The Path of Vengeance

“Mr. Robertson, I’m Detective Calhoun with the Las Vegas Police Department. I trust that you were informed of our arrival?”

Mr. Robertson, manager of the Luxor Hotel, nodded. “Of course, detective.”

Detective Calhoun stood at the front desk, surrounded by four police officers. “They have not checked out, I assume?”

“No, sir. Malik and Odion Ishtar are paid for one more night. Odion called and had one of my front desk agents book them on a bus to Los Angeles for tomorrow.”

“Take us to their rooms.”

Mr. Robertson left the confines of the wraparound desk and led the way to the elevator. “I hear they have won quite a large sum since their arrival.”

“Indeed they have. But Malik Ishtar’s violent outburst today led us to do a background check on the both of them. It seems that one of my colleagues in Japan is looking for Odion.”

The elevator chimed and they filed out. “Are you saying that they are criminals?”

“Nothing of the sort has been established. They are just wanted for questioning. Is this their room?”

“Yes. Here is the key.”

Detective Calhoun took the card. “Men, get ready to rush in.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open quickly. The police poured into the empty room.

“I don’t understand,” Mr. Robertson said. “No one remembers seeing them leave.”

“I’ll bet that’s just what they counted on,” the detective insisted. “Search the room.”

The officers began opening drawers and cabinets. They came up with a few articles of discarded clothes and not much else. “Nothing, chief.”

Mr. Robertson shook his head. “I don’t understand. They must have gone out.”

Detective Calhoun shook his head, his trained eye catching what the others did not. “They’ve already gone,” he said. “They don’t intend to come back.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s my job. You say they made arrangements to go to L.A.? I want to talk to the clerk who set it up.”

“Of course,” Mr. Robertson replied. “I’ll get him on the phone immediately.”

The detective frowned. “I’m going to find you sons of bitches,” he muttered.


Tristan stood outside of Mokuba’s door, the bag in his hand heavy and his heart heavier. The otolaryngologist had just left the house after a brief conference with Kenji and himself. The news wasn’t good. The doctor made arrangements for Tristan to bring the boy to his office the next day for further testing but the basic audiogram and preliminary tests weren’t promising. It seemed that the doctor agreed with Dr. Tochigi’s diagnoses.

His soon-to-be patented forced optimistic expression in place, Tristan opened the door without knocking. The boy wouldn’t have heard it anyway. He set the bag on the desk and pulled from it a portable dry erase board and a green pen. Mokuba watched curiously from his seated position on the bed. After a moment he held up the board for the boy to see.

‘Hey, Mokuba. How are you feeling?’

Mokuba almost smiled. “Okay,” he said loudly, obviously speaking at a higher volume in an attempt to hear himself.

Tristan wiped at the board with the palm of his hand to clear it before writing again. This time much longer.

‘I know you’re scared, kiddo. But you should know that I’m not going anywhere. When we talked on the phone you told me you needed me so here I am.’

Mokuba’s grey eyes scanned the board. “Thanks, Tristan. How is Seto?”

The brunette winced inwardly, averting his eyes to the board so Mokuba couldn’t see the lies.

‘He’ll be fine. I expect he’ll be back to work in a few days tops. You know Seto.’

Mokuba nodded. His bottom lip quivered slightly. “Could you tell him I’m sorry?”

This time Tristan didn’t hesitate. His pen flew over the board.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for. Seto understands. This was HIS mistake, not yours. You saved your brother’s life, Mokuba. I should be thanking you.’

“But what if Seto doesn’t want to stay with us Tristan? I don’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

Tristan moved to sit with the crying boy. He sat the board on his lap and wrote again, one arm hugging Mokuba protectively.

‘Even if something happens to Seto you won’t end up in an orphanage. I’ll always be here for you Mokuba. I’ve got legal permission to look after you.’

Mokuba blinked, surprised. “You do?”

‘Yes. Seto doesn’t like to gamble where you’re concerned.’

The boy turned and buried his face in Tristan’s shoulder. The teen set the board and pen aside to accommodate the Mokuba’s desperate embrace. It was at that moment that he knew he’d made the right decision. Though he wanted to be there for Yugi, he knew his friend had plenty of support from Joey, Yami, Ryou, and the girls. The Kaiba brothers had only him. If he wasn’t there to look out for them who would be?


