Disclaimer: Portably not mine.

A/N: Written as a pinch-hit gift for sam_cc for ygodrabble's Secret Santa.

Subway Story

© Scribbler, December 2010.

"What a woman." The whistle was both admiring and scared. Yuugi hadn't known a whistle could sound scared. "When they made her, I bet they broke the mould. Then they beat the ever-loving shit outta the mould-maker."

It was the kind of comment Jounouchi would have made. However, Jounouchi was thousands of miles away, and Yuugi didn't know the man in the cap sitting next to him. They had met only minutes ago, when the guy boarded this subway carriage. He had been part of a crowd that included two teenagers with sticky fingers – or two idiots who tried to pick the wrong pocket, depending on how you looked at it.

A small ring of people milled around the writhing figures. One grasped a pole and half-stood, half leaned against it. The other had given up and sunk to the floor. Their hands were clamped between their legs and their faces bespoke a realisation of their own idiocy, plus the knowledge that they had been caught in more ways than one. They were surrounded on all sides, with no quick getaway unless they wanted an introduction to the third rail. And standing over them was a very good reason not to bolt and run when they did reach the next platform.

"I can't believe she did that," whispered a woman in a raincoat. She had a thick Bronx accent and sounded impressed.

"I can't believe their nuts didn't fly outta their ears," remarked her neighbour. "She musta got steel springs in her legs."

More than one set of eyes were focussed on those legs. Yuugi felt a stirring of something he didn't experience very often. It took him a moment to recognise the feeling: jealousy. Suddenly he wanted them to have arrived already, and not because of the thieves or the possessions they had already stolen that were now scattered on the floor. He wanted to march away as fast as he could until all lascivious looks were far behind them.

When they arrived, security was already waiting. With consternation, they confiscated the knife each pickpocket had been carrying, and listened with shock and awe to the story recounted by the other passengers.

"She was all, like, pow-kapow," said a little boy, miming a leg with first one foot, then the other. "She saw them, like, rob that old lady and when she told them to stop they, like, tried to elbow her outta the way, and when she wouldn't move they, like, pulled knives to get back onto the platform before the doors closedand she laid into them, like, wowza style!"

The old lady victim nodded. "She's a hero."

Despite the compliments, after they were finally questioned and released, Anzu was apologetic.

Yuugi stared at her. "Why are you saying sorry?"

"Because …" She spiralled a hand. "Y'know."

He waited. "No, still not getting it. You were amazing back there."

Colour crept into her cheeks. "I was embarrassing. I couldn't help it. I just got so mad. I … I did it again."

"Did what? Saved that old lady's purse?"

"I got involved in something that was nothing to do with me. I made a spectacle of myself. And you." These last two words were spoken softly, a true admission of guilt. Usually Anzu had no problem standing up for herself, her rights, or the rights of others, and the right to ride the subway without fear was a biggie. The implications of her apology hit Yuugi like someone stamping on his fingers.

Well, the best way to get rid of sore fingers was … an ice pack, but that metaphor was poor anyway. He laced his real, undamaged hand with hers and smiled when she looked surprised.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely. "You saw injustice and wanted to fix it. It's part of who you are, and I would've expected nothing less." It's one of the reasons I love you. He didn't say this last part, however much he wanted to. His time with Atem had changed him, infusing him with more self-confidence than he could ever have guessed when he was a lonely child playing lonely games in the loneliness of his bedroom. That had continued in the years following his Other Me's departure, yet there were some things that could still make Yuugi tongue-tied.

Anzu's expression melted into a relived smile. It wasn't everyone who could produce that kind of reaction. You could count the number on one hand. One finger, even.

Heat crept into Yuugi's own cheeks. "C'mon," he said, pulling out his street map. 'New York' was printed in big bold letters at the top. "Let's find this apartment building and check out if it's big enough for two."

Fin.

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