Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Silhouette ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

SILHOUETTE

 

A/N: Sorry again that this one has taken so long for me to get up. I am already going to warn all of you that there will be no consistency in the amount of time between updates, too busy and erratic of a schedule right now to guarantee anything. And as for why it took so long this time, I had to write my certification exam for my EMR at the end of March, so I was a lot more concerned with studying for it considering it cost me nearly seven hundred dollars, never mind how much I had to spend for the weekend stay in Edmonton. Anyway, enough complaining, here's the chapter, hope its good…its really long too…for me at least… ^^ and thanks to those that have been reading and reviewing, it's much appreciated. (And… sorry for how many stupid type-o's I made in the last…and probably the first…chapter)

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Inattentively Yami stroked Reno's head, eyes focused on the clock waiting for it to beep to signal that he needed to get out of bed. Sighing deeply he shot a glance towards the door, his father's somnolent shadow meandered past casting beneath it as the man walked to the bathroom. It had been a late night for both of them. His shift ended up running two hours later than expected after being called to a rather violent domestic call in the last thirty minutes of his shift, resulting in Garret hitching a ride downtown with a friend and driving him back home in his car. They had briefly argued about the sleeping pill issue till finally Garret used his overwhelming strength and actually did force him to take the accursed pill.

 

It was times like that that he hated being significantly smaller than his father. Garret easily over powered him, pinned his arms to his sides without any effort, forced him to his knees and after much more arguing pried his mouth apart and shoved the pill in before he could stop him. Though, throughout the entire thing Reno had Garret by the pant leg, and to his satisfaction had wrecked said pair of pants. That was half the reason why Garret rarely used physical force against Yami or even wrestled with him, Reno was extremely protective of him and being police trained he caused some damage every time, and Garret was sick of constantly replacing his damaged clothes.

 

The loud annoying beeping of his alarm clock broke him out of his thoughts. Groaning he stiffly rolled over, cringing at the constant popping in his back and the intense pain shooting through his body, and slammed his hand down on the beeping clock. Sighing he shoved his head into his pillow, breathing with difficulty through the waves of pain that moving had caused. He had over done it last night, with every new call came the new surge of adrenaline that washed away the agony of his injuries and shoved him into total tunnel vision, focusing completely on the patient he could not feel the muscles in his chest and back stretching, the cracking his wrist was doing and the intense pounding of his head from all the noise and movement further aggravating his injuries.

 

He could tell that his father was worried. Even through the fog of the sleeping pill he could hear Garret come and check on him every other hour, something he had finally stopped doing six months ago. For months after his mother passed away Garret checked on him constantly, even going to the lengths sometimes of sitting on his bed and placing a hand on his chest to make sure he was breathing, much like he did a few times last night. Yami was not much less guilty, he had done the same thing for months, and he still did every time the nightmares would plague him.

 

Chasing the painful memories out of his head he slowly rolled over and inched his way into a sitting position, cringing harshly against the pain. As soon as he was upright a violent coughing fit hit him, hunching forward he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, the position allowing him to reduce the agony and increase his ability to breathe. He mentally cursed when his father's rushing foot steps reached his ears along with his door being slammed open, he was only able to blearily catch a glimpse of Garret through his coughing before the man was instantly beside him carefully rubbing his back and forcefully placing one of his own hands over his mouth.

 

It had been several long minutes once he finally stopped; his breath was coming in short loud wheezes, his racing vision making him remain leaning against Garret's burly chest, all the pain he had been feeling before was now far worse causing his body to shiver violently against it.

 

“Here,” Garret murmured softly, handing him his puffer from the bedside table. “Open up, I'll help you take it.” Seeing Yami do so as best he could, Garret placed the inhaler in his mouth and squeezed it down, watching as Yami breathed in carefully to receive the medication.

 

“You over did it last night didn't you?”

 

Reluctantly Yami nodded in response seeing as his voice was still unable to work through his harsh breathing; taking a glass of water from the nightstand he slowly drank it, holding back a groan of gratitude that the cool water brought his burning throat and sternum. “Hard not to,” he rasped out. “It was a busy night.”

 

“Did you get to relax at all aside from the time I called you?”

 

“No,” Yami murmured, placing the glass back on the nightstand and reaching back to pet Reno's head, stopping the dogs subtle whining. “Like I said, it was busy.”

 

“Maybe you should take tonight off, you haven't taken a single night off since you started,” Garret suggested, eyes and ears monitoring Yami's still slowly recovering breathing.

