Chapter Twenty-One

This was the hardest chapter I've written, but I know where I'm going with the story now. I'm sorry it took so long to update...gah. Gomen nasai, minna-san!

Nothing hurt anymore.

In fact, he couldn't feel anything. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, bent them backward until the nails touched the back of his hand. Nothing, not even a twinge, no indication that he'd nearly broken his own hand. It should have bothered him more, he supposed. It certainly couldn't be a good thing, but, well, wasn't this what he wanted? He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to be in pain.

And he wasn't. He was…well, the only word he could come up with was serene. He was so calm, so collected, so…it was almost surreal, the complete absence of everything that made him…him.

It wasn't that he'd forgotten. No, he remembered Yutou perfectly, right down to the mole in the crook of his elbow, but the images held no fear for him anymore, no terror. It concerned him, but it was a distant, cold sort of concern, the kind one would feel when a favourite character on a TV drama is injured. Nothing seemed quite real. Why would that be?

He glanced around him, noting the stark white walls, cold , artificial light beaming down from the ceiling, the sparse furniture, the bleak tile floors. Where was he? What had happened? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered…what…yes, it had been Honda. He'd been begging Honda, pleading with him for help, help to find…something. What, he wasn't entirely sure, but it had to be important, because Kaiba Seto didn't beg.

What had he been searching for? He had no idea, but he still had this need, this drive to find it, as if he were forgetting something vital, something that…well, now he was just giving himself a headache. Why couldn't he remember?

"Hello?" he tried, glancing around the room. It was eerie, to be sure, all white and cold and impersonal.

"Sound familiar, little one?"

Normally, that would have scared the hell out of him. Especially since there was most definitely no one in the room with him, there was…nothing. Even he…it seemed as if the room could consume him, drain him of his colour, his life, his very existence until he blended in, a ghost in the snow, a specter against pure white walls watching and waiting in a room where nothing ever happened.

Where had that come from? Something was talking to him, and not in his head, either, and here he was rambling on about ghosts and specters and whatnot. But…what made him so sure he wasn't a ghost? Ghosts didn't feel, right? He could have died, this could be…be what? He wasn't sure if he believed in heaven and hell or reincarnation or anything at all. Maybe when people died they all wound up like this, dead and cold in a white, white room with echoes of themselves bouncing around in their skulls.

"I want to go home," he said, and it was only when the words were out of his mouth, only when they reverberated off the empty walls that he realized what he'd said. He did want to go home, but why? What was there for him? He didn't spend enough time in it to have any good memories there, even the night he'd spent with Jou had been in some hotel room halfway across the world.

How cheap that sounded. A hotel room and bottle of wine…add in a needy pup and an emotionally disturbed CEO, and what do you get? Hell, pure, utter hell. No, that wasn't quite right. Shamed lust and a memory that came back to haunt him, that was all. He thought maybe he'd wanted it, but he'd been so wasted it was hard to think much of anything.

It wasn't how he'd wanted their first time together to be. He wanted to be ready, he wanted to…to really know if what he felt for Jou was love or desperation. He'd never had anyone care quite so much, was it possible he was just attached to someone who'd shown him sympathy? Was he even capable of loving?

And, if he wasn't, what made him human? It wasn't intelligence, because even computers have calculated reasoning. Not emotion, those were too out of control to be normal. What made him alive? Was he even alive? Not in the literal sense of the word; his heart beat and he still needed oxygen, so that was practically a given. But he didn't live for anything. He didn't want to live for anything, he just…

He didn't know what he wanted.

"Oh, little one. So confused, so broken."

"I'm not broken," he muttered automatically, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't whole, that much he knew. Somehow, something had gotten past his barriers, pounded at them enough to leave a fine spider's web of cracks that would shatter with the faintest touch. And he'd worked so hard at it, he'd practiced his glare in the bathroom mirror, he'd practiced being strong. Look at him now, scared and whimpering and crying everywhere…he didn't know why Yutou would even want him back, never mind Jonouchi.

Yutou had taught him so well, he'd put so much work into him, and…he'd failed. He couldn't even pretend anymore, everything that made him strong, everything that made him Seto was gone. He wasn't Seto anymore, and he'd never been Kaiba. He was just a nameless, restless spirit. A ghost. Something to pity.

