Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Exposed Shadows	By : Yami-Neferbre Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh! Also, no money/profit is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
EXPOSED SHADOWS
A/N: Hello all....if there are any of you left....
Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, or any of its characters, clearly…or it would have gone significantly more different.
Warning: This story contains graphic violent and sexual content, along with profanities. If you don’t like, don’t read; and if you read and cannot handle it, don’t complain to me, you’ve been warned.
CHAPTER THREE
TORONTO, CANADA
1709 – Ridder Corporation
His suit felt stifling, his mind had been unfocused all day, racing and swirling around the what if’s of last night. An intense worry had filled him, settling like sour ale in the pit of his stomach, heavy and acidic. Sweaty hands loosened his silk tie then slipped off his oppressive jacket. He scowled at his reflection in the metal of the elevator, he was drenched and in a desperate need of a change of clothes. The elevator slowed to a stop, stainless steel doors gliding open to reveal the top floor of Ridder Corporation, his entire office virtually with the exception of his secretary’s large maple desk and her sharp eyes waiting and watching for any unsavoury individuals. He could see her sitting behind her desk, neck muscles flexed and hands folded to the point of bruising, an odd tremor noticeable in her normally poised demeanour. Then he heard it, a sound he recognized, something he listened to regularly to find calm and serenity in the chaos of the day. A powerful cello and piano solo rang out, the string instrument being played in perfect precision and the sound was enough to drown out the piano and bring a person to their knees with its emotional intensity. A choir sang in pristine tones, a deep and melodic tenor ringing out in solo above them. He withheld a smile, the music teacher at his children’s high school had been an interesting man in terms of his taste in music, this song was a beautiful rendition of Metallica’s ‘Nothing Else Matters’. This particular version had won many awards, lead the group to win competitions, and also gained the young man leading the singing and playing the cello to an incredible opportunity. His eyes narrowed; he knew he hadn’t left the music on and, with how panicked his secretary appeared his body tightened in understanding.
Composing his voice he nodded at her in comfort, “Thank you Kendra, you may go home early if you wish.”
She nodded furiously, unsteadily rising to her feet she scurried past him, stopping before getting into the elevator, “Should I call the police?”
Shaking his head he shoed her into the elevator, passing her belongings to her gently, “Go home my dear, and be safe please.” He gave her a final comforting shove into the elevator, smiling softly at her. “If you do not hear from me by tomorrow morning, send the police to my home and office.” Her face paled but she nodded, clinging to her purse, body still trembling while clearly internally arguing with herself not to leave. The doors slid closed and he sighed deeply, turning back around to stare at the massive glass and steel doors leading into his office. Summoning up his resolve and courage he straightened his lean shoulders and strode into what was normally his sanctuary.
A massive ornate wood desk was stationed in the middle of a vast maroon carpet, the family crest delicately stitched in the centre in black and gold thread. The main centre of the desk was made of rich mahogany wood, carved to perfection with a loving hand. It had been in his family for nearly two hundred years, well cared for and maintained, made from several trees on the family estate by Amsterdam. The extensions branching out around it on either side, creating a perfect ‘U’ shape, were made with acacia wood that he had imported from Egypt. They were a matching set, he had them made when he first married Reiyame, she had so loved the wood from her mother’s native land and he had them done as a wedding gift. His blood boiled when he spotted perfectly polished black dress shoes resting on top of them, Yevgeny sitting casually in his leather chair with a smug grin on his face, three men were stationed around the desk; all were stoic with their arms folded in front of them and watching with the intensity of a starved dog. Jaw cracking from his fury he directed his attention to what Yevgeny was watching on the large TV stated in a nook in the wall directly beside him.
Playing the cello with perfected ease was his son at thirteen, his last full year of school before he powered through the remainder of his high school courses and graduated just before he was taken. His fingers danced along the neck of the cello, while his other hand glided the bow across the strings with such intense emotion that it briefly captured Karel’s undivided attention. The choir sang beautifully behind him, while another girl with incredible talent danced her fingers over the keys of the baby grand. All of it bared in comparison though, bowing down to the vastly intense emotions along with skill the boy played with – joy swelled within him, tugging on the muscles within his heart at the memory. It was only a portion of the talent that his son possessed, music almost breathes through him with an ease born deep within, and he was a pronounced prodigy in it. But, all that talent was now wasted, because of the bastard sitting pretentiously at his desk. With his jaw locked, fury burning within him, tightly averting Karel glared across the office at Yevgeny, arms crossing while he waited.
Feeling the man’s scrutiny, Yevgeny flicked his attention briefly away from the screen, fingers absently turning down the volume so it was merely a hum in the background. He had to adjust himself, the video had created quite an uncomfortable situation for him, quelling the fire in his belly he grinned darkly at Karel, “He had such wonderful talent, a gift from his mother if I remember right.”
“If only it had never been squashed,” Karel stated pointedly.
Shrugging and sitting up, feet gracefully moving to the floor, “Unfortunately, it would have brought too much unwanted attention to him. I quite dislike the limelight, especially since I do not share what is mine. But, then again, this whole situation could have been avoided if you had just been a smart and unselfish father and given me the chemical formula for Smertnost' Greys, along with the supply of the drug you had made for me.”
“I think it would have just been better to have never worked with you at all.”
Scoffing and rising up the Pakhan drifted around the desks and approached Karel as a panther would to a kill, “You know that was never an option. I would have taken your company down piece by piece until there was nothing left, and you would have had to slink your sorry ass back to Amsterdam. But, instead of taking permanent immunity from my greed, you chose this lovely path that has virtually destroyed your son. You simply handed him over to me, allowed me to take hold of him and dominate him in every way, decimating him to the core and ripping away everything that made him your precious baby boy. And, instead of listening, you abandoned him to me just so that you could keep Smertnost' Greys perfection all to yourself. I would love to know to what purpose you have been so desperately hiding it, why it is so much more important to you than your son’s sanity...no, his life.”
Feeling as if he had been slapped in the face with brass knuckles, Karel inhale stiffly and clenched his hands, “What do you want?”
Chuckling, the Pakhan reached back and picked up a picture frame from the desk, relishing the sudden tensing of every muscle in Karel’s body. It was a picture of Lysbet, Yami and Emmy; it had been taken around Christmas, Lysbet had somehow managed to convince Yami to get in front of a camera. “I want what is mine,” he said simply, voice dangerous. “I want Smertnost' Greys, with interest. You must double the amount that you originally owed me, along with a very simple payment of the three million you made me lose from the Russian military when I was not able to send them their portion. You have four months to deliver it; I expect to have received immediately after that lovely charity party you always hold at your home at the end of July. I am sure that will be sufficient enough time.”
Heart pounding at an incredible rate Karel tried to stay upright, stomach clenching in dismay, stammering out he demanded, “Or what?”
“Or, your precious little Granddaughter will be sold; and I will fetch quite the price for her as she is still young, unsoiled and very lovely. Your son will be returned to me; I’ve missed him greatly as you know. And, with a long awaited finality, I will destroy your prized company – the one thing in your life that seems to have any importance,” placing the picture back on the desk he glowered, form resembling an angry wolf in the dark. “Have I made myself in any way unclear?”
All but collapsing against the wall Karel tried not to lose the contents of his stomach, head nodding in understanding.
Smirking, Yevgeny pushed himself away from the desk and quietly strode to the door, his lackeys falling in behind him like perfectly trained soldiers. Stopping beside Karel before exiting, he sideways glanced at him, “I have been more than lenient with you. The only reason I have not destroyed your entire company and family is because your little boy has been so greatly amusing to watch fight back against everything I have thrown at him. Give me what I demand; otherwise your pretty niece will be sold to the highest bidder and I will satisfy my needs with your son and send you the evidence of it just like last time. August 1^st is your deadline, do not be tardy.”
Karel barely noticed them leave, his heart pounding in his ears, body shaking violently and sliding down the wall to the floor. Dry heaving he felt the sting of sweat and tears in his eyes, internally cursing himself for his selfishness of years long passed, and cursing his pride for never caving even as his son was torn apart by his ego. With equally damp hands he tried to wipe away the sweat, tears, pride and pain to no avail. He was petrified of what he had created; scared of what it would do to the world if it was released, and for far too long that had mattered more to him than everything else. His mind crumbled, giving in. He had already destroyed his son; he would not let Emmy suffer as he had.

