Chapter Twenty

AUGH! I got fanart! For the first time in my life, someone likes me enough to send me FANART! (glomps Rosalyn Angel) She sent me these sketches of Yutou and it made me so happy! I printed 'em out and stuck 'em up on my door. If anyone else loves me enough to draw fanart…I'll love you forever! Forever and ever!

Sooo...yeah. Happy Superbowl! (snorts) I hate football.

Bakura tried not to be jealous, he really did. But Ryou was happiest when he was taking care of someone, strange as that seemed. And, he had to admit, this…this Koto creature seemed far more feeble than even Yuugi in his younger days. He was afraid of everyone, of everything, Bakura included, which was why the tomb robber was trailing dismally after his lover rather than walking next to him. And it didn't help that every time the white-haired yami so much as glanced at him, Koto would squeak and duck his head, trying to hide his face in Ryou's shoulder, (which would have been amusing, since Koto was so much taller than Ryou) and Ryou would give his yami a sharp, reprimanding glare and a warning "not to scare Koto-chan."

"Damn it," Bakura hissed under his breath as they walked down the hallway. Yami gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and he, in true Bakura-esque fashion, jerked away, muttering "Ch. Idiot pharaoh."

"He's only trying to help. He's not mad at you, Bakura."

Bakura glared at Yami. "I know that." But his eyes strayed to where Ryou was walking hand-in-hand with Koto, who was softly talking to him, telling him a story and the look on Ryou's face was so enraptured, so entranced that Bakura clenched his fists in his pockets, growling without actually meaning to. "I mean, I'm his lover, right? This Koto thing is just a ten-year-old kid. There's no way Ryou actually—"

"Shame on you, Bakura," Yuugi said, eyes unusually sharp. "You know Ryou loves you. He's just a naturally selfless person."

"Yeah, yeah. I didn't ask for your opinion, pipsqueak." Translation: "Yes, I know. Thank you for your concern."

"He wants to help. That's all."

"Hey, minna-san!" Ryou waved at him from the end of the hallway, gesturing to a very innocent-looking door that matched every other one they'd passed. "This is the security room!"

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

"Feeling alright, pretty?"

Jou snapped at him, catching the very tips of Yutou's fingers between his teeth and biting down hard. Yutou made no move, simply stood there and let Jou gnaw at his hand until the blonde jerked his head away, feeling distinctly animal-like and rather ashamed. It was insane; Yutou had this presence, this way about him that made him seem so cool, so controlled, and it made Jou distinctly uncomfortable. "No."

"Why must you fight?" Yutou sounded sad almost, wistful, apologetic. "I truly don't want to hurt you. If you had just stayed away, if you'd left Kaiba alone, you wouldn't be in this mess. You'd both be better off."

" 'Scuse me if I don' think Seto bein' raped an' beaten' ev'ry night is 'better off!' Do you even care 'bout what you did t' him?"

"Care, yes. Regret, no. It was necessary."

"Bull," Jou snapped. "He was fourteen, Yutou! He was a kid! You ruined his life!"

"SHUT UP!" Yutou backhanded Jou across the face as hard as he could possibly manage and Jou yelped as the heavy signet ring split his lip. "I saved him! I did everything for him! His father…I didn't want his father to touch him!"

"So you did it for him?" Jou yelled, straining at the ropes that bound him to the bed, favouring his badly broken and now frighteningly swollen wrist. "Gozaborou couldn' a' been worse than you! Seto hates you! He's terrified of you! He has panic attacks if anyone so much as mentions you, he can' sleep, can' function. His mind created an alternate personality jus' so he could deal wit' what you did t' him! You did that, Kamimura! Not 'cause you care about him, not 'cause you love him! You're a perverted bastard an' you ruined a child's life!" His pretty face twisted in a fierce snarl and he was so caught up in his tirade he didn't notice Yutou pale, didn't care that the man staggered back as if Jou had hit him.

"You ruined my life!"

"I didn't! I saved you!" Rough arms grabbed him from behind, a hot mouth closed on his ear and those hands, those awful, disgusting hands were sliding past the waistband of his jeans, touching him, fondling him, and it was all he could do not to freeze like he had done so many times before. Instead he shoved the owner of those hands away, fury boiling in his veins, fury that threatened to consume him where he stood, eat him alive and leave nothing but an empty shell fueled by rage and the silver-sharp edge of madness.

