The Path of Vengeance

As always, cheers to my reviewers. You all give me the drive to keep writing this insanity.
And, as always, thanks to Dabin. My surrogate muse. Enjoy.

The clock on the wall read close to midnight when the staff of the hospital finally showed up to kick out the crowd. A round of hugs and goodbyes followed before everyone prepared to go. Duke, Joey, Serenity, Tea, and Mai left together. Isis and Malik followed. Kaiba and Tristan were last.

Yugi turned to Yami. “Where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know, Aibou,” Yami replied. He picked up the phone next to the bed and dialed the game shop. No answer. He tried Ryou’s house. No answer there either. “Maybe he’s asleep at our house,” he offered.

Yugi’s eyes opened wide. “What if Bakura-”

“No,” Yami said immediately. “Not even Bakura would be stupid enough to come back here so soon. He most likely went back to his house.”

“Go find him,” Yugi pleaded.

“I will,” Yami replied, trying to hide his worry. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Yugi nodded. “Just hurry.”


Yami peered through the curtains at the Bakura residence, seeing no one. He banged on the door and rang the doorbell repeatedly but got no response. He decided against breaking in, knowing that if Ryou was there, he would have come to the door. With a curse, he jogged all the way to the game shop and opened the door with the key Mr. Mutou had been more than happy to give him.

The former pharaoh smiled sadly at all of Ryou’s hard work. The door had been boarded, glass swept up, and floor scrubbed from the front door to the bathroom where he had found his light at death’s door. He shuddered at the memory.

“Ryou!” he called. “Are you here? Ryou!”

No reply came. His worry intensified. Though his rational mind knew that Bakura was probably hundreds of miles away, the rest of him wondered if Yugi’s fate had befallen Ryou. His stomach dropped. I can’t go through that again, he thought frantically. He burst out of the front door, locked it quickly, and took off at a dead run, the Sennen Eye glowing on his forehead as he struggled to locate the Millennium Ring.



“This is what it’s all about,” Marik moaned, sinking further into the whirlpool tub atop the platform in their ill-gotten suite.

Bakura nodded from his position across from the blonde, his snowy locks turning silver as they soaked up the warm water. “This beats the hell out of the last place.”

It hadn’t taken much for Bakura to get them booked into one of the Luxor’s famed Spa Suites upon arrival. Despite his protests, Marik wanted to go straight to the room to bathe and nap, insisting in a very un-Marik-like way that there was always tomorrow to explore the lighted pyramid.

Marik reached out of the water and picked his champagne glass up from the tile deck. “To Bakura,” he toasted grandly. “Time itself couldn’t lessen your superior skills.”

Bakura smirked and picked up his own glass, clinking them together before draining its contents. “Don’t you forget it.”

The blonde dropped his glass into the water and leaned forward, crawling atop his companion. “This setting suits you,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?” Bakura asked, enjoying the slippery feel of the tanned body sliding over his.

“Look at this place,” Marik said, gesturing to the large room. “This looks like Yami’s chamber.”

Bakura bristled. “Not fucking funny,” he said, images of finding his brother flashing before his eyes.

Marik shook his head. “No,” he whispered in the tomb robber’s ear. “I meant to say that royalty suits you. You look like a pharaoh sitting here in his huge bath, drinking expensive wine.”

A low chuckle came from the thief. “A pharaoh, eh?”

“Mmm hmm,” Marik muttered, running his tongue over Bakura’s bare chest. His hands traveled the length of the pale body beneath him, anxious to learn more of his lover’s pleasure zones.

Bakura dropped his glass and spread his arms out, resting them on the rim of the tub, his eyes never leaving the blonde head that moved over him. He could feel Marik’s right hand travel lower and grasp his rapidly hardening manhood. “Gods, Marik,” he whispered.

Marik bit down on Bakura’s chest, delighting in the cry that ensued before snaking up the length of his body and claiming his lips. His tongue fought its way into the thief’s mouth and wrestled the other, pleased when his dominance was accepted. “Do you want me?” he rasped. Bakura nodded, his eyes downcast submissively. “I’ll take you,” the blonde confirmed. “I’ll take you so hard you’ll be screaming my name, begging me to let you come.”

Bakura’s hips drove himself into the blonde’s waiting fist. “Shit, Marik,” he ground out. “Quit talking and just do it already.”

