Stolen Memories
By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: As always, the YGO characters aren't mine! Neither is the title, which is JP's ^^ Thanx to him, and to BakurasGurl66, who inspired the idea for this thing ^^ This is not yaoi! ^_~ Hope y'all enjoy!

"This was some car crash," the police officer said, shaking his head. The automobiles had become hopelessly entangled and twisted with one another, and finally had burst into flames at the side of the road.

"Tragic," his partner agreed solemnly.

"No one knows quite how it happened," the officer went on. "Some people returning from work just saw them all collide and catch on fire."

"I'm supposing that everyone in the cars perished," his partner said softly.

"Yes," the first officer nodded, walking around to the other side of the wreck and suddenly gasping. "Oh my!"

"What is it?" his partner cried. She came around to see and stopped short. Laying on the pavement was a boy's bloodied body, apparently thrown from one of the cars.

Quickly the first officer knelt next to the battered form. "He's still alive," he cried in surprise. "I don't know how they missed him. Get an ambulance here immediately!"
"Man, did you hear about that horrible car crash on the freeway?" Joey asked his friends the next day at school between classes. They were sitting at their desks waiting for the rest of the class and the teacher to arrive. "The one about fifty miles away?"

"I sure did," Yugi said sadly.

"No one knows what caused it, but everyone involved died," Tristan added grimly.

"Except for one," Bakura spoke up.

"Really?" Tea exclaimed.

"Yes," Bakura nodded. "A boy, not older than any of us. They found him laying at the side of the road. He's still in critical condition."

"I hope he makes it," Yugi said fervently.

The others all agreed.

"I wonder if it was anyone we know," Tea said suddenly, her eyes shining worriedly.

"Hey, we're all here, aren't we?" Joey said, gesturing around.

"Yes . . ." Tea said slowly, and then a cold realization came over her. "Except Kaiba!"

The others were stunned silent. Was it possible? Could Seto Kaiba have been involved in that deadly car crash and wound up being the only survivor?

"I haven't seen him all day," Joey spoke up finally, blinking. "I didn't even stop to think about it until now."

Tea wrung her hands frantically. "No . . . no, it can't be him!" she cried.

The teens found it hard to concentrate on that class, or on the next one. Who was the boy who had been hurt? Could it have been Seto? If it wasn't him, then where was Seto, anyway? They had never known the aloof boy to skip school before.

Then, after lunch, the door to the history class opened and the missing boy walked in.

The five teens leapt up. "Kaiba!" Tea cried, feeling immensely relieved. "You're alright!"

Seto raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be?" He came closer and sat at his desk in front of Joey. The others could see that he looked a bit roughed up. His bangs, usually combed carefully into place, were now wildly flying in all directions. His right eye looked red, as if someone had punched him hard there, and his cheek was cut. He shot Joey a Look that said "Don't bother me", but the Brooklyn boy couldn't resist.

"Whoa! What the heck happened to you?!" Joey gasped.

"Nothing." Seto pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood.

"We thought you'd been in that terrible car accident last night," Tea told him.

Seto grunted. "Well, I wasn't." The cut stung and he winced involuntarily.

"Did someone beat you up, Kaiba?" Yugi asked worriedly.

"No. *I* beat *them* up." Seto finished cleaning the cut and turned to face the others. His injured eye was half-closed, something he tried to hide by brushing his wild bangs as low as he could get them.

"They must've given you quite a poundin', too," Joey said, shaking his head.

"Do you know who it was?" Yugi wanted to know.

"No." Blood dripped down from under Seto's bangs.

"Kaiba, you're still bleeding!" Tea said in alarm.

Seto's eyes narrowed in frustration as he pulled out the handkerchief again and held it against his forehead.

"Why on earth would someone hurt you like this?" Bakura gasped.

Seto didn't answer. He had no idea himself. The men had came out of nowhere and just started beating him without giving a reason. Then when Seto had fought back, they had shoved him forward roughly into a brick wall and ran off. When Seto had regained consciousness, he had had no clue how long he had been out of it. Of course he wasn't about to say any of that to Yugi and his friends. "I'm fine," the blue-eyed boy said finally.