"Liar."

"I'm the only one that loves you, Yutou. You know that." Open arms, a mockery of compassion and a sickeningly sympathetic smile, as if he knew Yutou was only playing, only being coy, and he was willing to. "I love you."

"Liar." It was barely a whisper, more a choked sob, because it went against everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever learned—he as violating his very rules of survival, and there was no guarantee that he'd come out alive this time. He was scared, so scared, and he didn't want to do this, he wanted to curl up in a corner and hide his face until it was over…

Death, though, death would be better than this! Better than the suffering. God, he couldn't do this any more, couldn't numb the pain and hide it with a smile, all to protect someone he hated more than anything. He couldn't pretend everything was okay anymore; his grades were…well, slipping was too kind a word, they were crashing…he couldn't pay attention to anything, he was tired all the time, he ached every moment he was awake, and even when he slept the nightmares came to play with his rapidly-failing sanity. He wanted death, just so he could rest and not have to think, to act, to hurt…He'd tried it too, slit his wrists and let them bleed until his head fell back and he writhed in the ecstasy of agony as his life slipped away from him, but he couldn't even do that right, he was so pathetic…

"I've always looked out for you. I've never let anyone touch you."

"You wanted me all to yourself."

"I love you."

"Stop it." And then he hands were back, sliding across his shoulders, easing his shirt off of him; this was the last time, the last time anyone would make the mistake of trying to control him.

A slow, sick grin wound across Yutou's handsome features as, for the first time in his life, he reached out to embrace his father. The elder man stiffened, obviously surprised but he warmed to the touch quickly, stroking his son's hair with callused, rough fingers. Yutou rested his head on his father's shoulder, one hand clenching his shirt in a show of affection, the other slowly sliding the knife out of his side pocket.

It wasn't much, only a small, half-dull blade he'd grabbed from the kitchen counter and hidden in his baggy jeans when he'd heard the door open. Oh, but it was enough. It would have to be enough.

"I love you, Daddy."

His father hadn't even seen it coming.

"This conversation is over." Yutou stalked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the walls trembled. Jou blinked; that had been somewhat unexpected. For a moment, just for a moment Yutou had looked so terrified, so frightened of whatever had been going on in his head at the time…he'd always been languorous, almost sleepy in his banter, almost as if Jou wasn't even worth getting worked up over. He'd always had that mocking, smirking expression on his face, but now…

His face had been a veritable mask, his eyes colder than ice and harder than steel. He'd been genuinely angry about something—the question was, what? He didn't seem to regret what he'd done to Seto, so Jou's comments couldn't have set him off that badly…

Jou shook his head and wondered why he was spending so much time trying to work out the mind of a madman. He shrugged and began working at his bonds, slowly tugging them in an effort to free himself.

It was going to take a loooooong time.

oooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo

"Yutou has him? Again? Damn, this guy doesn't give up, does he?" Honda ran a frustrated hand through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "Any clue where he is?" (Yes, Honda has shaggy hair now. Think Squall Leonheart. He's too vital a character to be ugly. O.O That wasn't too shallow)

Otogi tapped delicately at the keyboard, green eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristically serious glare. Windows opened and closed at a rate so fast it made Mokuba's head spin, but Otogi seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. "It's a pity Seto—er, Koto's in no condition to help me here—it'd go a lot faster if I had someone that knew the system."

Koto dropped his head. "I'm sorry."

"Eh?" Otogi glanced up from the screen. "Nah, don't worry about it," he said with a reassuring smile and a flip of his hand. "I may not be as smart as Seto, but I'm up there. I'll figure it out."

"Liar," Mokuba said affectionately, burying his face in Otogi's hair. "You're a genius and you know it." Otogi grinned and went back to the computer.

Mokuba watched Koto out of the corner of his eye, noting the nervous way he clenched Ryou's hand, the way he played with his hair, the uneasy glances he shot at everyone when he thought they weren't looking. He was so…not Seto. It was disturbing, to say the least, to see that guileless innocence on his elder brother's face, to watch those large, sad eyes shift away from his gaze. Seto had never been like that; he would have stared Mokuba down and demanded to know why he was watching him, not averted his face and blushed, like Koto did now.

Seto had never told him about Koto. He'd never told him about anything, not up until a few weeks ago, and Mokuba wasn't upset about that. He could appreciate his brother's embarrassment, humiliation at what had happened to him, and he wasn't at all angry that he'd been kept in the dark. It stung though, that even during his confession Seto had never once mentioned another personality, never!

