*eyes story somewhat apprehensively* My, that was an adventure to write. Something a little beyond the scope of my usual fics. An overused plot bunny, but hey, it was something new and different for me. I'm still of two minds as to how it actually came out. The reviews should be.... interesting.

Note to self: Gozaburo is a damn nuisance to write.

Anyway, again, rated T for child abuse. Not something I ever expected to include in any of my stories. Oh, well.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Darkness. Silence. Calmness.

Shattered.

Voices. A growl, shrill with rage, harsh, uncontrollable. A plea, high, hoarse with surprise and shock.

Movement. Quick, brutal, a surge of fury.

Reaction. A second too late.

Pain, a flash of red, the sound of breaking glass. More shouts, more cries. Another stab of pain.

Tears of anguish, tears of horror.

Fear.

***

"Seto. Seto, wake up."

His breathing was rapid, his pulse beating with a speed to rival that of a startled horse.

"C'mon, bro." A soft grunt. "Snap out of it."

Perspiration dewed his skin. His hands clutched spasmodically for nonexistent support.

"Seto! Wake - up!"

Someone gripped his shoulder, and instinctively, he twisted away - he had to get away -

"Seto!" The sound of someone straining, pulling at him. "Seto!"

He was jerked flat on his back, and his eyes snapped open. Another pair of eyes stared back, wide with concern.

"You okay?"

He didn't answer; nor did he allow the tension to seep from his body. The alacrity with which his situation had shifted was startling. He lay there, panting, his senses still uncommonly acute. Though it was obvious he was now fully awake, he couldn't relax - the emotions of what had just happened were still too real.

"Seto? You there?" There was an edge of panic to Mokuba's voice.

He nodded, unthinkingly, his mind barely able to function. The malice of what he had just experienced was almost disgusting.

I thought I put that behind me….I thought I had buried it forever….

Mokuba was still staring at him. The other's gaze was strangely penetrating, and he had the sudden, irrational fear that the kid would be able to look into his mind, to read his thoughts - that he would know.

Unable to bear eye contact any longer, Seto rolled over, shutting his own eyes tightly. He could feel his sweat-soaked body trembling violently, as though somehow physically weakened. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

"Seto?" His brother grasped his hand and paused. "What's wrong with you? You're all hot and shaky -" When the other did not answer, he continued, rather tentatively, "Were you - having bad dreams?" His tone was almost apologetic. "I mean, that's what it looked like - you were kinda thrashing around, and…." But he trailed off, and did not provide further description of his elder sibling's fevered movement.

Kaiba was profoundly, if distractedly, grateful for this; he didn't think he could bear it if Mokuba started narrating what he had seen. Not when his brother knew nothing, and he himself knew - felt - everything…. he let out a shuddering breath into the pillow, unable to calm his tortured nerves.

"C'mon, bro, what's up?" Mokuba shook him gently. "I thought I was the one who used to have nightmares, not you."

The only response was another sharp exhalation of breath. An uneasy silence fell, broken solely by Seto's soft gasps.

"D'you want to talk about it?" asked Mokuba at length, obviously at a loss for what else to suggest.

It was several moments before he received a reply. "What good would that do?" his brother whispered.

The other shrugged uncertainly. "It might help to get it off your chest - whatever it is."

But Seto shook his head. "No, Mokuba. Talking - isn't going to help."

"How d'you know?" Mokuba shot back immediately.

Hidden from his brother's vision, Kaiba's pale features tightened. "It's personal." He twisted over onto his back again, avoiding Mokuba's gaze. Even just thinking about his nightmare sent slight shudders through him.

In a last-ditch effort, the younger brother said unhappily, "You sure?"

Seto nodded tersely, not speaking. His hands were still clenched into fists.

Silently, Mokuba settled down beside him, his head just brushing the other's shoulder. It was something he hadn't done, Seto realized, since they were kids - but still, the sensation was instantly familiar. It was just like when his brother used to sneak into his room at night, so they could spend a few precious hours together, alone…. just like he had done that night….

Abruptly, violently, Kaiba jerked away from their closeness, his eyes wide with sudden disquiet. He was shaking again, and the anguish he was trying desperately to control simply refused to let go….