“Beg me,” Marik stated, increasing the rhythm of his hand.

“Not on your life,” Bakura spat back.

Marik bared his teeth and struck quickly, his canines sinking into the thief’s shoulder, breaking the skin. Bakura moaned loudly, the action only fueling his arousal. Thirst cast a dry grip on Marik’s throat as he watched the thick droplets of blood trail down to pool in the crook of the tomb robber’s pale neck before slowly sliding down his chest toward the warm water. The blonde inhaled the coppery scent deeply before dipping his head and lapping at the crimson essence. Aroused at the taste, he plunged down hard, devouring the translucent skin, nipping and biting in his haste.

Bakura’s arms wrapped around the tan body on instinct, pulling him closer. He thrust forward, eager for more contact.

Marik released his hold on Bakura’s cock and lifted the tomb robber until he was sitting on the platform that held the massive tub. He left a trail of bloody kisses down the pale stomach as two fingers pushed past the thief’s impossibly tight entrance.

The pain was secondary to the thrill rushing through Bakura’s body. It had been a long time since he’d lain with anyone this way but his body told him that at that very moment he needed Marik to be inside him. He wanted to feel that burning pleasure.

Marik could sense his lover’s anticipation and wasted no time removing his fingers and fully embedding himself into the compliant body beneath him. He began a series of extended thrusts, each driving him closer to the edge as Bakura moaned and writhed under his ministrations.

Bakura wrapped his legs around Marik’s hips, his gaze glued to the tanned face above him. Marik’s eyes were shut tight in concentration, his lips parted and swollen. The thief gave one final attempt to control his body before abandoning all hope and surrendering to the formidable spirit taking him.

Marik rested his chest atop the pale body of his lover, releasing the strain on his legs, allowing for better leverage as he sank deeper and faster into Bakura’s core, relishing in every moan and exclamation he was able to pull from the tomb robber.

Bakura’s cries came more frequently and with greater force as Marik fucked him harder and stronger. Waves of delirium washed over him and his body tensed, preparing for the inevitable.

Marik built up even more speed, feeling his orgasm approaching quickly. With a subhuman cry, he released deep inside the body beneath him, driving harder and harder, his cock fully enveloped within the tight warmth.

The sensation of Marik’s climax exploding within brought Bakura to a swift completion, crying out his lover’s name as he coated their bodies in his stickiness.

Marik collapsed onto Bakura, their hearts beating rapidly against one another. “Damn, Bakura…”

Bakura struggled to catch his breath. “Get off me,” he groaned.

The blonde chuckled and carefully extracted himself before sinking back into the water, dragging the thief with him.

Bakura settled into Marik’s embrace, his head leaning back against the tanned chest. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.


Yami sat next to the sleeping Yugi’s bed, his mind racing at the speed of light. He had run the streets of Domino for almost three hours with no trace of the gentle teen. As a last resort, he had returned to the hospital, hoping to find Ryou waiting for him. No such luck. He was at least grateful that Yugi was asleep and unable to share in his growing worry.

Crimson eyes alternated between the sleeping form on the bed and the empty doorway, looking for signs of life in each. He couldn’t take much more of this.



The shrill ringing of a phone jolted the sleeping pair into awareness. Tristan groaned from atop Kaiba’s bare chest before relaxing again, accustomed to such distractions.

Kaiba was less than accommodating. He picked up his cell phone from its resting place on the nightstand. “Kaiba,” he growled.

“Mr. Kaiba, we may have a lead as to the whereabouts of the thief.” Kaiba shot into a sitting position, jarring Tristan’s neck.

“Ow!” Tristan exclaimed, pulling away.

“Sorry,” Kaiba whispered. “I’ve got to take this call. Go back to sleep.” He climbed out of the bed and stepped into his pajama pants before moving to the hallway and down the stairs. “What have you learned?” he said into the phone.

“Witnesses at the airport claim to have seen a man who fits his description boarding a plane to America two days go with a companion.”

Kaiba bristled. “America? Isn’t that a little vague?”

“Sorry, sir,” Mr. Freling replied. “The plane’s ultimate destination was Los Angeles, California with stops in both Las Vegas, Nevada and Newark, New Jersey.”

“And what of this companion?”

“He was described as an odd looking fellow. Spiky blonde hair and bronzed skin wearing a lot of gold jewelry.”