 

Shaking his head slowly Yami pulled the covers off of him and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms round his knees, “Can't.”

 

Sighing Garret swivelled so that he was sitting in front of his son, hands moving to rest on the young man's shoulders, his gaze ghosting over his son's face, “Yami, you need to take a break sometime, you're not superman. No ones expecting you to be perfect or be on overdrive all the time, especially not her.” He swallowed hard, watching Yami squeeze his eyes shut and rest his head against his knees blocking his face. Cursing quietly Garret shifted forward and tightly wrapped his arms around his son. He knew Yami well, no matter how good he could hide things from everyone else, he could not hold back a single thing from him. “I'll keep saying this until you understand it kiddo, you did everything you could for her, she was long gone before you got there. She would never want to see you torturing yourself like you are now.”

 

He was taken aback when Yami shoved away from him, clambering out of bed and pulling on a housecoat with great difficulty. Scowling Garret rose to his feet, rapidly cutting Yami off from leaving the room, ignoring the burning glare his son sent his way, “Yami listen to me.”

 

“I need to get ready for work,” Yami snapped, sharply tying the rope on his housecoat.

 

Snarling Garret crossed his arms over his chest, eyes darkening in frustration, “Drop your stubbornness Yami! You need to let your body heal, it won't do that when you refuse to rest and recuperate when you go recklessly around trying to make up for your own self implied failure.”

 

“Move!” Yami ground out, his fists clenching at his side, temper flaring.

 

“Don't destroy yourself trying to make amends to something you had no control over!” Garret yelled, his own temper rising at Yami's increased obduracy. “There was nothing you could have done Yami, she was gone! You can't kill yourself trying to save everyone else just because you can't accept that you did all you could for her!”

 

“Don't you dare try and tell me what I could and could not have done! You weren't there, you have no damn idea what it was like. I could have done something!”

 

Growling Garret took slow deliberate steps towards Yami, not surprised when the young man barely flinched or showed any discomfort, “You were afraid Yami! Your mind was in so much shock from what you saw that you shut down, it's a normal reaction. You already knew there was nothing you could do, you just couldn't except it through your shock and fear!”

 

“Stop trying to pull your shrink talk with me,” Yami snapped, body tensing in anger as his father continued to advance towards him. “You know nothing!”

 

“It's hard for me to know anything when you're so closed off about it Yami. I cant help you, I cant even fully fathom what you went through because you won't open up to me, you won't give me the slightest hint as to what happened or how it made you feel,” Garret yelled, completely exasperated, burly hands tightly taking hold of Yami's elbows and squeezing to the point of bruising. “Let go of the blame you've placed on yourself, let me help you!”

 

“I don't need any help,” Yami retorted, loosely struggling against the strong hold Garret had on his arms. “Let go of me!”

 

“Stop bottling everything up,” Garret growled, his voice suddenly low, his temper barely under his control now. Unconsciously he clenched his hands more vigorously around Yami's arms, not noticing the pained wince or the small flicker of fear in those crimson eyes. “You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself. Talk to me Yami, let me help you for once. You concentrated so much on me when she died that you never let yourself grieve. If you continue to blame yourself for what happened to her and rampage around trying to save everyone else you'll drown in your emotions. I've already lost your mother; I won't lose you to your own self-loathing and bottled emotions. I won't!”

 

He could feel Yami trembling in his hold, along with the return of the young man's harsh wheezing. Snapping out of his frustrated haze he peered down in guilt and worry at his son, berating himself for losing even an ounce of control over his temper. Yami was staring cautiously up at him, his ruby orbs portraying all the hidden emotions that he was desperately trying to hide, his body trembling subtly and his breathing laboured again. Hesitantly stepping back Garret released his grip on Yami's arms and simply stared at him, leaning back against the door to ensure that Yami could not run like he usually did.

 

Yami stumbled back, images instantly beginning to filter into his vision, memories that plagued him and tore apart his sanity every moment that they returned dominating his thoughts. He tried to hold back a sob, his hand covering his mouth against the sound, his eyes finally focusing back on Garret. He didn't want this, did not want Garret to see him this way, but no matter how hard he willed himself to straighten up and shove it all aside, he couldn't. Closing his eyes he hunched over, hands clenching the sheets beside him, desperately trying to shut down the rush of vivid memories. He stiffened instinctively when Garret sat down beside him, one burly hand resting on his shoulder and the other gently rubbing his back, the soothing action forcing his vocal cords to work. “I don't want you to know, don't want you to remember her for how she looked in the end, how she felt. I don't want you to carry that image, or to carry my issues, you have enough to deal with without that burden.”