/Yami? Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?/

Yami’s fingers paused over the bottle of dish detergent. He rinsed the suds off his hands and dried them on the small towel that rested on his shoulder. Ryou had gone home to check the mail and answering machine and Yami had been trying to pass the time by cleaning the kitchen.

He walked into the living room to see Yugi lying on the makeshift bed, his eyes downcast. “I thought you were taking a nap?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the small teen replied.

Yami sat on the edge of the mattress. “Is there something you want to talk about?” he asked gently.

Yugi picked at the tiny fuzz balls on his comforter. “Yeah,” he replied. “Um, when Reiko was here we were talking about you…”

The pharaoh sat quietly, waiting for his light to continue.

“Um, she asked me if I thought you would ever hurt me.”

“You know I wouldn’t, Aibou.”

Yugi nodded. “I know,” he assured. “But would you, um, you know, hurt Bakura?”

Yami’s features hardened. “Yes.”

“Would you…kill him?”

The spirit fought to keep to himself the myriad of ways he’d like to dismember the tomb robber. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“A little.”

Yami grimaced. “Yugi, he hurt you. Badly. Do you want him to get away with that?”

“No,” Yugi replied. “But I don’t want you to kill him.”

Slow, calming breaths. “He deserves to die for what he did, Aibou.”

“No. I’m not dead, Yami.”

“No you aren’t. You just have to deal with the nightmare of what he did to you for the rest of your life.”

Yugi’s lower lip began to quiver. “Yami…”

The pharaoh was instantly contrite. “Shit, I’m sorry, Yugi.” He laid a gentle hand on the teen’s knee. “I didn’t think. Please…I’m sorry.”

Yugi wiped at his eyes. “It’s okay.”

“You’re really asking me not to hurt him?”

“Yeah.”

“But Yugi, how can you get over this knowing that he could come back at any time?”

“Ryou won’t let him hurt me.”

Yami sighed. He knew that if Bakura decided to come back that nothing Ryou did or said would tame that beast’s desire. But he also knew that in the end it wasn’t his decision to make. He would just have to wait for Bakura to do something directly. “I won’t touch him,” he said, his voice even but strained.

“Thanks, yami,” Yugi whispered.

Yami nodded. “I’m going to get something to drink. Are you thirsty?”

“No.”

The spirit left the room as quickly as he dared. Upon reaching the kitchen, he collapsed in one of the dining room chairs. That had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to promise the teen. And even now he regretted it.

Yugi’s ability to forgive and his great understanding were two of the qualities he loved about his light. But he couldn’t understand this request. How could anyone live through what he went through without a sense of closure?

His hands clenched into tight fists, a testament to his frustration. Yugi may have found the ability to move on, but he sure hadn’t. There was no way he’d be able to see Bakura without mind crushing the son of a bitch. He just didn’t hold that kind of restraint.


Ryou entered the living room to see Yugi on the sofa sleeper, tears still evident in his eyes. He dropped his suitcase on the floor and rushed to his friend. “Yugi! What happened?”

Yugi opened his arms and clung to the dark haired teen, his tears falling freely. “It’s Yami,” he wailed. “He’s mad at meeeee.”

Ryou’s eyes widened. He held fast to the smaller teen. “Yami could never be mad at you,” he said gently. “What makes you think that?”

“We talked,” he choked. “About what happened.”

Ryou winced. “Oh?”

“I told him I didn’t want him to hurt Bakura.”

“Wait, you did what?” Ryou was confused. “Yugi?”

Yugi pulled back to meet Ryou’s gaze. “I don’t want Bakura to die,” he said seriously. “He didn’t kill me, Ryou. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let Yami…”

“Shh,” Ryou soothed. “Yugi come on. Yami isn’t mad at you. He’s upset at Bakura with no way to release his anger. He loves you. You have to understand that he only wants what’s best for you. If you don’t want him to hurt Bakura he won’t. He’ll just have to find another way to get his frustrations out.”

Yugi nodded, Ryou’s words sinking in. “You’re right. I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t be. You can always talk to me about anything, Yugi. Without worry of upsetting me. Even though I love Bakura I know he’s a fucking dick. And even though Yami and I are together now doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about him.”

Yugi clutched Ryou’s sweater tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Yami stepped back into the room. “Yugi I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you,” he said, taking a seat next to the pair on the bed.

Ryou smiled gratefully at the pharaoh. “See, Yugi? He’s not upset.”

