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
- 4
- 5
- 6
EXPOSED SHADOWS
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 FIVE
TORONTO, CANADA
Saturday – 0920 – Toronto General Hospital
He had been pacing back and forth, for how long he had no idea. Bakura had long left, being called away for his duties, his reluctance clear. Yugi and Lysbet sat in the chairs uncomfortably, fidgeting but silent, absently staring between each other and the outside. They were in the small waiting room at the end of the hallway, having been ushered there and instructed to remain and restricted from re-entering the hospital room by a doctor, nurse and psychiatrist. Yugi had done his part, fervently defending Yami for the past hour or more prior to them locking them out, but even he seemed nervous especially considering he could not sit still. Seto found himself in the same predicament, but sitting wasn’t an option he had needed to be moving. Pausing briefly he stared up at the ticking clock on the wall, scowling when he realised it had been over two hours. Gritting his teeth, jaw popping from the force, he averted his attention to Yugi whom was watching him warily. “Is it really necessary for them to interrogate him for that long without family or some sort of support in there with him?”
Sighing heavily Yugi nodded, realising that Lysbet was now focused on him as well he cautiously glanced between the two, “They need to interview him alone, rule out familial abuse and such.”
“Familial abuse…?”
Nodding again, Yugi quickly gripped Lysbet’s shaking hands, trying to give it a comforting squeeze. “It’s just standard procedure, nothing more.” Seeing her body stiffen and slight anger radiating from her, he scowled. “Anything that he says about Karel is not chargeable, legally he did nothing wrong.”
Body slouching with relief, Lysbet squeezed Yugi’s hand tightly, “Good, I don’t think that would fix any of this.”
Foot tapping impatiently, arms crossed, body exuding annoyance, Seto growled out. “Is that really something that should be a concern right now? You are worried about Karel possibly getting a slap on the wrist as opposed to your brother possibly being locked up in a psyche ward?”
Glaring at him incredulously, Lysbet snapped out, “That part is the obvious forefront issue Seto; it doesn’t need to be mentioned. But, in all rationality, I do not think it’s going to happen.” Catching Seto’s snarl and audible scoff she frowned deeply, sharing a glance with Yugi she could read the concern from him but also something else. “Why are you so worked up about this, you barely even know him.” Seeing Seto’s jaw pop and the former CEO’s face lock tightly, stoic mask snapping up, she cocked her head, a thought clicking. “Do I detect something more going on here – possibly a crush Mr. Kaiba?”
Shrugging Seto rigidly responded, “What of it?”
A smile graced her features, but immediately disappeared along with her response when the door opened to the hospital room. All three honed in their attention on the doctor and nurse as they approached them, both men seemed serious but nothing hostile radiated from them. The doctor spoke first, waving the nurse away to take care of other duties, “Well, that went about as well as it could have, all things considered. Lysbet, is it, you’re his sister correct?” Gaining a nod he continued. “I do not know how much he has said to you, but I am sure you know some of it. He has some severe depression and anxiety stemming from what happened when he was a teenager, but thankfully – so long as he is willing – it is treatable and can be worked through. The other issue that has to be addressed, is his PTSD, he’s gone far too long without counselling and medication.”
“What do we need to do?” Lysbet questioned.
Attention flicking between all three, he shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “Keep him accountable. He needs to take the medication that Dr. Spira is prescribing to him, but said medication needs to be heavily monitored and controlled, these are powerful drugs and for obvious reasons he should not have control over them.” Pausing, allowing the information to sink in, he continued gently. “He also needs counselling and for all of you to support him through this. This is not a quick fix, but most of all it’s something that he needs to want, and stay wanting, for it to work.”
All three let out dramatic exhales of relief, bodies slouching and relaxing. Yugi was the first to speak, echoing what all of them were unanimously thinking, “This is far better than the alternative, far far better.”
Hands drifting down, fingers looping through the belt loops on his dress pants, Seto bobbed his head in agreement but a single question escaped him. “I am assuming, correct me if I am wrong, that this means that he cannot be left alone, and by his medication being controlled you mean someone has to give them to him and have them otherwise inaccessible.” The doctor nodded in answer, Seto pursing his lips tapped his hip in thought, surprised by the idea that crossed his mind. Blinking he lightly shook his head, averting away from the thought, refocusing on the doctor. “Is this something permanent?”
“No, hopefully not at least. So long as he sticks with this and becomes mentally stable, he will eventually get to a point where he can function like a normal person, just medicated. Lots of people with similar issues to him can get to a point of normalcy; it just takes a lot of work and a lot of support to get there.”
Standing up Yugi pointed to the room, “Can we see him?”
Shuffling aside the doctor swished his hand dismissively, “Go ahead, she should be almost done with him, just had to write out the prescriptions.”
On cue, a woman stepped out of the room, hair pulled back in a tight bun but her face was kindly, bright eyes hidden behind red rimmed glasses. She smiled warmly at them, “He’s good for visitors now,” glancing back in she stated firmly to him. “I will see you in a week, no excuses.” Smile returning she jaunted over to them and shook each of their hands pleasantly. “It was wonderful to meet you all, he is very lucky to have all of you.”
Though stunned, watching her and the doctor walk away with their heads cocked and eyes bemused at her stern statement directed at Yami, they all shuffled and filed back into the room. Yugi was the last in, closing the door behind him and heaving an exhausted breath, attention resting on Yami. He was sitting, almost listless on the bed, some colour had finally returned to his face but his movements were still slow and drained. Back propped up against the raised back of the bed, pillows cushioning him he sat with his legs bent beneath the sheet. In his lap his hands shook slightly, holding the prescriptions while staring at them apprehensively. They had stopped the IV blood transfusion not long before, which was comforting, the single IV running fluids, anti-nauseates, antibiotics and painkillers into his overloaded system. He barely seemed to notice their presence, till he lifted his head to acknowledge Yugi’s blatant stare. Swallowing hard, placating grin crossing his face Yugi meandered over and sat on the far side of the bed, careful not to jostle him too much, one hand extending out in offering. With uncertainty, Yami acquiesced and handed over the prescriptions, allowing Yugi to look them over. “Well, now that this is settled, we have to figure out who gets to babysit you for the next little while, Bakura cannot be depended on unfortunately, he’s being kept far too busy.”
Flinching at the statement, hands balling into fists, crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, “I think I can manage taking a few pills on my own.”
Incredulous, and annoyed, Yugi glared at him, “Nice try. You won’t take them if you can help it.” Fierce eyes dropped away, refocusing on the sheets and his own ever tightening fists. Putting the prescriptions on the nearby nightstand Yugi stated stiffly, a surprising amount of force behind his tone. “With this little visit on your record, and all the others, the military won’t take you back, so you can stop trying to use that as an excuse. Furthermore, yes, you need to be babysat because you cannot be trusted to take them responsibly!”
The statement stung, eyes closing tightly Yami withheld the sharp retorts building, knowing full well that Yugi was right but hating every part of it. Realising that he was tensing up far too much, stomach protesting in pain, he forced out an audible exhale, head falling back against the pillows in defeat. “Fair enough,” was all he could manage, tone depleted. “What do you propose then?”
“Do you even want this still?” was the harsh and very direct question that suddenly seeped from Seto, gaining looks of shock and annoyance from Lysbet and Yugi. He could see Yami tensing again; resisting throwing his guard up, but barely succeeding and it concerned him. Leaning against the wall, Seto – while sorting out the racing thought burning in his head – demanded again. “Do you want to change, do you want the help, or have you changed your mind and are content staying in your downward spiral.”
“Seto!” Lysbet angrily gasped out, nearly rising from her chair.
Sideways glancing at her, most of his attention still focused on Yami, Seto stated harshly, “Coddling him will get us nowhere. The hard questions have to be asked regardless of how much they might bother him.” Hard ruby orbs lifted to him, emotions clearly whirling in them unchecked with pure chaos. Locking with them, Seto tried to decipher what they were revealing; ignoring the ever stiffening posture of the man they belonged to. Uncertainty and fear were clear, along with somnolence and frailty, but he could also see the familiar flame of determination and willpower seeping through the chaos. Detecting no resentment, he asked again, this time with a softer tone. “Do you want it or not?”
That stare, dark blazing cobalt eyes penetrating with emotion; passion and rage overflowing from them, increasing his heart rate and quickening his breath. It was the same as last night, tugging on Yami’s fragmented memories, it was the clearest image he had from yesterday and it was burned into him. Those same eyes, with the same intensity, staring down at him before he lost consciousness; strong almost possessive arms not entirely willing to let him go. It was almost as if they had grabbed a hold of him, keeping him from running, weighting him down with a near desperate heaviness. It was overwhelming, sucking the breath from his lungs. Yami could barely formulate a thought, mind swirling in vicious circles. Groaning, wrenching himself away from the overbearing emotions that were seeping from the former CEO. Cracking his jaw, lips tight he answered quietly, “Yes, albeit I never believed it would come to fruition, so pardon my current lack of faith.” Attention lifting, he swallowed in surprise at the intensity of the jovial smiles that all three were giving, and the tears forming in Lysbet and Yugi’s eyes. Straightening, he scowled with no conviction and shook his head. “Fucking hell, stop being so emotional.”