Jou had told him, told him he didn't pity him, but…Seto couldn't believe that. He wanted to, oh yes, but it just didn't make sense. Jou had seen the worst side of him, the scared, pitiful, pathetic side of him, why else would he keep coming back? It didn't make sense. He didn't want sex, didn't feel sorry for him…he had to be lying on one count, at least.

Seto hated being so dependent on Jou, he didn't want to have to count on another human being for happiness. Humans were unreliable, always-changing, and what would happen to him when Jou moved on, when he realized he could do better? Jou had his own problems, he needed someone who could help him, and Seto was too screwed up to even begin to attempt that. He couldn't help anyone. All he did was carry on the Kaiba tradition, destroying lives and hurting people. He hadn't grown up to be a decent human being. He was almost as bad as Yutou—he couldn't stop thinking about how he

He might as well be dead.

Jou couldn't love him, he couldn't love Jou, Yutou couldn't want him, Mokuba couldn't stand him, and Seto was done.

"I want to sleep."

"Do you?"

"Forever," he said, clenching his fists, a fine tremor running through his body at the finality of his own words. "I don't want to wake up anymore."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. No more pain, I just…I want it to end."

Warm arms wrapped around him and he was being pressed to a firm, muscular chest the he couldn't see. Fingers stroked his hair and Seto's eyes dropped half-closed as he curled into the gentle touch. It was strange, embracing something that wasn't really there, but…it was right, somehow. His eyes slid closed as those arms welcomed him, held him, kept him safe. He was so tired…so very tired, and this body was so comfortable, he was drowning in it, sinking past sternum and ribcage until he nestled inside the voice's chest, safe and protected and happy. Nothing but the rhythmic thump of his own heart, lulling him to sleep.

Slender fingers pressed to sun-bronzed skin and white teeth glittered in a half-smile. "Sleep, little one. It's over."

Over…yes, it was over…he didn't hurt anymore…he wasn't scared…

Seto was gone.

oooooooooOOOooooooooo

"Can it be done?"

"I don't know, it worked with Marik…I suppose it's along the same lines? Same Item, anyways, you do know how to work it…"

"What're you two talking about?"

Yuugi jumped guiltily, whirling around to face Otogi. He and Yami had been huddled in the back of Mokuba's limo, deep in conversation. "Nothing," he stammered. Otogi smirked; Yuugi was the worst liar in the world.

Yami, for his part, kept a wonderful poker face. "Nothing that concerns you, anyways," he said, looping an arm around his hikari's waist and tugging the smaller boy backwards into his lap. Yuugi squeaked and blushed, but Yami buried his nose in his hikari's hair and stared coolly at Otogi until the black-haired man snorted and turned away.

"Stubborn," was all he said.

"Damn right." Yami grinned at the back of Otogi's head and went back to plotting with his lover. "I don't know, koi, Seth was never very cooperative when I knew him…taking him away may do more harm than good."

"But he could protect them."

"He's half of Seto, the same way you're half of me. If we let him out, let him be conscious, Seto will fall in love with him, and I don't know if there'll be room for Jou. I don't want to manipulate Seto's feelings like that, not while he's so fragile."

"Do you mean…if I'd never put the Puzzle together, if Ryou had never gotten the Ring, if Marik hadn't killed Malik's father and stolen the Rod…do you mean we could have loved someone else? That the only reason we've fallen in love with you and Bakura and Marik is because you're our yamis?"

"Do you resent that?" Yami asked quietly, and Yuugi's small fists clenched on his lap when he realized he'd wounded the Pharaoh. "Do you resent that I denied you the chance to love?"

"Idiot," Yuugi said fondly. "You didn't deny me anything. Don't think like that." He punched his yami on the shoulder. "I love you, moron."

Yami sighed dramatically. "So abusive," he complained, rubbing the afflicted shoulder.

"Shut up. You know you like it."

"Something I've been thinking about," Otogi said, nudging Mokuba while Yuugi and Yami bickered playfully in the back seat. "Don't you think it's odd that Seto's not here? I mean, Jou's missing, Seto doesn't seem like the type to just vanish when something like that happens. He loves him, right?"

"Yeah," Mokuba agreed, staring at the sleeping Koto, curled up close to Ryou while the white-haired hikari absently stroked his hair and chatted with his yami. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense to me, either. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Poor thing, Otogi thought, watching him bite his lip nervously and toy with a lock of jet-black hair. He loved his brother so much, he was so worried…Otogi leaned his head on Mokuba's shoulder and traced spirals over the younger boy's stomach. "He'll be alright, Mokuba. He's lived through worse than this."

