Chapter 18: Confrontation

In the dimness of night's twilight, Kaede sat alone, hugging herself and watching the blackness stretching over her vision. She was scared, she admitted that, and didn't have any idea of what she should be doing to go back to normal.

Yami had said that after some time she'd most likely go back to how she was before. Sometimes things that come on so suddenly go away just as quick. It sounded logical, but she was pretty sure this would be one of those problems that didn't go away. She forced herself not to wonder because she knew that would only get her upset and end up doing something stupid again. She still felt close to blushing in embarrassment for being so girly before. Her sister would say that was completely normal since she was a girl after all, but she just thought it idiotic for her to act like so. It was just too…Christa… Christa was the one in the family to act all cute and pretty. She was suppose to be the beautiful butterfly, just as Mat was to be the guitar-playing punk who protected his kid sister while teasing her about it, and she was to be the goody two shoes that never caused trouble.

But now that wasn't true, that was apparent, running from home, putting her family in danger. She had changed, she realized slowly, now mentally as well as physically, and puzzled whether or not she liked it. Then again, people change all the time as they got older. Change wasn't that bad…to a point, or she hoped.

With the lamp light on over the desk, Javas craned over the shiny insides of his slightly crushed laptop with a screw driver in hand and two narrowed eyes. He had been sitting there for about two hours now, doing the equivalent of brain surgery on his beloved machine, trying to keep his mind totally focused on it than Yami leaning over his shoulder, watching with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Is there something I can do for you?" He asked exasperated, for the third time in five minutes. And again he was answered with the same reply.

"No. Just watching." Usually, the conversation ended there, but Javas was now past the point of irritated and would risk anything just to get rid of him.

"Why are you watching?"

"I'm just curious."

"About what?" Yami opened his mouth to answer when the bathroom door finally opened. Javas didn't bother to look up, picking up the needle-nose pliers and carefully removed the small cracked memory board and set it down with a clatter, ignoring his room mate completely. He took out another green card and carefully replaced it and found a plastic plate to patch up the exposed spots, watching Yami's attention immediately leave his opened computer to the boy his peripheral vision, and started to replace the first screw.

"What do you want, Pharaoh?" T.R asked, noting he was being stared at. His voice was dark and stormy, making Javas wince for a spilt second. It was the tone that implied 'come near me and I will tie you upside down and slowly cut off your fingers one by one, then yours toes, then your hands, feet, arms, legs, after a period of years in the most painful fashion you can imagine.' Yami stared at him for a moment.

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me that." He grunted. His nerves were frayed to an extremity and his eyes dropping from sleepiness. He looked as white as a ghost and ready just to faint on the bed. Javas looked at him with horrific gaze.

"…What happened to you?" He asked aghast.

"Nothing worth your concern." The thief spat and pushed his way past the 'forty year old' into the family room, where Yami heard him fall onto the sofa with a muffled thud and cursed lightly.

"This is worse than I thought." The pharaoh told himself grimly, and looked at Javas's confused face.

"Our friend is dealing with things right now. It would be unwise for someone as young as you to approach him in such a state. I fear, even though he is weakened at the moment, that he is an inch away from ripping someone's throat out…literally. I would not wish that upon you, Javas." Yami patted the teen on the shoulder as he strode to the door, turned the knob, and opened the door.

"If I were you, I wouldn't open this door." The man warned him, closing the door softly as he left, leaving Javas confused. His father hated Yugi Mutou, but no matter how much Javas wanted to hate him, the more he actually liked him. He knew the guy was clearly nuts, but he was nice, he looked out for other people (even when it was unnecessary). He found himself wondering if he could actually be as great as everyone said. He had beaten his father not once, not twice, but at least three times that he had heard of. He had to be an excellent game master…

Suddenly a completely and utterly crazy idea became apparent to the boy. He denied it at first. It was far too insane to even consider, anyway. Javas went back to work on his laptop, tweaking and tinkering, toiling for hours, thinking about the idea with more and more thought, until finally he could take it anymore.

"Fine." He snarled to himself. "I'll ask for his help in the morning." Satisfied, his brain stopped its endless learning to duel babble and turned back to his work, leaving him in peace.

Yami muttered a few ancient words the minute he closed the door, sealing it from sound as well as anyone opening it until he wished for it. He didn't want to endanger the boy; Kaiba would have his ass for that, in the very least of things. It would be better if he and the TombRobber had a one and one talk right now.

The ancient king glided to the opposite couch and sat down quietly, folding his hands as he leaned back and simply watched the thief lay there, eyes closed and half of his face mashed into the cushion while his legs where left pointing in the air from the knees down because of the arm rest probing them up. It seemed he just let himself fall sideways like that, his arm uselessly draped over the back of the couch while the other brushed against the floor. Yami waited, thinking of nothing and using his calm empathic nature, until finally the thief pulled himself upright, groggily and dazed. He had a look of a man with a lethal wound, and the same amount of tolerance.

"What do you want, Yami." He snarled savagely, steam shaking the mental wall between his mind and the girl's. Yami could feel it.

"I see you've also casted a spell to keep Kaede in her room, it is also sound proof. I would've made one for her but you saved me the trouble."

"Glad to be of some service." The thief growled, his eyes dully smoldering.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep…"

"I suppose the couch would be more comfortable than the floor." Yami admitted.