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TORONTO, CANADA
1730 – Yami and Bakura’s Home
Keeping the fire going, along with making sure both his and Seto’s drinks were never empty, were physically occupying and keeping him moving – but, it was far from helpful for his mind. Seto seemed to be in shell shock, at least that’s how he would describe the former CEO’s lack of anything but chugging back hot cups of tea. Well, more like amaretto – or vodka when that ran out – with strong orange pekoe tea for colour. Yugi, as soon as he found out, had banned them both from coming near his cousin and with Hannibal at the ready if they disobeyed had yet to exit said bedroom for several hours. Oddly, Bakura had also been puttering, realising in his drunkenness and worry just how much the house had been neglected over the past week while he and Yami had been busy. Not sure if he had been any actual help towards fixing it, he had slowly dusted, washed the floors, cleaned the kitchen; and without breaking anything had re-arranged the cupboards, hiding precious medications away from a certain somebody after exposing them the night before. At the moment he stood in the middle of the living room staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the stone hearth, barely registering the TV that was on above it on the mantel quietly transmitting the news. Every once in a while his eyes would dart between the front door if there was a noise, the clock, listless Seto, and Yami’s closed bedroom door.
Snorting with annoyance, patience long shot along with his nerves, he snapped around and trounced towards his friend’s bedroom, he needed to check on him. He had to leave soon, it was going to take him nearly an hour driving to get to the base, hour and a half if he stopped at the den first and retrieved a few of his safe kept items. The idea of needing those items was heavily liked in his mind, he had a feeling he would need them tonight in whatever initiation he had to go through along with keeping his head on and blood within his body. Feeling the slight sway in his steps he scowled, he apparently also needed to sober up quick. Exhaling deeply while rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, he stared hard at the closed door in front of him. Huffing he reached forward and softly slid it open, shooting his hands out first placating both Yugi and Hannibal, before peaking his head in. Yugi was glaring at him in annoyance, and Hannibal merely cocked his head at him in what appeared to be surprise. Mentally he exhaled at the sight of Yami still out cold on the bed, tightly tucked in and still in the same position that he had been put in. He could see an ease to Yami’s breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, the tremors finally gone. Seeing the exposed bare shoulders he connected the dots, Yugi had probably stripped him and cleaned up the stitches – which had started to tare during earlier events. Fully entered, he closed the door just as gently behind him, finally acknowledging Yugi’s annoyed glare, “Sorry, I needed to see him, I have to leave for the initiation soon.”
Brown furrowing Yugi closed the book in his hands, placing on the bed he stood up and closed the distance between them, “You’re drunk, you better not be driving.”
“I sober up pretty quick,” Bakura stated. “I have an hour before I leave, I’ll be chugging water the entire time, I’ll be fine.”
Rolling his eyes Yugi averted and returned to the bed, going over to the side that Yami was on he quickly checked his temperature, glad to feel a normal radial heat beneath his digits. “Considering the quantity of sleeping pills you gave him last night and the physical and mental strain of earlier, he’s probably going to be out for a while longer.”
“That’s normal without the pills.”
“So, this is a fairly normal occurrence?”
Shrugging, watching Yugi approach him again with arms crossed and a deep expression, Bakura murmured out stiffly, “Depends, but the severity hasn’t been this bad in a while. Usually has them in his sleep. Once or twice a month is normal.”
Absorbing the information Yugi pursed his lips, debating his next question carefully, “I already knew that he had PTSD, just the severity was definitely not made clear – more because Lysbet probably is kept in the dark. However, there is a great deal more going on, I would guess that he has clinical depression and anxiety, coupled with the PTSD. All of which, I am assuming, are un-medicated, am I correct.”
Jaw popping audibly, fists balling at his sides, Bakura nodded in answer, “Refuses to take them.”
“He’s lucky his condition isn’t monitored then, or he wouldn’t have his job.” Seeing Bakura shrug stiffly, Yugi sighed deeply. “The military isn’t very helpful with veterans, that much I know, but I am sure he would still get some sort of compensation or treatment.”
“Won’t take it,” came the tight lipped interjection. “He’s scared that if he gets better, or kept his ties, that they would drag him back.” Seeing the confusion blatant on Yugi’s face, Bakura uncomfortably shuffled, debating internally briefly before making his decision. “He had to fight for his discharge; his commanding officer was tampering with the medical records to show that he passed. Said commanding officer was being paid under the table by the Bratva to keep Yami in line, possibly get him killed if the opportunity arose.”
Feeling his mouth fall agape Yugi snapped it closed, breathing deeply he glanced back at Yami’s sleeping form. Yami hadn’t been lying when he had said that Karel would candy coat everything and that Lysbet had the wool pulled over her eyes. What they had told him was nothing like what he had been able to gather from the events earlier, along with what Bakura was divulging. Rubbing the back of his neck, still staring at his cousin he questioned. “Is he suicidal?”
“Yes.”
Turning back to Bakura, he questioned further. “What is his chosen method?”
Paling, the undercover cop dropped his head and shoved his hands hard into his pockets, “Pills…he’s gone for the knife a few times.”
“Do you have full control over the medications within the house?” A stiff nod. “Have you taken him to the hospital? If yes, has he been formed?”
Snapping his head up Bakura narrowed his eyes, “The fuck are you…a doctor?”
“Nurse, actually, emergency and psychiatrically trained. It’s why Karel hired me, aside from the fact that I am family. Having a nurse at the head of security is good when emergencies happen. Now, answer the question.”