"You always say that!" Tea said in frustration.

Seto grunted.

"Well, now that we're all here, the question remains—who was the boy injured in that car wreck?" Bakura mused.

The teens all looked at each other. None of them had any clue.

"It probably wasn't anyone we know," Yugi said finally, "but I hope he pulls through, whoever he is."
Anita, doing her rounds at the hospital, came into the room at the end of the hall for her last stop. Here lay the mysterious boy from the car crash, which had been three days ago now. Anita checked his vital signs and then went about her task of redressing his wounds.

She had never seen anyone like him before, with his soft blonde hair and naturally tanned skin. He was adorned in various gold jewelry, perhaps of Egyptian origin, and he was wearing white trousers and a sleeveless, hooded, lavender shirt. His clothes had been washed the night he was brought in and then returned to him.

Anita, finished with bandaging the boy's injuries, now stood back and just stared at him for a bit. "You poor thing," she said softly. "Who are you? Where are you from?" The boy had had no identification on him when he'd been found, and so he was simply a John Doe. What secrets did he hold in his mind? Did he have any family anywhere?

The boy had many abrasions all over his body and he was suffering from a bad concussion. If he would only awaken he might be alright—but he was in a deep coma and the chances of him reviving were not great. If only Anita could find someone who knew the boy!

This whole experience reminded her too much of something similar that had happened a while back, when a previous John Doe had been brought in. That one had been beaten seriously and was half-dead when he'd been found. That boy was alive and well now, but Anita wasn't sure that the same would be able to be said for this one.

A soft moan came from the direction of the bed and Anita turned, her thoughts interrupted. Was she wrong? Could it be . . .?

The boy stirred, slowly raising a hand to rub his head.

"Are you awake?" Anita said softly.

The boy's eyes fluttered opened and Anita was taken aback to see the deep lavender hue. "Where . . . where am I?" He spoke with an odd, vaguely accented voice.

"You're in a hospital, honey," Anita told him.

"Hospital?" The boy spoke the word with obvious distaste as his gaze drifted all around the room and then came back to Anita. "What is wrong with me?"

"You were in a bad car accident," Anita explained.

The words meant nothing to the boy. He blinked, looking confused. "Am . . . am I badly hurt?"

Anita paused. "Well . . . now that you're awake, you're already on the road to recovery. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

The boy looked at her with frightened eyes. "No," he said at last. "No, I do not remember."

Anita smiled comfortingly. "Well, that's actually quite normal for a victim of head trauma."

The boy paused, a wild look in his eyes now. "You do not understand," he cried. "I not only cannot recall the accident, but I do not remember anything about myself! I do not even know my name," he added softly.

Anita hadn't been expecting that. "I'll go get the doctor," she told him gently.
The boy watched the doctor examine him, feeling a bit distasteful. He knew he didn't care much for hospitals or doctors, but he didn't know why.

The doctor straightened up, looking thoughtful. He started writing something on his chart.

"Well?" the boy demanded at last.

"Well, what?" the doctor returned.

"How am I?" the boy cried, feeling immensely annoyed.

The doctor paused. "Well, you apparently received amnesia due to that painful concussion you sustained. And . . . unfortunately, more often not, memory loss that occurs because of head trauma never returns."

The boy blinked. "I will be stranded without knowledge of myself for the rest of my life?!" he cried.

"I didn't say that," the doctor said quickly. "Your memory may, indeed, return. I'm only warning you that it might not." He consulted his charts. "Other than the concussion, you're actually faring quite well. If you continue to improve, you might be able to be discharged very soon."

Well, that was good news at any rate.
Later on that evening, Anita was working at the nurse's station when the phone rang. She quickly answered.

"You know that John Doe kid?" a strange voice hissed.

Anita blinked. "Yes," she said slowly. "What about him? Who is this?"

"Never mind. Does he really have amnesia?"

Suddenly Anita was angry. "I can't give information about the patients here out to just anyone!"

With that the caller hung up, leaving Anita with the rude dial-tone sound.