Mokuba had flinched visibly at the other's unexpected movement; and as Seto sat upright, dropping his forehead into his hands, the younger brother spoke.

"Please, Seto - you've got to tell me what's going on. This isn't like you. I don't think I've ever seen you this - well, out of it." He was staring earnestly at his brother's back. "How could some random nightmare be this awful?"

"It's not random, Mokuba." Kaiba's voice trembled slightly. "I know exactly where it came from." I just don't know why it happened now….

"Then tell me," Mokuba pleaded.

There was a pause before Seto answered, with surprising force, considering the state he was in. "Kid, I've kept quiet for six damn years - you think I'm just going to start talking now?"

"What - what do you mean?" The other's tone was bewildered. "Seto, you can't keep throwing out hints and expect to leave it at that. Can't you just explain?"

Kaiba felt his brother's hand mold against the curve of his shoulder, and unconsciously, he tensed. "There's nothing to explain," he muttered, trying to regain some of his customary rationality. It didn't work.

"Obviously there is," Mokuba disagreed quietly, "because I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

Seto let his breath out slowly, his mind feverishly working to sort out his own feelings. He was angry, yes - angry at himself, for getting into this situation, for being so weak; and angry at Mokuba, too, for pretending he might be able to help, to understand…. but more predominant than either was a continued, underlying sensation of fear….

Another shudder ran through his body. Unwillingly, he let his hands slide from his face. "I can't, Mokuba," he whispered helplessly. "I swore to keep it to myself, to just accept it, forget about it, and move on…."

"Yeah, I can see how well that's worked," said Mokuba caustically.

Seto felt something go taut within him at the other's biting tone. His brother obviously sensed it, too, because a moment later he continued apologetically, "Okay, that was uncalled for. But it's just so frustrating, how you refuse to talk to me. I thought we agreed not to keep things from each other."

"Mokuba, I - I had to keep this from you. Damn it, you don't understand!" His hands clutched agitatedly at the sheets in his lap.

"Then tell me," his brother begged. "Help me understand."

In the silence that followed, Kaiba drew in several shaking breaths, and his pulse quickened as he contemplated what he could no longer hide. He had hoped he would never have to tell anyone - least of all his little brother. But Mokuba clearly had other ideas.

At last, he said carefully, "Remember when we were kids, how you - how you used to sneak into my room at night, sometimes?"

"Yeah…."

"Do you remember when you came in once, and I -" He paused, trying to find the right words. It was harder than he realized. Closing his eyes, he went on falteringly, "I was a bit - beat up - 'cause I told you I got dragged into a fight with some street kids?" He winced - it sounded so damn stupid now - but then, Mokuba had been only a little kid at the time, and he hadn't questioned his elder sibling.

His younger brother nodded uncertainly. Seto dropped his head, and through clenched teeth, breathed, "I lied."

"Seto - what're you saying?" Mixed in with the volumes of confusion present in Mokuba's voice was a gradual, unwilling understanding of the truth. "But - if that's not what happened, then how…."

"It was him," whispered Kaiba. His voice caught, and he could hardly get the last word out. "Gozaburo…."

He heard Mokuba inhale sharply, and felt the other's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"He - he did that - to you?" Mokuba's tone was one of soft horror. "But - how? Why?"

A faint, humorless, smile forced itself onto Seto's lips.

"How? It's not that hard to figure out." There was a bitter mockery in his tone, denoting that it was taking more of an effort than he let on to keep speaking. "Why? Because he could." Now that he had gotten past the moment of stricken revelation, he almost didn't want to stop his explanation, despite its pain. "I made the mistake of standing up for myself, and it turned out to be one time too many for the old man." His "smile" disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and the haunted look returned to his eyes, though still he did not face his brother. "Discipline, he called it…. I don't think I'd ever seen the bastard so worked up until that night…."

Kaiba's voice trailed off into paralyzed silence, lost in the waking nightmare of his memories. Even thinking about it now, when he had calmed somewhat, still brought back the vestiges of this old pain.