 

“You are my burden Yami,” Garret murmured, lifting his one hand and using it to tilt and turn Yami's face towards him, making sure that his son kept his eyes on him. “Remember Yami, you are my only child, and all that I have left of any value in my life. I can't stand back anymore and watch you waste away because you refuse to heal.”

 

“Dad…” Yami started, nearly faltering at the determined glare Garret gave him. “I don't exactly know how to talk about this. It's hard to verbalize something you cannot describe.”

 

Grinning wryly Garret stared incredulously at Yami, his thumb gently caressing the young man's smooth cheek, “I'm not expecting you to be able to. What I am expecting is that if you need to vent, need to talk or need to cry, that you will come to me. I know I've never exactly been the best emotional supporter, that was your mother's department, I'm not for all the mushy gushy shit.” He paused to listen to Yami's soft chuckle and small smile at the comment, glad to bring him out of his darken stupor. “But, I will always be here for you, alright.”

 

Nodding slowly Yami reached up and pulled his father's hand from his face, giving a small squeeze in reassurance, “I know Dad. But, knowing how we both are, our heads will have to collide like this a few more times before anything productive happens.”

 

“Heh, head colliding,” Garret grunted, reaching out he pulled Yami into a gentle headlock and ruffled his hair as non-aggressively as he could. “More like making your stubborn head explode with a hard slap upside the head with what you already know and won't except.”

 

“Ow! Dad, for crying out loud!” Yami yelped, pleased when Garret issued the same noise after Reno nipped the arm around his neck sharply. Giving his father a halfhearted glare through his slowly correcting vision he stood up stiffly and stretched, wincing at the popping sounds from his joints and the agony the action caused. “I'll go call in, Bruce told Soren and I both to take the week off already after what happened, he will probably be thrilled that I am listening to him for once.”

 

Shaking his head, a smile plastered on his face, Garret followed Yami out of his bedroom turning to the bathroom while watching his son slowly begin to descend the stairs. “Old Brucie will be marking it down on the calendar in bold red print.”

 

Swivelling around Yami shot Garret another glare, “Much like the day the you finally got into an ambulance without having to be sedated and restrained.”

 

Expression dropping Garret huffed and walked into the bathroom, calling out briskly before closing the door to shower, “There was only one time I willingly got into an ambulance, it was the day you and Soren got mugged. They day you are thinking about, I was so inebriated that when he said lights and sirens and plopped the image of your mother naked into my head I was all for it.”

 

Dramatically clapping his hand over his eyes Yami shook his head against the image, “I did not need to hear that!”

 

“Haha, serves you right!” Garret yelled over the sound of rushing water.

 

“Asshole!”

 

“Spiky head!”

 

Blinking Yami stared incredulously at the bathroom door, “What kind of lame insult is that!”

 

“Fine…Spiky haired stubborn jack ass!”

 

“Better.”

 

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A lone shadow tapped impatiently on the small surgical case in his trench coat pocket, his toque and sunglass even further masking his identity from the world, the darkness engulfing his already doing so. He supposed he looked much like Jack the Ripper at the moment, a predator lurking in an opaque alley casually leaning against a wall, watching for his next victim. His surgical case would fit the famed killer as well, several small flawlessly designed scalpels and other instruments perfect for dissecting a human. He held back a smile at his own perfection, he was currently a mirror image of his idol, except his death toll was already higher then the confirmed number of victims the Ripper took.

 

Boisterous babbling sliced him back, recoiling he stared down the alley catching sight of five thugs slowly meandering their way towards him. All of them with the typical thugs; baggy clothing, improper use of the English language, profuse swearing and an over cocky demeanour. Snarling he pushed himself away from the wall, absently glancing down at his watch, they were late. Shoving his temper down within himself he knelt down and picked up a rather heavy bag, ignoring its weight he straightened himself and faced the ingrates.

 

“I hope you have the money, old man. Better not be wasting my time” chuckled one, seemingly the leader, a smug grin clear on his face even in the darkness.

