
“He collapsed?!” Yugi reached out, showing every sign of preparing to shove his way by. His grandfather stopped him by taking his wrist.
“Yugi, wait.”
“I don’t want to wait,” Yugi said distractedly. “You’re saying Yami is here and he collapsed! I want to see him now, screw waiting-”
“Yugi, he’s not really in any condition to be bothered, he hasn’t spoken since he got here and he looks ill- Yugi!”
His grandson had succeeded in struggling loose and sprinting upstairs. Sugoroku sighed.
“Yami? Yami!” Yugi skidded into the living room and darted for the couch, upon which laid a familiar figure. He dropped to his knees and flung his arms around Yami’s chest. His leg hit an empty water bottle and sent it skittering across the floor. “They let you out, thank God…”
He felt fingers slowly brush against his hair and pulled away to see Yami reaching up for him. Yugi’s euphoria faded away.
“Yami?”
Something was wrong. He didn’t look right. His expression was twisted, his eyes…they were all wrong - too dark, too dull to be the eyes Yugi knew.
He looked broken.
Then, as Yugi struggled between concern and confusion, Yami’s expression changed.
The voices were gone. The moment he met Yugi’s gaze, his mind went blissfully blank. For the first time since the arrest, the only voice in his head was his own. There was finally a sense of control and safety. He struggled to smile and touched Yugi’s hair again. “Hi,” he whispered.
Yugi beamed and hugged him again. “Hi yourself.”
“I don’t suppose…you have another bottle of water around?”
“Oh, are you thirsty? I’ll get you one.” Yugi jumped to his feet. Yami sat up a bit more slowly, accepting the water gratefully.
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” Yugi seated himself beside him. “Grandpa said that you collapsed and wouldn’t speak.”
Yami lowered the bottle. His voice sounded stronger. “I’m fine. I was just too nervous to eat or drink in jail. My throat hurt, I didn’t feel like talking.”
Yugi’s expression asked his next question for him. Yami was already answering before he could begin to ask.
“It’s okay. I’m not a suspect anymore, they let me out. They didn’t have enough evidence, and...” Here, he faltered and glanced at the door. Yugi got up and checked both staircases before returning.
“Grandpa’s back downstairs and Mom’s not here, it’s okay.”
Yami lowered his voice anyway. “The superintendent said something odd, about a neighbor seeing me at my mom’s apartment before the killings. How is that possible? I wasn’t anywhere near there.”
“It was me.”
“What?”
“The neighbor must have seen me,” Yugi said. The happiness had begun to wear off as he remembered his doubts from the day before. “I was at your mom’s that morning looking for you. From a distance I imagine we look alike.”
“Oh…I guess it was a lucky coincidence.”
“Yeah,” Yugi said quietly. “I guess it was.”
- - -
That night Yugi lay awake. He felt tired, but could only toss and turn and never fall asleep. Groaning, he kicked at his sheets in frustration and threw them off the bed, falling back to the mattress with a heavy sigh.
Great. Now I can’t sleep and I’m cold.
He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed to pick up the sheets. As he did, he glanced toward his open door.
A figure had appeared in the doorway.
Yugi threw himself backward with a startled gasp. The figure jumped too and Yami stepped into the room, the light from the windows making his features clear.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you-”
“What…what were you doing in my doorway?” Yugi asked, trying to calm his racing heart.
“I was trying to decide if I should wake you or not.” In the moonlight, Yami’s features looked softer than usual.
“I was awake,” Yugi said, fetching his sheets and sitting up. “Is something wrong?”
“Um…I just…didn’t get a lot of sleep in jail and…now I can’t sleep because I keep remembering it and they won’t shut up and earlier you made them go away, so I thought…if I could sleep in here…”
None of what he was saying made much sense, but Yugi figured the late hour was to blame. He patted the bed. “It’s alright, sit down.”
Yami walked over and sat. Yugi put one arm around him. “It was pretty bad, huh?” he whispered.
Yami nodded. His voice was still weak. “Really bad. The cell was so tiny and the detective wouldn’t stop yelling at me and…everything kept coming back. Now, even though I’m here, it still keeps coming back.”
Yugi bit his lip. “Yami, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry…because…when you were arrested there was part of me that tried to make myself believe you deserved it. I tried to tell myself that you were a murderer and you deserved to go to jail and that I shouldn’t feel bad. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. No matter how much I love you, I can’t condone what happened. But it was torture for you and now all I can think is how glad I am that I visited your mom and that the neighbor saw me, and I feel weird thinking that-”
“Yugi,” Yami said, stopping his rambling.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you mad…that you helped me?”
Shaking his head, Yugi said, “No, I’m glad, really. I can’t even imagine how horrible it must have been, and I’m mad at myself for thinking you deserved that kind of punishment. Another part of me is mad for being happy that you got away. And I’m mad that right and wrong have to be so complicated. I don’t even know what my own morals are anymore, I just…I’m glad you’re here.” He buried his face in Yami’s shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”
Yami hugged him, but didn’t reply. Yugi pulled away to ask, his voice toughening, “You are okay, aren’t you?”
Yami just hugged him tighter and Yugi silently hugged him back, and for a moment neither of them could tell who was comforting whom anymore.
X - X - X
Notes: All the honorifics in this chapter bug me. xD The characters have all talked so informally so far and suddenly they’re all “-san”ing it up left and right. ^^; But for such a formal situation, it only seemed appropriate.
We're kind of officially entering part three of this fic now. Part one was them getting to know each other, part two the whole murder issue, and part three...well, let's just say I really like part three. >D
My replies to reviews/comments will be a bit late this time around. I'm leaving today to go to my first convention and won't be back till Sunday. And there's still so much to do before I leave!