A/N- Thank you for the reviews and for continuing to read this story. I'm sorry for the delays in updating but I'm kept pretty busy between my toddler daughter and one month old son. Please Read and Review. Your thoughts are greatly appreciated.
Chapter 11
Sitting on the bench, Joey makes out children playing tag nearby and the sound of footsteps approaching. No one else would have picked up on the soft tread, but he's acutely aware of any disturbances around him. Tensing, he's ready to flee but he turns his head slowly managing to flash a nervous grin while Ryou saunters forward.
Without Malik's distracting personality, he can focus more on Ryou. Slightly taller and with a hint of muscles, the snow haired male resembles a matured version of the high-school teen he remembered. It's his cocoa orbs that fascinate him the most. Soft, but no longer fragile. A hard edge with a hint of regret. Deep in those hot chocolate orbs, he spies the last remnants of Bakura. "Hello," Ryou says, his voice quiet and polite as ever, but those eyes narrow like a quick blade as two teens wander too close snickering while gesturing in their general direction.
"Hey, sorry to call you out like this." It's getting increasingly harder to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder. Fidgeting, he glimpses an entirely too Bakura like raised eyebrow and sneer. A second later all he sees is Ryou's concerned face and confused orbs. "If you never wish to speak to me again, I'll understand." Nervously he fiddles with his fingers as Ryou drops down beside him.
"It can't be too horrible. Am I correct to assume this is about my Yami?"
"Yeah," he mutter sheepishly while yanking a hand through his unruly mop of hair. "Um, did he ever mention a slave named Caleb?"
Those expressive brown orbs widen then fall into shadows of sorrow. "A few times. When he was angry with me and wanted to make me feel useless, he said he was a far better lover than I could ever dream of becoming. In those rare but cherished moments when a sort of companionship fell between us, he seemed sad. Spoke of Caleb with an emotion akin to compassion. Once, he told me he wished to have his own body so he could fulfill all his desires. Not just possessing the Millennium Items or ruling the world, but something else. He would grumble a lot that Caleb had been right, his soul found it's counterpoint, but for him it was already too late." "I'm having the dreams again and I always figured the thief had to be Bakura, but I never could be sure. They were friends."
Pale hands tremble as they clench together and cocoa orbs stare at Joey with agony. "It's alright, Joey. I shared a few of those dreams. Towards the end when I knew he had to be stopped, I realized what he meant. He saw me as his counterpoint. I choose my friends, the safety of the world over him. In my own way, I loved him. The evil claiming him outweighed the good. I'll always wonder if sending him away was the right decision. I'll always wonder if somewhere out there he still exists." Heavy sorrow mingles with guilt tainting the ivory haired male's tone.
"At least I understand why he hated me so much. I remind him of what he no longer had."
"Don't blame yourself. He hated everyone. He wanted the Items, we withheld them from him. You protected us even if you really had no reason to other than you cared, he didn't understand that selfless behavior. I think he even knew that if he had ever needed you, he could have asked and you would have jumped to help him do anything other than harming one of us or stealing the Items. You and Caleb are not the same person. Bakura knew that. Now, go back to Kaiba. I'll see you later."
"Thanks, Ry. I think I just needed the reassurance that I wasn't the cause for your unhappiness."
"I'm happy, Joey. I have all my friends and I have Malik. Yes, I miss my Yami but it's pretty hard to not miss someone that was apart of me for so long. His memories of Caleb were a few of his happiest and for that I'm grateful. I couldn't imagine the pain of living such a terrible life as he had. You should go before Kaiba sends out a search party, he seems to care an awful lot about you. You can be happy, too, just open your heart to him."