"But then again, her bed would be the warmest and coziest of all three." His comment hit dead center. Bull's eye. T.R immediately awoke from his half-sleep state to a shocked enraged level of thinking, letting a cold rage settle over him. BANG. Yami felt the force slammed against the makeshift barrier, sending a large crack traveling up it, steadily, until it finally stopped, leaving it damaged but still standing. T.R gritted his teeth and struggled to leash his anger as his eyes exploded into a burning inferno.

"…What did you say?" he asked in a small voice. Yami stared, unfazed at the burglar, with his arms crossed, and a look of complete indifference consuming his face.

"You heard what I said," the pharaoh replied, "I know how you feel, TombRobber. You can't hide it from me." His fanged teeth crunched down harder as his hands curled into fists, the imaginary wall shaking, bending under the strain. He fought against the anger, forced the wall to remain as a whole with all his might.

"I…don't know what you're talking about." T.R croaked defensively.

"Don't try to deny it. It is completely natural." Yami replied.

"Natural? What's natural? I don't know what you are speaking of…" He puffed, still straining to keep the wave of rage at bay.

"Stop trying to escape it. You've been caught, for once in your life, accept it."

"Accept what?"

"TombRobber, you're making it harder on yourself if you don't face your true feelings."

"Feelings! What feelings? I feel for no one. You'd better start making sense."

"It's the feelings that we can never face that we yield to."

"WHAT FEELINGS!" T.R roared, pushed the cracking pieces together, but his strength was fading, wavering. He wasn't sure how long he could hold it together.

"That you care for her! Have you not admitted it to yourself!" Yami asked him incredulously, but with a stern tone. The tide of anger evaporated, leaving him heavily shaken on the inside, holding the broken wall lightly, and dealing with the softer, nudging, confused thoughts drifting about him. And dazed shock.

"…Care for her? Do you think I love her? What a joke! I couldn't careless for her."

"I didn't see that earlier, what did you call holding her like that?"

"I wasn't holding her. I was keeping her from doing damage to herself, part of the little rules I have to follow as a servant." He grunted with a tone of disgust, though his eyes slid gently to the floor.

"You could have let go after she had calmed herself." Yami replied testily.

"Why didn't you?" T.R was silently stared at the floor, his knuckles white from grasping his other hand so hard.

"You are attracted by her. It's hard to keep control isn't it? Having her so very close to you, a breath or touch away. She's driving you mad."

"I was driven mad centuries ago, Pharaoh. You of all people should know that." TombRobber spat agitatedly, his lips peeled back in a look of anguish and hatred.

"You killed everyone that ever mattered. Burned their flesh to ashes and mixed them into the seven golden objects thousands of years ago. Every. Single. One. You were the one that drove me mad, not her. If anyone is to have ultimate power at the cost of their sacrifice, it should be me. Not you. She clung to me. Clung. No one has so much as hugged me since you killed my parents. I didn't hold her, she held me, only because she was frightened. I hope Ammet does more than just devour your heart for that, Pharaoh!"

He turned away; feeling the wave of rage subsided slightly. Blowing off steam had helped, but it still didn't solve the current problem. He'd have to fix the divider when he was calmer and not as weak. He expected the Pharaoh to deny everything he had just bellowed into his face. He was surprised.

Yami did not protest against his little speech, but only shook his head slowly, looking saddened.

"That at least hasn't changed. Despite what you say, or even how you deceive yourself, TombRobber, I will always know the truth. If you look deep, deep down into yourself, you will eventually discover that truth." Yami slowly got to his feet and walked away. He strode past the door, waving his hand in front of it, breaking the spell casted, and continued to stroll into the kitchen, leaving the Robber to his thoughts. Or more correctly, to his weariness.

T.R slumped down in the sofa, leaning back fully into the cushions, letting his eyes droop as he sluggishly reinforced the wall with a small bit of strength. He was drained of all energy, his body craved to rest. It was something he could not evade. He fell onto the cushions of the couch before he let himself slip entirely into the darkness of his mind, where sleep claimed him for the night.

Yami came back from the kitchen hours after the thief had fallen asleep, a cautious look in his eyes as he took out one of the blankets he had found hidden under the couch and draped one over the dozing teen, deciding he liked him better asleep, before retiring to the other navy couch, pulling one of the other blankets over his aching joins.

His words had hurt him, but he knew the Thief had been in far more mental pain than him over these years, for starters he had seen every single second of it, with all his memory, while he got to sleep. Though, Yami had wondered, whether it what was worse, having bad memories or not having any at all. He wasn't sure even now. The Robber's speech had wounded him emotionally, but it, in time, would scar like all the others. He felt guilty for the Thief, however, since it appeared he was still struggling with his wounds, even after all these centuries, the memory was still hot and burned and slashed at his insides. He was so use to the pain now that it had become a source of power, something he was familiar with and thought was normal of any person. If he had studied the minds of his former vessels, really watched, he would've seen how wrong he was, and how much help he really needed.

Yami placed his head on the armrest, facing toward the back of the couch, ignored his throbbing knees, curled as to not further hurt his legs, nor look as ridiculous at T.R did right now, by letting them hang over it. Instead he closed his eyes, and thought about how much Yugi had struggled with Tea, and how that had ended so miserably. He thought about how much it was his fault that she had loved him and not Yugi, how he had said no to her love. How hurt she was. How she had left. How Yugi had despaired and was left with a son he never saw or heard from, ever. And how Yugi never, even once, ever blamed him for what happened to Tea, even though most of it was his fault.

He felt tears wet his cheeks as he silently wept himself into a numbness inside himself, and understood he too had a wound that would never go away, and slowly drifted into a troubled slumber.

Book Dragon: "Please Review."