Rebirth
by Ceresi
Rating: R
WARNING: There are spoilers for the HP books in here. I know, it's crazy. Also, slash, and one racy little R scene. ALSO. This is still, for all intents and purposes, a rough draft. I've had it betaed and edited it several times myself, but I'm working on a sequal, and some changes might be necessary.
Want more notes? See Chapter One.
***
"Mr. Kaiba?"
Seto pushed the drawer of his file cabinet closed and looked at his assistant. "What?"
"There's someone to see you, sir."
"I'm busy." Seto rifled through the folder he held, searching for a paper.
"He says it's important."
"I'm sure he does." Seto caught the worried expression on the woman's face and added, "Tell him to leave or you'll call security. I don't want to be harassed by some idiot. If it's important, he can make an appointment or whine to someone else."
"Yes, sir." She shut the door behind her.
Exasperated, Seto threw the manila folder he'd been carrying onto his desk. As he returned to get another, the view caught his eye. He let himself space for a few minutes, just watching.
He didn't go to his office in the city often, preferring to stay at the mansion where Mokuba could always reach him. And when he did come in, it was usually for a meeting, and he had no time to look out windows.
But the skyline was beautiful, he admitted to himself. Joey always told him it was one of the things he missed about the city.
Of course, Joey was a romantic idiot.
Smirking, Seto turned back to the open drawer. What had he filed his contract with the financial department under? The fact was buried under a massive pile of useless knowledge. Seto's forte was inventing, not paperwork. He was wasting himself here, and he knew it, but someone had to --
The sound of gunfire from the outer room startled him. His head flew up and he stared, registering vaguely that yes, someone was screaming.
He hit the ground behind his desk just before the door begin to splinter under a rain of bullets. Seto cursed softly. The bodyguards? The secretary? Probably dead by this point. And he didn't have a weapon --
The gunfire stopped. The shattered door was kicked out of the way, and then more shots were fired. Seto managed a tight grin as he heard a series of pings -- it had seemed idiotic to make a bulletproof desk, but Mokuba and Joey had insisted, pointing out that with his track record, he'd need it. He really must remember to thank them.
Again, there was a pause in the gun fire. Seto maneuvered under the desk until he was optimally positioned, ready for his attacker no matter which way he came from, even above. He might not have a weapon, but he had years of training in the martial arts. And he was smarter than any idiot with a gun.
There came a thump from behind him. Seto's eyebrows rose. So the gun had been dropped? Out of bullets, his inner voice suggested. How inexpertly planned.
It was almost an insult. He listened as heavy footsteps came closer, eyes narrowing at the hoarse breathing, and the occasional grunt. Injured. So the bodyguards at least attempted to do their jobs.
There was a thud as the man kicked the desk. "Come out," he growled. "Coward."
Seto said nothing, still thinking.
"The Great Seto Kaiba, hiding under a desk? Thought you were better than that. More powerful." He kicked the desk again, harder. His next command was a roar. "COME ON!"
Seto didn't move, chillingly reminded of Mai's account. A pair of legs appeared suddenly to his left -- he grabbed an ankle and pulled, hand coming up to block the blow aimed at his face, the man fell --
Nothing could have blocked the gun in his other hand. Seto heard it go off but he was already moving, grabbing his wrist, throwing the weapon away. He left his cover and jerked the man up, slammed him into the wall.
And when his attacker still had the strength to sputter curses, he did it again. And again.
Finally, he was unconscious, and Seto could step away and breathe. His lungs ached and he was shaking all over. Shock. It's been a while since I fought at all, let alone for my life.
The room swayed. Seto took a breath and tried to steady himself.
"Kaiba! What --"
Seto recognized the voice. It took him a moment to place it, however, and by then it's owner was pulling him away from his unconscious attacker.
Tristan Taylor stared at him with wide eyes. "What happened?"
Seto wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His side burned like hell. "Attack," he said succinctly. "What are you doing here?"