"I hope so."

"We… ano…minna-san?" Koto was awake now, clasping his hands in front of his chest and glancing around at all of them nervously. "We're here."

It was tense, walking into that apartment building. Everyone except Honda was clutching onto someone else, consciously or not; Mokuba was nuzzled into Otogi's chest, Yuugi had a death grip on Yami's hand (enough to make the Pharaoh wince), Ryou held Bakura's coat sleeve in one hand and Koto's hand in the other. They were more connected now that they ever had been. Yes, they'd all had their differences in the past, yes some of them had tried to kill each other more than a few times, but now…now they were together to save Jonouchi.

No one wanted to think about what lay ahead. They all knew what Yutou was capable of—hell, Koto still bore the scars on his stomach. Jou could be hurt, Yutou could have raped him…he could be dead for all they knew. And yet they trudged on; Jou needed them, they weren't going to abandon him.

Not now.

ooooooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo

Jou couldn't think. He couldn't breathe, he was sure a rib or two were poking into his lungs. He hurt, he hurt all over, so badly…Yutou was insane, absolutely crazy…there was no other explanation. Not that Jou had ever doubted it, but sometimes he was so normal, so…human. He was brilliant in his charade, the best actor Jou had ever met—and in his dysfunctional circle of friends, that was saying something. Even Bakura's portrayal of Ryou hadn't been this good.

He had started to whimper at some point, but as to when he wasn't entirely sure. He'd always prided himself on his ability to withstand pain; he'd been electrocuted, punched, kicked, had his head slammed into brick walls, had beer bottles broken over his skull, and he'd never once complained. Back in his gang days, he'd once walked around for a month with a broken ankle before he'd given into Honda's nagging enough to go to the hospital. But this, this was beyond pain. Beyond the limits of anything a human could stand, and had Jou been anyone else, he would have been screaming until his throat was raw.

His shoulder was out of place, and it had kind of gone numb about half an hour ago. He was sure, though, if he moved again it would burst back into flame and he didn't want to cry in front of this madman, he couldn't cry in front of him. His torso was purple, literally covered in bruises and more than a few of Yutou's blows had broken skin. Every breath was torture and he hoped to God that Yutou hadn't damaged any internal organs. Yutou had torn off the splint he'd so carefully applied and retied the ropes so that they crushed the broken bones against each other and Jou was more trapped than he'd ever been, a prisoner to his own agony. Any movement at all would hurt, he knew it would, and he lay as still as he could, breathing shallowly while he watched the man sitting on his chest warily through half-lidded eyes.

Yutou smirked when he saw Jou's gaze on him. He was straddling the blonde's stomach, not really doing anything, just sitting there watching Jou try to breathe and fight back tears. He clenched a cigarette between his teeth and every so often he would exhale a puff of smoke and flick away ashes. "Something wrong?"

Jou whined in response—he'd meant it to be a sound, really he had. He'd meant to swear at Yutou, to tell him what a sick bastard he was, but somehow it hadn't come out quite right. Yutou's grin widened.

"Have I broken you so soon, kitten? You've held out longer than I thought you would, you know." He trailed lazy fingertips over the abrasions on Jou's stomach and Jou winced, then regretted it immediately after—even his face hurt. "Cry for me," Yutou purred. "I know it's got to hurt."

"You—got—no—fuckin'—idea," Jou snarled, barely able to choke the words out. Damn, if the man would just get off him, he'd be able to breathe again.

"I know more about it than you'd think," Yutou murmured, face darkening. The smug grin was gone, the playful insanity replaced by bitter gravity in those narrowed hazel eyes. "Don't underestimate me."

"I don't," Jou gasped. "Look, if you wanna have a conversation, could ya get offa me? I can't breathe."

To his surprise, Yutou complied. "Don't make a habit of ordering me around, Jonouchi. I don't take to that very well." He took another drag on his cigarette and sat back on his haunches, studying the battered little blonde. "You've got a hell of a lot of self-control, I'll give you that."

"Years of practice," Jou growled, struggling to sit up. "Y'know, soon as I get outta this, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass."

"Not much incentive for me to let you go, now is there?"

"Maybe not." It was better now, he didn't hurt so much with the absence of a hundred-and-fifty-pound man on his chest. He rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his spine and shuddered when it made a horrible cracking sound. "Ouch."