Jaw locking, Bakura huffed and brushed past Yugi before trudging around to the other side of the bed. Mentally arguing with himself he reached out and brushed golden bangs aside from a still pale face, affectionately he moved his hand down while kneeling, resting it on Yami’s shoulder and rubbing it gently. Feeling a warm tongue lick his hand he looked over at Hannibal, whom was staring at him intently, pleading could almost be seen in the dog’s dark gaze. Inhaling stiffly he nodded, “He’s been held at the hospital a few times after I’ve called an ambulance for him. They’ve threatened to fully form him, lock him up, if I bring him in again.”
Reading the waves of angered frustration, along with a deep burning affection that seemed to breach the line of brothers, Yugi tried not to let every string in his heart be pulled. Seeing Bakura assured him that at least the one person Yami seemed to fully trust truly cared about him. Even if the clear longing that was there would be forever ignored, Bakura had been a far better friend than most could find. Meandering around he placed a gentle hand on Bakura’s shoulder, hoping for it to be a small comfort, “Then it’s time to make sure that never happens. If anything happens, call me, don’t call an ambulance – I have everything we would ever need at the office to treat him. But, more importantly, we need to make sure that he starts living.”
Exhaling, somnolent and unburdening, Bakura nodded while staring up hard at Yugi, “I can’t keep him alive anymore, I’ve got nothing left, it’s like trying to break down a steel wall…”
“Do you love him?”
Having the words slap him in the face Bakura was stunned, no one had ever said it to him, most weren’t observant enough, or cared. “Yes, but what I want isn’t viable, so it can permanently fuck off so I can just be the brother he needs. Even if he is ever mentally well enough to be in a relationship, I’m the wrong match for him, he needs stability and I will never be able to give him that.”
“Well, you’ve got far stronger restraints than numb nuts out there,” Yugi murmured, giving the shoulder beneath his hands a squeeze he encouraged Bakura to stand up. “I know he hasn’t expected any of this help from you, but I am incredibly grateful that you have been such an amazing friend for him. If you hadn’t gotten him this far, I never would have been able to meet him, and would never have been able to help.” Russet eyes stared hard at him, accepting but still uncertain. “He’s my cousin Bakura, and thusly very dear to me. I am not tainted by whatever crap has happened on this side of the family; I had the mild luxury of being raised on his mother’s side where it was just my mother, Grandfather and myself. Family is everything to me, that’s why I searched for them, I didn’t want Rei to be raised with no family and no support after my wife left. I will not leave him like this, not only is it not in my nature but because I will not let him go after just finding him.”
Throat going dry, Bakura tightly grasped the hands that was on his shoulder and rose to his feet. “Thanks.” With a grunt of finality he trudged towards the door. “I have to sober up and leave. Thank you for staying let me know if you need anything before I head out.”
“Will do,” Yugi stated quietly, silently watching Bakura exit the room. Feeling his mind still spinning dizzily he squeezed his eyes shut and sat down on the bed. “Holy hell.”
Hannibal let out a soft whine, pulling at Yugi’s attention. Peering over his shoulder at the K9 he quirked a brow, in answer Hannibal clambered over Yami and sat down beside him, soft tongue darting out to lick his cheek in comfort. Surprised, he allowed a small smile and reached up to gently stroke the dog’s strong back. With another lick of appreciation, Hannibal turned away and returned to his spot half laying on his master and facing the door. Body stiffening when he heard Yami exhale sharply and wince Yugi gently moved Hannibal’s paw that was resting against the stitches on Yami’s leg. Holding his breath he watched Yami’s body relax and return to peaceful slumber, said breath leaving after several minutes of silence and confirming that Yami had stayed asleep. Crossing his legs, much like he always did, Yugi returned to his original position on the bed grabbing the book he had discarded and laid it in his lap. One hand ghosting over the cover he smiled, eyes flicking up to peer around the room, absorbing everything around him again.
Everything was neat, almost extraneously so, a true testament to Yami’s military background. There wasn’t much for furniture, the bed was a simple double bed with draws underneath enabling for no dresser, two night side tables had simple metal lights on them along with Yami’s police badge, cellphone, wallet, and the current book Yugi guessed he was reading. Directly across the bed the entire far wall was tightly fitted bookcases filled to the brim. One of the shelves was filled with something that surprised him, but matched the beautifully displayed cello that sat in the corner by a chair. It was binders upon binders, and several books, of sheet music – the cello wasn’t the only instrument they were for, Yugi had seen the piano, all variants of guitars, drums and the violin. It triggered a reminder, pulling at Yugi’s memory and pulling up the image of the gorgeous piano he had seen tucked away in the living room. Karel had mentioned it once to him, tone surprisingly proud, that Yami was musically inclined, but that statement hardly touched what he had viewed on that shelf. Among the printed sheet music, he had also seen handwritten music that he assumed were by Yami. Feeling the smile on his face widen he drifted to the near midnight black wood the cello in the corner, shining with loving care in its stand.