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. There were only two men who fit that description, one of whom he had seen only hours before. “Find them,” he spat into the phone. “I want to know where they are and every move they make thereafter.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Kaiba. I’ll be in touch.”

Kaiba snapped the phone closed. “Marik,” he muttered. “I should have known.”

“So should I.”

Kaiba spun around to see Tristan standing at the top of the stairs. “Baby...” he stuttered. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I came to bring you your robe,” he said, holding up the ice blue fabric.

Kaiba took a calming breath and smiled. “Well, we may have a lead as to where Bakura is.”

“America.” Tristan replied.

Something isn’t right here, Kaiba thought. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Tristan descended the staircase, the robe forgotten on the floor. “Seto, I need to ask you something.”

Kaiba paused. “What is it?”

The brunette pulled the CEO into a crushing embrace. Don’t lie to me, Seto, he thought. “Why do you have Yugi’s dueling deck?”

Kaiba was grateful Tristan’s head was buried in his shoulder so his lover wouldn’t see the panic that crossed his usually composed features. Something within him knew that Tristan wasn’t just making a guess. He had been caught. Though he had no idea how.

“Seto…”

Oh how the mighty had fallen. Wasn’t that the correct phrase? Kaiba could feel his throat constricting. Not because he was two steps from being exposed, but because he realized for the first time since striking the deal with Bakura that his part in this endeavor could jeopardize his life with Tristan.

“Seto?”

Is this what fear feels like? He wondered. The once powerful arms that were clutching Tristan to him were now shaking unmanageably. He opened his mouth to deny the hidden accusation but nothing could get past the lump in his throat.

Tristan broke free of the crushing embrace and shoved the CEO away from him with all of his might, causing the billionaire to trip and fall back, shock replacing anguish in his normally cool façade.

“Tristan,” Kaiba stuttered.

“Don’t,” Tristan said in a voice that could freeze fire. “Just fucking tell me that you weren’t involved in this.”

Kaiba’s gaze fell to the hardwood floor. He could deny it. He could come up with a rock-solid alibi. But that would mean sullying one of the two most precious things in his life. “I…can’t,” he whispered.

Tristan’s hand flew up to cover his mouth, his eyes bulging. “Oh, my god. How could-I mean-” Gasping, crying, he tried again. “How could you do that to Yugi?”

“I didn’t touch Yugi,” Kaiba mumbled. “Bakura did everything.”

“I doubt he just gave you Yugi’s deck out of the goodness of his heart, Seto.” Tristan snapped. “What was it worth to you?”

Kaiba winced. That was a loaded fucking question. “It wasn’t worth you,” he whispered.

Tristan shook his head. “I can’t do this,” he said brokenly. He sprinted to the hall closet, got his brown trench coat, and darted out the door, leaving a wrecked man behind in a lake of his own tears.

He pulled the keys to the Jag out of his pocket and unlocked the car, climbing in and starting the engine quickly. The sleek vehicle tore through the gates as he sped away from the one person he loved most in the world.



The sun’s gentle rays shone softly through the billowing flowered curtains next to the front door of the small home, pulling Ryou from the deepest sleep he’d gotten in months. He yawned and stretched before opening his eyes and sitting up. He felt pretty good. The woman’s miracle tea lived up to her promises.

“Good morning, child,” Rose said from kitchen doorway. “I’ve got breakfast on the stove. Why don’t you go into the bathroom there and freshen up?”

Ryou gave the woman a genuine smile. “Thank you.” He folded the pretty hand-made quilt and sat it on the back of the sofa before picking up his book bag and padding silently into the bathroom where he was pleased to note that the swelling in his eye had gone down considerably. The area still wore a large purple bruise but at least it wasn’t painful to move anymore.

He took his toothbrush from the bag and brushed his teeth before taking the comb to his hair. He felt good. Really good. He opened his end of the mind link to find Bakura fast asleep, a surprising feeling of calm contentment filtering through. “At least he’s not pissed,” he muttered.

The smell of pancakes and sausage hit him the second he left the bathroom and he followed the alluring aroma into the kitchen where Rose was busy piling the food onto his plate. “That smells wonderful,” he said.

“Sit, sit,” Rose insisted. Ryou sat. “You’re too thin,” she chided.

Ryou grinned. “My dad says that all the time.”