"What did you want to talk about?" Yutou exhaled a cloud of smoke and watched Jou steadily. He was almost scarier when he was calm, Jou thought. His eyes were so dead, so emotionless—Jou couldn't for the life of him predict what he might do next.

Jou glared right back. "I wanna know why you did it."

"Why I did what?"

"Don' play wit' me, asshole. Why'd you rape Seto?"

"It was necessary."

"Fer what?" Yutou glared sharply at him, but his eyes were wide and puzzled; he was truly curious, there was no sarcasm in his comment. "How could somethin' like that possibly be necessary?"

"He was too kind," Yutou sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and staring out the window. It was so much easier to talk without those honey-brown eyes watching him, and God help him, he wanted to talk. "You didn't know him when he was little, right?" A swishing of hair against bedsheets indicates a shake of the head and Yutou continued. "Everything hurt him. He was so sensitive, he'd cry when he saw those 'support a child for nine dollars a week' ads on T.V. Spent a good amount of his allowance on them, too."

"What's wrong wit' that? I mean, all little kids are sensitive."

"He took it far past what was normal. He couldn't function, he felt guilty for having so much while other children had so little. I don't know what happened to make him like that, maybe he was born that way, but Gozaborou was less than happy with the way things were going. He needed a ruthless machine, not a tenderhearted child. No child could have run a weapons manufacturing company. It would have killed him."

"So Gozaborou hired you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Yutou flinched. "I…owed him. He did a favour for me when I was young."

"Musta been a hell of a favour, for you t' do all that."

"Yes, it was." Yutou inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to wash through his lungs and calm him. "I didn't want to hurt Seto. I swear to you, I never meant to hurt him."

"But you did."

"I couldn't stop myself." Yutou hung his head with a sigh. "I didn't want to make him like this. I just…couldn't stop, even when he was screaming and crying…I don't know, I just…couldn't. He refused to even look at me for a month after that." Why was he saying this? Everything was pouring out and he couldn't break it off now…what the hell was wrong with him? He didn't want to talk to Jonouchi of all people, he didn't want to talk at all! He was Kamimura Yutou, he didn't need to talk to anyone about anything.

"Surprise," Jou said bitterly.

"I felt sick at first, once I realized what I'd done to him. I never thought I'd be able to do something like this, but…he's like a drug, you know that? I'd dream about him every night and it was driving me insane."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were insane long before that."

"After I…I took him the second time, he stopped talking. He didn't cry at anything anymore, but he didn't smile either. He used to have the most beautiful smile." He turned sad hazel eyes to Jou's startled brown ones. Jou blinked—he actually looked like he regretted what he'd done. Maybe there was still a scrap of humanity in him, maybe he wasn't as far gone as Jou had thought.

"Did he?" Jou prompted and Yutou smiled softly, an expression that looked as out of-place on him as a third eye would have. Jou had never seen him smile like this, he'd only seen the man smirk and scowl…

Wait. That seemed familiar….

"Wha's this?" He cradled the picture frame gently, studying the faded smiles of the people trapped behind that thin pane of glass. Mokuba and a tall, brunette boy with sparkling cerulean eyes, the elder with his arm slung around the younger's shoulders, grinning at the camera in a moment of frozen bliss. Jonouchi took a second to wonder why it had taken him so long to recognize Seto's face, and then it struck him. It was because Seto never smiled.

He smirked, sure, that arrogant "I'll-sue-you-if-you-so-much-as-breathe-on-me" grin that he'd always secretly found endearing, in its own bizarre way. But he'd never given much thought to Seto's apparent lack of happiness. He always just assumed that Seto was stoic by nature.

But this picture belied his suspicions. For him to barely be recognizable when he smiled … Jou found himself wondering what Seto would look like now, flashing those even white teeth in a grin. He couldn't picture it, and that scared him. Jonouchi's imagination had never failed him before.

Oh, damn. Seto really was a lot like Yutou, wasn't he? Not in everything, no…Seto would never ever rape anyone, let alone a child, but their personalities were too similar for comfort. Sure, Yutou was a bit more manic than Seto, but…it was disconcerting, that was all.

"Yutou?" he asked. "Um…y'know, I was just thinkin'…you an' Seto're a lot alike. An' I was wonderin'…what happened to you?"

"And why," Yutou hissed, all traces of his previous amiable temper gone, "Would I be obliged to tell you that?"