Attention flicking to the other bookcases Yugi had seen a massive assortment of chemistry, pharmacology, biology, medical and tactical textbooks; heavily worn from being read over and over again. The rest were thick and complicated novels. Scoffing at that thought Yugi glanced down at the book in his hand, ‘James Rollins – Map of Bones’. Yugi praised himself for pulling his head right after Atemu went to the afterlife and poured everything into his studies, bringing his grades up to a A- average by graduation. It’s how he had gone through nursing school, how he had been accepted into it as well. Anzu had been insistent that they move to the States, which had meant he needed pretty damn good grades to get into school there to be able to support her and her dreams. Too bad all of that had backfired – she left not long after they got married, saying that he was holding her back and so was Rei, leaving him alone in a foreign country with a two-year-old child. Reading had become one of his salvations during the years following, particularly when he felt the most alone or when Rei was being especially difficult. He thought that he was a master reader, until he met the books currently sitting on Yami’s shelves. The book in his hand was incredible, a gripping story with twists and turns that he yearned for in a novel. However, he had constantly needed to get up and lean on the encyclopedias in his phone and on google to understand half of what was being spoken about in the novels. They required some basic – though far more advanced than his knowledge base apparently – grasp of modern science and history to be able to follow without skipping a beat.
Violet orbs turned to rest on his cousin, affection spurring within him, and admiration. The man before him may not be Atemu, but he shared a very similar dark, curious, and old soul. Life had clearly treated Yami vastly differently, which attributed to a lot of what was very different from the Pharaoh, but the base personality was still there, along with the unending intelligence. Without thinking his hand drifted out and gently caressed golden bangs behind an ear before the back of digits tenderly caressed the smooth softly tanned cheek. He smiled, mentally laughing at the thought that crossed him, ‘You helped me last time, and I was barely able to return the favour. Well, now it’s my turn to help you, and I look forward to it.’
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A cold glass of water being shoved into his hands pulled Seto out of his stupor, even if only mildly. Blearily he stared up first at the warm cup of tea that had been taken from him then to Bakura’s unamused face, “That’s not nice.”
“Sober up bucko, I need you straight enough that you can help Yugi if he needs it. I’m heading out. Drink up, and keep drinking – water only. I’m going for a shower; I suggest you do the same.”
Snarling, unsuccessfully, Seto chugged back the offensive liquid and staggered to his feet, shaking his fist after Bakura’s figure as it retreated down the stairs. How dare he ruin his perfectly good buzz, his oblivious fog of freedom from all the bullshit. Stumbling towards the room he had stayed in the night before he – after bouncing off the bed – meandered into the bathroom. Refilling his glass he allowed the cold water to pour down his throat. He had moved too quickly, reminding his body that he was far more inebriated than he initially figured. Haphazardly pulling his clothes off he dumped them on the floor then curled up pitifully in the fetal position in the tub and fiddled with the taps. Withholding a shriek when the water suddenly blasted him in the face, and far colder than he thought it would be, he spluttered and twisted the taps till the temperature was near scalding. Exhaling dramatically he allowed the water to pour over him, opening his pours and expunging the liquor from his system.
He sat like that for what he assumed was an hour. The water long going cold, along with the telltale sign that Bakura left when he heard the click and slam of the front door opening and closing. Mind surprisingly clear he snapped his eyes open, mulling over everything that had just run through his mind, a play by play in perfect clarity. Last night, this morning, all spun through his head on permanent repeat. Moving here was supposed to be a reprieve, a shift towards a new life, a reawakening of his passions and a big wham on the reset button. He had lost his love for games, for developing the technology, mind bored and vastly empty of anything left for the industry. His heart had dulled, desperately chasing the dream of love and settling down but having never found it, only constant destruction. He had poured everything he had into that company, and into his previous relationships, that he felt leaving and starting new would awaken them all in a new light. They had, but not in the way that he had thought. Twenty-four hours in he already – lustfully or otherwise he wasn’t sure – had found someone he wanted to pour his everything into again, but that someone was damaged beyond anything he had ever seen, and he wondered if the man’s sanity was salvageable at this point. His felt rage boil within him just thinking about everything he had learned, and his stomach filled with angry and sorrowful bile that sat heavy and churned. He hadn’t believed that seeing those crimson eyes would trigger this in him, he thought he was pushed all his old feelings aside, but that had come raging back the instant he had clashed with those hard orbs. Deep down he tried to discern if it was just Atemu he was after, and if pursuing Yami would just fill the void. He wondered if it was just lust, wanting what he had never had with the one he had let go, libido tested to its limits and near breaking at the small glimpses he had of what was underneath the clothing. Lastly, he mulled over the attraction that was striking him from the differences of Yami, mentally begging for that to be the reason for the feelings that were surging within him. He was clinging to it, begging that it was the want to melt that hard exterior and the pain that was driving his attraction, and that it was further fueled by the adult physicality that Yami had over Atemu’s teenage physique.
Sighing deeply he scrubbed his hands through his hair roughly, growling deeply in the back of his throat, “Fucking hell, what is wrong with me!” He was glad the water had been cold, quickly eradicating the problem that had surfaced between his legs. Rising up he snatched the shampoo and quickly started to wash up, not wanting to stay in the mental fog he had trapped himself in along with the cold water.
After finishing he exited the shower with a shiver and getting dressed Seto exited the bedroom into the silence of the rest of the house. Assuming that Bakura was long gone he softly padded his way across the hallway to Yami's room, peeking in he was met by the sight of Yugi still curled up and partially hunched over the book in his lap, Yami himself was still fast asleep; however Hannibal was now laying on his master much like Seto had seen him doing last night. Golden eyes gave him the same stare, causing a shiver to run up Seto's spine. Averting he cleared his throat loudly, gaining Yugi's attention, "Hungry?"