Rose put their plates down and filled two glasses with orange juice before sitting across from her guest. “How long is your daddy gone for?”

“He comes home at least once a month and stays for the weekend.”

Rose shook her head. “That’s no way to raise a child. Even one as mature and independent as yourself.”

Ryou blushed under the veiled compliment. “I'm sort of used to it,” he said.

“Well it’s not my place to say no how. Go on and eat before it gets cold.”

The two ate in companionable silence for the rest of the meal. When they were finished, Ryou stood up quickly. “Can I help with the dishes?” he asked.

Rose smiled. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you to offer. But no thank you, dearie. I had one of them automatic dishwashers installed a few years back.”

Ryou returned the smile before sighing heavily. “I should probably get back to the hospital,” he said. Yami is probably pretty worried.”

“I’d imagine he would be,” Rose agreed.

They returned to the living room where Ryou picked up his back pack. On impulse, he gave the woman a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”
“Nonsense child,” Rose replied, returning the hug. “What kind of woman would I be if I turned my back on a person in need?”

Ryou nodded and stepped out into the sunshine, waving as he made his way back to the sidewalk.

With a deep, determined breath, he began walking to the hospital. The night had taught him many lessons. He hated what his yami had done, no question. But that wasn’t going to make it go away. He made up his mind to forgive Bakura and was going to tell him as much when they next spoke. It wasn’t fair of him to place all of the blame on his dark when he didn’t even know all of the details.

He didn’t know what Yami had done to elicit such a violent act of retribution from Bakura. All he knew of the former pharaoh was that his feelings for him were continuing to magnify. Here again though, he was in a similar situation. He didn’t know what kind of man Yami was to have angered Bakura so. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood his own feelings on the matter. Bakura was the type of man to respond to acts against him in kind. An eye for an eye was his motto. So if Yami had done something similar to someone Bakura cared about could he forgive Yami as well?

Yes, he decided. If I can forgive Bakura I can forgive Yami. Love is about forgiveness and understanding. If I love them both as much as I say I do then there is nothing I wouldn’t do.

He had also resigned the fact that the men he loved would never form any kind of friendly relation, even for his sake. There was too much bad blood between them. To have a relationship with Yami and keep the bond with Bakura, he’d have to remain absolutely neutral in matters that concerned the both of them.

And lastly, he would do whatever it took to help Yugi make it through this ordeal. He knew firsthand what an attack from Bakura was like. His yami was nothing if not thorough. The multi-lane superhighway of scars that covered his body were evidence enough of that. And even though he never took Ryou sexually, he sure knew how to give him a brutal mind-fuck. And Ryou was willing to bet he’d done the same to Yugi.

His jaw set itself into a firm line as the hospital came into view. Strengthened resolve drove confidence into his step and his pace increased, eager now to set things right.


Yami sat in the chair beneath the window in Yugi’s hospital room, his head back and his eyes closed, one foot tapping nervously on the tile floor. Yugi lay in the bed watching the small television in the corner with mild interest. It was after seven in the morning and the two were both exceptionally worried and trying their best not to let the other see.



Ryou stepped off of the elevator onto the fifth floor. “Morning Becky,” he said to Yugi’s nurse.

Becky looked up from the nurses’ station. “Hey kid! You’d better get in there; they’ve been worried about you.”

Ryou nodded and strode through the open doorway.

The reaction was instant. “RYOU!” came the collective shout.

Ryou held up his hand, stopping Yami about three feet from him. “Wait,” he said. He reached back and shut the door. “I’ve got a few things I need to say.”

The seriousness in Ryou’s voice was unwavering. Yami sat on the edge of Yugi’s bed and they each gave the brown-eyed teen their full attention.

Ryou looked at each of them in turn. They both looked awful. “I'm sorry I didn’t call or come back last night. I had a lot of thinking to do before I could be of any help to anyone here. I didn’t want to worry you but I needed time.” The pair nodded. Ryou turned to Yugi.

“Yugi, I know I’ve said it repeatedly but I'm saying it again. I'm sorry for what Bakura did to you. If I had known that this is what he was planning when he said he needed to ‘take care of things’ I never would have let this happen. But it did. And I want you to know that I'm willing to help you in any way I can to make sure you get through this. I’ve been there. I know what its like.”

