Chapter Ten: Daddy's Little Whore

Interesting title, ne? This chapter's pretty angsty, and I introduce another new character, who, evben though she is female, absolutely will NOT become romantically involved with anyone. She's this old lady, 'cause I think little trauma-Seto needs a grandmother. (shrugs) I dunno.

Wooh, 51 reviews! Still haven't gotten those fanart requests, dears!

Kumori Sakusha: I love your reviews. You make me feel so good about myself!

SetoKaibaWheeler: This was a fast update...I'm churnin' out the chapters...

The Summer Stars: Oh, I'm so glad someone picked up on that! Yes, drunken sex IS wrong, and it was a terrible thing to happen. Seto kinda half-enjoyed it, but it messed him up in the long run. I'm glad you think I wrote it realistically...I think Kaiba would have a LOT more trouble willingly sleeping with someone after being raped than a lot of fanfic authors would like to believe. And no, you're not a wuss. I'm glad it had an effect on you.

fanficlunatic234: Woot, another new reviewer! (waves) You didn't expect that? Good! You weren't supposed to! In answer to your questions: Yeah, of course Seto's gonna have more episodes! In this chapter, in fact. I'm getting really attatched to his other personality, who I've affectionately nicknamed "chibi-Seto." And as for who's gonna be the seme...well, you'll just have to read, won't you?

chittyco: Do your report! Do it now! I'm kidding, I do the same thing. "Hm, yaoi or chemisty, yaoi or chemisty...who am I kidding? Yaoi!" I'm glad you liked it, m'dear.

mandapandabug: Yeah, Jou's usually the uke, but I figured since Seto had never EVER been the seme in his life, it would make mor sense this way. Also, Seto kinda doesn't know what to do. Heh. I'm not really sure if it would help or hurt Seto to be seme. It might just feed his control issues. But you've given me thoughs now, and they're going to squiggle their way into my plot, I just know it! Oh, and I'm not entirely certain that Seto's capable of realizing that anyone wants it. He's a little messed up.

PyroKittyKat: Thanks much!

Moonbeam: Hah, my lemon made someone blush...

He'd never woken up in someone's arms before. He panicked, freezing, muscles rigid with shock when he realized that he wasn't the only warm body in the bed, that long limbs were twined around him, that his face was pressed to someone's chest. He didn't even recognize the bed.

He disentangled himself and sat up, wincing as a truly magnificent headache pounded against his skull full-force. He had a mother of a hangover, and the bright sunlight filtering through the picture window didn't help.

Where was he? He glanced around, massaging his throbbing temples. New York, he decided, casting a glance at a day-old newspaper on his nightstand. That's right. He was on vacation. With...

Seto's heart stopped.

Clothes, scattered over the floor. His clothes and a pair of jeans and a blue shirt he never would have worn. Seto glanced down at his very, very naked body, eyes widening as he noticed the sticky substance half-dried on his stomach and the blood on his thighs.

Memories of the night before came rushing back in a flood of sweat, pain and screams. He smelled like sex, and he cast a glance over at the sleeping body beside him, hoping against hope that he was wrong, that he hadn't gotten that drunk, that one of them would have had the sense to...

"Mornin,' babe."

Jonouchi.

The blonde smiled sleepily at him, running his fingers through his unruly hair. He was the perfect picture of 'the morning after,' the sheets bunched around his waist, showing off his trim stomach and tanned chest, but Seto was hard-pressed to notice. When Jou reached out to him he screamed and hurled himself to the opposite side of the room. He clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan and slid down the wall, curling into a miserable ball on the carpet.

He'd slept with Jou.

"Seto? What's wrong?"

"You...I...we...God, no, tell me we didn't..."

Jou glanced at the clothes scattered on the floor, at his own naked form, at the dirty sheets. "All signs point to 'yes,'" he said finally, with a hint of an apologetic tone in his voice. "You don't remember?"