Yugi released his hold on Ryou and latched onto his dark. “Thank you, Yami,” he sobbed.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Ryou watched the pair embrace, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew Yami had been missing the contact with his light. Yugi had been pulling away from him more and more, trying to protect him from what Bakura had done. But now that he had Yami’s vow of peace he could share a little more of himself without fear of a blood bath. It was a definite turning point.



Bakura sat in the high-backed seat on the bus, his feet propped up in Marik’s lap as he watched his companion sleep. The Egyptian’s confession had thoroughly shocked him. He hadn’t thought Marik capable of the emotion, let alone willing to admit to it.

He took a sip of his soda and sighed. Doubts regarding his own feelings had been filing in ever since the confrontation. If he was so devoid of emotion then why did he care whether or not Marik came with him? Why was it that he cared more about Marik’s wellbeing than his own?

Oh shit…

His gaze lingered on the beautifully tanned face of his companion. He knew that the pharaoh would eventually find him and was actually starting to worry. Not for himself but for Marik. He’d not included the Egyptian in his plan in the beginning to keep him from being a party to the pharaoh’s rage when everything went down.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, not liking where this train of thought was heading. Now that Marik was aboard for the long haul he’d just have to make sure that they were not found.

“Why are you staring at me?” Marik asked groggily.

Bakura grinned. “You fall asleep and I am granted free reign to stare, decorate, or fuck your mouth as much as I want to.”

Marik blinked. “I should go back to sleep then.”

The thief laughed. “Don’t bother. We’re about to stop again.”

“Damn, we’d get there a lot faster if we didn’t keep stopping.”

“What’s the rush?” Bakura questioned.

“We need to hurry up and get to the hotel.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Well, that was unexpected. “You want me to fuck you? Without putting up a fight over who’s on top?” Marik nodded. “What’s the occasion?”

“Why does there have to be an occasion?”

Bakura grinned. “I guess that’s true. I’m always up for pounding into your tight ass anyway.”

Marik’s cock jumped at the candid statement. “Good,” he replied. “I’m holding you to that as soon as we find a hotel.” He pushed the thief’s feet from his lap and sat up, straightening his tan sport coat.

Bakura sat up as well, his gaze lingering on the blonde for a moment before turning away. Something was definitely up. He would just have to figure out what.



Duke cut the tape from a box of collectible figurines and began the tedious task of arranging them on the display shelf in his game shop. He smiled when he felt Joey’s arms tighten around his waist. “Come on, baby, I need to do this.”

Joey tightened his grip, his head falling to rest on his boyfriend’s back. “Duke, I’m worried,” he said.

Duke turned in the blonde’s embrace. “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking Tristan,” the duelist admitted.

Duke sighed. “Baby, why don’t you go talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“I’m sure he does,” Duke said rationally. “The two of you are best friends. I’m sure he’s dying to talk about whatever is going on and who better to talk to than you?”

“He’s got Kaiba to talk to,” Joey spat out.

Duke pulled out of Joey’s embrace, took hold of the blonde’s hand, and dragged him out the front door. “Get in the damn car,” he said.

Joey hopped over the door, settling into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

Duke sat behind the wheel. “To the Kaiba Estate. You two are working this out one way or another.”

Joey frowned though he didn’t reply. Tristan was his best friend. He had to find out what was wrong with him.



“Seto, you’ve got to hold still.”

“That fucking hurts.”

“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as bad!”

Kaiba jerked his head out of Tristan’s grasp. “Damn it, Tristan, I’m not a baby.”

“Well you’ve got the role perfected.” Tristan grasped Kaiba’s chin in his hand. He regretted the words instantly. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, reigning in his temper.

Kaiba looked down. “No, I’m the one being difficult. Forgive me.”

Tristan poured a liberal amount of antiseptic on the sterile gauze pad and pressed it to the side of his boyfriend’s face, wincing sympathetically at the pained gasp that came from the CEO. “The swelling has gone down some,” he said, trying to distract him.

“That’s something at least,” Kaiba replied through clenched teeth. “Has it stopped bleeding yet?”

Tristan held up the bandage he’d removed from the larger wound. There was a distinct copy of the stitches laced with ointment. “Not yet,” he replied. “But it’s nowhere near as bad as it was earlier.”

“Good. Um, how is Mokuba doing?”

The brunette looked down. He couldn’t keep the secret forever. “Seto, there’s something you need to know.”

