FicWad

'He jumped?!'

'Yes.'

'So did he make it?'

'No.'

'Oh... is he...'

'He's still alive, just. He was lucky in that he bounced off a refuse bin in the alleyway, plus the buildings in London aren't like New York, they don't tend to be all that high.'

'Shit!'

'Mokuba!'

'Sorry. So what did the police say?'

'They haven't said anything yet. Our team were the first ones to get to him so they transferred him to a hospital. Roland suggested initiating protocol for the situation and I let him get on with it.'

'We have a protocol for this?'

'Our father did apparently.'

'Huh, figures. So did you find out if he was the mastermind behind the bomb plot?'

'Well, if you could call him a 'mastermind'. It was just him and the other two that we already handed over to the police. Owen somehow got hold of the schematics for the building and the other two built and planted the bomb. They detonated it without really caring if it killed me or anyone else but knowing that the publicity and kudos they would get from having pulled off something so audacious would give them leverage to extort money from Kaiba Corp and other companies under the threat of being able to do it again. Personally I can't believe they almost succeeded in assassinating me. Frankly it's an insult.'

Mokuba laughed.

'Anyway, enough about me - what's going on there? Anything major to report?'

'No, nothing that I couldn't handle. The purchase of that small manufacturing firm went through without a hitch, other than that...'

'No messages then?'

'That stuck-up doctor lady, Felicity Wilkins, left a message. It was quite long but the gist of it is that you're a jerk for not having bothered to cancel your appointment with her and she's going to send you a bill you for her wasted time.'

Seto smiled slightly - there were few things he found more entertaining than annoying his psychiatrist. It did his mental health far more good than any session with her ever could.

'So... no other messages then?'

'No.'

There was silence for a few moments as Mokuba mentally dared himself to ask his brother who he was expecting to get a call from. It had been the same all week, every time he called Seto had asked about messages and had never seemed satisfied with the reams of business calls that had come in for him. Mokuba suspected he knew who his brother was hoping to hear from but was unsure how to bring up the subject, and unsure about how Seto would react.

Before he got the words out however, Seto changed the subject.

'I'm due back in at JFK at about seven tonight, your time. How do you fancy picking up a DVD and a pizza and having a lazy night in? I think I deserve a bit of a break after a week in soulless hotel rooms.'

Mokuba hesitated. An evening like Seto had described was incredibly rare and usually Mokuba would instantly cancel any plans to spend such quality time with his brother. But tonight...

'Umm, I can't, I'm really sorry big bro' it's just, well, it's Yugi and the gang's last night in New York before they head back to Domino. I promised that I'd go to a club with them. I mean I suppose I could go for a bit and then - or maybe we could change their flight or something or-'

Seto smiled at Mokuba's awkward attempts to find a solution. It meant a lot to him that his brother was still so eager to spend time with him even though Mokuba had plenty of his own friends and was constantly being invited on nights out and to parties.

'Stop, stop,' Seto interrupted as Mokuba was in the middle of suggesting they commission the private jet to take them back to Domino, 'it doesn't matter. We can do it another night. I'll probably crash out early anyway with the jet-lag.'

'Are - are you sure?' Mokuba sounded relieved.

'Of course!' there was an almost imperceptible pause. 'So... who's going?'

OooooO

There was a rattle of metal against metal as a key turned in a lock. A moment later the sound came again from a different part of the door. After the third and final lock was unlatched the door finally swung open and a woman strode purposefully into the apartment; heading immediately for an expensive looking security device on the nearest wall which was beeping rhythmically in an ever increasing pitch. She typed in a long series of numbers and hit the enter button which shut off the grating noise and then she turned.

Illuminated by the light from the doorway, Mai's expression was harsh, the glow highlighting a deep furrow in her brow as she moved back to the entrance to pick up a bag of groceries. She kicked the door shut and walked across the dark apartment seeing her way by the streetlights that cast a dull orange glow through her windows.

She dumped the bag on top of a pile of unopened bills which littered a small kitchen worktop and rummaged around inside until she found a tin of spaghetti hoops. Opening the tin she sloppily decanted the contents into a plastic cereal bowl before sliding it into a microwave and spinning the dial to set it to three minutes. Only then did she allow her hand to go to her jacket pocket where she kept her cell phone.

Gripping it in one hand she took a deep breath before turning it around so that she could see the screen by the light of the microwave. Clicking the unlock buttons brought the screen to life and the blank image reflected in her eyes.

No messages. No texts. No missed calls.

Her breath came out in a long sigh and she leant back against the counter to watch her dinner turning in bubbling circles. She contemplated buttering some bread to go with the hoops but decided she couldn't be bothered.

After the incident in the lift Mai had practically floated home. She had woken the following morning and had spent a long time in her bed gazing sightlessly at the ceiling and grinning to herself. Eventually she had left her bed and had drifted around her apartment, wallowing in the rare feeling of being in a really, really good mood. Okay, so her arm had still been a bit painful and, calling work, she'd gotten an earful from her boss for having missed her shift the previous night, but even so, she couldn't stop grinning.