"I do remember. That's the problem." Seto buried his face in his knees, arms folded over his head. "Why, Jou?"

"Why what? Didn't you...I mean, you didn't want me...?"

"Of course I didn't! I have intimacy issues, in case you've forgotten!"

"How was I supposed to know?" Jou yelled back, eyes glinting angrily. "You asked me to, and I quote, fuck you. Hard."

He had said that, Seto recalled dimly. "I was drunk, mutt! I wasn't thinking properly!"

"What, the same excuse doesn't work for me?"

"You're just like them!" Seto roared. "'I know it seems like everyone that's interested in you just wants to get you in bed, but that's not how it's supposed to work, Seto.' Do you remember saying that? Do you? You fucking hypocrite!"

"I thought you wanted it! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Well, you did!" Seto bolted for the door, slamming it behind him. Jou could only stare at the polished wood, aghast, as he listened to his lover storm around the suite, most likely dressing himself, and then the slam of the door.

Seto was gone.

Jou pounded a fist into the bedsheets, tearing at his hair. "Shitshitshitshit!"

oooooOOOOOOOoooooo

He ran. He'd never been the athletic sort, never been very fast, or even very coordinated, but he tore down the street as if pursued by a demon. His heart pounded in his throat, his blood thrummed in his ears and sill he pushed on, feet pounding the pavement desperately.

Ah, but this demon couldn't be escaped. No, it was inside him, devouring him alive with muddled memories. He wasn't sure where reality ended and dream began. He couldn't remember; what did it matter?

He sank to his knees on the pavement, chest heaving as he fought for breath, staring down at himself. Dirty, he was filthy, how on earth had he gotten like this? He had been clean when he left the hotel, where did these stains come from? He held his hands out, turning them over and over, inspecting the blood and semen coating his skin. What happened?

"Mmm...good boy, that's a good boy..." Seto's heart swelled and he grinned, since he knew no one could see it in the darkened room. A good boy, he was good, he'd done something right! He settled himself between Yutou's legs, burying his nose in the coarse hairs just above reddened, swollen flesh and Yutou gave a deep moan, pushing Seto's head down insistently. Daddy would be so pleased...

"He behaved?" Gozaborou shot Seto a startled look. "Really?"

"Hn," Yutou affirmed, running loving fingers through the brunette's hair. His hand brushed a deep purple bruise and Seto winced, though he didn't shy away. He'd escaped nearly unharmed, with only a few bruises and bite-marks. He wiggled experimentally in Yutou's lap, delighted to realize he wasn't torn up as much inside, either. Maybe if he were good enough, Yutou wouldn't hurt him.

Gozaborou graced his adopted son with a rare smile. "I'm proud of you, Seto." Seto knew better than to look his father in the eyes, but he beamed, biting down on his lower lip to stop the smile. If Gozaborou saw it, he'd be angry, and Seto didn't want to ruin this moment for anything. Sitting in a warm office with his father and his...he shot a furtive glance at Yutou. What was he?

Master, Seto decided. It was what he'd been instructed to call the man, and it just seemed to fit. He was powerful and rough, wild and beautiful, always in complete control of everything, and Seto loved him for it. He was perfect, confident, strong, everything Seto wanted so badly to be. Maybe if he were like Master, Daddy would like him more.

Gozaborou never touched him. Not that Seto wanted him to, not in that way because after all he was his father, adopted or not. But Gozaborou took it to an extreme, recoiling in some measure of horror from the boy if he so much as brushed against him in a hallway. He never laid a hand on Seto, never hit him, never comforted him, never even grabbed him to get his attention. He'd watched his father with Mokuba, smiling, laughing, picking the boy up and whirling him around, and it wrenched at his heart, because he knew he'd never be good enough for that.

The touch Seto craved wasn't sexual; he had plenty of that from Master and his friends. No, he wanted love. The sort of unconscious affection Gozaborou had for Mokuba. Seto had asked him about it once, and Gozaborou's reply had been simple; Seto was dirty, Mokuba was not. It didn't seem quite fair, since Seto was only dirty to please his father, but who was he to argue?