“We’re allowed, so suck it up,” Yugi quipped, still beaming while wiping tears from his eyes.
A voice, familiar and deep, echoed from out in the hallway. Head cocking, body tensing, Yami stared at the door; “For fucks sakes.”
All three stared at him in confusion, turning to stare at the door, startled slightly when it opened and a familiar hulking figured meandered in and stopped to stare, electric blue eyes flaming. Withholding a snarl, Freeborn forced himself to smile pleasantly at Seto, Yugi and Lysbet. “Good morning, I did not expect to see you all here.”
“What do you want,” Yami snapped out, the Russian language falling harshly from his lips.
Smile fading, Freeborn locked with the officer, “We need to talk. Get them to leave.” A tall figure sliding menacingly in front of him Freeborn rolled his eyes and grinned tightly up at Seto. He nearly bulked, the ferocity falling off the man in waves startling him. Clearing his throat he shifted so he could see around Seto. “Now.”
Part of him wanted the security blanket, but the stronger part of him tensed up and threw up the daggers, switching back to English he murmured to Seto, Yugi and Lysbet. “Step outside for a minute please.”
“Not a chance,” Seto snarled, echoed by Yugi’s chorused agreement and immediately rising up to stand strongly beside Seto.
“Just go, I’ll be fine.”
Rounding, about to retort, Seto and Yugi both felt their throats go dry. Sheer vicious determination radiated intensely off of Yami, his shoulder’s straightened and body locked; the same look they were so used to seeing from Atemu before the start of a duel. Sharing a glance, though both reluctant, Seto answered for them, “If you insist. We’ll be right outside.” Yami merely smiled at them, dark determination increasing. Seto could feel a change within him, a shift from the apprehension of their last encounter with Freeborn. Taking in that trademark smile, Seto grinned back, if his inkling was correct, they were not needed. Not giving Lysbet the chance to protest, Seto and Yugi encouraged her out the door, closing it behind them.
With the tell-tale metallic click, Freeborn’s brick form hardened fury clear. “Quite the little set of bodyguards.”
Shrugging, nonchalant, Yami leaned forward resting his arms on his legs to remain upright. “What do you want?”
Closing the distance between them, Freeborn snapped both hands out in fury, wanting to silence the insubordination. With little effort, Yami diverted both his hands away with simple fluid motions. Just as quickly, the flash of silver caught his attention, slipped out from the sweat pants hanging on the head of the bed. The slicing of a keen blade split the skin on his neck, blinking in shock to see that Yami had risen in his knees and was holding the brandished full length army knife against his pulsating jugular. Cocking his head, amusement clear, Yami stated mockingly. “That’s a new low even for you, attacking a person that is fresh out of surgery and still in a hospital bed.”
Snarling further, Freeborn flinched when the knife cut a millimetre further down his neck from the motion, “How did you get that into the hospital?”
A grin, “Bakura left it.”
Fear settled heavily in his stomach, knotting and twisting, “You’re lying.”
A casual shake of his head, and a dark chuckled further tightened the knotting pit in the bottom of Freeborn’s gut. “Unfortunately for you, when you were stupid enough to leave my phone,” letting that statement linger, menacing grin widening, before continuing. “He was able to be fully notified. Though, the only thing they didn’t already know about was my impending meeting with the chief. Your death warrant was already signed.” He sensed more than felt Freeborn’s panicked shift, thick arms rising to try and slam the dagger away with severe overkill. Sinking down in his knees and dropping back he avoided the brutes attempted blow, rolling to the opposite side of the bed – movements stiff with the pain from his surgery – he rose off the bed and pivoted. Keeping both the bed and the blade between him and the raging bull he snapped out. “I am done covering for you and your demented games; it’s time for you to fall back to the shit hole you crawled from!”
“You little rat!” Freeborn growled, hunched over with muscles tensed and ready to strike, anger rising from the insubordination Yami was showing. The brat had never stood up to him before, and he had been counting on it, depending completely on Yami’s clear petrification of Yevgeny. Fists clenching, subtle steps being taken towards the edge of the bed, he ground out furiously through clenched teeth. “I will tell Yevgeny of this little stunt of yours! He’ll have you on your knees wishing you hadn’t…”
“You’ll be dead before you could utter the words,” Yami hissed, carefully adjusting himself to Freeborn’s movements. “You did this to yourself by overreaching. They know what you’ve been up to; leaking information to rival gangs, botching operations and sabotaging fights. You finally went past your usefulness when you put me right in their line of fire; you had the simple order to keep me as far away from them as possible, and you ignored it.”
Clenched fists slamming into the mattress, body lurching to try and snap around the end, only for that same sharp blade to slash across the arm that came too close. Hand darting up to cover the bleeding infuriated that the little bastard had hit him even if it was only a graze. Exhaling harshly, a maniacal smile gracing his scarred features, he hissed out vehemently. “I’ll bring you to him, he’ll forgive me if I do that, you’re all he’s ever wanted! Yes, yes you’ll be his little shlyukha again and this little mishap will be forgotten.”
Eyes rolling, Yami shook his head in annoyance, “You’re stupid, but not stupid enough to really believe that that will alleviate the mess you’ve made.” A single hand darted out to try and snatch his wrist, barely moving he spun the knife, satisfied when Freeborn retracted it back with a yelp, another fresh flow of blood dribbling from his hand. “You’d better be damn good at hiding, I guarantee they will show you no mercy; you will not get lucky like Kuzma did.”
Another lurch, another hot slice of pain, Freeborn retracted backwards; unwillingness to be defeated but mentality acknowledging his loss clear within him. Straightening, he reached behind him, twisting the door handle and wrenching the door open he backed out into the hallway. Scarlet eyes continued to watch him, reflecting off the now blood tainted blade in his hands. Clenching his fists he snarled, whirling around to head to the elevator only to nearly run straight into a man a good solid head taller than him, raging azure gaze burning through him. Giving another growl, he shoved Seto aside, not noticing that the man barely moved, only felt that steel gaze following him to the elevator.
Yugi had already darted into the room. Seeing Yami, who was hunching over the opposite side of the bed, knife smearing the white sheets red beneath shaking hands. Quickly, he yanked the weapon out of his cousin’s hands and shoved it into the nightstand, simply wanting to be rid of it. He had seen the wounds on Freeborn when the man had made his mass exodus, so he wasn’t surprised to find Yami both out of bed and regretting moving as much as he had. Rubbing Yami’s quaking back, brow furrowed and frowning, voice lacking conviction, “You idiot.”
Laughing, although wryly, Yami peeked up at him while still pressing one hand into his surgical wound and the other holding him upright. “Well, I figured if the rest of my life had to change, so did that. Probably not the best timing though.”
“Nope, come on, get back in bed,” Yugi insisted, a prideful smile creasing his lips while shaking his head. Gently, he assisted Yami back into bed; thankful that it had taken that long for both Lysbet and Seto to re-enter the room. “Lysbet, can you request for new sheets and blanket, these one’s need to be washed.”
Lysbet cocked her head, then spotted the blood, blinking she averted angrily on her brother, “What the hell did you do to yourself.”
Staring at her in bemusement, Yami murmured, “It’s not mine…did you not look at Freeborn as he left.” Seeing her shake his head he mimicked her and leaned back against the pillow, watching Yugi yank off the sheets and blanket and dispose of them in the nearby biohazard hamper. Frowning, head still shaking, Lysbet exited the room to go find a nurse, grumbling under her breath as she went. Feeling eyes on him, Yami averted his gaze to Seto. The man’s fascination was focused on his currently bare legs, specifically on the long jagged scar running down his right thigh and over the same knee. Sitting up he crossed his legs, attempting to cover it with the flimsy hospital gown, heat from both embarrassment and annoyance rising in his cheeks. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”
“I can barely remember her, so no,” Seto quipped; continuing to stare at what was still exposed, ignoring Yugi’s huff and dramatic crossing of his arms beside him. “Is that from the IED?”