Contemplating for a moment Yugi analyzed his stomach, feeling it's protesting he nodded and moved to get up, shocked when Seto gave him a dismissive wave. "Are you going to cook then?"

Scoffing quietly Seto shook his head, "No, but I was going to order in something."

Quirking a brow in amusement, followed by a soft chuckle and smirk Yugi buried his nose back in the book. "No junk please."

With a grunt Seto meandered off to find the computer and start searching towards food.

Soft movement beside him drew Yugi's attention away from the book once more, startled slightly when he was met by a hard wine coloured gaze and a hand snaking out to affectionately rub Hannibal's neck and ears. Swallowing down the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, Yugi put the book aside and shuffled enough so he could face Yami completely. "How are you feeling?" Those eyes dropped away, focusing on the sheets while remaining unreadable, the shrug that followed spawned a ball of frustration in Yugi, creasing his face into a deep scowl. "Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes, it's a little late for that, besides, my analytical abilities are a lot sharper than you give me credit for."

Yami's attention fully turned to him, aside from an amused quirk to his lips his expression had barely changed, voice dry from dehydration stating harshly. "Far from it, I give you full credit, but I could care less in terms of what you have been able to divulge. You can dig all you want but you won't gain anything from me."

Fists clenching Yugi scowled, forcing his shoulders to roll and relax he shook his head, apparently playing hardball was the only answer. "I would just like to see if there is any part of you that can be honest."

Ignoring the jab Yami chuckled darkly and sat up, cringing when he neck constricted - shuffling his feet out from underneath Hannibal he slide them off the bed and turned his back to Yugi. "There is, but I give the honesty when it's needed, not desired, and most certainly not without heavy consideration as to whom it is being given to."

"So you don't trust me then - good to know," with an internal scoff at his deep set hope of changing the tide, Yugi put the book back on the shelf and made to storm out of the room.

Mentally slapping himself Yami gave a quiet curse, he hadn’t intended on being waspish and defensive, his desperation to stay hidden was over ruling his nearly equal desperation to claw out for help and cling to it. With a sigh, and forceful relaxation of everything within him, Yami murmured out - words reaching urgently to keep Yugi from fully exiting the room. "I trust you..."