"Who's daddy's little whore?" Gozaborou asked, kneeling down in front of him and ruffling his hair affectionately. Seto's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but smile. Daddy had touched him for the first time in five years, Daddy didn't hate him, he was proud of him!

"I am," he whispered happily. "I am."

"I am."

Passersby cast bewildered glances at the man kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his immaculately groomed hands as if they held the answer to life itself. But none of them dared ask what was wrong; it was New York, after all, and strange, possibly unstable people were just one of the city's quirky little charms.

Seto blinked up at the buildings, at the people crowding around him on the sidewalk, at the cars rushing past. Where was he? The cars were on the wrong side of the road, and he couldn't understand a word of what the people around him were saying. He got to his feet shakily, wondering why they didn't support him very well.

"Excuse me," he asked politely, tugging on the sleeve of a passing woman. "I think I'm lost. Could you tell me how to get to the Kaiba Corporation building?"

The woman cast him an irritated glance and jerked her arm free, snapping something that Seto couldn't make out. He couldn't speak English very well, why didn't she just speak plain Japanese? Daddy had always hated how slowly Seto picked up languages, especially when he was virtually a genius at everything else.

But where was Daddy? Set had never been allowed on the streets before by himself, not without at least two bodyguards, and he felt so vulnerable out here all alone. This wasn't the first time it had happened, wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there, and no way to get home.

"Daddy," he whimpered, curling up against a spray-painted wall. Daddy had to be looking for him; if he waited long enough someone would find him. Maybe Master? Seto glanced at his watch. He was late for their appointment already.

oooooooooOOOOOOooooooooo

Someone was looking for him, but it wasn't his father, and it wasn't Yutou. Jonouchi had cleaned himself off as quickly as possible, thrown some clothes on, not even paying attention to what he looked like—Seto was gone, what did it matter?—and he was currently engaged in conversation with the limo driver, whose name he was fairly sure was Richard, wishing he'd paid attention in English class.

"Please, Seto's gone," he pleaded in Japanese. "Kaiba. Kaiba's out there alone, and I have t' find him."

"I'm sorry," the driver said in English. "I don't speak Japanese."

"And I don' speak English!" Jou pounded a fist against the wall of the garage in fury. He was sure that he could get Richard to take him someplace, but how was he supposed to explain that he needed to search for Seto?

Wait, Ryou was half-British. He'd lived in England before he'd moved to Japan. If he could get him on the cell phone... "Wait a minute," he said, holding up one finger, a universal sign that the driver understood. He dialed the Bakura household as quickly as possible with trembling fingers, and was greeted by a furious growl.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Bakura? It's Jou. I need t' talk t' Ryou. Please."

"You have a way of calling at an incredibly bad time," Bakura snarled, and Jou noted for the first time that he sounded out of breath.

"Eh? Oh, sorry. It's an emergency though, it'll jus' take a minute."

"Bakura? Who is it?" A second later Ryou's gentle voice washed over Jou. "Hello?"

"Ryou," Jou sobbed in relief. "I need your help."

"Sure, what is it?"

"You speak English, right?"

"Yes."

"I need you t' translate fer me. Seto ran away dis morning, and I have t' go look fer him, but his limo driver doesn' speak Japanese."

"Sure." Good old Ryou, always eager to help, never asking questions. Jonouchi was going to buy him something really, really expensive as soon as he got back to Japan.

"Okay, can you tell him dat Kaiba's gone and dat we need t' find him as soon as possible?"

"Of course." Jou handed the phone to the bewildered driver, who took it and put it to his ear. "Hello, my name is Ryou. I'm a friend of Jonouchi's, and I'll translate for him."

"Thank God," Richard said. "The poor boy's in tears, and I haven't been able to figure out what's wrong with him. I'll put you on speakerphone in the limo, is that okay?"