Crimson eye’s narrowed slightly, one hand absently running over the jagged scar. Seeing Yugi’s questioning stare, he heaved a dramatically annoyed exhale. “Mostly, yes. I was only a few feet from the explosion, got a lot of shrapnel damage and burns. It looks like this because of the graphing, there wasn’t much skin left in areas, my leg especially. My side and back aren’t as bad.” Eyes ghosting down he stared at his knees, images played in front of his eyes, and piercing screams echoed in his ears. “Wouldn’t even have had to go to that fucking mine field if the Intel had been correct and we didn’t have to run. Ended up being a waste, two of the three captives that we were sent out to take died in the explosion, technically they were the ones that ran out to the IED’s to set them off as the Humvees came in. The other killed himself before we could drag him out of the bunker. We gained nothing; eight of my twelve men squad and Ryker died for nothing.” Yami hadn’t realize that he had started scratching and rubbing at the scars, exposing them and making them raw, until Seto had gripped his hands and pulled them away. Large comforting hands continued to hold his, caressing them as if to calm them from their rampage. Breath hitching, a mix of comfort and pleasure causing a small shudder emitting through him like a surge of electricity. Gaze darting up he swallowed hard, the grin within those blue eyes telling him that Seto had registered his reaction. Stiffening he retracted his hands away, though without the haste that he had wanted, mind reeling from his bodies reaction. Folding his hands he shoved them in his lap, hiding the traitorous limbs. Swallowing, he murmured out, “That war was the true definition of hell; I would go back to my prison with the Bratva any day over returning to active duty.”
Disappointment had filled him when Yami had wrenched away from him, but the sensation of the pleasured quiver made up for the current loss of contact, though it drove him for more. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seto tenderly placed a hand on Yami’s shoulder, rubbing it gently and eliciting the same reaction he withheld a grin. “Thankfully the likelihood of that is nil.” He felt a glare hitting him, averting he caught Yugi’s heated and warning stare, the intense protectiveness radiating off of him almost palpable. The wink he sent him only seemed to infuriate Yugi more, though he ignored it and turned his attention back to Yami. “You should get some rest, they won’t release you soon if you don’t relax and heal up a bit.”
Absently Yami nodded, regretting looking up into those drawing eyes, stiffening again he pushed the hand away and retracted into himself. He could not understand the emotions swirling through him from the looks those eyes had given him and how he had felt when he had been wrapped securely in those arms, nor was he processing his bodies current –and very sudden -reaction to the man’s touch. It was a completely forgotten sensation for him, and part of him was craving for more but the rest of him wanted to hide. He went numb, mind reminiscing the last time he had felt it, unable to process it as different from the searing agony that had been coupled with it. Curling up on his side he put his back to Seto, arms wrapped around his stomach to ward off the pain along with mildly protecting himself. A soft sheet and thick blanket were soon draped over him, and he lifted his somnolent gaze up to Lysbet, whom was smiling down at him and tenderly rubbing his arm. Exhaustion very quickly swelled over him like a crashing wave, reminding him that aside from his brief bouts of loss of consciousness due to his overdose, pain, or being medically put under; he had not slept in days. A soft yawn escaped him; a warm feminine hand met his cheek and soothingly caressed it, Lysbet whispering out as his mind faded away into oblivion. “Sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.”
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TORONTO, CANADA
Saturday – 1900 – The Base
They had just finished another haul, transferring approximately ten children between the ages of twelve and seventeen to the base in Halifax for securement on the first out going vessel for Europe, along with a "Short Ton" (907 kilograms) of cocaine. It had gone smoothly, just as planned; the second half of the haul would be done later that night. With an exhausted sigh Bakura slumped into one of the nearby bar stools, Sasha plunking down beside him, with two fingers he signalled to Artyom for their favourites. Two tall shots of pure beautifully clear vodka. Artyom placed both of the glasses in front of them and expertly filled them, winking at them knowingly he sauntered away to deal with the other customers. Grasping them, Sasha and Bakura nodded at each other, murmured ‘Za zdorovje’ and slammed the shots back with groans of satisfaction. Exhaling dramatically Bakura sat back, dropping his head and closing his eyes, mindlessly swatting at Sasha when he laughed at him. “Fuck off, you had the easy part.”
“Aye, until tonight that is,” Sasha chuckled, tapping the bar and signalling to Artyom for another two shots. “Then you get to sit on your lazy arse and watch me run the show. Though, compliments to you for a good run. Brats make too much noise; I’ll stick to the regular merchandise.”
Slugging back the next shot, Bakura grunted, withholding the disgust radiating through him. He could handle most things that came with being part of the Bratva, but selling children as sex slaves just hit him low in the groin and even harder into the bile in his stomach. The strong vodka steadied him, made his system relax so he could keep up the charade. “Glad we don’t do them very often, and even gladder that they are rarely this big; too many of the fucker’s to keep track of.”
A middle aged man, covered in tattoos like the rest of the men within the building, head bald and eyes mischievous; plopped down beside Bakura, grin apparent. “I hear you two had a good run.”
Knowingly, Bakura scowled at him, Sasha echoing the expression. “What do you want Kiril?”
Kiril, one of the other Avitorityet’s, chuckled and pointed towards the back room. “Arik wants to see you, has a treat for you. Sasha, come along for the fun.”
Exchanging a glance Bakura and Sasha slid away from the bar and quietly followed Kiril to the backroom, the same one he had been marked in a week ago. The restaurant was busy, bustling with the evening rush, and for obvious cover. Entering the back room, Bakura frowned deeply and Sasha cocked his head to the side, not surprised but equally perturbed. Hearing the door click behind them from Kiril closing it, Bakura stared down at the man tied in the middle of the floor. Freeborn was not only cuffed, but his entire torso was crisscrossed with ropes that hooked with the ones around his ankles. With a small internal grin, Bakura admired the clear cuts from a sharp blade; he recognized the style with pride. So the idiot had been bold enough to go to the hospital, clearly that had not gone well for him. Fear permeated his pores, bright blue eyes wide with terror Freeborn stared at them all apprehensively and flinching at their every movement. Arik stood behind him, skilfully – yet absently – flicking a knife between his fingers. The other Avitorityet, Mikhail, stood alongside him with a pistol in one hand and the other taping digits against the knife at his waist.
Suddenly kneeling down, chuckling at the flinch it caused in Freeborn, Arik almost casually wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders. Flicking out his knife he tapped it mockingly against the man’s opposite cheek, gaze never leaving Bakura’s. “As I am sure you already know, our little mole here has broken a few rules. On top of being a traitor,” emphasizing the word by pressing the sharp tip of the blade into the corner of Freeborn’s mouth, drawing a small whimper and a thick trickle of blood. “Informing our rivals of our little activities and botching them for his own monetary gain. He also did the exact opposite of what he was charged to do. Now what was that Freeborn, can you remind me?”
Quaking, Freeborn stammered out, “He’s still safe, that’s all that matters!” An instant whimper escaped him as Arik tightly gripped his shoulder, the man’s hand encasing his entire rotator cuff. “I did what I had to do; all of you should understand that, I did all of you a favour…”
Eye rolling, Arik pivoted the knife in his hands and sunk it violently into the top of Freeborn’s trap, eliciting a piercing scream. It wasn’t deep enough to hit lungs, but deep enough to cause immeasurable pain. Dry heaving echoed through the room, bouncing off the four other men standing within the room, watching with stoic expressions – except for Kiril, whom was licking his lips in anticipation. Pulling the knife back out, Arik pressed the flat of the blade against Freeborn’s cheek, smearing it with dark red blood. “You were supposed to keep the Pakhan’s pet safely away from us, and keep him alive. Not only did your little stunt last week put in right in the line of fire, it could have killed him if he wasn’t so skilled at survival. Then, you went even further still, I told you to stay away from him until otherwise notified. But then, in your idiocy, you go and torment him to save your own ass and drive him to nearly killing himself. We are lucky that Bakura over there trained his dog how to use a cell phone, or the Pakhan’s favourite pet would be dead.”
“I swear I didn’t know…I swear…come on Arik, you know me…”
Glaring down at the pitiful pleading mess, Arik grunted and smiled, hand shifting the blade away while his other let go of his shoulder and mockingly patted his blood drenched cheek. “Yes, yes I do know you Freeborn. You have been a thorn in my side long enough. My patience with you has worn thin and your usefulness has abated.” Ignoring the gasping whimpers, Arik raised the knife and directed it at Bakura, a devilish grin causing the undercover cop’s stomach to churn. “As our new Avitorityet, you get to deal out his sentence. Kiril, Mikhail and Sasha, you are to make sure his body is not findable, and if it is that it has as little identification markers as possible. Understood.”
“Da,” came the unanimous response.
“Good,” rising up, Arik strode up to within inches of Bakura, holding out the bloodied knife. Cautiously, Bakura gripped the hilt, inhaling deeply while Arik patted his shoulder then went to sit in one of the nearby chairs. “Kiril, Mikhail - hold the pitiful waste down; Bakura, let’s see how pretty your artwork is.”
Body going cold, Bakura gripped the knife. He knew he had no choice, but that did not take away the disgust twisting and churning in his gut, soul going cold. Jaw locking he pivoted the blade and readied it, summoning all the hatred he could for the man before slashing the first blow.