She had watched the news reports on the event and had enjoyed the fluttering feeling in her stomach as 'young CEO, Seto Kaiba' came on the screen. She had also succumbed to temptation and bought a number of newspapers that covered the incident and had spent more time than strictly necessary studying the photographs of Seto. She was relieved to discover that he had kept her name out of it even though the omission had led to the disbelief of her boss.

Over the following few days she had checked her phone a number of times to see if Seto had called but, though slightly disappointed by the blank screen, she had shrugged it off reasoning that he must be swamped with work following all the drama. Once it all settles down he'll find me, she told herself, recalling with a smile his last words before their parting kiss.

As the week wore on Mai gradually began to succumb to the doubts. The walls of her tiny apartment reverberated with her thoughts and worries. The whole thing had been a cruel trick by Seto who was clearly just playing with her. Something had happened to him, the bombers had found a way to hurt him or kidnap him or somehow prevent him from contacting her. He was out of the country dealing with some terrible disaster or maybe, maybe he simply couldn't find her. Her excuses for him were many and varied but didn't do anything to alleviate the intense feeling of disappointment she experienced every time she checked her phone. A feeling that, more and more was turning to irritation at her own behaviour.

'For God's sake, snap out of it!' She had firmly told her own reflection one night after having committed the heinous crime of actually checking that her own phone was working. 'I am not some stupid love sick schoolchild!'

The microwave pinged, breaking into her thoughts. She put the phone back in her pocket and opened the microwave door, stepping back quickly as a wave of steam hit her. She knew from experience that trying to lift the bowl now would most likely burn her fingers, the stain on the floor was a testament to a similar experience, so she left the bowl in the microwave and walked to the windows, tugging sharply on the curtains to close them. Only when all the curtains were closed and the apartment was swathed in darkness did Mai turn on the light.

One bare bulb illuminated nearly the whole apartment, only a small bedroom and an even smaller bathroom remained hidden behind drapes of material that acted as doors in the bizarre aftermath of the previous tenant having taken everything - including things that were screwed down. The curtains were mismatched and the furniture was a bizarre mix of styles that hinted at necessity and cost being the prime purchasing incentives of their owner. The most expensive thing visible in the room was the security alarm.

Happy that there were no gaps in the drapes, Mai headed back into the kitchenette and gingerly picked up the bowl of spaghetti and grabbed a nearby fork before walking towards what looked like a bricked in fireplace that jutted into the middle of the living space. There was a low level sideboard pushed hard up against the wall. Only very close inspection would have revealed that its squat, ugly legs didn't actually touch the floor.

Mai reached around the corner and placed her hand firmly on the wall and pulling so that the whole corner of the 'fireplace' began to move, taking the sideboard with it. It slid round in a gentle curve revealing, behind it, a mass of books, files, two expensive-looking computers and, on a tiny shelf hidden behind each of the base units, two plain looking tins sealed with five digit combination locks.

Placing her dinner on top of a metal filing cabinet Mai crouched down, lithely twisting herself into the small space beside the small wooden chair underneath the desk. She reached out for one of the tins but suddenly jumped in alarm as she heard a noise right beside her. She banged her head on the tabletop as she turned in panic only then realising that the sound was being accompanied by a vibration and that both were emanating from her jacket pocket. Hastily grappling with her jacket Mai yanked at the phone. It came free from the material in a sudden movement so that Mai's overeager fingers lost their grip and the phone skittered away from her across the floor. Swearing liberally Mai crawled after it, once more aware of the fact that her heart was beating far more excitedly than it should.

She grabbed the phone with an outstretched hand, pressed the connect button with her thumb and brought it to her ear.

'Hey Mai, I bet you weren't expecting to hear from me!'

Recognising the voice Mai forcibly suppressed the sigh she felt rising in her chest and instead plastered a smile on her face in the hope that it would disguise the sound of disappointment in her own words.

'Serenity! Wow, umm it sure is a surprise. How are you hon?'

As her friend began to chatter excitedly about what she had been up to during her stay in New York, Mai slowly twisted herself around so that her back was against the wall, her legs pulled up close to her body, her free arm resting limply across her knees. Casting a brief glance upwards she saw the spaghetti hoops and her false smile wavered slightly as she contemplated her swiftly cooling evening meal. What the hell had happened to her life that she was living in this scum hole, jumping at the phone in the hope that a man (a man!) was going to call her and her main meal of the day was going to be cold spaghetti hoops?

Something in the pitch of Serenity's voice alerted Mai to the fact she had been asked a question and she berated herself for not having paid attention.

'I know it's really late notice and everything,' Serenity said after a moment, obviously interpreting Mai's silence as indecision, 'I'm really sorry but I leant my phone to Joey and he lost it, like he does, and he only found it today - it was in the pocket of his jeans the idiot! So anyway, that's why I didn't call sooner but it's our last night and I would be really sad if I didn't get to say goodbye to you... so?'

Mai had no idea what she was being invited to and was about to make some lame excuse when her eyes once more strayed to the bowl of spaghetti hoops.

'Three questions, hon - where, when and do they serve food?'