As he hurries back to the large building, he tosses nervous looks around. The disturbing sense of someone watching him never fades. Trembling he hooks his hands in his pockets, patting the metal that rests securely in one. An afterthought he shoved in while dressing. Something form his days with the gang. Glaring at a man that leans too close to him on the sidewalk, he raises an eyebrow in an invitation as he flashes a fist freshly adorned with brass knuckles. Suddenly the man backs away with hands raised in submission. A surge of power nearly floors him. Squashing the unbearable desire to destroy the person wishing him ill, he runs the rest of the way as if hounds of hell are on his heels. He vows silently to never become a victim again, but to never become a monster that preys on the weak either. Panting, he nearly collides with a furious man storming out of the building. "Bakari," he stammers unintentionally. Relief slams into him when the familiar looking man only glances at him quizzically. "Sorry, you look like someone I knew," he adds quickly stepping out of the male's way.
That gleam was in those dark, deceptive eyes; though, the shimmer of resentment and the heat of anger. Joey shudders as he enters the air conditioned building. Those same eyes haunted his sleep. Nodding at the guards and receptionist in the lobby, he heads to the elevator. As the doors begin to shut, he spies the outraged man. Still standing in the same spot where they collided, a murderous glare directed in his direction, the male looks exactly as he recalls Bakari appearing when Caleb became the High Priest's chosen lover. Betrayed, angry, cold.
"Hey," he says casually as Seto glances up at him the resumes ripping someone's head off on the phone. An application and resume rest open on the desk. From what he can tell, the applicant seems qualified. Yet big, red, angry slashes cross out most of the black ink. Like blood. Shaking his head, he takes a seat and waits for the ranting to pass.
"Bakari Talon," Seto hisses slamming the phone down. "He's applied seventeen times, so I finally grant him an interview. I find his worship appalling. Oddly enough, he creeps me out. I immediately loathed him, and he tried blaming someone I don't even know. As if someone else is responsible for his inappropriate behavior."
His heart thunders like a jack hammer, his fist clench at his sides. The brass knuckles cool against his feverish skin. "Caleb," he mutters. Seto nods eyeing the brass adorning his knuckles with distaste.
"Yes, how did you know?"
"Because I saw him outside. He acted like he didn't know who I resembled, but I knew it was him. His eyes, I could never forget them, stared at me the same way they stared at Caleb. Bakari resented him, hated the fact that the High Priest chose Caleb over him. So he sent the guards to capture the Tomb Robber knowing that this person was a friend to Caleb. He ordered them to beat this thief and made sure Caleb found them. He couldn't stand to see someone being abused as badly as they were hurting his friend and he freed Bakura, his friend and the legendary Tomb Robber. Bakari lied to the High Priest, concocting a story of how the thief and Caleb planned to poison the Pharaoh. Of course, Bakari claimed he saved the Pharaoh. The priest's calculating mind immediately put together that if Caleb could free the thief and help him to safety, how could he not be in on an attempt to assassinate their leader. Never mind that logic dictated otherwise. Caleb and the Pharaoh were friends and he'd protect the leader against anyone including the tomb robber if it came down to that."
Honey orbs glaze over as dream images cloud Joey's mind. Blues narrow as the memory of the sudden hostility towards the applicant resurfaces. Both unaware of how they gravitate towards one another.
Standing together on a cliff high above the vast blanket of golden sand below, Joey and Seto watch as the High Priest lays his beloved out on the ground. A brief prayer echoes up to their ears. A long, low moan of anguish surrounds them. Crumpled on the desert rests the remains of a blond beauty. In the full moonlight, they spy brasses scattered all over the male's form. Dried blood coats his golden body from various cuts that litter his form. Shaking his head as emptiness consumes him, Joey falls to his knees. Acute agony fills Seto's soul until he's clutching his abdomen to keep from being ripped apart from such strong torment.
A few feet away standing watch is a male with hair the shade of wispy clouds on a summer day and eyes deep brown tinged red. His face contorts with pain, his blood red cloak billowing in the breeze, words of vengeance on his lips for his family and his dearest friend.
Hiding behind a sand dune nursing his triumph from low embers into a blazing inferno, Bakari's dark orbs dance with delight. Those eyes zero in on the thief as terror seizes him. A viciousness he's never encountered before resides in the male across the way. He understands that tonight he'll perish.