Kaiba immediately stiffened. “What?”

Tristan set the gauze and antiseptic aside before taking the millionaire’s hands in his. “Dr. Tochigi and one of his colleagues have examined him…”

“And?”

Tristan took a deep breath. “His ears have been damaged…”

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. “Define ‘damaged’.”

“The doctor thinks his right ear will repair itself in time. But he’s most likely got permanent loss of hearing in his left.”

The CEO closed his eyes. “How did this happen?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The gun was right next to his left ear…”

“It’s my fault…”

“Seto, don’t.”

“No wonder he’s so angry.”

Tristan squeezed his lover’s hands. “He’s angry because he thinks that you don’t care about him anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? He had to watch you shoot yourself. If he hadn’t grabbed your arm he’d be watching me make your funeral arrangements right now!”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Large tears formed in his eyes, slipping through his eyelids and burning their way through the stitches on his cheek.

“Seto,” Tristan whispered. He opened his arms and the CEO collapsed into his embrace. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I’m going to make sure that both of you make it through this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Kaiba choked.

“Shh…”



“Mr. Wheeler, Mr. Devlin. What can I do for you?”

“I need to see Tristan,” Joey demanded.

Kenji pulled his radio from his belt, quickly dialing Tristan’s extension. “Mr. Taylor, Mr. Wheeler is here to see you.”

A tense moment passed before Tristan’s voice came back to them. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.” Kenji turned back to the pair. “Won’t you come in?”

Joey and Duke followed the larger man through the foyer and into the living room. They sat together on one of the leather couches in tense silence.

Several moments later Tristan came down the stairs and into the room. “Hey Joey, Duke.”

“Tris, we need to talk,” Joey said immediately.

The brunette sighed. “I know,” he replied.

Duke stood up. “I’m going to find a bathroom,” he said, wanting to give the pair their privacy. He shuffled out of the room.

Joey watched his boyfriend’s back disappear through the doorway before turning to Tristan. He was about to unleash a severe lashing but the brunette’s haggard appearance distracted him. From the blemished grey sweatpants to the blood splattered t-shirt. “Dude,” he breathed. “What the fuck is going on?”

Tristan collapsed on the chair opposite his friend. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Well try me,” the blonde said flatly. “Because whatever is keeping you away from Yugi can’t be half as bad as the shit that I’m making up in my head.”

This was it. If he didn’t start talking he could kiss his lifelong friendship with Joey goodbye. The truth, however, was not about to escape his lips. “There’s been an accident,” he said slowly. “Seto and Mokuba were badly hurt. We’re trying to keep it away from the media.”

Joey’s eyes widened. “Oh gods,” he breathed. “What happened? Are they okay? Why the hell didn’t you tell me, bro?”

He could actually taste the bitterness of his lies. “It was a motorcycle accident,” he said, in keeping with the story that would eventually reach the six o’clock news. “Seto has a face full of stitches and Mokuba…Mokuba…”

Joey was at his side in a second. “Shit, Tris, I’m sorry. You should have told me. I wouldn’t have come down so hard on you if I knew it was something like this!” He wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and pulled him close.

Though the story was false, the tears were real. Sob after sob wracked the brunette’s body. It was the first time he’d cried since hell had made its home in every aspect of his life. He clung to his friend, uncaring if it cost him his machismo.

Joey couldn’t imagine what Tristan was going through. Having Yugi in the hospital was tearing him apart. The only thing holding him together was Duke. He wouldn’t be able to take it if his boyfriend was in an accident on top of everything else.



Duke had poked his head into at least a dozen rooms in search of a restroom before he happened upon one Seto Kaiba. His eyes widened to see the CEO laid up in bed, medical tape and bandages surrounding him, the right side of his face horribly disfigured, stitched, and swollen. “Kaiba?” he said. “What the hell happened to you, man?”

Kaiba was visibly startled. His good eye widened to see the dice master standing in his doorway. “Devlin,” he managed. “What are you doing in here?”

Duke stepped into the room. “Looking for the pisser,” he said.

“Well, this is not it,” Kaiba replied.

Duke was undaunted. He was used to working with Kaiba in the business world. This was the exact same attitude. “You need some help?” he asked, sitting in the chair next to the bed that Tristan had vacated.

“I said get out.”

“Cut the shit, Kaiba,” he retorted. “Tristan and Joey are downstairs talking anyway. They’ll probably be awhile.”