"Sure," Ryou said, settling himself in for the long haul. Once they were settled in the car, he spoke again. "Now, Jonouchi's been trying to tell you that Mr. Kaiba's gone missing."

"Missing?"

"He ran away this morning and Jou needs you to drive around so you can look for him."

"Won't he come back on his own?" Ryou relayed the question to Jonouchi.

"He says that he thinks Mr. Kaiba is having another attack and that he won't know where he is."

"Damn," Richard growled as he pulled the limo out of the garage. "Another one? We could be searching for days."

"What does he mean?" Jou asked when Ryou translated.

"Mr. Kaiba went missing around this time last year, back when I still worked for him in Japan. His entire staff was out searching for him, but no one had any idea where he'd gone. Mokuba was so worried that he didn't sleep the entire time, but we couldn't find him. Mr. Kaiba showed up on the company doorstep three days later, completely filthy, his clothes torn, and with no memory of where he'd been. It must be aggravating to a genius, being unable to figure out the holes in his own mind."

"I can imagine," Jou muttered to himself.

Jou wasn't sure how long they'd been driving, with him giving directions through Ryou, but he was sure he was running up a hell of a cell phone bill. He didn't care; as long as he got Seto back, nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Seto was hungry, cold and scared. It was nearly dark, and he hadn't moved from his position near the wall. The flow of human traffic hadn't waned any, just melded from business suits to clubbing outfits. A few women had thrown suggestive comments at him, invitations to share their beds, and as much as he would have liked to be warm, he knew Master would be angry if he went home with someone without permission. So he just whimpered and buried his face in his knees, praying that they'd leave him alone. They'd all snorted in disgust at him and stalked away, wobbling unsteadily on their stiletto heels.

He couldn't remember a time he'd been more miserable. The early February weather was frigid, and he was only wearing a light jacket. He curled up, tucking his hands behind his knees in an effort to keep them from freezing. A kindly-looking old Asian woman walking her schnauzer and carrying a bag of groceries paused in front of him, kneeling down to look the man in the face. "Poor dear," she said sympathetically, patting his arm. "You look half-dead." The dog sniffed at Seto cautiously and licked his hand. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Seto could only stare at her. "I'm very sorry, I don't understand English," he said.

"You speak Japanese?" She seemed startled by that. Seto nodded; finally someone he could understand.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" she asked as the dog huddled near Seto, its little body radiating a comforting warmth.

"I'm waiting for my daddy."

She blinked, thrown by such a childish reference from a man who looked to be in his early twenties. Perhaps he was mentally handicapped, and he'd just wandered off. "What's your name, dear?"

"Kaiba Seto."

Kaiba Seto? The name struck a chord of familiarity with her, but she dismissed it. "My name is Tsuji Emiko. I have an apartment not far from here; you can warm up there, if you'd like, Kaiba-kun."

He smiled at her, and she felt her heart melt; it had been so long since she'd had a child to take care of! And his face was so innocent, so trusting. "Thank you very much, obaa-san." (grandmother)

She helped him to his feet and took his hand. "Would you mind carrying the groceries? I'm afraid my back isn't what it used to be."

"Sure." He took the bag, leaving her with only the leash to hold and they headed down the street.

ooooooOOOOOooooo

Five minutes later, the limo passed an old woman walking with a young brunette and a small black dog. Jou did a double-take, wondering if the brunette could possibly be Seto. No, Seto hated dogs (and old people, Jou was fairly certain). Not to mention, carrying an old lady's groceries home was a very un-Seto-like thing to do.

oooooOOOOOooooo

"Where are you from, Seto-chan?" Emiko asked, handing the shivering boy a cup of tea. He accepted it with a grateful smile, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I'm from Domino," he said. "How about you?"