"How come you never told me?" asked Mokuba softly.

"You were just a kid," was the quiet but passionate response. "I was trying to protect you - I didn't want you to have to endure even a part of what I was going through…. and I couldn't let him win, Mokuba." His voice became a low snarl. "I wasn't going to show any weakness in front of that old fool."

But I did, he whispered mentally. I couldn't help it - he caught me by surprise, before my defenses were up…. Tension rippled through him, and he swore viciously under his breath.

"Seto," Mokuba murmured unhappily, "how many times did this happen?"

"I -" Kaiba broke off abruptly when he realized he had no clue what the following words should be. Some dark, despairing part of him had been harboring the irrational hope that he could still preserve some small portion of his secrecy - it had been with him for so long, despite his attempts to forget about it, that to completely expose it in with one blow was mind-wrenching. But he should have known better, he realized. There was no way Mokuba would accept his brother's experience as a one-time incident.

"I - don't really know," he said finally, and was unpleasantly startled to find the uncertainty not only in the idea, in the words, but in the very tone with which he expressed them. His nightmare had done the virtually impossible - torn aside the steely layers of confidence that were almost perpetually fitted to his voice. Hesitantly he added, as if in defense, "Not as often as - as you might think," and then he wondered why the hell he was defending the man who had made his life just that.

"That's not very helpful," Mokuba observed, with a fair degree of calmness in the face of what he had just learned.

"Damn it, can't you see I'm trying, Mokuba?" His restraint snapping for a moment, Seto twisted around, finally, to look at his brother. Almost immediately, he regretted it; he saw the other go suddenly still, and knew that Mokuba had recognized the burning anguish in his elder sibling's eyes. Kaiba quickly averted his face again, but the damage had been done. He had inadvertently given his brother a true, unmasked glimpse of his weakness.

"I don't know how many times, little brother," he hissed, in an attempt to regain his composure. "More than you can ask me to admit."

"But I still don't understand," Mokuba told him, his tone somewhat delicate. "If it was that bad - and it seems like it was - then you could've told someone, you could've gotten both of us out of there, no problem -"

"And then been dumped back at the orphanage?" his brother finished harshly. "Mokuba, Gozaburo was our one chance to get away - and twisted snake though he was, he took us in. I wasn't about to give that up, not when I knew the alternative was festering in some obscure human scrap heap. I was willing to endure any pain I had to, if it meant a better life for us."

"But you couldn't have anticipated - what happened," said Mokuba, in a low voice.

"No." Seto sighed unsteadily. "That part I didn't consider - until it was too late."

The ensuing silence seemed to muffle his soft breaths. He heard Mokuba shifting around behind him. The slight weight on Seto's shoulder lifted, and then he flinched as his brother's hands descended again and began massaging his shoulders soothingly.

"You're all tense." Mokuba nudged him gently. "Can't you at least try to relax?"

Kaiba seriously doubted it, but he didn't have the energy to resist; and his brother's touch was, in fact, rather comforting. Still with some reluctance, he closed his eyes, letting the other's ministrations ease the tightness from his body, to be replaced gradually by unexpected exhaustion. His mind, left unrestricted and unguided, drifted away on an instinctive journey of its own….

***

"Leave my brother alone!"

He turned away from the door again, the sound of Mokuba beating a hasty retreat echoing painfully in his ears, the other's hurt, bewildered gaze somehow still locked with his own. Shaking, he glared hatefully up at the unperturbed figure of his stepfather.

"I gave explicit orders that you weren't to be disturbed, Seto." Gozaburo's curt explanation was flat and dismissive.

"He only wanted to see me for a few minutes!"

"A few minutes you can't afford to waste with distractions."

The words cut into Seto with cold, sharp indifference. "He's not a distraction - he's my brother!" He flung a hand out toward the door. "You can't just beat him down and constantly run him off! He needs me!"