Kaiba sighed. He’d been trying for the last ten minutes to get his bandages back on but with his impaired depth perception is was proving impossible. “Fine,” he said. “Stay if you must.”

Duke picked up a tube of ointment and read the label. “You look like shit, man.”

Kaiba snorted. “Thanks.”

“What happened?”

“Grease fire,” Kaiba lied smoothly.

Duke’s eyes widened. “Damn, you must have been right up on the stove!”

“I was.”

“They had to stitch your cheek because of it?”

“Yes.” The tone challenged Duke to question him.

“Shit, that sucks. Looks painful.”

“It is.”

Duke applied a generous amount of cream to the angry looking stitches. “Can you open your eye?”

Kaiba shook his head. “Only if I force it.”

Duke carefully placed a fresh bandage over the larger wound and secured it with the adhesive tape. “Do you cover the other one too?”

“Yes. Then I have to cover my eye and wear the patch.” His hand moved over the blanket until he found the item in question.

Several minutes later they had managed to work together enough to get everything securely in place. Duke tossed the soiled materials into the wastebasket and sat back in the chair. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

“I need to go back to work,” Kaiba grumbled. “Tristan has been…against it.”

“Do you blame him?” Duke asked. “It looks like you could easily catch an infection with the way your skin’s all open.”

“How eloquent. So tell me,” he said, changing the subject. “How is your store doing?”

Duke’s face immediately brightened with pride. “It’s doing great. Industrial Illusions just sent over a new edition of Duel Monsters action figures. They’re selling almost as fast as I can shelve them.”

“Action figures? How juvenile.”

“Juvenile or not, they’re boosting my profit rating through the roof.”

Now this was territory that Kaiba was comfortable in. Territory that he intended to get back to just as soon as he could convince Tristan that he was stable enough to leave his bedroom suite.



“He’s doing okay though?” Tristan asked.

Joey nodded. “As well as he can under the circumstances. His first therapy session was this morning.”

“I hope that helps him,” the brunette replied.

“It will,” Joey said optimistically. “Besides, he’s got all of us, too.”

Tristan winced. “I’m sorry I can’t be there right now,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Joey said. “Now that I understand why.”

Tristan sighed. “You were pretty pissed at me, huh?”

“Yes,” Joey replied honestly. “And I still am. But only because you didn’t tell me. It’s not like the press is going to care that he took a dive off his bike. Everyone who has ever ridden one has done that.”

That was too true. “It’s because of Mokuba,” he lied smoothly. “Seto doesn’t want to seem like a careless guardian.”

“Oh shit, I hadn’t thought of that,” the blonde stated. “I won’t say anything to anyone, just so you know.”

“Thanks,” Tristan replied gratefully.

“Any chance you’ll be able to see Yugi soon?” Joey asked.

Tristan thought about it. Kaiba would be okay on his own for a few hours. Kenji could sit with Mokuba. “I think so,” he said. “I’ll have to make sure Kenji can stay.”

“Are they really so bad that they can’t be left alone?”

“Mokuba is,” Tristan revealed.

“Kaiba can’t stay with him?”

Another lie came out effortlessly. “Mokuba would panic if he saw how awful Seto looks. He had over fifty stitches.”

“Fuck, Tristan,” Joey exclaimed. “How bad was the fall?”

“You have no idea,” Tristan replied. “It’ll be awhile before Mokuba can care for himself. Seto should still be resting but I keep catching him trying to work.”

Joey snickered. “That’s the Kaiba I know. Has he been out of work since this happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man, he must be going crazy.”

“Going crazy, driving me there, whatever.”

Laughter erupted from both teens. Both from Tristan’s comment and the relief from knowing that they were still the best of friends.



Ryou sat on the edge of Yami’s bed, watching as the pharaoh wore a groove in the floor with his aggravated pacing. He wiped yet another tear from his red-rimmed eye, the spirit’s frustration mirroring his own. They had just witnessed one of the worst parts of Yugi’s recovery.
Two days of solid food had made its way through the small teen’s system, resulting in an excruciating twenty minute nightmare of blood, tears, and agony. Yugi had clung to Ryou, forsaking any and all modesty as his intestines screamed in protest. Afterward he was so exhausted that he’d fallen asleep in Yami’s arms as the spirit carried him back to the sofa sleeper.
Ryou shook his head, trying to erase the memory. “Yami, please calm down,” he said hesitantly.