"Tokyo, originally," Emiko answered, walking stiffly to the kitchenette to stir the soup. It was a small apartment, only three rooms, with the living room, kitchen and dining area practically on top of each other. The other two rooms were the bedroom and bathroom, both only large enough to accommodate one person, but Seto could sleep on the couch if it came to that. "Why were you out on the streets? New York is a dangerous place for someone as handsome as you."

"New York? We're in New York?"

"Yes, dear, where'd you think we were?"

"I..." Seto shook his head, bewildered. How had he gotten to America? Why? "I don't know..."

Poor thing, he looked so confused. He didn't seem handicapped, though, just very childlike. He spoke perfectly, he was smart, he seemed completely normal. Except, of course, for the fact that he had the mental age of a child and the body of an adult.

His shoulders were shaking, Emiko realized, and she went to comfort him, drying her hands on her apron. Silent tears streamed down his face and he was curled up again, sobbing dismally into his knees. She rubbed his back reassuringly. "There, there, it's alright. We'll find your daddy, Seto-chan."

"No, i-it's n-not that," he hiccupped. "I'm a-already sosososo l-late for my m-meeting with Master, he's going to be so angry with me..."

"Master?" Emiko echoed. "What are you talking about?"

"K-Kamimura Yutou," Seto sniffled. "I-I was supposed t-to meet him this morning, b-but I woke up on the street, a-and he's going to be mad, and D-daddy's going to be mad, and—"

"Kamimura Yutou?" Emiko echoed. "Now what does a little thing like you want with him?"

"You know him?" Seto's eyes glimmered with faint hope."

"Of course I know him, he's my late husband's employer. He lives down the block."

"He does?" Seto leapt up. "Take me to him, please obaa-san! I have to see him!"

She clucked her tongue at him scoldingly. "Kamimura-sama will still be there after you eat. The soup's almost ready; I'll take you to him after dinner."

Seto grinned, the tears still streaking his face evidently forgotten. "Thank you so much, obaa-san!" He threw his arms around her chubby frame, hugging her for all he was worth.

"Oh, you," she said, teasingly smacking him with the ladle she held. "Go wash up for dinner. The bathroom's right over there."

Seto grinned and bounded off. He was going to see Master!

ooooooOOOOoooooo

Eleven o'clock came and went, and Richard had to go home. There was nothing else for Jou to do but go back to the hotel and wait. Wait and hope, pray, that Seto was safe, that nothing had happened to him, and that he'd find him tomorrow. It was nearly midnight now, and Jou's eyes were bleary with sleep. He rubbed them stubbornly, determined to stay awake, just in case Seto came back.

Where had he gone?

The tears were streaming down his tanned cheeks before he could stop them. He clasped a hand over his mouth, rocking back and forth and hugging his pillow. He missed Seto; he was worried and scared, and the worst part of all was that Seto hated him.

He was just like them. He'd taken advantage of a drunken Seto, ignoring every instinct inside him that screamed for him to stop. Seto had cried and screamed and why hadn't he taken any notice? Why hadn't he thought about what it would do to Seto? He'd wanted to help, Seto had to realize that. He'd fully intended for their first time to be gentle, to ease Seto back into being comfortable with sex, but a mixture of the alcohol and Seto's near-incoherent begging for Jou to do him harder, faster, had driven him to the drunken violence he'd sworn he'd never indulge in. He had enough experience with what alcohol could do to people with his father; he should have realized...

He'd wanted to make love to him, and he'd ended up fucking him. He thought Seto had enjoyed it, but...it appeared that he was wrong.

How on Earth could he make up for this?

He slammed his fist against the wall, wincing at the lance of pain that shot down his wrist. Blood flecked his skin where the rough plaster of the wall had torn at him and he cradled his wounded hand to his chest licking up the blood and waiting for the pain to ebb.

It did, finally, but the ache in his chest was still there, the guilt still sat like a rock in his stomach. He'd screwed up, and all he could do was hope that Seto let him fix it.

(A/N: Oookay, Seto's other personality has issues...you'll find out exactly what issues next chapter! Ja ne, minna-san!)