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TORONTO, CANADA
Saturday – 2100
He had long made the decision, though he had yet to actually pass the idea never mind converse about it with Yugi, Yami and Lysbet. For the past hour he had packed up what little he had, at least what little had been taken out of the boxes and copious amount of clothes bins, and filled up two taxi van’s with all of it. He had the house key from Yugi, making the excuse that he was going to make sure that Hannibal was alright and fed. Exiting one of the two vehicles, he tipped the two men a fair amount extra and asked for their assistance, grabbing a few of the boxes before trekking towards the house. Unlocking the front door he quirked a brow, he could see a light on distantly within the house, not remembering leaving any one when they had left the previous evening. Pushing the door open he was immediately greeted by Hannibal, the K9 simply sat in the middle of the living room watching, dark eyes tracking him. Pointing to the back guest room – or master bedroom if you wanted to be technical – Seto politely sent the two men in there to put his stuff. Seeing a light on down in the basement, along with noise, Seto placed the box he had been carrying down on the floor and quested down the stairs.
Seto had yet to be down the stairs yet, and with the assured sound of the two taxi drivers finishing unloading the rest of his personal belongings, he stepped away from the stairs and peered around. It was a large open space, a comfy sectional off to his right with a large screen TV along with several gaming systems, the short windows blocked out with dark curtains. A large amount of weights and workout equipment took over the other side of the room. To his right was a bedroom, the light on and a pile of heavily soiled clothes laying in the doorway. Squinting Seto retracted, recognizing the dark red stains that covered the floor beneath the clothes, along with the bloody foot prints leading in front of him and straight into the bathroom directly before him. The door was closed, but the steam rolling out from under the door and he loud buzz of water running signalled that it was occupied. That didn’t last long. The water instantly shut off and after a minute or so of shuffling within the door clicked open. Clearly Bakura had been oblivious to the sounds above, towel barely wrapped around his waist he snarled in surprised and quickly grabbed the pistol he had left on the counter, only to exhale deeply when he recognized Seto’s tall frame. The CEO quirked a brow at him, hands up in placating. “The fuck are you doing here, don’t sneak up on a man in a towel, it’s not nice.” Reaching back into the bathroom he put the gun away and grabbed another towel, dropping it onto the floor he stepped on it and shuffled into the bedroom, wiping up the bloodied footprints as he went.
Watching him, hands ghosting back down to his sides, Seto murmured out stiffly though trying not to laugh at the absurdity of Bakura’s motions. “Do I need to be aware of possibly stepping on something cold and stiff?”
Shaking his head from deep within the room, pulling on boxers and a pair of jeans Bakura grumbled out at him, not caring that Seto was blatantly staring at the vast amount of tattoo’s covering his naked body, “No, not here at least. Just stay there a minute, let me clean this up.” Quickly, with gloves on, Bakura gathered up the blood drenched clothing and shoes and shoved them in a bag. Then, just as quickly, he went about washing the floor and bathroom with a strong acetone smelling cleaner. Curling a finger Bakura encouraged Seto to follow him up the stairs, carrying the bag with him. Reaching the top of the stairs Bakura noticed the front door open, the boxes that Seto had been carrying in the middle of the living room, and the light on to the guest bedroom. Huffing, un-surprised, he meandered outside to the back yard, grabbing everything he was going to need for a fire as he went. Kneeling down he used the kindling he had grabbed, along with a match, newspaper, a small amount of kerosene, and logs he slowly built up a good fire. Satisfied, eyes entranced by the dancing flames, he placed the bag that was filled with the clothes along with the towels used to clean up the mess downstairs on the fire. Standing up, bringing a full bottle of dark rum up with him that he had also swiped from the kitchen, he popped the cork and chugged a third of it back. Seeing Seto’s surprised face, but glad so far that the man had yet to press him for information, he sighed with gratification at the sweet taste of the liquor and the warmth it brought to his innards. “I am guessing you drew the short straw?”
“The short straw?”
“Mhm, I saw all your stuff,” he stated quietly, still watching the flames. “I am guessing that that means that you were the one that will be staying here and keeping an eye on him, make sure he takes his meds and all. Pretty easy gig, you won’t have to pay rent, the house is already paid for – just make sure the bugger takes his pills and behaves, help clean if you can too.” Another deep swig and pleasured sigh he handed the bottle over to Seto, grinning when the man took it and with a scrunched expression took on the challenge and chugged a fair amount back. “Though, you may have to witness what you just did a few more times, the draw backs of being an ‘Authority’.”
Cautiously, Seto took another swing of the strong though pleasant tasting liquor and handed it back over to Bakura, not surprised when the undercover cop nearly downed the rest of the bottle. “Had a dirty assignment I’m guessing?”
With a nod, and finishing the bottle, Bakura tossed the empty bottle onto the fire with a low growl. Hands tightly shoving into his pockets, he nodded. “First one like it…and probably not the last. I’ve killed before, in fights, but not like this…murder doesn’t sit as nicely as self-defence.”
Stiffening, though forcing himself to relax just as quickly; Seto peered at Bakura taking in the man’s clearly drained physique, paler than normal skin and the drawn glint to his eyes. Tight muscles, especially those around his jaw and hands signalled to Seto that this had not been enjoyed, and certainly not willing. He could also see fresh tattoo’s, the peeling and healing skin visible even in the fire light as Bakura stood still without a shirt on. “What’s an Authority? Is that the position you had told me about?”
“Yes, Avitorityet, direct translation is Authority or Brigadier. There are almost always four within mafia format Russian gangs – Italian mobs are similar. We are directly below the second in command, along with the Sovietnik and Kassir, which are basically the book keeper and the councillors. They answer to the Pakhan, and we answer to them, everyone else is below us. Arik is both Yevgeny’s right hand man and one of his Sovietnik’s. With Kuzma gone, they needed a replacement, and I was not only the highest one voted on but was a damn good alternative because it would tighten their leash.” Finally feeling the sway the rum gave to him he shuffled back slightly and sat on the edge of the deck, russet eyes hazy but lifting to peer at Seto. “Freeborn’s gone. If he’s ever found I’ll be surprised, Kiril and Mikhail are damn good at hiding things.”
Cerulean gaze hardening, brow furrowing, Seto grunted, “Sounds like he’s had it coming.”
A nod. “He’s been fucking around for the past year or so; leaking information to rival gangs and a little bit to the police, just to get a shit ton of money. We caught him a few months ago, his name had been spilled by one of the men from another gang that we had tortured to find out how they knew about the operation they had intervened on. He’s also become sloppy, hasn’t been covering his tracks well.”
“If they’ve known for this long, why only deal out the punishment now?”
Jaw clicking, flingers cracking, russet eyes narrowed dangerously. “He nearly got Yami killed twice, and disobeyed a direct order to stay the fuck away from him. In the Pakhan’s eyes, that’s a terminable offense, and for once I agree.”
Flicking his wrist Seto stared down at his watch, “Speaking of him; Yugi and Graham should be home with him soon. Lysbet just had to drive home and switch off with Graham, give him a break from the girls. She left before I did, so they may be here any minute now.” Pivoting he headed back into the house, guessing that Bakura probably needed some time alone. “I’m going to go put the rest of my stuff in the bedroom and call in some food, hungry?” Barely catching the nod he frowned deeply and finished entering the house, closing the door behind him.
He had ordered food in, again calling the ramen place that they had attempted to order from before, and then went about puttering in his room to pass he time. Most of what he had was clothing, and in quantities that made him cringe. Quickly filling up the drawers in the one dresser he quickly moved to filling up the closet to near bursting point. Scowling, mostly at his obsession with clothes akin to that of a girl, he made the mental note to purchase another armoire or an additional separate closet to space it all out better. The room itself was pretty barren, not a single piece of decoration was within it aside from a single painting of a gorgeous mountain scape that hung over the bed. All the furniture was simple; probably Ikea, dark wood with clean lines; a bed, two nightstands and a dresser filled the rather large bedroom. He had lots of extra space, and also very quickly decided that he needed to add some colour to the room. White sheets, white walls, dark furniture – the only colour belonging to the painting. Pulling out the few pictures and treasured knickknacks he placed them around the room, two items going straight to the nightstand on the side of the bed he preferred. His duel deck; which he still used every once in a while when the right person asked, and a picture of Mokuba and his wife Kisame. Smiling fondly he stared down at the picture; it was from their wedding day. Mokuba had finally cooperated and cut his unruly raven mane, but only to just above shoulder height, and was dressed smartly in a dark silver suit. Kisame was stunning, as always; delicate Japanese features shining through minimal cosmetics, her hair done in a very traditional up-do and silk pale pink kimono glistening in sunlight as sakura blossoms fell down around them. They were both laughing so hard their cheeks had gone red, and their bliss was almost palpable even through the picture. Fondly he traced his finger over the frame, remembering the day with affection. Yugi had come out for it, Rei had been part of the wedding party as a junior bridesmaid, she was eight at the time. Chuckling, he murmured out, “Four years already, damn rascal.”
