Disclaimer: Not mine. Bugger.

A/N: No clue why I wrote this, but I make no apology for writing it. Not a particularly happy fic. You have been warned.

Rage Against the Dying of the Light

© Scribbler, November 2007.

For one brief moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis, and in that moment Anzu let herself be weak. She dropped the phone, stopped breathing, and would have stopped her heart if she could.

"-zu?" squeaked a voice from the swinging receiver.

She snuggled against him, not into him but pressed to his side like a puppy. His jacket prevented her getting much body warmth, but the sun was high overhead so that was probably a blessing. He didn't stroke her hair or turn it into a hug, for which she was kind of grateful because just lying like this was comfortable and a very reasonable way for two friends to act.

"This is nice," she murmured to his pocket.

"Hm?"

She fumbled to get back to the conversation, pressing the phone to her head so fast she smacked her temple. For a second she saw stars and had to sit down, which, if she'd been in any position to think about it, was rather appropriate.

"I'm here," she rasped. "When…" She wet her lips. "When did it happen?"

One night he came over with a pile of movies she didn't know he owned.

"I don't own them," he told her as she rifled through the cases, exclaiming that each one was her favourite until she found something even better underneath. "I just, uh, borrowed them. Kind of."

Anzu paused her delight with the giant pause button of sensibleness. "Does 'kind of' mean 'without permission'?"

"I'll ask permission. I will! I just … I thought you needed cheering up after seeing your dad."

Seeing her father always made her miserable, but she rarely told anyone about it. A lump formed in her throat like she'd swallowed one of her own inedible rock cakes.

He never said a bad word against her cooking, even though they both knew she was terrible. Heck, the whole world knew she was a rotten chef, which was why the gang always called out for pizza when it was her turn to host Movie Friday. She'd given up boxing their ears in favour of making sure her order for no anchovies was obeyed.

Speaking of which – the doorbell rang and when she answered the others were there with steaming pizza boxes and bottles of her favourite diet soda. He'd called them, because he knew that when she was down the best remedy was to surround her with her friends. Being with them reminded her there were people in the world who liked her for who she was, and who didn't want her to be just another housewife-in-the-making for someone who'd probably divorce her anyway.

"Thank you," she said while the guys were ransacking the kitchen for plates and glasses.

And he just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, the way he always did after quietly rescuing someone.

"We always knew this day might come. I just … it's stupid, but I just assumed it wouldn't be for a long time."

Anzu couldn't answer. Her hand was clamped over her mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to burst out. No, no, no, no…

"Anzu? Are you still there?"

"Waidascond," she slurred around the knot of emotion.

Carefully placing the receiver on the counter, she got up to shut the door and leaned backwards against it, waiting to make sure her housemates had returned to their rooms. They always clustered around the phone whenever one of them got a call, making kissy faces and armpit farts to distract whoever it was for. They especially liked teasing the foreign one, their Baby Bird, with her big blue eyes and even bigger chest, who had idiots follow her home from both the subway and the theatre. To them, Anzu was just some foreigner innocent of Big City ways. They thought they had to educate her in as many giggly and embarrassing ways possible, not realising that what she'd missed in metropolitan living, she'd made up for in total screaming terror.

By the time she was sure the other girls were gone, the scream had dwindled to something like 'unk!' Anzu retrieved the phone, more gently this time. "I'm here."

But I should be there with you.

"I feel like I'm abandoning all of you."

"We can survive without you, y'know." She always hated noogies, but allowed one this time. Who knew when she might get another? Still, she administered a few slaps when she started to resemble her mohair sweater after a fast spin in the tumble drier.

"I brought goodbye gifts." She tugged the little boxes from her backpack and passed them around the circle. Extended circle, she corrected. Friends she hadn't seen in a while surrounded her, suffusing the occasion with a feeling that would be hard to let go, even for her dreams. "Nothing much, just some stuff I'm sure you'll all throw away once I'm gone."

"You kidding?" Otogi held up his silver cartouche. It sparkled in the light thrown by the chandelier, because of course they'd gathered at his mansion. There would be a smaller gathering later, just the Core Four, but for now they would have to slum it and make do with the lap of luxury. "This is great."