“I can’t calm down!” Yami exploded. “You didn’t have to feel the torment he just went through!”

“No, I didn’t,” Ryou agreed angrily. “But I did have to watch it.”

A harsh Egyptian curse flew from Yami’s lips before he came to a stop in front of the dark haired teen. “Ryou, I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed.

“It’s okay,” Ryou replied. “I know you’re upset.”

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. Forgive me.”

“Always.”

Though what he’d wanted, Yami grew upset at the response. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you always so quick to forgive? Especially after what Bakura put you through.”

Ryou sighed. “I’ll always forgive the people I care about. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have anyone left.”

The candid statement stopped dead in his tracks. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about Yugi, that’s all.”

It was obvious that there was something lurking just below the surface of Ryou’s warm exterior. Yami could sense that all of his boyfriend’s forgiveness and understanding stemmed from something engrained long before the horror that was Bakura. As curious as he was regarding its origin, it terrified him just the same. Because whatever it was ran deep. And he could only handle one unstable hikari at a time. “He’s asleep now,” Yami said, smoothly changing the subject. “He’ll probably feel a lot better when he wakes up.”

“You gave him the pain medication?”

“Yes. He asked for it.”

Ryou nodded. “That’s probably the best thing for him right now.” The medication would render the small teen unconscious for at least four hours. That would give the two of them plenty of time to get it together. It had been amazingly difficult to retain a sense of calm decorum throughout the ordeal. Once they had retreated to the quiet solitude of Yami’s room their pent up emotions had come spewing forth. Ryou falling into silent tears and Yami a thunderous rage. “Yami?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you go out for awhile? We are going to need groceries very soon and Yugi needs some more juice.”

Yami raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Ryou replied. “You need to blow off some steam and you can’t do it here. Why don’t you head to Kaiba Land and have a few duels? At least you’ll get to see something destroyed.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Yami said, shaking his head slowly. “But I can’t leave Yugi.”

“Yugi and I will be fine,” Ryou retorted. “You should go. You’re no good to either of us in this mood.”

Yami laughed, a relieving sound. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.

Ryou stood up and embraced the pharaoh tightly. Even through the tender embrace he could feel the tension in the spirit. “Yami, don’t bottle up your anger. You’re completely justified in it.”

“That’s a far cry from Yugi’s opinion,” Yami countered.

Ryou looked up into the spirit’s crimson eyes. “That’s my opinion. You have every right to be upset.”

Yami placed a gentle kiss on the teen’s forehead. “Thank you,” he said. After a moment’s thought he spoke again. “I’ll go purchase groceries. But I’m taking Mr. Mutou’s cell phone. You call me if he wakes up.”

“I will,” Ryou promised. “And I’ll have dinner ready when you get home.”

Yami smiled. “I don’t know how either of us would make it through this without you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Ryou replied.



Marik glanced around, ensuring that the coast was clear before leaning against the brick wall and using it to sink to a seated position, his arms crossed over his knees. The moon rode high above him, shining only a small amount of light, enabling him to remain hidden in the shadows. They were at yet another stop on the way to Los Angeles and he was getting antsy. He still could not believe that he had shown such weakness, regardless of who it was to. Admitting feelings for Bakura aloud had been a mistake. It wasn’t that Bakura knew of his true feelings, it was the fact that now the thief would see his weakness and be that much more adamant about distancing him from the very real threat that was Yami.

With a frustrated sigh he pulled from his pocket the pack of cigarettes that he’d bought at their last stop and quickly lit one. Smoking wasn’t a habit to him in the common sense of the word. It served as more of a stress reliever to be used under only the most pressing of circumstances.

Exhaling a comforting lungful of smoke, he let his head fall against the wall that supported him. Bakura was inside the building making use of the facilities and thought the blonde was still on the bus.

The nicotine began its insurmountable task of calming his nerves and he decided to check in with Malik and assess any further conflict. He opened their link and received an almost immediate response.