A knock on the door pulled him out of his admiring. Clicking off the bedroom light he meandered to the front door, giving a nod to Hannibal whom had not moved from where he was laying on the living room floor. Opening the door he politely greeted the delivery boy, paying for the food and divesting the young man of his steaming prize. Placing the food on the counter he began to unwrap it all, scouring the kitchen to find the bowls and utensils and divesting the scorching hot soup into them, along with placing the vast amount of sushi he had ordered onto several plates. Finished, he glanced up and peered out through the window into the backyard. Bakura hadn’t moved, or at least he looked like he hadn’t, though a new bottle of liquor was in his hands and nearly emptied. The bag was completely burnt, no longer discernible as anything but ashes; yet Bakura remained sitting on the edge of the deck staring at the burning flames, kept warm only by its blazing heat. Chewing at his lip, Seto sighed deeply and glanced around for a jacket, not wanting the idiot to catch a cold. Finding one, though not sure if it was his, Seto stepped out into the brisk cold night air and promptly dropped the jacket in the man’s lap, “If you wake up sniffling, don’t come crying to me.”
Blinking Bakura grunted, grinning as he glanced down at the jacket. “Thanks. Its Yami’s, so good try. Even though he buys clothes several sizes too big it still won’t fit me.” Sniffing he glanced back to the house, the aroma of food wafting out and enticing him. “Do I smell ramen?”
Quirking a brow Seto chuckled, “I told you almost half an hour ago that I was ordering food.”
Rapidly jumping up Bakura darted around Seto and into the house, the CEO following him still chuckling. Hovering over the five bowls of ramen, licking his lips dramatically he glanced over at Seto. “Does it matter which one?” Gaining an amused shake of his head, Bakura whooped and scooped up a bowl, about to start devouring when the door shot open. Panicking when hearing the other’s voices he glanced around for something to put on, to cover his new additions, but he was too slow. Hands clenching he shoved them in his pockets, jaw locking as he watched the trio enter the house.
Grateful to enter the heat of the home and even more elated when a familiar warm tongue licked his hand and a black mass of fur pranced in front of him. Kneeling down stiffly Yami beamed, hands ruffling Hannibal’s neck while the K9 made small whimpers of happiness and wagged his tail excessively. Graham and Yugi both diverted around him, slipping off their shoes and placing their jackets in the nearby closet and closed the door. Hannibal gave a gruff bark and rolled onto his back, allowing Yami to rub his stomach in gentle circles, the dog immediately melting under the attention. Rising up stiffly, groaning at the pain that lanced through his stomach and through the prior injuries he had on his side and upper leg, the stitches had all been removed before he left, aggravating them far more than should be normal. His own fault though, he had not gone in to get the stitches removed when he was supposed to, and he had been far more mobile than he should have been. Taking a moment he stood with a hand over his incision and one resting on Hannibal’s strong back, breathing slowly through the brief wave of pain and dizziness the motion had caused. He could feel eyes watching him, one set directly in front. Lifting his head, he could see Yugi staring at him worriedly, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders. Waving them off he smiled, the expression slow and tired, “I’m alright, just a little dizzy.”
Undeterred Yugi glowered at him, hands reaching back out to removed Yami’s jacket, “Kick off your shoes, I’ll put them and your jacket away, and don’t you dare argue.” Catching Yami’s scowl, he gave the same expression back, going about to do as he said. Closing the closet he signalled forcefully to the table. “No exerting yourself. Go sit, we will bring the food over.”
“Will you stop coddling me?”
“Not when you are in the shape you are in! You overdosed, almost bled to death and had major surgery. Sit down, shut up and rest!”
“Aside from being borderline being carried in here walking is all the exertion you’ve allowed me to do!”
“Except your little stunt with Freeborn, that almost opened up your stitches!”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Oh yes it does, towards your idiocy and stubbornness. For the love of everything normal go sit down!”
Coming over to the kitchen, Graham sighed in mild annoyance and grinned at Bakura and Seto, whom seemed just as amused. “It hasn’t stopped since we left the hospital. Quite comical if in you ask me.”
“Bout’ time someone could put him in his place,” Bakura chuckled, briefly forgetting his prior worry as he watched the near identical twin’s bantering like an old married couple. “Let’s get the food over there while the mother-hen and petulant child argue.”
The three of them brought everything over to the table and set it, amused grins blatant on their faces as Yami and Yugi continued to argue; though Yami’s clear exhaustion was the only reason why Yugi was winning, and Yugi was happily standing up high on the leg he had. As gently as he could, he gripped Yami’s forearms and pulled him towards the table, having about enough of this. Yami, thankfully, reacted in kind and moved forward; deep set scowl on his face he sat down at the indicated chair. Annoyed ruby eyes followed him to the chair directly across, plopping down Yugi grinned at him triumphantly, “See how easy that was, wouldn’t it have just been easier to do that in the first place.”
“Fuck off.”
Snorting, Bakura almost spat out the mouthful of noodles he had begun to slurp up; his amusement dissipated the instant he noticed Yami’s scrutinizing eyes on his still bare chest. Sucking in the rest of the noodles he sunk into himself, avoiding eye contact, retorting to try and distract. “That would require him not being a stubborn jackass.”
Yami fingered his friend ardently, causing everyone else in the room to laugh, making a mental note to question him later. Smirking slightly, enjoying the sound, a sound he rarely heard echo within his home, Yami shuffled and began to eat. The other’s began to talk, laugh and gorge on the rather delicious meal; answering only when addressed Yami simply listened to them, enjoying the chatter. It didn’t last long though, not long enough for him at least; mentally admitting that he was appreciating the company and the fullness of his home.
As soon as they were done, Yugi and Graham quickly donned their coats, said their good-byes and headed home to get some rest. Work came early, and Graham still had to help Lysbet put Emmy to sleep and Yugi had the drive him still with Rei. When their vehicle pulled out of the driveway he remained at the door, watching them leave, absently listening to Seto and Bakura cleaning up in the kitchen. When a shiver ran through him and the vehicle was out of site, he reluctantly closed the door. Averting back into the heat of the house he walked slowly into the kitchen, intense gaze following Bakura while his friend put all the garbage away and closed the cupboard containing it. He seemed to sense it, russet eyes rising to meet his, apprehension clear within them. Seto closed the dishwasher, on the opposite side of Bakura, cautiously watching the exchange. Tentatively, soft bronze digits extending out, retracting back as if burned when they touched one the eight point stars on Bakura’s chest. They relaxed, ghosting over them, red eyes dejected and distant. He could feel the newness of them beneath his fingertips, the skin still healing. Swallowing hard he bit down into his lip, reaching the epaulets he ran the tips of his fingers over the skull set into the middle and very suddenly retracted back, arms wrapping around himself while his head shook as if in denial. His heart was racing, images flicking through his mind of a figure looming over him with near identical tattoos, save the other man’s were far more extensive. Inhaling deeply he quelled the thoughts, lifting his attention back up to Bakura’s stoic face, seeing through the mask. “Stars and epaulets…forced marks…but impressive.”
Arms crossed tightly, muscles stiff, Bakura gave a nod. “Week ago.”
Head dropping, rapid heart rate returning, Yami murmured out, voice dejected, “I’m sorry…I was supposed to get you out long before this happened.”
Façade faltering, Bakura moved to touch him, but Yami retracted further away; haunted orbs lifting to stare at him pleadingly, filled to the brim with tears. Hands dropping to his sides, tightly clenched into fists, he ground out with determined emphasis. “This isn’t permanent, it’s just until we sort out the shit with the product that Karel made. Repay the debt.”
Startled as ruby eyes suddenly darkened, Seto straightened and unintentionally took a step back, recognizing that gaze with apprehension. Bakura seemed to understand it just as well, stiffening and broadening his stance, preparing himself.
“Do not play me for a fool,” Yami snapped, one hand darting out and tightly taking hold of Bakura’s flexed arm, the opposite hand balled into a dangerous fist and vibrated against his side, arm bent and ready. “I know what those tattoo’s mean. You are forever with the Vory v Zakone, a thief for life; you have pledged your life and your honour to the Bratva, willingly or not. If you are ever caught with those removed, or if anyone else in the Bratva finds out you are a cop you are a dead man. Fixing Karel’s fuck up will not remove the binds that have been placed on you with those fucking stars; it will more than likely give them an excuse to bury you six feet under. You are a tool to them, that’s all you have ever been since they found out what your ties were to me.”
Snarling, Bakura snapped a hand up and tightly took hold of Yami’s jaw pulling him close while heatedly growling out, “I was fucked long before they found out. Have you forgotten that my father sold me to them a long time ago; lined me up to be their next pawn just by showing that I existed. I’m just like him Yami, do not try and spin this around!”
“You’re nothing like him,” came the harsh reply, Yami trying to speak around the bruising grip Bakura had on his jaw. “I will tell you again and again, even if you never hear it, you are not him! He was his own special breed of fucked up, you are nothing like him. Your father didn’t have a loyal bone in his body, he sold you and your mother out the moment he could so that he could save his own ass. He never once protected either of you when you needed him. In fact, he was the one that laid down more than half of the beatings the two of you endured. Have you forgotten all the one’s that I stopped, I know what he did to the two of you, and it took him hurting me before either of you stood up to him!”