Why…?

"Hey, I got it!" Mokuba's attention snapped back to his lover, who had pulled up a black-and-white video file, presumably from one of the security cameras. "This was taken…half an hour ago."

"Shut up! Stop struggling!"

Yutou had Jou thrown over his shoulder, arm wrapped around the backs of the blonde's thighs, and the younger man was pounding with one arm on Yutou's back, screaming obscenities. "Lemme go! Get the hell offa me, you perv!"

"Don't think so, pretty." Yutou threw Jou to the ground quite abruptly and the blonde yelped, clutching at his arm. Was something wrong with it? He clutched it to his chest and winced, as if he were in pain. Yutou kicked him in the stomach and Jou collapsed, doubling over in an attempt to protect himself from the assault. "You're mine now. I can do whatever I want with you."

"Like hell," Jougasped. "I don't belong to anyone, least of all a psycho like you!" He staggered to his feet, still holding his injured arm close to his chest. "I'll admit, I don' know a damn thing about you. I don' know why you are the way you are. But this isn' gonna help anything. Do you think Seto'll come runnin' back t' you if you kidnap me?"

"He loves you."

"He'll kill you."

"Possibly." Yutou grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked Jou's head back. The blonde hissed in pain and spat in his face, wrenching his head away from Yutou's grasp. "You talk too much. Pretty little dolls like you should be seen and not heard." And then, practically before Jou could even register that he'd moved, Yutou's hand had caught him hard across the temple and he sagged into Yutou's waiting arms. "Much better." He looked straight at the camera then, his face twisting into a smile that left his eyes cold and challenging. "You're it, Seto-kun. Come and get me."

"That bastard," Yuugi snarled, and even Yami gave the little hikari a shocked look. "This is a game to him. He's playing with Jou, playing with Kaiba!" Yuugi tugged insistently at Koto's sleeve and the brunette shrunk back, as if he were afraid Yuugi was going to hit him. "Where does he live, Koto?"

"I don't know," Koto whimpered. "Why ask me?"

"You're in love with him," Yuugi snapped, snatching hold of Koto's tie and forcing Koto to his eye level. Yami made a move as if to pull Yuugi away, but the hikari glared at his lover, violet eyes fierce and furious. "Don't, Yami."

"Hikari—"

"Where is he?" Yuugi gave Koto a violent shake, all but baring his teeth. "I don't care if you're Kaiba, Koto, or George-fucking-Washington, you know where he's keeping my best friend and you're going to help us get him back!" Yami did pull Yuugi back this time and he didn't fight, simply continued glowering at Koto from his lover's embrace.

"I'm sorry," Koto whispered, bowing his head. "I never meant to involve angel in this." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and Yuugi's eyes softened with sympathy; he could never stay mad very long, Yami knew. "I tried to fix it," he mumbled. "I told Master—I told him he had to leave. I told him it…it didn't matter if I loved him. It wasn't fair to mou hitori no boku. I tried to make everything alright." Blue eyes pleaded with Yuugi's apologetic purple ones. "I'm sorry about what happened to angel."

"It's alright," Ryou said, patting Koto's shoulder. "No one here blames you."

"Not so sure about that," Bakura said casually. "After all, you're the one that landed Kaiba in the hospital in the first place, aren't you? And if I had to hazard a guess as to who ran to Yutou in New York, I'd say it was you."

"Yami!" Ryou whirled on his lover. "You're not helping anything."

"Neither are you," Bakura snapped. "Coddling him like he'll break if you let him go. You're not doing him any good, letting him wallow in his own self-pity."

"Stop it," Ryou hissed. "It's not Koto's fault all of this happened."

"Then whose, hikari? If he really wants to make this right, let him fix something himself. Let him lead us to Yutou." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. "You weren't afraid to be tough with me, hikari, why let this brat walk all over you?"

Ryou looked torn for a moment, glancing between Bakura and Koto. Bakura was right, he knew he was right, but some protective instinct in him wanted to save poor little Koto from himself, keep him from getting hurt. He sighed and shook his head finally, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "Bakura's right," he admitted. "You have to do this yourself, Koto-chan. You can't keep running away."

"I know." Koto buried his face in his hands. "I'll take you to him."

oooooooOOOOOOOOooooooooo

"Yutou!"