 

“You said drugs or money,” the man scoffed, chucking the bag with hard precision and knocking the wind out of one of the thugs. “Ten thousand, cash. Now, I am trusting that you will not stray an inch from my rules. Kill the father and badly wound the son. I want the boy alive for my own purposes. I will know if you break these rules and I will find you, and you will regret crossing me.”

 

“Yeah yeah, we got ya,” the leader chuckled again, unzipping the bag and shoving his hand through the neatly stacked wads of bills. “Don't worry your creepy little head over it. We know what we are doing.”

 

“For your sake, I hope so.”

 

“Chill man, we got it. Besides, our beef is with the chief, not the kid. You can have the little bitch when we are done.”

 

Grunting he reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, watching the wretch rip it from between his fingers with little grace or politeness. “Here's the address. The boy will be home alone when you arrive, he did not go to work, and the father won't be home till after midnight.”

 

“Alrighty,” the leader said, cheekily saluting him. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

He shook his head, eyes watching through his sunglasses as the five thugs vanished rather noisily from the alley. A malicious smirk crossed his features, now all he had to do was finish what he started, than the real fun could start.

 

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“Honestly, why can't this job just be easy, the prick blatantly obvious and easy to find. Not gala banding happily around in a suspect pool of forty! Never mind the fact that none of these may be him!” Bakura bellowed, hand clenching till the knuckles became white, dark eyes glaring down at the forty files laying on the table. “If we don't find him soon he'll kill again!”

 

Sitting back in his chair Grey watched Bakura with caution, fully aware of his partners hot temper, “One of these guys is him, we just have to start narrowing it down.”

 

“And where are we going to get the time to shorten that rather daunting list,” Bakura growled, body shaking in an attempt to quell his anger. “We don't have time to shorten the list of suspects. The next victim will probably be dead long before we figure it out, who knows, maybe all the surgeons in Calgary will be dead before we figure it out. We have nothing on this guy! No finger prints, no DNA, no real slip ups, nothing! His only fuck up hes clearly not looking at as one of his own failures but as the fault of Yami and Soren. If those two get harmed for doing the right thing, I'll kill the bastard myself the instant we find him!”

 

Blinking Grey slowly inched out of his seat, taking slow deliberate steps towards Bakura's fuming figure, “Calm down Kura', we'll figure this out, he'll slip up and leave something for us to trace him back to, he has to.” Finally reaching his partner Grey loosely gripped Bakura's shoulders and peered intently at him. “We'll get him, don't worry.”

 

“I am worried Grey!” Bakura snapped, shoving Grey's hands from his shoulders and spinning on his heel to start vehemently pacing the room. “He's pissed off. Yami and Soren obviously played with his over inflated ego and now he wants to finish whatever spree this is that he started so he can get to them. He's gotten bold, killing in open public…a hospital to be precise. He's going to speed up, I can tell, and as soon as he is done whatever list it is that he has he's going to move on to those two.”

 

“Do you think the motive has changed? Our theory?”

 

“No…no, it's right. The sixth victim, Alexander Ross, said to us that the Caduceus killer was talking about revenge over his son. The killer takes out the victim's hearts. Connect the dots and boom, the kid must have died from something heart related, a surgery or condition or something. It all makes sense. But, what I am thinking is that Yami and Soren screwed with his ego, he perfection complex, and it pissed him off. That said, and with the symbol change, I think he's laughing at us, telling us that he's going to finish his work and then have fun with our two hero EMT's,” Bakura expounded, stopping abruptly in his pacing and staring across the office at Grey. “I seriously think this guy is a self-proclaimed and practiced perfectionist. He's never left a single thing for us to find in terms of DNA or fingerprints, aside from his one mistake he has never left the scene tainted, making sure it was completely clear of any trace that he was there. He always cleaned everything around the body with bleach and acid, masking any thing he might have accidentally dropped along with even shoe prints he may have left. And, his slip up was somewhere unsanitary. Generally he has done it in the patients home or building of practice after hours, this time it was an empty partially built hotel. In all the other places he had access to cleaning supplies, medical instruments and all sorts of personal protective equipment. It was a test, the hotel, to see if he could be just as perfect out of his element, away from all the conveniences of a home or medical building. He failed, and only because of Yami and Soren, he is still convinced that he is the perfect killer. His way of proving it was finishing the other victim off in broad daylight and still leaving absolutely no trace of himself.”

 

Nodding in apprehension and agreement Grey sat back in one of the chairs, “Definitely. Maybe that little trait, his need to be a perfectionist, can help us narrow this list. His profession probably reflects his need to be perfect at all times, along with how well he did in high school and college.”

