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Chapter 7 - Passionate Plea

A cool hand on his cheek pulls Seto back from his remembrance. Wet eyes look up at him.

"That was the beginning. That was when your innocence was truly stripped from you. The horrors of that night are why I am here." No longer was it the emotional hysteric looking at him. This was the Bakura that Seto remembered. "Tonight, another will share your fate. He is not like you." His eyes widened and his bottom lip began to quiver as the caretaker was replaced, "He is not strong like you! He cries! He laughs! He still has hope!"

Suddenly, desperate hands grabbed at Seto's shirt and the hysteric cried, "He'll never survive! He will die! I cannot fail him! Please! Please, I can't, not him too!"

Still frozen. Still numb from the cold grasp of his darkest memories. Seto looked into the teary eyes and he heard himself say, "Do you love him more than me…" He heard the words and knew that they came from a heart that he had thought he had long since lost. Why should he care about this? Where had this emotion come from? What was this emotion?

Tear filled eyes blinked and the caretaker returned. "Oh, no. I love you both just the same but I know that he will not survive. There was some chance that you could survive, but he is too tender. He has still managed to be fragile and pure in Yami's clutches."

Seto's hand grabbed the hand at his cheek. His fingers squeezed the thin wrist and an anger rose in him that he had not felt for a long time. An anger born of pain and betrayal.

"So what of me? Was it permissible for me to go through that torture because I was strong? Was I scarred and beaten just because I could survive!? Was I allowed to be twisted and fouled because I was not fragile or pure?!" Pain fueled anger and anger became rage. He looked at the beast caught in his grasp with open disgust.

He threw the other man to the ground. Both disgusted with the beast, his former caretaker, and with himself for his violence. "Get out-"

"No, Darkling! It was not that! It was never that way! I would have never put you through that if I could have stopped it! I failed to-"

"Then why is it that I'm still hurt! Why are you here begging for a hero! Why for him? Why must I go to help some little bastard I've never met because he's weak! He doesn't have a strong enough will to live and so that means that I must save him!" Seto shook with rage, rekindled and intensified. "GET OUT!"

"Seto! No, please!" Desperation had flooded Bakura's expression as he stood up. This was not the face of the hysteric, this was the resolute features of one who Seto might have once loved.

"No! I am not going to go rushing to my doom for some little pitiful-"

"He's like you brother!" Bakura yelled, still desperate to fulfill his duty. Still desperate to make Seto understand. "He is small! He has known love and affection! He is just as sweet as your little one and I have never had the power to do anything for those I have seen tortured." Bakura reached for Seto, trying to keep him from walking away. Seto pulled away from him and Bakura pulled his hands back. He clasped his hands at his chest, his knuckles strained with the effort of keeping them from shaking. "I have hated myself for decades. Knowing what they were eventually going to do to you and knowing that I could do nothing. Now I have a chance to save another child from your fate. All I ask of you is to borrow your strength. You were a boy when they took away that last shred of your innocence but this one is not much more than a babe!" His words were pouring out of him and as his brow furrowed deeper his eyes grew wider again. Tears poured out of his eyes. His hands reached out towards Seto as the hysteric wept, his hands grasped at air as he struggled not to grab a hold of his 'son,' "I cannot watch another of my children be taken to the slaughter! Please, this last thing I beg of you! Anything you ask for in return is yours!"

Bakura clutched at his chest with one hand, taking a step forward, he grabbed Seto's sleeve. "Even if it is my life that you ask for in return, I will give it. I can understand your hate and I will bear it- but please do not let this child suffer for my frailty." The hysteric became the former caretaker and he held onto Seto's sleeve firmly. His eyes were resolute as he looked up at Seto.

Rooted to the spot, Seto watched the passion and fire burning in Bakura's eyes. He looked at his red streaked cheeks. He watched the bloody tears continue to well up and fall. His chest ached again. His heart hurt. This passionate plea for another child. Bakura had been his. He had been the one good thing in Seto's life for many many years and he had been his alone. Or so he had thought. Now, to hear him speak with so much ferocity and love for this other child. To hear him offer up his life in exchange for this new boy's rescue.

Seto felt a sharp pain, driving into his heart, past the ache. He felt an acute agony that he had never known. Could it be that this was not the first time that Bakura had made such a deal? He offered his life so easily as though it was a bargaining chip he was accustomed to wagering. Had he tried to make the same deal when it was Seto who was going to be taken? Had he cried like this to someone else? Had he pleaded in vain to try to convince a champion to rescue the blue eyed boy from his fate? A sickness rose in Seto. His mind reeled.

Had there been some deal which had brought about his eventual freedom? What was it that Bakura had given up to convince Yami to Unbind him all those years ago? How much of the current life he enjoyed was thanks to some great, unspoken, sacrifice that Bakura had made? Where would Mokuba have been if he had not been free to take him from his miserable life?

This last question shook Seto. The memory of Mokuba's dirty sallow face peaking out from underneath a patched rag of a blanket from a corner. Was this boy, that Bakura was interceding on the behalf of, like that? Was he another forgotten orphan who had been happy to be taken from his own filth and misery? Was he an orphan who thought that Fate was taking him to a life like Mokuba's, only to find himself in the Hell that Seto had known?

Fate could be a cruel mistress.

This night was not fresh, nor was it near ending. However, there was much to do.

Bakura was sent home with the order to build his mental defenses. Employees of the Kaiba household who had be roused from their slumber by the noises found themselves put to work cleaning up glass in the kitchen, a coffee table in the living room, and blood in the study.

+…+

An annoyed man answered his telephone and found a friend from his past on the other end. "Max, you were right. I've been spoiled and blind all these years. I need to take care of some business." He heard the caller take a steadying breath. "If I don't return, I'm going to need you to take care of Mokuba."

"Wait! What's going on?" Maximillion sat up straighter and gripped the receiver tighter.

There was a pause before Seto continued, "I have a promise to keep and another to atone for breaking."

"What does that-"

"When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won't have to ask for permission. If I'm not back in a day, take Mokuba and disappear."

Maximillion jumped up, "Seto-!" A click cut off the rest of the exclamation.

Seto hung up the phone. He could not listen to his friend. He could not leave himself room for doubt. He no longer had the luxury to indulge a wavering mind. He had failed those he had loved and lived a selfish life. He had sought to absolve these sins with the easy salvation of one boy. Now he would truly atone for his life as a beast.