Yutou growled and turned the page of his book, scanning the words and not really understanding any of them. Oh, this kid was a pain in the ass, it had better be worth everything he was going through. Seto had never been this demanding, this damn loud. If he didn't shut up soon, Yutou was going to kill him, just to get some peace and quiet.

"Yutou!"

"Damn it!" Yutou snapped his book shut and hurled it to the floor. Oh yes, murder was looking better and better with every passing moment. "What the fuck do you want? I've already fed you, gotten you water, let you out to go to the bathroom, what else can you possibly need?" He was more work than a freakin' puppy, and at least puppies were cute and fuzzy. Jou was anything but.

"I'm bored!" Jou called cheerfully. "C'mere an' talk t' me!"

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

Jou grinned; this was fun. If Yutou had expected a whimpering, servile captive, he was going to be sadly disappointed. Jou fully intended to drive Yutou crazier than he already was, and damned if he didn't enjoy it! He was Jonouchi Katsuya, one of the most irritating forces in existence, and by the time he was done, Yutou would be begging him to leave.

To his surprise, however, Yutou opened the door and stepped inside. Jou cocked his head to the side and blinked—he'd expected to spend at least another ten minutes calling for him until the elder man actually complied, but here he was.

"What do you want?" Yutou snarled crankily. "I was trying to read."

"I told you," Jou pouted. "I'm bored." He wiggled in his bonds hopefully, giving the elder blonde as adorable of a look as he could muster. "An' my arm really hurts. How 'bout lettin' me go?"

Yutou stared at him for a moment as if he were considering it. Jou's arm did look rather bad, he rationalized, and he didn't want to permanently damage the blonde. He heaved a sigh that was more like a growl, really, and began undoing the knots of Jou's restraints, careful not to accidentally jar the broken wrist. "I'm going to clean this up," he told him firmly (as if Jou would argue!). "I don't want it getting infected."

"Awfully nice of you," Jou said as he massaged the wrist tenderly, forcing the blood back into circulation. "An' here I had you pegged for a complete asshole."

Yutou gave him a quick, wry smile as he opened the first-aid kit. "You weren't far off, pretty." He drew out bandages and what could have been a splint and gestured for Jou to hold out his arm.

"Yeah, right," Jou said. "I'm not a complete moron."

"Only half," Yutou quipped with a rare humour. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Um, hello?" Jou waved at his broken arm. "I'm pretty sure you did this. Give me the bandages. I'll do it myself."

Yutou relinquished the first-aid kit with a helpless shrug. "Do what you want." He watched in some measure of amusement as Jou wrestled with the bandages before he pried them out of the younger man's grip. "This is getting nowhere. Calm down, I'm not going to do anything."

"Yeah," Jou said sardonically, watching Yutou bandage his arm nervously. "Because I have every reason t' believe a psychotic maniac who raped my lover and kidnapped me twice. Suuure." Yutou's fingers jerked on the bandage, and Jou knew something he'd said had hit home.

"I'm not a psychotic maniac," Yutou protested, but it was a pitiful, frantic protest, hardly more than a strangled whisper. He tied the bandage off firmly, tugging the ends a bit harder than was absolutely necessary, and Jou gasped as a shock of pain crawled up his arm, nipping at flesh and cutting deep into bone. Oh God, did it hurt. He whimpered and curled up, clutching the arm to his chest and trying as hard as he possibly could not to cry. He'd been in fights before, he'd broken bones before…this was nothing…nothing…

"Did I hurt you?" It took Jou a second to register, to realize that it was Yutou speaking to him feigning sympathy with that same damn smirk on his face—he knew now where Seto had learned it from. Soft fingers grazed his cheek and Jou cringed away. He didn't want those hands touching him, he didn't want Yutou anywhere near him, the bastard.

"Yes," Jou hissed, waiting, praying for the throbbing to subside so he could talk again, because the agony fogged so much of his brain that it was hard to think, let alone choke out anything more than a feeble affirmative.

"Hn." It was a noncommittal reply, but had Jou's motor skills been functioning, he'd have recognized the sultry tone, dark with shameless lust. It only clicked when Yutou's lips sought his, insistent and demanding, one hand curling into his hair, effectively immobilizing his head.