"Wow, cool, mine has my name on it!"

Otogi rolled his eyes. "It's meant to, mutt. That's the whole point."

"Anzu, did you engrave all of these?" Yuugi asked.

"Well, not personally, but I took them all to the jewellers myself," she replied, watching as he tried to slip it over his head. The chain was too short, so she scrambled across the centre of the circle to help him. "Here, the clasp is a little fiddly. There you go." She sat back on her heels. "It looks good on you."

Yuugi examined it with a sad smile. "Do I look like Atem?"

Anzu blushed. He did, kind of, but that wasn't the point. Still, she hid behind a curtain of hair and helped Jounouchi with his clasp instead. His neck was warm, the vein pulsing slightly against her fingertips.

"Hey, thanks. Now if I can just keep my Pop from pawning it for booze money-"

Honda hit him with a cushion. "Way to ruin the mood, dingbat."

There were a couple of boxes leftover. Anzu wondered if she'd ever see Mai again, then pushed the thought away. This occasion was already melancholy. No point in making it worse.

She turned around and saw him looking at her curiously, and pasted on her biggest and brightest smile especially for him.

"He was always frailer than he seemed. He … he never let on when he was tired, or when he didn't feel well. He put on a jolly face and never complained, but …"

Anzu half heard the words through the pounding in her ears. She knew all this. It rose in her mind like a knife in a nightmare.

"… heart attack…"

No, no, no, no, no, no…

Yuugi came back with two packets of juice and a pensive expression.

Anzu looked up from her chemistry homework, almost glad for the distraction before her brain imploded under the weight of stuff she didn't know for tomorrow's test. "What's up?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

"Yuugi, you couldn't lie your way out of a paper bag. You have your worried face on. What' the matter?"

He sighed, sat down on the rug and passed her one of the juice boxes. "I'm just worried about Grandpa."

"Is he having chest pains again?" Since she'd spent a large portion of the past few years at the Game Shop, Anzu had formed an attachment to the old man, even going so far as to call him 'Grandpa' herself. When he had his heart attack, it was like climbing into the ambulance with a member of her own family.

Yuugi shook his head. "No, but he just seems so confused all the time. He's always misplacing things, or going into rooms and forgetting why. Last week I found him trying to put flour in the washing machine instead of powder." He played with his straw without punching it into his box.

Anzu was thirsty, but set aside her juice to squeeze his shoulder and say reassuringly, "Yuugi, that's normal when people are distracted. Grandpa Mutou runs a business and takes care of all the books and legal stuff himself. He doesn't use an accountant, so he's bound to have other stuff on his mind sometimes. It doesn't mean he's going senile or anything. Didn't you say that new Pocket Monsters game is being launched at the end of the month?"

"Yeah…"

"And that's a really big deal for the future of the shop. So he's probably thinking about that, or stuff like it, when you see him being 'confused'."

"I suppose."

"He reads the newspaper every day to keep up with the stocks and shares, and his brain' still sharper than any of ours. Remember how he nearly beat Jounouchi at Kaiba's Duel Monsters contest?"

"I guess so. I know I'm probably overreacting, but I just worry about him. He's … he's my grandpa," Yuugi finished, like that explained everything.

And, weirdly, it did.

"I'll come home."

"Anzu, no, you don't need to -"

"Yes I do. I'll book time off. Compassionate leave. They make allowances for that sort of thing. It's only supposed to be for family members but we're practically that. I mean were … oh god …"

"Anzu -"

"I'm coming back to Domino on the next available flight. I need to be there right now."

You need me to be there right now.

He tried to kiss her only once, at their senior prom. They went together because to do otherwise seemed ridiculous, but not as a date. More because they wanted to be comfortable for the whole evening, not dancing on eggshells and acting awkward the way everyone else did with their dates.

It was by the ice sculpture the Parents' Guild had paid for in a vain attempt to bring some culture to the occasion. Like anyone could introduce culture when there were teenagers whose sole purpose for gong was to spike the punch? As a result, the sculpture had been pushed to one side and sat sadly, hiding in shadow at the edge of the room.

Anzu looked up at the dripping swans, with their necks intertwined, and wondered aloud whether that was even possible for real birds.