Yugi swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Ryou,” he said gratefully.

Ryou went on. “I don’t want either of you to think that I condone what Bakura did. I'm angrier with him than I can express. But you both deserve to know that I’ve forgiven him. I can’t hold all of this hate inside me anymore. If that means that I no longer have your friendship then please just tell me. I’ll leave right now, no hard feelings.”

Yami and Yugi exchanged confirming glances before the spirit spoke up. “Ryou, it isn’t up to us to dictate your relationship with your yami. Nor is it any of our business to be honest. Believe me when I say that our friendship remains.”

Ryou nodded. “Thank you,” he said tearfully. He turned to the former pharaoh. “Yami…”

Yami stood up, sensing the teen’s distress. “What is it, Ryou?”

“I'm sorry I let Bakura come between us. I know we talked about this before but I needed to say it again.”

Yami nodded. “I understand your position, Ryou. Honestly I’d rather it happened the way it did than for Bakura to continue to harm you because of me.”

Ryou looked into the spirit’s crimson eyes. “I can’t choose between the two of you,” he said softly. “And I hope I won’t have to.”

“Of course not,” Yami replied. “Just as I expect not to have to choose between you and Yugi.”

“I’ll never ask that of you,” Ryou confirmed. He took a deep breath. “Can’t we just start over again?”

Instead of a reply, Yami pulled the teen into a crushing embrace and kissed him deeply, leaving them both weak-kneed and breathless. “Yes,” he whispered.

Yugi smiled from his position on the bed. “Ryou, can I make one request?”

Ryou looked at Yugi over Yami’s shoulder. “Of course,” he said.

“Don’t ever do that to us again.”

Ryou smiled. “I won’t,” he replied. Yugi nodded, satisfied with Ryou’s response.

Yami tightened his grip on the teen. “I don’t want you to leave every time Joey or Tristan come around.”

Ryou voiced his response so only Yami could hear. “I won’t stay if it’s going to set either of them off. I don’t want to add more stress to Yugi.”

Yami’s hands caressed Ryou’s back. He couldn’t get close enough. After so much time spent with only hopes, reality was a little overwhelming. “I’ll be here with you,” he whispered back. “It won’t get out of hand.”

The pharaoh’s gentle touches were sending constant shivers down his spine. “Okay,” he relented. “I’ll stay. But if they start upsetting Yugi I'm leaving.”

“That’s fair,” Yami replied, kissing his forehead.

Ryou turned to Yugi. “So have you heard anything new yet?”

“No, not yet,” Yugi replied.

“Hey Yugi, do you mind if I talk to Ryou privately for a moment?” Yami inquired.

Yugi smiled, mistaking the pharaoh’s real intent for something romantic. “Not at all,” he replied.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

Ryou allowed the spirit to lead him into the hallway. “What’s going on?” he asked, feeling Yami’s unease.

“Yugi’s doctor wants to release him tomorrow.”

Ryou raised an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”

“No, no, it’s very good. But he can’t make the decision alone.”

“I'm not following.”

Yami sighed. “Yugi’s proctologist has to agree to the early discharge. And to do that he’s going to need to perform a thorough examination on Yugi.”

Realization hit. “Oh, gods,” Ryou whispered.

“I despise the idea,” Yami explained. “But I can’t deny anything that will make him well.”

Ryou nodded. He knew it needed to be done. “Does Yugi know?”

Yami shook his head. “I don’t have the heart to tell him.”

“Let me,” the teen responded.

Yami hugged him again. “I was hoping you’d say that.”



Yugi’s smile faded when Ryou returned to the room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the pale teen's downcast eyes.

Ryou sat on the bed next to Yugi and took his hand. “Yugi, I need to tell you something.”

Yugi’s brow furrowed worriedly. “Ryou, what is it? Where’s Yami? Did you guys have a fight already?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Ryou amended. “I sent Yami to get some breakfast. It’s about you.”

Yugi froze. “What about me?”

Ryou swallowed hard. “Yami talked to your doctor and he thinks you should go home tomorrow.”

“Really?” Yugi exclaimed. “That’s great!” He paused. “I'm sensing a but.”

“There is a but,” Ryou admitted. “Your proctologist has to give his okay before you can leave.”

“Oh gods, did he go out of town or something?”