Tristan blinked a few times, gestured over his shoulder. "I was next door applying for a job, heard the gunshots -- Christ, it's carnage in the outer room, blood everywhere. I think someone called the police --"
"Good," Seto said. He pushed Tristan's hands off his shoulders. "Meet them at the doors and lead them in here. I need to see if anyone's still alive."
"Kaiba -- Kaiba, stop."
Seto did, irritated. "What?"
"You shouldn't be moving around," Tristan said. When Seto merely looked at him blankly, he added, "Man, you're bleeding."
Startled, Seto looked down.
He was bleeding. Profusely. His shirt was drenched, from the ragged hole below his ribs to his shirt cuffs. He glanced at the carpet and saw giant red splotches.
His head, which had been perfectly fine a moment ago, started spinning. Tristan was there again, holding him up. "Just sit down," he said, guiding Seto to a chair, "It's all right, man. The police are on their way."
For once in his life, Seto listened to someone else. It was the first time in almost ten years that he'd been injured. He'd forgotten how much it hurt.
"Who is that guy?" Tristan was asking, mostly to hear the sound of his own voice. "D'you know who he is -- he, he looks almost familiar, like I've seen him before. I don't --" He shook himself. "Weird."
~
"Taichi Soichiro." The officer tossed a handful of papers onto the desk in front of Seto. "That's his name."
Tristan snapped his fingers. "One of the Big Five? The one who stole my body?" The officer stared at him.
"One of their sons," Seto said impassively. He lifted the papers and flipped through them. "His injuries?"
"Non-fatal, although it'll take a long time for him to recover." The officer gave Seto a look somewhere between respect and disgust. "He's got a concussion."
There was a long silence as Seto continued his perusal of the papers -- finally he threw them back to the officer with an expression of disinterest. "Anything else?"
"His family might decide to press charges." A second officer -- no, the chief, Seto corrected himself with a glance at his badge -- came forward. Unlike the first officer, he bore a clear look of contempt.
"Against me," Seto said coolly.
"His injuries were uncalled for," the chief snapped. "He was bleeding heavily and barely armed. Given your amount of training, you could have disarmed him as easily as you slammed his head into the wall."
Seto met the chief's eyes squarely. "He tried to kill me," he reminded icily. "And, might I remind you, nearly succeeded. I was acting in self-defense."
"Your actions were an exercise in brutality," the chief retorted. He looked at Tristan. "And I'm sure that testimony from a witness will prove it."
Seto looked at Tristan as well; but Tristan's eyes were on the police chief. "Bud, all I saw Kaiba do was fight off an armed guy bigger than him -- while wounded and bleedin' like a geyser. That's self-defense to me, and a pretty good example of it, too."
The chief looked revolted, as if Tristan had betrayed him personally. Seto smirked at him.
"Get out of my sight." The chief sat in his chair and lifted the papers Seto had tossed aside. "If his family presses charges, we'll contact you."
"Thanks ever so," Seto said, standing. His coat swept around his legs as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the chief's desk. "If the media receives any information about this attack -- any at all -- I will personally hold you, and the officers under your employment, responsible." His eyes were level and hard. "Don't try me."
He left quickly, Tristan a step behind.
Seto glanced back as they walked down the sidewalk. "Do you have a place to stay?"
Tristan looked embarrassed, shoving his hands into his jean jacket. He was wearing three other layers beneath it, probably all of the clothes he owned. "Yeah, I'm holed up in a hotel a few blocks away."
"Fine. Call me tomorrow." Seto stopped as a limo pulled up beside them. He turned so abruptly that Tristan almost crashed into him. "I'll get you a job."
Tristan's face colored. "I don't want your pity," he said.
"Good." Seto opened the door and got in. He glanced up at Tristan. "I don't have any, and certainly none for you." He smirked, and the door slammed.
Tristan watched the limo pull away, scowling. "How the hell does Joey put up with that?" he muttered.
A girl carrying a skateboard approached him, her friends clustered behind her and staring. "Hey, man, was that your friend? The guy in the limo?"
"Yeah, we're best buds," Tristan said sarcastically. He pushed past her. " 'Scuse me."