"I don't think so," he said thoughtfully. "I think they'd hurt themselves."

"Not exactly romantic, is it? Having two birds choking to death at the edge of the dance floor." She folded her feet gracefully, one in front of the other and both tucked under the bench to prevent accidental underwear flashing.

"I don't know. Swans are supposed to mate for life aren't they? That's pretty romantic."

"I guess. How do they know, though?"

"Know what?"

"That they've found the right other swan? What if they partner up, and then discover another swan they're more suited to later on? Do they just stay where they are because they've committed for life, even though it makes them miserable?"

He screwed up his face. "I don't think it works that way. Once they've chosen their mate, that's it. They don't even look at another. They don't need to, because no other swan could possibly come close, as far as they're concerned, so what's the point of looking?"

"I suppose." Anzu sipped her drink, which was warm and flat but better than nothing. At least she knew hers didn't have any vodka in it. "It's still a flawed arrangement, if you ask me. Nothing's ever certain in life, least of all romance." She turned to further make her point, only to find he'd shuffled a little closer to her on the bench and leaned in so close that as she turned, her mouth brushed briefly against his.

She pulled away without thinking.

Instantly, colour flooded his face and he backed off so fast he nearly tumbled off the bench.

"I'm sorry," she started, her own cheeks growing hot.

"No, I am," he cut her off. "I shouldn't have … I didn't mean to … I'm so sorry."

"It's just that I don't …" She took a breath. She'd kind of wished they'd get through everything without ever having this conversation. Fat chance. Fate liked throwing darts and putting bull's eyes on their foreheads.

"You don't think of me that way," he finished, and she wanted to correct him, to tell him it was more complicated than that, but he was already gazing into his lap with that denigrated-but-cheerful expression he was so good at fooling everyone with. "It's okay. Really. I guess I sort f knew, but I just thought … since we're nearly out of high school and you're leaving at the end of next week …"

She understood. She understood all too well. Some days she swore she could still taste her tears and feel grains of sand rasping between her teeth from breathing desert air.

Suddenly she wished they had more time to see, but at the same time she knew she couldn't stay. Her heart might want to see what developed here, but her dreams were still on a stage on the other side of the world. She'd nursed them too long to let go now. Swans knew right away that they'd found their other half, but there had been no blinding epiphany for her, just a slow burn of emotions that might or might not be true. She'd already been burned too much by building her hopes on foundations of sand.

Sadly, she laid a hand over one of his. "You're not mad?"

And he looked at her, then, with an expression that would be forever burned into her memory – a mix of melancholy, cheeriness and awful understanding that made her heart constrict like he'd trapped it in a vice. "I could never be mad at you."

Why bother, when she could be plenty mad at herself?

Janie was in the living room when Anzu finally emerged from the kitchen. Weird, that she and kitchen appliances were mortal enemies, yet she'd still chosen to hide in there after putting down the phone. The sharp edges and shiny, clinical surfaces were comforting in a way her own things could never be.

Janie had long legs and was destined to become a prima ballerina someday. Everybody said so. Then again, everybody used to say Anzu was too top-heavy to ever make it as a professional dancer and she'd proved them wrong. Native New Yorker Janie viewed the world with vague indifference that bordered on ennui, and was never at the front of the phone gaggle, but when she looked up from her magazine she immediately put it on the couch beside her.

"Ainzu?" She always mispronounced Anzu's name, but for once Anzu couldn't be bothered to correct it. "What's the matter?"

Anzu just shook her head, lips pressed together and jaw locked like a bear trap. Janie didn't insist on knowing, which she appreciated, and she almost made it to the end of the corridor before the scream came back and she sank into a tearful heap.

Arms encircled her, but they were the wrong arms, too long and skinny. Someone unused to dealing with crises tried to make her feel better, whispering clichés probably picked up from Movie Friday. A door opened and more voices emerged, but Anzu just bent her head and sobbed like her heart would break.

Or like it had already broken.

She found him crying in the hotel room. He was trying to hide it, probably because the others had filled his head with ideas of manliness and boys-don't-cry. Idiots. When she approached he rolled sideways off the bed and sat on the floor facing away from her.