Stopping, slowly turning to stare back in surprise, Yugi allowed the statement to sink in. Realizing that he had over reacted, and that Yami was apparently lacking in the ability to properly express himself he gently closed the door to create some privacy. Coming back over to the bed he strode around the end and came to sit on the opposite side, allowing Hannibal to be a buffer between them he decided to remain silent. Searching Yami's face he could now discern that hardness he had seen was bewilderment and frustration. Some of it he assumed was from the sleeping pills, but Yami seemed unable to fully sit up straight, body swaying slightly with the chaos that was almost visible within his mind. Part of him wanted to physically reach out, but the logic and training in the back of his mind warned him not to. Hannibal seemed to sense this, giving Yugi's hands an almost comforting lick he clambered off the bed and sat down in front of Yami, wiggling himself between Yami's knees and began to nuzzle clenched fists. A near instant partial calm came over Yami, almost as if a switch went off, his hands relaxed and began to rub the K9 behind the ears. "I’m sorry," came the quiet uncertain start. "I don't know what to say...how not to get defensive...to not hide." The calm didn’t stay, anger surged through him, frustration, and loneliness – trying to force him into silence. Growling, the sound far from menacing, he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands; forcefully holding back tears. “I just…”
Softly, caution gone, Yugi dashed over and sat beside his cousin, arms reaching out and holding the shaking form, scared of a repeat of earlier he tried to encircle him with comfort. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Hearing a wry scoff come from Yami, Yugi bit his lip and rested his forehead against a trembling shoulder. “I’m sorry; I was treating you like a patient, not like family. I cannot expect you to want to open up to me over night. I want to know how you’re feeling, that’s all I need to know.” His breath hitched in surprise when a strong hand gripped his; slightly damp from angered tears that were visible on Yami’s partially exposed face. Eyes distant again, Yugi squeezed the hand tightly, “Yami?”
Expunging the breath he had been holding, wincing when it hyper expanded his chest and strained the stitches on his side, Yami merely held on tighter to Yugi’s hand. Eyes closing he fought against the urge to run, exhausting himself while doing it, taxing his still somnolent mind. Without thinking, his body reacting for him, he allowed his head to drop and rest against Yugi’s shoulder, accepting the comfort and embrace his cousin was offering so desperately. “I cannot,” he breathed out, still battling to stay, battling to allow the comfort to envelop him. “Remember the last time I was alright, or normal. No matter how good I get at hiding it all, at keeping up a stable appearance, it’s only external. I can’t do this anymore.”
Chest tightening, Yugi quelled the panic and tightened his hold, “Death isn’t the answer, it never is, do you understand me.”
Shaking his head Yami whispered out, voice cracking, “No, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Dammit,” Yugi cursed, one hand diving out to take hold of Yami chin and lift it, staring hard into defeated garnet with determination and rage, Yugi ground out. “It’s the easy way out, and I’ll be damned if you take it. You do it Yami, and you have let everything that has happened to you win, why would you want that!”
“I don’t,” came the barely audible response. “I’ve got nothing left in me to fight with…all I’ve ever done is fight…I can’t do it anymore. I can’t, not without some sort of change.”
“Then lean on me,” Yugi stated, other hand darting to tuck around Yami’s ear and cup his jaw, forcefully keeping his attention. “Bakura has kept you alive this long, don’t you dare let him down. Start leaning on others, start taking help, stop trying to do this all on your own. By hiding, by slapping away helping hands, you are letting them win. For crying out loud, too many people love you and want to help you, stop pushing them away!”

Through the fear and anger dwelling heavily within him, engulfing his fragile mind, was the small part of his that desperately wanted what he was hearing, there was only one problem. “I don’t know how…”
Shoulders slouching, relief flooding him, Yugi held back a smile and rested his forehead against Yami’s, “That’s the first step – admitting it. The next step, learning to stop hiding and retracting away, stop putting up your shields. It won’t happen overnight, but please try. I don’t want to lose you before I even get to know you, and I know Lysbet and Emmy would be distraught, same with Bakura. There are too many people rooting for you for you to give up.” Feeling Yami’s other hand snake up and grab his other wrist, he sighed deeply and pulled back just enough to stare deep into his cousin’s eyes again. “Trust them, trust me…let me help you.”

Yami hummed in the back of his throat, head dropping and eyes closing again he tried to ward of the hot tears that were still trying to overwhelm him, "I hope I’m not too far gone."
“Never,” Yugi stated fervently, gently moving his thumbs to wipe away the cascading tears. “Never will you be too far gone so long as you want to get better. And, never, will any of us give up on you.”
Moving to lift his head again Yami flinched, hissing harshly against the pain of his neck tightening again, one hand moving to cover the sight of the burning agony in his neck. “Holy fuck that hurts…what did you guys do to me?”
Brow furrowing, Yugi responded in concern, "You don't remember any of what happened earlier, do you?"

A shake of the head and quiet answer followed from the cop, "Just the hallucinations."

"Oh..."

The bedroom door unceremoniously banged open, causing Yugi to visibly jump and Yami to leap up; one hand grabbing Hannibal's leash the other reaching to the drawer in the bedside table. Said second hand stopped instantly, and an annoyed snarl caused Seto to stop in his tracks at the door. The former CEO caught Yami's darting motion and paled, "Gun, I'm guessing," seeing Yami's brows twitch in answer he sighed in relief. "Well, I'm glad you are still half asleep. Food's here." Taking a second his mind clicked everything in place and he panicked and hurried towards Yami. “Shit, you shouldn’t be moving like that…shit.” He came to a sudden stop when, even through the pain he was very noticeably in – Yami had snatched the gun from the night table and was pointing it directly at his knees. “Wait wait…!”
“Yami! Put the gun down! Dammit Seto, you drunken sod, why couldn’t you knock first!” Hand snapping out Yugi grabbed hold of the surprisingly stable gun, while his other hand rested against Yami’s quivering back. Internally he was cursing at Seto seven different ways to Sunday, furious that the former CEO had destroyed the somewhat calm he had worked so hard to create. Making the note to deal with Seto later, Yugi tugged on the gun forcefully. “Yami, let go, Seto may be an idiot but he doesn’t deserve to be shot for it…yet”
Ignoring the quip, Seto watched Yugi successfully pull the gun from Yami’s hands the ease Yami back onto the bed. Shivering from the intensity of those red eyes, the expression in them unreadable, he dramatically slouched and took a grateful breath. “I’m sorry…”
“Come near me like you are again, and I will have no qualms shooting you,” came Yami’s harsh retort, startling Seto and forcing him to look up and use every ounce of courage and pride in him not to cower away from the dark expression Yami was directing at him. “Don’t play me for stupid – I know exactly what you want. If you even try to find an excuse to lay a hand on me, I will blow your hand off.”
His tone was the true definition of menacing and calm, the same tone he had used last night when speaking to Kuzma. Cold, calculating, unwavering. Swallowing hard Seto nodded, hands rising in the air, “Alright makes it really hard to be friends with that little threat though.”
Head quirking, expression still steel, Yami answered viciously, “You haven’t earned that yet.”
Anger boiling in him, Seto ground out through clenched teeth, “Fine, have it your way.”
Confused, still trying to figure out what Yami meant, Yugi began searching Seto up and down for whatever it is he had missed when he spotted it. Face palming he groaned out in frustration, “I think you need to go back to your cold shower Seto.”
The anger seeped away from him and his cheeks flooded red in realisation, the cold water apparently hadn’t fixed his problem from earlier in the shower. Cursing he waved his hands placating, “I’m sorry, apparently I have more sobering up to do…Food’s on the counter.” Trying to keep what little of his pride left, Seto rapidly vacated the room, cursing his overactive libido as he went. He had not even noticed Yami’s topless state, but apparently his body had.