"That's enough!" For the first time, Gozaburo was showing signs of anger; the lines of his features deepened as he strode forward, looming over his adopted son, one finger pointed threateningly in Seto's direction. "If you can't learn to detach yourself from your whelp of a brother, I'll be forced to do it for you! The corporate world isn't a playground, Seto! You can't have others hanging on to you all the time, expecting you to throw them scraps of your success - because there won't be any success unless you leave personal feelings behind! Now unless you can keep your mind where it belongs, I'll have no choice but to send your brother back to where he came from!"

Seto's eyes widened in horror. "You can't separate us like that!"

"Just watch me!" his stepfather snarled.

"No!" Pushed past the point of endurance by the other's threat, Seto clenched his fists in front of him, rage overcoming fear. "I'm sick of you treating us the way you do, working me to death and acting like Mokuba's not even there - you don't care about us at all! All you want is someone halfway competent to run your stupid company when you're old and senile! I've done everything you asked of me, and more, but that's still not good enough for you, and Mokuba might as well be invisible for all that you notice him -"

Lost in the passion of his words, Seto barely saw it coming. Gozaburo struck him full across the face - not a mild slap of reproval, but a hard, calculated blow that sent him reeling forcefully backward. He staggered, feeling his body collide jarringly with a nameless article of furniture behind him. Something fell and crashed to the floor, scattering the carpet with shards of glass.

Trying to regain his balance, Seto looked up slowly, disbelieving, the bittersweet taste of freed blood stinging his tongue. He had never seen his stepfather lose control like this before, and it was close to traumatizing.

His next words were acrid with disgust for what he was saying, and with fear for what might happen. "Father, please…." It was a form of address he tried desperately to avoid using, but in this case something had to be done to pacify his stepfather.

"It's time you learned some discipline, Seto," Gozaburo growled, his heavy features dark with wrath. "I'll teach you to defy me!"

Seto could barely get out a wordless cry of protest before the other caught hold of him and dragged him forward. Struggling to loosen his stepfather's grip about his throat, he averted his terrified gaze from the twisted visage above him. A moment later, Gozaburo threw him violently to the floor - right onto the field of broken glass.

Seto cried out in shock as a dozen tiny, vicious edges dug into him - it was like being impaled on needles. One shard penetrated further than the others, scoring a deep gash down the inner portion of his left forearm. He drew in a sharp gasp at the acute pain, blood soaking through his sleeve in a dark stain. He felt paralyzed by the sudden savagery of the encounter.

Breathing quickly, he clamped a hand over the cut in his arm, teeth clenched as he felt the warm stickiness beneath his fingers. He twisted onto his side, a few beads of blood sliding from his mouth, and when his gaze slid upward to Gozaburo he found murder in the other's eyes. Desperately, he half sat up, cringing back, but not far enough to avoid his stepfather's brutal hand lashing out again. Seto felt his head snap back from the force of the blow, and a harsh sound of pain was torn from his throat. Then everything dissolved into chaos - Gozaburo was shouting above him, striking out at him, and he was shrinking back, pleading, trying to stem the blood-flow from his arm and crying out in anguish….

***

"No!"

A spasm of terror rushed through Kaiba, jerking him away from his memories and Mokuba's touch. The images, the sounds, the sensations, they were all so clear, so vivid - and he hated it. A strained exhalation of breath escaped him. He couldn't take this, he'd snap if he had to relive this anymore….

Mokuba, who had drawn back at his brother's voice, now leaned forward again to embrace the other from behind. "It's okay, Seto," he whispered helplessly. "It's over now…."

"No, it damn well isn't!" Losing his composure again, Seto snatched himself from his brother's grasp and looked around at him. He was breathing quickly, his heart pounding. "You think you're cute and clever, don't you?" he spat, heedless of the startled, hurt expression on Mokuba's face. "You think you can just hug me, murmur a few comforting words in my ears, and everything will be all right?"

"No, Seto, I didn't - I only wanted -" Tears sprang to the younger Kaiba's eyes, but Seto plunged on regardless.

"Do you know what this did to me, Mokuba? Do you know what I had to do to hide this - how much effort it took to keep this from you, to protect you?"

Mokuba shook his head numbly, and his brother dropped his voice to a hiss. "It will never be over, kid, no matter how I try to forget it and leave it behind - because I'll always have this to remind me!"