She knelt next to him, not sure what was right to say in a situation like this. 'I'm sorry'? She'd want to hit anybody who said it to her. Yet he'd never been the violent type, so she didn't worry about him hurting her, just about her hurting him by saying the wrong thing.

"Did I do the right thing?" he asked softly, looking for confirmation she couldn't give.

"Yes," she lied, not at all sure herself.

He hugged his knees, the way he used to when they were kids and hid under the bleachers to skip gym class. They only did it once or twice; until her friends figured out she was ditching while they got sweaty, and told the teacher. Mom was so mad when she found out that Anzu vowed never to skip another class as long as she lived – or at least until she needed to stow away on a cruise ship to rescue an old man's soul. She skipped quite a lot after that, each and every time more worth it than the last.

On impulse she sat next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close like a mother comforting a distressed child. They sat that way for a long time, neither saying a word as they processed the events of the past twenty-four hours.

"It was for the best," she said suddenly. "It was. He needed to go." She hated the way that sounded – the way it made her sound, all selfish and casual, like none of it really mattered as long as she was okay. Yet before she could say more he interrupted.

"I know. I just…" He couldn't finish, instead turning his face into her shirt and crying softly, the way he couldn't with the others around. It was the way he cried when he arrived at the hospital and she told him Grandpa was going to be all right despite the heart attack. "I'm glad it was you who found me."

"Me, too," she murmured, wishing she could take some of his pain into her, but not sure she had enough room with her own grief clogging her senses.

It was pain unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Losing Atem, leaving Japan, even watching her father leave her mother as their marriage crashed around them – even those things couldn't compare. This was … this was …

"Ainzu, speak to us. What's up?"

"Is your family okay?"

"Baby Bird, talk to us."

"Did you not get the job?"

"Who called?"

"What's wrong, girl?"

Anzu shook her head, wishing they'd all just leave her alone because they couldn't be the people she wanted at that moment. She wanted her mom and her friends. She wanted Jounouchi and Honda; Otogi and Mai, Rebecca Hawkins and her grandfather; Atem and Ryou; even Seto and Mokuba Kaiba more than these girls she'd lived with since coming to America.

And she wanted Yuugi. More than anything, she wanted Yuugi. She wanted to go home, get off the airplane, take a taxi to the Game Shop and find him and Grandpa waving to her from the doorway like she'd never been away.

When the phone call came she was stretching, using her bedside unit as a makeshift barre. It was too low, but at least gave her scope to warm up before going for a jog.

"Hey Ainzu." Someone rapped on her bedroom door. "Phone for you."

"For me?"

"They were speaking Japanese. I think. Either that or we got another wrong number for that Greek Deli down the street." Her housemates, the models of political correctness.

"Hang on, I'll be right down." Anzu snapped sweatbands onto her wrists and around her head, figuring she'd find out what was up and carry on out the door to the park. Taking a moment to check in the mirror whether these shorts made her butt look big, she slipped out the door and locked it behind her.

"Finally." Kim handed her the receiver with an irritated sigh. "Don't be long. I'm waiting for Josh to call."

"She wants him to come crawling back so they can have make up sex," Dawn sniped as she filched the last Magnum from the freezer, prompting Kim to chase her down the hall in a fit of squeals and giggles.

Anzu rolled her eyes. Honestly, not one badly acted American soap could compare with her housemates' love lives. "Hello?"

"Anzu?" said a familiar voice choked with tears, and for one brief moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis.

After ten minutes of sobbing and incoherence, the truth finally came out. Anzu snuffled it into Janie's shoulder, not sure and not caring whether they heard it or not. Her world suddenly contained a very big void, which was sucking the rest down like a black hole. Her limbs had lost their strength and her head felt only vaguely attached to he rest of her.

"… stunted growth," she mumbled, flipping between Japanese and English. "Hormone deficiency … always tiny, some kind of family thing with added complications … whole family has a history of heart problems …"

"What's she talking about?" asked Kim.

"No clue," Janie replied, which just made Anzu sob harder because they didn't understand, and that made being away from home even harder to bear at that moment.

Even him being reunited with an old friend wasn't enough to cushion the blow for her.

"It's my best friend," she whispered. "He died yesterday…"

Fin.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- From Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.