Seto’s chest tightened, remaining silent but listening intently. It was odd to see Yami on the comforting and confrontational side, as he had been the one needing the consoling over the past week. Hearing that last statement he wasn’t entirely surprised, especially seeing how passionately he was defending Bakura even though said man’s ears were closed. He could tell that this was a fairly normal occurrence, not only by their statements but by taking in what they were saying and analysing it. Both of them were near their breaking points, and Bakura especially seemed to have a lot to unload that had been held in for far too long. Taking a step back, he put himself around the far end of the island, keeping a safe distance from the two just encase the intensity raised.
“You never should have been there!”
“Someone had to save your ass. If I hadn’t come over that day you know he would have beaten you both to death! He was so loaded on cocaine and liquor to know when to stop! He was taking out his impending death warrant, his fuck up, on the two of you. Someone needed to stand up to him before it was too late, and if that had to be me I was just fine taking him on.”
Growling, Bakura snapped both of his hands to take full handfuls of Yami’s shirt, wrenching Yami up on tip toes and bringing their faces only an inch apart. “He could have killed you!”
“You never would have let him,” voice confident but soothing, desperately trying to assure the angered bull raging in front of him, hands softly holding vibrating forearms. “I woke you up from taking his bullshit, and you saved your mother and me from deaths doorstep. You would never have sat back and let him kill me, and I had full confidence in that.”
“Why would you be so fucking stupid? Why would you trust me? I’ve done far worse than him! He was only a runner, a krysha, a mindless soldier that cared more about his own ass than anyone else’s. I’ve beaten and stabbed people to death, shot them where they sat on the ground. I’ve sold children into slavery, transported more than a life’s worth of drugs and weapons illegally, bullied businesses into pay exorbitant amounts just to keep these sick fucks from burning their businesses to the ground . I have risen through the ranks in this group because of my mercilessness, not because of his pitiful reputation. I am an Avitorityet, I am now one that deals out the punishment, and I am now one that kills when they tell me to.” Suddenly repulsed, he stared down at his hands, mind seeing the thick red substance glinting off of his flesh as if he had never washed it. Stumbling back, releasing Yami he stared at his hands in horror. Sinking down, knees hitting the cold tile floor, he barely noticed Yami scramble to be down at his level, frantically monitoring him. Voice hitching, he stammered out. “My God…I’ve become a killing machine…I killed Freeborn with my bare hands. I hacked him up, just me, and all they did was watch and laugh. Fucking hell…I make that bastard look like a saint.”
Barely feeling the pain that was ripping through his abdomen, side and leg; Yami desperately cupped Bakura’s cheeks, trying to gain his attention. “You are not him, you never have been and you never will be! They made you do this; you know this is not you. Never have you hurt anyone without being forced to, ninety percent of the time it’s been out of self-defence. Dammit Kura’, look at me!” Desolate russet locked with his, furthering the intensity of his tone and driving his resolve levels through the roof. “I promised you we would get you out of the festering hell that is the Bratva. I know you, I know this is not willing, and I know this is not what you wanted from life. That badge isn’t just a wasted symbol, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and I’ll be damned if you are held back from wearing that uniform one day. I promised I would get you out, and I will. It’s my fault you are trapped there, not your father’s idiocy. He’s long dealt with; they don’t give two fucks about him. What they care about now, is their up and coming prospect is not only a cop, but their ticket to their demented Pakhan’s favourite toy. I’m sick of them using you to keep me in line, as being their only way of controlling me and scaring me into submission. I promise, Bakura, I will bring these fucker’s down.”
The determination radiating deep within Yami caught Bakura off guard, snapping the breath from his throat and causing his body to reflexively stiffen. He hadn’t seen this side of Yami in years, since before he joined the military, and he had desperately missed it. Jovially, unwelcomed tears coming to his eyes, Bakura nodded while raising his hands to rest on Yami’s shoulders. He should have known that he wasn’t going to be mad at him, nor question or be repulsed by him by what he had been forced to do to Freeborn. He had expected that Yami would shut down and spiral, not for this old flame of determination to resurface. Elation clear, he beamed, causing Yami to stare at him in confusion and Seto to grin. “Fuck I missed this…it’s been way too long since the last time this part of you existed.”
Perplexed for a moment, Yami stared at him completely agog, before realization dawn on him and he blushed darkly while punching his friend hard in the shoulder. “For fucks sakes, this is serious and you’re getting mushy.” Amid Bakura’s laughter he rose to his feet, using the counter and Hannibal’s ready back. Huffing he glared down, knowing full well that the heat in his cheeks had yet to go down. “I’m serious Bakura!”
“Oh that’s not being questioned,” Bakura grinned, leaning back. “I believe you, wholeheartedly I believe you. Now, I am hoping you have some sort of plan with this re-found determination of yours.”
Relaxing, blush still raging, Yami shrugged and glanced over at Seto. The CEO smiled at him encouragingly, causing his knees to buckle, the same sensations filtering over him that he had had at the hospital while Seto had intensely stared at him. Dropping his gaze away, quelling down the intense shiver that soft smile and those powerful blue orbs had caused and for the heat in his cheeks to rise, he murmured out. “Just a start, possibly a foolhardy idea, but if it work’s it’ll be a damn good step forward.”
“And that is?” Seto questioned, stifling laughter when Bakura nearly fell while trying to get up.
Averting, glancing between the two Yami exhaled stiffly. It had only been an idea, but it needed to be figured out fast, he had a short window of contemplation time. “Tell the chief.”
Stunned, nearly stumbling again Bakura quirked his head, not quite believing what he just heard. “What do you mean, tell the chief?”
“He hired you, so he already knows about you being undercover,” Yami said stiffly, mind tumbling while trying to formulate everything that he had been debating while bored in his hospital bed. “Tell him everything…and maybe by some miracle he’ll give us the legal support we need to shut them down or Yevgeny at the very least.”
Brow cocked, Bakura reached forward, using the back of his hand against Yami’s brow to check for a temperature. Not feeling one he snapped his hand away when Yami’s fists balled warningly. “The fuck kind of glue are you smoking, because it seems like damn good stuff.”
Growling, arms crossing stiffly, Yami ground out angrily, “For fucks sakes, I’m serious. I highly doubt that the chief is one of their paid supporters, he does too much sabotaging of their activities to be, and he very firmly stated when he took office that his priority was shutting down the gang activity within the city. Getting his support is a damn good idea.”
Blinking, mind racing, Seto questioned. “By everything, do you mean including what the Bratva did to you, everything with Karel?”
A nod was Yami’s only response, anger rising within him clearly.
“You must be on something,” Bakura snapped, one hand impatiently tapping on the kitchen counter beside him, ignoring the clearly rising rage in his friend. “You’ll lose your job if you tell them everything. There is no way in hell they will want someone with your background and connections to the Bratva working for the police, especially with the little threat they gave you, it would compromise you!”
Shrugging nonchalantly, Yami continued to stare hard between the two men, arms still firmly crossed.
Flabbergasted, Seto snapped out furiously, “You could lose everything and gain nothing! It’s a high percentage that this won’t work! Are you mad?”
Resolve clear, along with kerosene fuelled rage and frustration, Yami simply shrugged again. He had already made up his mind, listening to them only solidified if for him, their opinion be damned. “I have nothing left to lose except my freedom, and my job means fuck all towards that. Now, unless either of you two geniuses can come up with something better, I’m at least going to play the one card I have with or without the two of you. All of you so zealously forced me to wake up and fix the deplorable existence I was living, so you can kindly go fuck yourselves if you expect me to just sit back and not fight. I am perfectly content giving up everything except my family to gain my freedom, even if that means I have to do it without all of your help.” Pivoting on his heel, Hannibal at his side, he made to storm of to his room, fists balling dangerously and hard enough to imprint his nails into the palm of his hands when Bakura yelled out to him.
“I’d say this is more like another way of committing suicide! Stop trying to tell yourself otherwise.”
Balking Seto stared at Bakura in shock, recoiling back when blazing crimson eyes burned in their direction over their owner’s shoulder.
“I’d like to see you try and discern a better plan, because I sure as fuck haven’t heard a single idea from you. Until then, keep telling yourself that this is all just an elaborate way for me to off myself, that I am still begging for death. At least this way I can die knowing that I finally fought back instead of waiting around for someone else to save me or letting them slowly decay me until all there is left is an empty shell. With that ideology, maybe I should have never tried to escape, I may as well give myself back to Yevgeny, accept that all I am is his fucking disgusting toy and let him viciously ravish me until I bleed to death!” His voice hitched, body visibly quaking while trying to restrain himself, averting his eyes he forced the rest out sardonically. “Clearly none of you are dependable, you just want me fixed so that you can frolic around throwing daisies in the fields with me as if nothing is happening. Sorry to say, but I cannot pretend to be happy in this type of a chained existence. If you are content leaving it as it is, kindly fuck off. I’m done letting them destroy what little I have left.”