He wrenched back his left sleeve, twisting around so that his brother could see the thin white scar etched along his forearm. He was shaking visibly.

Mokuba stared in horrified paralysis at the faint mark. "He - he did that to you?"

"Inadvertently, but yes." Seto slowly closed his eyes once more, and then wished he hadn't. The sensations returned with sickening speed - the hard impact on the ground, the sudden stinging across the front of his body, and then burning pain as his arm was ripped open by uncaring glass -

His breath caught in his throat, and he dropped his head, frustration at his brother's lack of empathy replaced by inner turmoil. Trying to collect himself again, he let one long finger trace lightly, unthinkingly, down his arm, and his shadowed eyes followed the movement hypnotically. He had never looked at that scar with such willing deliberation before - he had been afraid of what he might feel. And with good reason, he realized now. The urge to throw something violently across the room was becoming stronger by the second, and each calming breath he drew in seemed only to convulse and add fuel to the chaos of his emotions. He had suppressed these memories for so long that releasing them now was tantamount to suddenly igniting a dormant volcano. He couldn't stand holding everything inside any longer, and yet he was somehow scared of what might happen if he let it out.

He had managed to drag himself through hell once - he wasn't sure he could do it again. Memories weren't something he could tangibly fight, and fighting was all he had left, because there was no way he was just going to take this lying down. But nothing he tried was working….

I can't keep reliving this, he thought desperately. I can't….

"Help me, Mokuba." The words came unexpectedly, a harsh whisper of despair, and a mark of the depth of his torment. "I can't fight this on my own…."

And this admission seemed to dissolve the last traces of Seto's self-restraint. Leaning forward, he slammed his fists down onto the bed, as hard as he could, barely feeling the pain of the impact as a long, hoarse cry of anguish ripped from his throat. His breath was expelled in a loud gasp which echoed in the stunning silence that followed.

"Seto…." Mokuba's voice sounded close to tears, but his brother merely spat out a vehement curse, his body trembling with exertion.

A second whisper of Kaiba's name was followed by a hesitant touch on his shoulder, so light he might not have felt it had he too been moving; but it was enough. Seto turned suddenly and pulled Mokuba to him, dropping his forehead to the other's shoulder with the fervor of one holding on to the only point of stability left in the world. His slender form was shaking, his shallow breath returned, warm, to caress his face - but his closed eyes, though moist, did not unleash their tears. He had cried before, when he was trapped, when tears had been his only release. But he would not do so again.

Finally, after several interminable minutes, he reluctantly loosened his hold so that Mokuba could disengage himself from his brother's embrace. Still, Kaiba's hooded gaze avoided the eyes of his younger sibling. He wasn't sure how Mokuba would react to his uncharacteristic display of his softer emotions.

"I wish I could help you, Seto." Mokuba looked plaintively up at his brother. "But I don't really know what to do."

Seto exhaled slowly. He didn't know either.

"It helps… just when you're here," he offered uncertainly. "Like I'm not so -"

"Alone?" Mokuba supplied.

His brother nodded; but "vulnerable" came closer to his mark of thinking. Now he was wishing he'd been stronger and not given in to Mokuba's pleas.

I shouldn't have told him, he thought, feeling something curl unpleasantly inside him. I could have kept it from him, just let everything go, and I wouldn't have had to put both us through this…. instead I fell apart, and now he'll always see that weakness inside me….the weakness I promised myself I would hide….

"Damn you, Gozaburo," he breathed, in helpless fury. "Are you satisfied with what you've done?"

"Seto - Gozaburo's gone," whispered Mokuba, eyeing the other with concern.

"I know that, Mokuba." Seto's eyes returned, almost magnetically, to his forearm. "But if you had something like this suddenly trip you up - you'd be rethinking everything, too."

Mokuba sighed. "What is it you always tell me?" he said, placing his hands on his brother's arm, hiding the scar from view. "Don't look back?"

It seemed to Seto that he heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, mocking him as he replied.

"I didn't look back, little brother. I was dragged there against my will."

Well. That was suitably morbid, I guess. I'm bracing myself for the reviews. May the Force be with you.