"It just makes sense. I mean, you've gotta have a reason for…being th' way you are. You're nuts, yeah, but I kinda doubt you were born like that. I mean, t' me, it seems like you were tryin' t' protect Seto in your own weird twisted way. Maybe that's the only way you know how to protect anyone."

"Nothing happened to me," Yutou growled, turning away again. "You're bothering me, Jonouchi."

"So you were always like this," Jou said flatly. "Y'know, it's a lot easier to sympathize wit' you when you got a reason for what you did."

"I'm not asking for sympathy, Jonouchi."

"Never said you were. I just wanna understand, that's all." He tugged at his bonds. "Y'think maybe you could let me go?"

Yutou shook his head. "No. We did that once already, remember? And why do you want to understand?"

"Because it doesn' make sense. You don' make sense. People don' just go around rapin' kids for no reason."

"What would it matter if I had a reason?" There was an edge in his voice now, his eyes were hands and he clenched his fists at his sides. "Justification doesn't pardon the crime."

"No," Jou agreed, "but it would make a lot more sense if you did have a reason. I mean, I know Seto's cute, but he was just a—" Jou broke off when Yutou's fist landed solidly on his cheek. "Ow!"

"Shut up," Yutou hissed, and Jou wondered if he was bipolar—sad and apologetic one moment, irate and furious the next. "Shut the fuck up."

"No," Jou snapped right back. "You got a reason an' you won' tell me, is that it?"

"What if it is? I don't need to explain myself to a mutt like you."

"I'm Seto's lover." Jou spat the last word out, enjoying the flash of anger that crossed Yutou's handsome face. "You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you a damn thing, Jonouchi. I've paid my debts."

"You keep bringin' that up. I don' recall you ever doin' anythin' for me 'sides kidnappin' me. Maybe I missed somethin'?"

Yutou was practically livid with rage now. He bared his teeth at Jou. "I don't owe anyone anything, least of all you."

"So who'd you…ah…pay these debts to? Musta been a hell of a tradeoff fer you t' have free reign an' all. Do laws not apply to you, either?"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"Who says I don' understand? You think you're the only one wit' a crappy history? We've all got our traumas, idiot. You jus' took 'em a bit farther than mos' people."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to me. I've gone through more than you can imagine."

"Can' really judge that, now can I?" Jou asked with a lazy smile. Psychopaths were so easy to play. "Not like you'll tell me anythin'."

And then he screamed, because Yutou had just pressed the lit end of his dying cigarette into an open wound on Jonouchi's stomach. Oh, that did not feel good, that did not feel good…Jou had burned himself before, sure, but not like this…never like this…he realized dully that he'd bitten through his lip in an attempt to stifle a cry (which had escaped anyways) and his mouth was filling with blood. He spat it out with a wince. "What was that for?"

"For being a smartass," Yutou said. "Any more comments, kitten?"

"While we're at it," Jou gasped. "You love Seto, don' you?"

Yutou raised a hand as if to strike, and Jou sneered at him.

"Go ahead and hit me," he snarled. "That's the only way you can deal with me telling you the truth, isn't it? Violence is all you know, Yutou. It's all you can do. What the hell happened t' you t' make you like this? It got somethin' t' do wit' your family?"

"No!" But it wasn't controlled, not anything like the way Yutou normally spoke. It came out in a pitiful sob, a desperate sort of howl. "Nothing happened to me!" The cigarette slipped from nerveless fingers and fell harmlessly to the floor as Yutou clutched at his head, curling into himself and shaking violently. Jou tried to sit up, to watch Yutou and the man cringed at the movement. "Don't hit me!"

"How the hell'm I s'posed t' do that?" Jou asked, mystified. "I'm tied up, remember? Yutou?"

There was no indication that he'd so much a heard Jonouchi; he simply curled up tighter, his trembles shaking the whole bed. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Yutou, calm down," Jou said. He was starting to panic; he was tried up on a bed with a man having a mental breakdown…this did not bode well. "C'mon man, stay with me. I won' hurt ya, I swear. Yutou? Yutou—"

Yutou's sobs were lost in the violent explosion that had, at one point, been the front door.

"Jonouchi?"

"Seto!" Jou cried in relief. "Seto, in here! In the bedroom! Yutou's with me!"

The door swung open and Jou's smile dropped. Whoever that was…there was no way it could be Seto.