 

“So,” Bakura stared, rapidly striding over to the table and opening the first file in reach. “Take out those that never went to college or didn't finish high school. Along with those that have a less than stellar job.”

 

Both went silent, spending the next hour rifling through the extensive folders on the table. The odd noise could be heard over the sound of officers talking outside of their closed office, one of them clearing their throat, growling in disapproval or giving a satisfied grunt. Nearly three hours later the two of them pulled away from the long files and stared at each other before glancing at the discard pile. Both of their hearts sank and Bakura's temper instantly began to fester again. Seven gone from the list of forty suspects.

 

Sighing deeply Grey ran his hands through his hair, “Well, that was effective.”

 

Heatedly pulling his long white hair into a ponytail Bakura leaned against a wall, covering his face with his hands he sank into a sitting position on the filthy carpet, “Dammit!”

 

Staring across at Bakura sympathetically Grey slowly evened out the piles of the remaining suspects, “Well, it's a start, I guess. Down seven at least, its better than none.”

 

“But it's not good enough,” Bakura groaned, uncovering his face he shooting a pointed glance at his partner, his expression dejected. “We have less than a week, maybe less than a day, to find this guy before he kills again. Every kill he does, adds to the blood on our hands for not finding him and getting justice for the innocent lives he took.”

 

Scratching his head Grey bit his lip, retracting his gaze from Bakura's dark russet stare, “That's the problem Bakura, we aren't really dealing justice. The bastard will be sentenced to life, put in a prison where he can do virtually anything he wants, and have the chance of being let out after half his sentence if he behaves well. How's that justice?”

 

“It's better than him being out and about killing more people!” Bakura said vociferously, slamming his hand on the floor. “You know exactly how I feel about the justice system. Killers should die in the worst way possible, rapists should have the same thing done to them over and over again, those that steal or commit fraud should be beaten and thrown in a cell with no extra luxuries, and drunken bastards that beat their wives and children should be mauled and killed. But the world doesn't work like that no matter how badly I or anyone else want it to.”

 

Sitting back Grey stared at the table, “What did the chief say when you went to see him? I missed it all, the forensics guy wouldn't shut up.”

 

Heaving a cleansing breath Bakura rested his head against the wall, “He's not happy about it that's for sure. You can tell he's worried, Yami has obviously been his world since Tawni passed away last Christmas.”

 

“He has been,” Grey murmured. “Yami is all he's got left. He's got no other family that I know of, and if he does, he's not in contact with them.”

 

Glancing at his watch Bakura cursed and rapidly stood up moving to gather his stuff, “I was supposed to go check in with him by now. Come on, lets go tell him what little more we know.”'

 

Unwillingly Grey did the same and gathered his things silently trudging behind Bakura as the two of them headed to the downstairs parking lot. They were in their downtown office, while the Chief was stationed out in seven district closer to his home. It was going to be at least a half hour drive to the district office, a drive neither of them was looking forward to.

 

They were silent, much like they had been earlier, as they clambered into their car and drove off through the mostly quite streets of Calgary. Bakura was driving, paying just enough attention to the rode to know where he was going and what the other vehicles were doing, but the rest of his mind was running through all the information that they had on the murders. Grey was much the same, his focus seemed to be on the passing buildings, parks, and vehicles, but in reality he was searching and racking his memory on the case trying to find any holes they may have missed. In both of their tired states neither of them found anything, sheer disappointment and heavy silence weighed them down as they drove into the secure parking lot, stopped the car and entered the building, neither noticing a dark skinned man barrelling out one of the other doors.

 

Waving unenthusiastic hellos to several officers Bakura and Grey staggered up the stairs to the third floor of the building, both silently cursing who ever invented stairs and made their way to the chief's office. Upon reaching it both of them stared in shock at the empty office and a rather bemused police officer standing in the office staring at the computer screen. Interest peeked Bakura and Grey entered the room, startling the officer.

 

“Jeez, detectives, you startled me,” the young officer stammered, scrambling away from behind the desk. Seeing the pointed looks he was receiving the officer shakily replied. “I got an alert from one of the alarm companies that there was a possible break and enter bout ten minutes ago, the basement motion sensors set off a silent house alarm, and it was shut off just before the company called to see if everything was alright. But, the address looked familiar so I came and told the chief. He bolted out of the room as soon as I told him, it was maybe five minutes ago, you just missed him.”