Read between the lines, Yugi, Ryou pleaded silently. “No,” he said. “But he can’t let you go until after he…checks you over. Your stitches and whatnot…”

Yugi paled considerably as reality set in. “No,” he said in a voice barely a whisper.

You know, Yugi, your screams only turn me on more.

“Oh no,” Yugi whimpered. “Not again…”

“Yugi,” Ryou barked. “Breathe. Listen to my voice and breathe.”

Yugi’s grip tightened on Ryou’s hand, his nails digging into the pale flesh. “Stop…”

“Listen to me, Yugi. He’s not here. It’s Ryou. He can’t get you again. Come on, Yugi, I would know if he was here.”

That hit the mark. Yugi turned pleading amethyst eyes on his friend. “You would know…”

“I would know.”

“And you would tell me if he was here?”

“In an instant. You have my word.”

Yugi paused, as if rolling this new piece of information around in his mind. It seemed to settle well. “Thank you, Ryou,” he whimpered, holding out his arms.

Ryou leaned into the embrace. “Don’t thank me, Yugi. Just be strong, okay?”

Yugi nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Will you let the doctor see you?”

The smaller teen shuddered. “Will you be there?” he asked fearfully.

“If you want me to. Me and Yami.”

“No,” Yugi said vehemently. “Not Yami.”

Ryou raised an eyebrow. “Why not? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t want him to see…” Yugi whispered.

The idea clicked within Ryou. He was safe to see Yugi’s injuries because they shared the bond of their infliction. “Okay, Yugi,” he said soothingly. “Whatever you want.”



Miles passed beneath him unnoticed as Tristan raced through the darkness, destination unknown. His mind made better time than the vehicle, cycling at breakneck speed as he agonized the situation, coming to no acceptable conclusion. So many questions filtered through unanswered. Some he desperately wanted resolved and others he was deathly afraid of.

He couldn’t understand how the man he loved could be involved in such an inhuman act of violence. Of course Kaiba had a mean streak. But to Tristan’s knowledge it had never aimed itself at an innocent. The circumstances surrounding Gozaburo’s death were different. That man was a sadistic bastard.

There was just too much he didn’t know. Did his boyfriend seek Bakura out? What role did Kaiba play that night? More questions led to more confusion.

The melodic tone of his cell phone ringing in his pocket caused him to jump. He looked at the phone’s panel. It read one word. Mokuba. His first instinct told him to ignore it but there was no way he could turn his back on the younger Kaiba. The kid had lost enough.

“Hello?” he said, angry at the obvious upset in his voice.

“Tristan?” His voice was small, afraid.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mokuba.”

“Did you and Seto have a fight?”

Tristan’s eyes closed briefly and his head fell against the seat. “Why would you ask that?” he questioned, not wanting to offer any information that the kid hadn’t found out on his own.

“Seto is in his office crying. He keeps talking to himself and pretending not to hear me.”

I didn’t need to hear that, Tristan thought. “Is Li there yet?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

“No, she doesn’t get here until this afternoon.”

Tristan looked at the clock on the dashboard as he pulled the car onto the side of the road. He’d been gone for hours.

“Tristan?”

“I'm here.”

Sniffles and tiny hiccups could be heard through the speaker. “Tristan, will you come home? I'm scared.”

“Mokuba…I don’t think that my being there will help Seto right now.”

“Why not?”

Tristan sighed heavily. “We did have a…an argument,” he revealed. “And I left so that it wouldn’t get worse.”

“But he won’t listen to me. He just keeps crying and talking to himself.”

The brunette could hear the desperation in the boy’s voice. “Mokuba, where are you now?”

“In the hallway.”

“Go back to Seto’s office and tell him that you’re scared. That should snap him out of it.”

“Come home. Please, Tristan?”

Tristan began to cry openly. “I can’t, Mokie.”

“But I need you to--big brother?”

“Mokuba?”

The boy didn’t respond. At least not to him.

“Seto? What are you doing?”

He could hear Kaiba’s fractured sobs in the background. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice raising.

“Seto? SETO, NO!”

“Mokuba? Mokuba, what happened?” He listened intently to the various sound coming through the phone, trying to distinguish them. The sound of a scuffle could be heard. A lot of indiscernible shouting. Then one that made Tristan’s blood run cold. The distinctive sound of a gunshot.


___________________________________________________________________________________________
..... I'm sorry.