/Marik, where have you been? I didn’t hear from you earlier./

//We left Vegas.//

/What? Why? I thought you liked it there./

//We had a few close calls and had to bail before we got caught.//

Amusement filtered through. /I don’t even want to know what you got caught doing./

//No, probably not.//

/Hey, are you alright? You seem upset./

//I’ve been better and no, I don’t want to talk about it.//

/Whoa. Okay then. Are you two alright though?/

//We’re okay.//

/Anything to report?/

Marik thought a moment. //Did you hear about Kaiba yet?//

/Kaiba? No./

//He returned Yugi’s duel deck. Left it on the doorstep of the game shop last night.//

/Why the fuck would he do that? Yami’s gonna kill him!/

//Come on, hikari, it’s not like he rang the bell and handed it to the pharaoh personally. He probably had someone else do it for him.//

/Huh. That’s just stupid./

//I agree. He gave up his entire reason for agreeing to the plan.// The blaring sound of a horn caught his attention. //Shit, I have to go. The bus is about to leave.//

/Alright. Let me know where you guys end up./

Marik closed the link and stood up, dusting off his pants. He flicked his cigarette into the darkness, watching the orange arc before trotting back to the bus and Bakura.



Malik was dressed and out the door in a matter of minutes. He was going to see Ryou and Yami in order to gather more information. He didn’t know what it was that was bothering Marik but if it had anything to do with the pharaoh he’d find out what it was.

Surprisingly it hadn’t been very hard for him to hide the fact that Marik was gone. He’d never really paid attention to just how antisocial his dark was. Marik rarely spent time at home, choosing instead to spend all of his time raising hell with Bakura. Aside from a few questions from Isis, no one had even questioned Marik’s absence. And he’d kill to keep it that way.



Ryou had just placed a pan of biscuits in the oven when he heard the game shop doorbell ring. He quickly checked to make sure the sound hadn’t disturbed Yugi before descending the stairwell into the store. He opened the door to see the Egyptian standing before him.

“Malik, how are you?” he asked uncertainly, stepping aside.

“Good,” the blonde replied, entering the shop. “How’s Yugi?”

“He had a bad morning,” Ryou revealed. “He’s asleep now.”

Malik winced. “Sorry to hear that. How are you and Yami holding up?”

“Better than expected. Yami even went out today to pick up some groceries.”

“Wow, how’d you manage that?”

Ryou shrugged. “He needed to get out for awhile. I just helped him see it.”

Malik leaned against the main display counter. “So what do you make of this whole Kaiba thing?”

“Kaiba thing?”

“Yeah. It kind of makes you wonder what the fuck could scare the great Seto Kaiba enough to give Yugi’s deck back.”

Every ounce of self control was spent keeping a straight face. “Um, how did you hear about that?”

“Marik, of course. Does Yami know?”

Ryou swallowed hard. “No.”

Malik nodded. “Oh, did Bakura ask you not to tell him?”

“He-”

“RYOU!?!”

Yugi’s scream caused both teens to jump. “Excuse me,” Ryou said, secretly relieved at the intrusion. He jogged up the stairs, acutely aware of the Egyptian on his heels. He entered the living room to see Yugi sitting up in bed, sweat beading on his forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Yugi shook his head, trying to clear it. “Nightmare,” he replied self-consciously, aware of Malik’s presence.

“You know what I used to do when I had nightmares about my dad?” Malik asked, boldly sitting next to Yugi on the fold-out.

Yugi tensed at the sudden movement but soon relaxed as Malik seemed to be posing no threat. “What?”

“Isis would pick out the funniest movie in our collection and she would make a big pile of blankets on the floor in the living room and lay with me while we watched it. I’d always fall back asleep laughing.”

Yugi looked at Ryou uncertainly. “That does sound fun,” he replied softly.

Ryou offered his friend a smile. “Why don’t the two of you watch something,” he said. “I’ll go finish dinner so that when it’s over we can all eat.”

“Where’s Yami?” Yugi asked frantically.

“He went to the store,” Ryou replied. “You are almost out of juice.”

“Oh, okay,” the small teen replied. He turned back to Malik. “Our movies are in that cabinet,” he said, pointing to a shelf on the entertainment center.

Ryou backed out of the room and made his way back into the kitchen where he collapsed into one of the chairs, his legs unable to hold him any longer. Seto Kaiba was involved in Bakura’s plan. Who knew what role the CEO had played or whether the threat against Yugi was truly gone.

He knew he couldn’t tell Yami this news. Bakura had obviously not told him for a reason. However he had the sinking feeling that if he were to tell Bakura about it that Malik would take steps to ensure that he never spoke again. There was only one way to assess the potential for more suffering. He’d have to talk to either Tristan or Seto Kaiba himself.


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...Looks like our boys are sinking in a pool of their own feces here!

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