Paling, heart dropping into his bowels, Bakura stumbled forward in desperation only now realizing what his words had done. His outstretched hand was slapped away and a hard fist met his jaw viciously. Gasping, russet eyes watching Yami cautiously, he made to murmur in response, but he was shut down. Yami’s eyes were blazing, but not with just fury, despair and abandonment resided strongly within them; hot tears welling up rapidly and threatening to fall. Hannibal was beside his master, sensing Yami raging emotions and emitting them by growling warningly at Bakura, hackles up and ready to attack.
“Don’t you dare come near me. You’re just like everyone else!” Tears began to flow, breath coming in short burst, chest expanding and contacting stiffly. “I will not let myself rot away because all the rest of you want me ‘normal’ just to pitifully exist and make all of you happy. There is nothing normal about me, and nothing ever will be until I can get out from this prison the Bratva have caged me in. I’ll fix this myself, or die trying.” Two hands reached back out to him, desperate, but he shoved them aside. “Fuck off and except it, go wallow in your own self-pity that all of you failed in your plan to pull me back from the brink and make me smile and live again. I can’t, not like this, I will not let that fucker touch me ever again, and I’ll be damned if he harms anyone that I care about because all of you decided to sit back and watch the show.”
Having come from the kitchen to where Bakura and Yami were close to the bedroom door, Seto lifted placating hands feeling an imaginary heat burning them when dark eyes snapped to him. “Stop this Yami…you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Yami snarled, clenched fists rising into a fighting stance, skin becoming dramatically pale from exertion. “You’re just upset because you so graciously helped get your current lust obsession become semi normal and it backfired.” Seeing Seto’s expression change to that of a wounded animal, Yami fed off of it, ignoring the tightness it brought to his chest. “Pull your head out of your ass, there is not a single other useful thing about me for you to want other than my body, that’s all that could possibly appease you enough to stay!”
Seeing the drastic change in Yami’s colouring, Bakura began to panic, hands snapping out while Seto had him distracted he gripped both of Yami’s fists. Preparing for Yami revolting against him he braced his feet and held firm, though he had forgotten the part of Yami that was his most lethal natural weapon. A bent knee careened into his gut causing him to gag and hunch over, gasping he felt everything in his world spin then refocus suddenly as movement blurred in front of him. Yami had dropped down, gasping and wheezing with both arms crossed over his stomach as if the applied pressure would eradicate the pain, which the levels were through the roof by the intensity of quaking his body was emitting. Before he could even react, Bakura caught site of Seto barrelling around and kneeling beside Yami’s now retching form, tentative hands encompassing each shoulder and rubbing them gently. Straightening, his own stomach revolting in protest, Bakura knelt down barely dodging the fists that tried to take a swipe at him, though Seto was less fortunate as one hard and well-aimed punch connected with his ribs. Both men froze, Hannibal’s black mass slinking between them and his master, fangs bared and back hunched in warning. Cautiously, they both moved back and rose to their feet, hands out in a show of submission to the snarling dog.
The pain in his stomach was white hot and damn near unbearable. Nothing was blown, he could tell, but he had definitely damn near torn both internal and external stitches. Gasping, he lifted his head to Hannibal having heard his partner’s growls and had felt his warm fur brush up against him. Shakily, he took hold of Hannibal’s harness; keeping the dog restrained he slowly forced himself up right clinging to the nearby couch to do so. Hunched over, and almost white from the intensity he was holding the harness with, he lifted his gaze to the two men standing in front of him. Both were clearly worried, concern almost leaking from their pores; and Bakura’s eyes were filled with near palpable regret. Finding his voice, he gasped out, “You may not like it, but it’s currently the only option I have. I am going to speak to the chief tomorrow, possible consequences be damned. You two pansy asses can go back to your lives, if you’re only willing to criticize and not help, I’ll do this without you. I will find a way to get that product from Karel, even if it mean’s burning the company to the ground!” The last vocalized emphasis nearly brought him back down to his knees, stomach tightening and revolting against the abuse, one hand coming up to press against the heated agony. Averting he tried to duck into his room, mind and heart no longer able to handle the clear abandonment he felt was just slapped in his face. A hulking figure stopped him, not seeming to care that Hannibal snapped at him in warning. Tears burned hot trails down his cheek, desolation sitting on him heavy, even heavier that he was denied the ability to get away. Head lifting he glared up at Seto, chest heaving he grinned at him wryly. “You’re not very good at accepting defeat are you?”
Fury had risen within him, especially when he had seen the complete desolation and abandonment shining both within Yami’s eyes and encompassing his currently frail body. What Bakura had said had been wrong, but it was clearly regretted and had been said in the heat of the moment. But it had set Yami off, and he wasn’t entirely surprised, he would have been fuming if those words had been chucked at him. “No, I am not, but this is far from defeat when what you have accused me of is far from the truth.” Arms uncrossing, he hovered over Yami meeting that heated glare with his own, tone stern as he spoke with pure honesty. “For some demented reason, even though I barely know you and cannot honestly discern why I have stayed around considering your repulsive attitude and lack of appreciation, I’ve come to quite like you, a lot more than I ever wanted to.” Yami balked, stunned, taking a step away from him, but stopped from going any further by Seto’s hands, which had darted out and cupped his jaw and the back of his head. “Yes, I want you Yami, but not in pure unemotionally driven lust. I want your heart, I want to drive you mad, I want to make you ecstatic and show you what you have denied yourself of.”
Watching fearfully and with stunned disbelief, Bakura cocked his head in shock. He had seen the looks Seto had given Yami, but even for him it had not clicked. A twinge of jealousy raged through him, but was instantly silenced. Averting he could see Yami beginning to panic, mind spiralling and reverting back to his deep abyss. Mouth going agape he tried to speak, but he was drowned out by the freaked fearful yell Yami emitted, the pain and terror behind the voice tearing at his heart.
“Stop it! Stop trying to twist this! No one will ever want to love something this defiled. Don’t lie to me!” Mind reeling, stunned denial and a dark mocking voice laughing deep within him, Yami desperately shook his head fingers snapping up to claw at Seto’s, tracing heated red lines across the man’s hands. That voice, mocking golden eyes, the body covered thickly in Russian tattoo’s looming over him; it laughed at him, chewed up the desire for what Seto was offering and swallowing it with derision. Dry heaving, eyes slamming shut he tried to will the images to disperse, but they only intensified until he could almost feel Yevgeny’s hot breath, his need tearing him apart with every thrust while his strong hands pinned him down or wandered viciously over his skin, bruising or scratching it. He could feel the thick layer of filth encroach on him, clawing over his skin and encasing him, audibly screaming as the sensations overwhelmed him. “Stop…please stop!”
Without thinking, Seto tightly pulled Yami to him, pouring all the comfort he could into the embrace. Thankfully, Hannibal didn’t lash out at him this time, and he clung to the stressed man tighter. Every ounce of him was pulsating, both with worry and anger. Yami continued to struggle and writhe, screaming his prior statement over and over again, stuck in permanent repeat of the horrors that had driven him into this state. Looking up he caught Bakura’s watchful attention, “What usually snaps him out of this?”
“I’m used to him having these attacks while he sleeps,” Bakura stated, clearly lost. “Usually all I have to do is wake him up.”
“Fuck!” The curse uncharacteristic and loud, the CEO began to frantically drill through his head, trying to find a way to stop this.
He had felt bone break, a familiar sensation, but the pain was dull compared to Yevgeny roughly pounding into him. He could feel blood pooling beneath him, he wasn’t surprised as there had been no mercy this time around, much like the first time. Yevgeny had hit him hard in the head, causing the opposite side to slam into the concrete. He had mouthed off, cursing him and mocking him; Yevgeny enjoyed it when he fought back, when he insulted him, it gave more fuel to his violence. Disoriented, he could barely react never mind relax before he was rolled over onto his back, bruising fingers dug into his thighs and spread them, exposing him completely especially when his pants were divested quickly. Yevgeny had wasted no time, hadn’t even grabbed the lotion he usually used in order to cause a little less damage and not kill him from blood loss. The monster got what he wanted, he hadn’t stop screaming and writhing from the pain; but he also hadn’t stopped fighting. Though his hands were secured in cuffs he had used them as clubs and continually pounded them wherever he could lay a hit. The last one had been enough. The metal of the cuff, along with his hands, had cracked into Yevgeny’s jaw and broke the skin. A roar of fury followed, his hands were gripped by one significantly larger one and pinned to the floor, the other hand pelting vicious blows until the gratifying crack of bone emitted along with a hoarse scream.