Jou thrashed—none of that startled 'I didn't realizewho it was' shit for him. He was very aware, very fucking aware that Yutou had just kissed him and he didn't like it. Almost without him even telling it to, his good hand had reached out and grabbed Yutou by the throat, shoving him back against the wall. "Oh, hell no," Jou snarled. "I'm not Seto. I'm not letting you do this to me."

Yutou blinked, chest heaving as he struggled for air. He wasn't used to fighting, not this much anyways. And Jou…Jou wasn't letting go. Yutou couldn't breathe. He couldn't…oh God, everything was shutting down. His vision blurred, ran together like water thrown on a still-wet painting as he struggled weakly, fingers scrabbling at Jou's unrelenting grip. Was it his imagination, or were those fingers tightening? He was lightheaded already and he could do no more than arch pitifully away from Jou, tugging weakly at the younger man's grip. "Please," he gasped. "Don't…want…to…die…"

"Tch," Jou growled, dropping Yutou. The elder man fell to the bed with a grateful wheeze as air, sweet, glorious air rushed back into his lungs. "Wasn' gonna kill you."

"I couldn't breathe," Yutou panted. "What the hell were you going to do, then?"

"I wanted you off a' me. I'm not lettin' you do that t'me. I'm not a kid, Yutou; you're gonna have a hell of a time tryin' t' break me."

"I don't want you broken. I don't give a fuck about you." The arrogant tone was back, the fierce glare had returned, and the only sign of his former panic was the way he rubbed his throat as if trying to coax the pain away. "I never would have come after you if you hadn't taken him away."

"Taken 'im away? Who the hell're you kidding? If it wasn' me, it woulda been someone else. It's been seven years, Yutou. I'd say there's a pretty good reason he never called, y'know? Maybe this didn' quite get through t'you: you raped 'im. As in fuckin' 'im without permission. Did you think that was turn-on for 'im or somethin'? When they cry, that's generally a bad sign."

"Shut up." It was pitiful, and Jou barely heard him. He was on a roll now—he wanted Yutou to realize what he'd done. He wanted him to be sorry, damnit!

"Why'd you do it, Yutou? You like little boys?"

"He was fourteen."

"And? He was still a kid. Don' try t' justify it by sayin' he was old enough to make his own decisions. He didn' decide t' sleep wit' you. From what I hear, you didn' give 'im much choice."

"Shut up."

"Y'know, somethin' else I've been wonderin'. Why'd you have other people sleep wit' 'im? You seem like the possessive type t' me. Didn' that bother you?"

"It was…Gozaborou's decision." Yutou was fairly shaking with rage, clenching his fists so hard that his short, sharp nails drew blood, but…he was scared. Underneath the anger there was a fine tremor of fear, something he hadn't felt in God only knew how long. He was scared of this…this kid, this badly-bred, foul-mouthed mutt. A kid shorter than him, skinnier, and twelve years younger. What was wrong with him? "He thought I was…I was getting too attached."

"And you were," Jou said, a sneer marring his pretty face. "That's why you came after 'im, isn' it? You're more than attached, you're obsessed. You're in love wit'—"

"Don't," Yutou rasped, eyes narrowed to near slits. His fingers clenched the fabric of his pants so tightly that there were sure to be permanent wrinkles, and his shoulders were hunched around his ears. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, the tendons in his neck standing out like whipcords, and Jou quailed a bit—what was it with crazy people? They were all scary.

"Don't you dare try to judge what I did. You're a kid, how could you possibly—"

"I'm twenty-three," Jou snapped. "Hardly a kid. An' I don' fuckin' care what happened t' you. It doesn' matter. All I know is that you screwed up someone I love, someone that loves me. An' I'm not gonna let you anywhere near him again."

The kid had no idea what he was doing. He couldn't have, he barely knew Yutou. But Yutou himself…oh yes, he understood. He recognized the onslaught of anger, the fire burning in his stomach, the way he quivered with furious passion (and not the good kind, either; he was fucking pissed). He'd only been like this a very few times in his life and…every time things had gone badly to say the least.

Loved him? Seto loved him? He couldn't have that. Seto was his, he belonged to him, mind, body and soul. If Yutou couldn't have his heart, his love, his compassion…well, he'd be damned if this mutt got it. He was going to enjoy ripping that smirk off his angelic face, yes he was. We'll see how pretty Seto thinks you are after I'm done with you.

Yutou laughed, and it was the most terrifying sound Jou had ever heard.