Embarrassed by his friend, Yugi kept shaking his head in disbelief, even once he sat down beside Yami and began to check his stitches to make sure they were still intact. “I’m sorry, he’s not normally like this, but I think it’s been too long since his last relationship ended and only one head seems to be working right now.”
With a shrug, discomfort clear, Yami kept his head bowed, “I have that affect – apparently there’s something in me that makes men only think about one thing. It’s disgusting.”
Crinkling his brow Yugi peered at Yami intently, with a straight eye turned slightly crooked he looked Yami over, mulling it through his head. “You’re attractive, but that…”
“It has nothing to do with that, you don’t have to be attractive to get sex driven men to be aroused,” his tone was dangerous, causing Yugi to listen with caution. “You just have to small, easy to dominate, athletic to make them feel like they are powerful, and exotic. I’m all of those things. Attractive my ass…just the perfect toy for their sick and twisted desires.”
“Yami…” Yugi muttered softly, stunned almost into silence, throat tight and dry in shock. “Is that how you see yourself?”
Scoffing, jaw tight, hands clenching even as Hannibal sat between his legs and began to lick them in a attempt to calm him. “It’s hard not to when that’s all I have ever been given as a view point. The only people that ever try and tell me otherwise are supposed to tell me I’m worth more even if it’s a line, they’re family, they can’t say I’m ugly without having to aim some of it back at themselves.”
Jaw dropping open in stunned disbelief, Yugi tried to formulate a sentence in retort but nothing came forward, nothing but despair. Sitting before him was one of the few men in the world that he – if not family – would have turned gay for in a heartbeat, and yet he himself couldn’t see what was blatantly obvious in the mirror. Fury rose again, fury at those that had decimated any chance for Yami to every have self-esteem and see his worth and attractiveness, but he was especially cursing and wanting to burn Yevgeny for starting it. Even further, his want to scream at Karel for his blindness was starting to build within him, how could he have let Yami fall so far yet continue to hold Lysbet up on the highest pedestal. Rectifying himself and straightening his emotions he, as before, reach out and tenderly placed a hand on Yami’s shoulder. “You’re wrong, and one of these days I’ll be able to prove to you just what it is that everyone else but those sick bastards sees.” Feeling Yami try and shrug his hand away, along with hearing the angered growl, he tightened his hold and snapped out. “You said you trust me…so shut up and trust what I say!” Exasperated and angered eyes rose to him, spurring Yugi onward. “You are worth a lot more than just being a toy for sick or sex driven men. You are incredibly attractive, inside and out, and the confidence you exude is enough to make anyone sway – even if that confidence is only a front.”
Shaking his head, almost sadly, resignation clear in his tone, Yami rose stiffly to his feet and headed out into the hallway towards the nearby bathroom. The statement caused Yugi’s heart to drop, and an aching churn of emotions to rise in his stomach, dismay filling him to the brim. “Again – you’re family, that’s what you’re supposed to say, even if it’s a lie.”
2000 – The Base
From the outside it appeared to be a gorgeous old style family restaurant with clear eastern European influence. But, to people like Bakura, it was far from it. Pulling his bike into one of the nearby parking stalls he flicked down the kickstand and powered down the beautiful Victory Hammer S. It was his baby, gloss black with dark grey racing stripes; gold accents were he had been able to add them. Pulling off his helmet he gave the bike a loving stroke before dismounting, locking it and his helmet while staring up at the building he was about to enter. The aroma drifting out was inviting, fresh succulent borscht, roasted chicken activating his saliva glands, and the tantalizing hint of Baklava wafting through the rest enough to make his knees weak. He was Russian born, so his appreciation for the food the restaurant made was that much more, it even ousted his mother’s incredible cooking – at least, when she was sober. It was moments like this that his stomach tightened in fury, quelling the memories, remembering coming here when he was young with his father before the idiot got himself so deep into trouble that he was six-feet-under before Bakura turned fourteen. He wanted to turn, to run, and to not continue down this path; but internally he knew that there was a badge stuck to his heart and deep down that badge was more important than his fear of being a criminal.
The ornate double front doors were lit by the internal lights, stained glass illuminated to its full glory. Taking a deep breath Bakura dusted of his knees and trudged up to them, not even having to show the tattoos on his hands anymore for the two burly men guarding it to open the door. He was known in this gang and except for the Pakhan, Arik, Dmitri and Svenkov – he was vastly feared and considered one of the most loyal members. He thanked his lucky stars that only those four men knew he was undercover or he would have been shanked a long time ago. The Bratva were criminals, people who had sworn themselves to the thief code, but even to them there were strict hierarchies, loyalty, and rules that had to be followed.