Gasping, biting his lip to try and repress the sounds, he closed his eyes and tried to just breathe. Both of his lower legs were still broken from nearly two weeks prior, the doctor Yevgeny had hired to keep him alive barely helped, he splinted them only enough to keep the bones in place so they calcified. He had been reprieved of this humiliation for that same amount of time, until the doctor had taken a set of x-rays that morning and stated that the bones were fused enough. He couldn’t use them, the discomfort was still unbearable and the last thing he needed was for them to be broken yet again, as if the other two or three times had not been enough.
Hot breath in his ear and the full length of a warm body laying flush atop him forced his eyes to snap open, meeting those predatory golden eyes apprehensively. Yevgeny had stopped thrusting; his need still painfully obvious where it was buried deeply within him, but it decreased the pain. Quivering he flinched, Yevgeny was propped up just enough that only their chests were touching. He grinned, sending a chill up Yami’s spine, ducking his head down he nipped gently at the young supple skin of Yami’s neck before sucking on it till it bruised before biting. Yami’s struggling had returned, unwilling to let the man’s actions continue, the pleasure it had caused making him physically sick.
Chuckling, Yevgeny grinned down at him again, relishing in the sensations of the boy struggling beneath him, pleasuring him in more ways than just the movements of that tight heat he was buried in. Yami had been the only one to ever fight him, and never stop fighting, and it drove him mad with lust. So when the boy had stopped, clearly from the pain, he had needed to rile him up again. Yami hated it when he pleasured him, treated him as a lover instead of simply violently raping him, it made the boy struggle the most. Keeping Yami’s arms pinned beneath his one, he ran his free hand down the quivering muscles covering the boy’s chest and stomach, finally resting possessively on Yami’s hip and gripping it tightly. He used the leverage, and groaned when Yami’s body struggled fervently while gasping in pain, he began moving with renewed intensity.
The anguish was overwhelming, sapping the fight from him he simply screamed out in agony. Body tensing as the sensation of Yevgeny’s lips returning to his neck caused his stomach to revolt, tears coming to his eyes as the man began to whisper while continuing his assault.
“You’re my little shlyukha, only mine. I have ravaged, filled, dominated and defiled you. I have claimed you; no one else will ever want you after what I have done to you. You’re a filthy shlyukha, my little whore.” With a final hard thrust, he shivered against the intense pleasure finished had caused, along with Yami’s violent quaking on his overly sensitive appendage. Almost affectionately, he loomed over and smiled down at Yami, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears and kissing his forehead. “No one will ever want your disgusting body, only I can see it’s true beauty; my cock is the only one that will ever be inside you. No one will ever love you or want to give you pleasure. You’re mine, only mine.”
A ragged gasp emitted from him, body suddenly wet and cold, snapping his eyes open he blearily tried to gain his bearings. Strong arms were holding him, familiar ones, ones that had brought him intense comfort and safety before. Hearing running water his mind clicked, he was in the shower. Full sensations hit him, through the waves of pain he could feel that he was being held tightly against an equally wet Seto, held firmly in the man’s lap in the tub of the shower. Small shivers of pleasure radiated through him from the contact, and his body seemed to crave it, unknowingly arching against Seto’s long lean form. Then, he remembered and panicked, the only pleasure he had ever felt was when Yevgeny had been trying to piss him off because he had not been fighting enough. Stiffening he began to breathe raggedly, eyes first meeting with Bakura whom was sitting on the toilet lid and watching with concern, then up to a pair of cerulean depths that were monitoring him. Swallowing hard, trying to resist the clear passion within those eyes, unbridled affection and comfort seeping into the physical hold the man had of him. Slapping away the voice in his head, he ground out, “Let go of me, now.”
Reluctantly, Seto eased up his grip, panicking when Yami leaped away from him like a bat out of hell, the man groaning in pain from the rapidness of his motions. Turning off the water he pulled himself upright, standing sopping wet on the bathmat he watched Yami snatch a towel and protectively wrap himself, covering up the wet clothes that clung to his enticing physique. Taking the towel that Bakura offered to him, he wrapped it around his shoulders, partially covering him while he stripped off all but his drenched boxers. Yami, the instant he had begun to strip, slammed his eyes shut and turned away, clearly trying to avoid him, quelling away a memory. Sighing he dried off as best he could and tightly secured the towel around his waist. “You were talking Yami,” he stated, eyes narrowing when Yami visibly stiffened and stared up at him fearfully, flinching as Bakura moved up to wrap an arm around him comfortingly. Through the entire ordeal, hallucination or memory, whatever it was, Yami had been mumbling and had revealed a great amount. “He’s wrong. You’re gorgeous, inside and out, regardless of what he did to you. If only you were willing to accept that, and accept that it is possible that someone can love you irrespective of the hell he put you through. You’re letting him win by denying yourself the most incredible pleasure in the world, and that is being loved.”
The words sunk in, but he shrugged them aside, his denial voiced stiffly, “You have no idea what he did to me, not fucking clue. And if you did, then you might rethink wanting my wretched and disgusting body,” he wrenched away from Bakura and escaped toward his bedroom, door slamming behind him and blocking out everyone including Hannibal.
Pressing his ear against the door, hand having already tried to turned the apparently locked handle, Bakura closed his eyes and stiffened as the ache in his chest increased. He could hear Yami sobbing, a sound he rarely heard and hated every time he did. Exhaling deeply he peered over at Seto, whom had already gone and changed into a pair of pyjama pants and a shirt, his tone dangerous. “Were you being honest, or are your hormones fucking with you and thusly messing with him. I’m warning…”
“Yes, I was being honest.” Seto snapped. “This is quite unwilling. Spent the past week discerning the emotions swirling around in my head, praying that I had not actually fallen for him and I could talk myself out of this. But, clearly I grabbed the short end of the straw again. I like him, more than I ever wanted to. I thought I was done with relationships, especially with how poorly my last one went. But, everything about him is tugging on every part of my emotions and sanity and drawing me in. I want him, but he needs to figure out that Yevgeny was brainwashing him before he will ever be able to even attempt a relationship. My luck, if he does, he’ll want nothing to do with me; either I’m not his type either by looks or he’s straight.”
Brow quirking, moving away from the door Bakura curled a finger at him indicating for him to follow. Frowning Seto followed, being led downstairs into the basement living room. Plopping down on the couch, Bakura signalled for him to join in. When Seto finally did, Bakura yawned deeply and stretched. “Oh, you won’t have to worry about either. This has fucked him up so badly because he bats for the other team and until Yevgeny took a hold of him he was very much the submissive type when it came to relationships. What little fooling around he did before being kidnapped was always with someone significantly taller, more dominant, and darkly handsome. Trust me; he goes for the tall dark and handsome, and especially intellectuals. Though assholes might be a new one, so you may be shit out of luck because of that trait.”
Frowning further, Seto narrowed his eyes, “Why are you telling me this. Yugi told me you loved him, shouldn’t I expect a knife in my back the instant I go for him?”
“Damn little twerp,” Bakura cursed, scowling. “Yes, I love him, and loved him. At this point, I have given up on ever being with him, I am everything that is wrong for him, besides I am not his type. I love him like a brother, a very possessive and over protective brother. Our friendship is more important to me, especially since I don’t trust myself to be patient enough with him. I’m good with fuck buddies, I’m not really the relationship type, he was the only one I had ever considered having one with. Especially through our teen years, when his confidence was incredible, gods could he ever turn heads. Even afterwards, when he was free, yes he was terrified of relationships and sex but he still exuded self-confidence, even if it was a front. Yevgeny got jealous, was mad that he was surviving, that he had healed and was still healing. He took away what he knew was keeping Yami sane, so Yami went into the army and fell deep into himself.”
Head tipping, Seto questioned, “What did he take?”
“His career.” Confused, Seto tilted his head further, eyes clearly showing it because Bakura grunted in amusement and continued. “He had a record contract, his band was doing incredible; two albums and non-stop touring, and it was his salvation. The band members were incredible; they protected him fiercely and stayed with him when he had moments of crumbling. They had got the contract before he was kidnapped, had just released their first album. That’s why Yevgeny acted when he did, he knew trying to pin Yami down while he was touring was going to be impossible.” Sobering, he down casted his gaze and murmured out. “Yevgeny forced Yami to stop and to make sure he didn’t go back he had two of the members killed by ‘accidental overdoses’. Convenient, huh?”
Blinking, stunned, Seto couldn’t seem to make his mouth work, moving his lips like a fish out of water trying to spew something out.
Smiling, Bakura stretched again and stood up, heading for his bedroom. “Ask Karel, he probably still has all the albums and a bunch of other stuff. It’s the only thing he ever seemed to like about his son. I’m heading to bed, see you in the morning.”
Still blinking, Seto watched him disappear, still unable to formulate a discernible thought. All he could mutter out was, “Damn good at it must be an understatement.”
A/N: Review??? At least for anyone that is going to stay….this chapter took a dark and gruesome turn that I did not intend….it just kind of came out.
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Exposed Shadows