Drifting into the warmth of the restaurant he was greeted by familiar faces, not just men from the Bratva but their families as well. Everything for the Bratva was a family affair, and all the children knew to stay obedient and quiet. The air was thick with excited and happy chatter, all in pure perfect Russian with the odd hint of a different dialect here and there. Through the immenseness before him, along with the vast amount of people, Bakura spotted Arik, Sasha and Dmitri sequestered off at the bar waiting for him, watching him intently. Weaving through the crowd, twirling the odd child or giving them a polite smile, he made his way slowly towards the bar. Taking the empty seat between Arik and Dmitri he grinned as the bartender immediately had his favourite, straight rich vodka shots, handed out and ready for the four of them. With a glance between all of them, all four men smiled, slapped each other on the shoulder, then tapped the shots on the bar and swigged them back with expert ease, laughing when they were immediately filled as soon as they landed on the bar.
“Ah, Artyom, you certainly know how to make a man happy,” chuckled Sasha, swigging back the shot and waving off the next. “A round of gentlemen’s drinks shall we. With your best bourbon and amaretto, I would like to buy a round of The Godfather for these wonderful men, and mostly to Bakura in celebration!”
With a grin and a wink, Artyom went about making the four drinks with expert ease, barely looking at them as he spoke, “Avitorityet I hear is what I am to call you now, Bakura.”
Taking the drink that landed in front of him Bakura winked at him, “If you want to be fancy, sure, but Bakura will always be just fine.”
Twirling the golden liquid around in his glass, Dmitri chuckled, “Always humble, far better than Kuzma’s arrogant ass.”
The cursing seemed off for Dmitri, especially considering he was usually in his stuffy suit and serious as sin alongside the Pakhan, but every once in a while the animal had to be let out of its cage. Arik snickered and patted Dmitri on the shoulder, gentle definitely not in his vocabulary, the gesture causing the drink in hand to nearly spill. “Glad to finally hear some normal words come out of that tight mouth of yours. Agreed, though, good riddance to Kuzma’s treachery and welcome Bakura to your new position. It’s about time you received your stars – long overdue if you ask me – and you will have the epaulets added on the same day. Quite the feat.”
Bakura swallowed hard, keeping the smile on his face before taking a rather large sip of his drink to ward off the paleness in his skin, “Agreed, about fucking time.”
Winking maliciously, Arik clasped Bakura’s shoulder, “Enjoy yourself, in an hour come to the back, the Pakhan will be waiting along with the artist. Sasha, take Bakura to meet his men; Dmitri, come join me in the back.”
With a sour expression Dmitri downed his drink quickly and followed the mini mountain away from the bar, disappearing towards the back of the restaurant. Sasha watched them with an amused smirk, then glanced back at Bakura with a proud grin, “It’s about time they acknowledged you. Incredible! I’ve never heard of getting both your stars and epaulets in one day. Better late than never!”
Downing the rest of his drink, Bakura chuckled. He liked Sasha, though a clear criminal, and a ruthless one at that, he was a damn good man under all of it. “Agreed, now show me who I get to boss around,” he jeered with mirth.
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An hour later, directly on the chime, Bakura let himself into one of the rooms at the back of the restaurant. His breathing was stiff, but his demeanour was calm and almost cocky. It was a small smoking room, large enough for a decent game of poker to transpire over the table that was currently pushed to the back. Sitting in the seven chairs before him, one significantly more cushioned than the others, were Arik, Svenkov, Dmitri, Yevgeny, Sasha, and the other two Avitorityet’s. Yevgeny eyed him with a sly smirk, and it took everything in Bakura not to wipe that grin off his face. The lights were low, creating ominous shadows, forcing Bakura to quickly dart his eyes around to check for hidden men or weapons. Not seeing any he strode forward and stood in the middle of the men, the chairs in a perfect circle around him, closing him in.
“Strip,” Yevgeny ordered, tone stiff. “We need to see your tattoos.”
Nervously, but not showing it, Bakura slowly stripped till he was bare, standing in the middle completely exposed and open to view. Yevgeny made a circular motion with his hands, following the order Bakura lifted his arms and rotated slowly around so that each man could see every inch of him. His tattoos were blatant, easy to see and intricate much like most traditional criminal Russian tattoos; almost all of his were branded on him in his stints in prison or in celebration of something he had done.
“Do you have any forced tattoo’s?”
Staring directly at Yevgeny, he shook his head in answer, “None.”
“Do you renounce the harlot that was your mother, and your father – a pig and a man with no worth, unworthy of the stars he was given,” questioned Svenkov, taking a large puff of the cigar resting in his hands.
Nose protesting against the smoke Bakura swallowed down a cough, another nod, “I do. They mean nothing to me.”
Leaning forward, Arik stared hard at Bakura, a smile crossing his features in mockery, “Do you swear to the Vory v Zakone, pledge your life to the code, to the Bratva, without question.”

A/N: Yes, I am having fun making Seto completely libido starved and perverted, and a bit of a blubbering idiot. I’m allowed J
And – for those of you that caught it – the scene at the base was inspired by the movie Eastern Promises. If you have not seen this movie…please for the love of the Gods do so, it is incredible and fairly accurate in terms of the Vory v Zakone.
As a side note…for those of you that want to see how I am picturing Yami, Seto, Yugi….and Mokuba when he is mentioned…check out his incredible artist. She draws beautiful adult versions of them with physique that is just dreamy! http://aminotvxq.tumblr.com/archive
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Exposed Shadows