 

Narrowing his eyes Bakura questioned, “What was the address?”

 

“Um,” the office stuttered glancing back at the computer. “519 Citadel Drive, its bout fifteen minutes from here.”

 

Racking his brain Bakura tried to pinpoint where that address was familiar, then it clicked, “Shit, it's the chief's house!”

 

Eyes widening Grey stumbled back, thinking fast he pointed at the officer, “Try and get a hold of the chief, and call his house and see if there's an answer, now!”

 

“Yes sir!” the young officer stuttered, scrambling to grab the nearby phone and called the chiefs pager first. Sweating profusely he glanced between the two detectives as the pager continued to ring until the line went dead. Seeing Bakura's scowl deepen he rapidly called the house number, again nothing. “I'm sorry sirs, I can't get an answer.”

 

Cursing colourfully Bakura pulled Grey back into the hallway, “Come on, we have to get to that house, something's wrong!”

 

Barely keeping step with Bakura, Grey sprinted down the stairs and back out into the parking lot. Dashing to their car they jumped in slammed the doors and sped off back out onto the main road heading in the direction of the Chief's house.

 

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Needless to say their plans had changed. Going out to a bar was out of the question, Yami had far too many prescription strength painkillers in his system to drink, Soren was still recovering from the effects of the sleeping pill his fiancé had given him, while Alex and Eric were exhausted enough after their shift and had every intention of being able to drive themselves home afterward. Thus, Yami's basement had become the alternative night out. With water and pool sticks in hand they played several long games of pool, the only reason they were long being that they were too busy laughing at each other for being too tired to actually hit any of the balls, thus taking up more time than actually missing them.

 

Well after eleven Alex and Eric both said their good nights, waving good-bye and somnolently stumbling out of the house with Yami and Soren both watching to make sure they actually made it to their vehicles. The moment Yami closed the front door Soren plopped down in the plush sectional, a small moan of appreciation passing his lips from the sheer comfort the extremely soft couch brought, “I am so glad we both took the night off. I would not have lasted the shift, then again, Abby's sleeping pills really wouldn't have helped.”

 

Chuckling Soren laughed, peering upside down over the back of the couch, watching Yami putter around in the kitchen. “What did it take for him to make you call in, short of doing it himself.”

 

Yami peered across at him and grunted, averting his attention back to pouring the tea, “A good remind as to how much pain I am actually in, and a hard smack across the head reminding me that I am not a superhero.”

 

Soren grinned, forcing himself to stand back up and head to the door, “Bout time someone did, besides me.” Chuckling at the soft glare Yami sent him Soren pulled on his shoes and jacket, eyes never leaving Yami whom had crossed from the kitchen to the door, steaming cup of tea in his hand. “I'm glad though bud, you were on over drive and have been for months; unfortunately it took a brawl with a serial killer to knock some sense into your head.”

 

Shaking his head Yami grinned and playfully punched Soren's shoulder, “Go home you, before Abby calls the house demanding what awful things I have done to you to keep you from her.”

 

Zipping up his jacket Soren sighed, taking in his best friend's battered image, “Take care of yourself bud, alright. I'm just down the street if you need anything, remember that.”

 

Yami smiled kindly at him, allowing Soren to embrace him tightly, “I know, I'll talk to you tomorrow alright, thanks for coming.”

 

Stepping away Soren opened the door, striding out into the cool night air he glanced back at Yami, a cheeky smile brightened by the streetlights, “Later bud.”

 

Quietly Yami waited until Soren was several houses away before he closed the door, only to go and open the back one to allow Reno back into the warmth of the house. Injuries pounding in protest he promptly shoved the dishes in the dishwasher, closed the basement door and went to grab the vacuum cleaner. He needed to do a quickly tidy before Garret got home from work. It wasn't that the house was messy, it never truly was, but he wanted to have it out of the way so he could relax fully tomorrow on his official day off.

 

It did not take him long to have the main floor completely clean. With great difficulty he carried the normally fairly light vacuum up the stairs and began to go about cleaning the upstairs. Picking up clothes as he went and chucking them in the nearby hamper he slowly made progress in finally seeing the entire floor of his father's bedroom. The man had been hasty the last few days apparently, merely tossing his clothes into his room with the mental note to put them in the hamper later, only to be distracted by other more pressing matters.

 

Outside five figures climbed over the backyard fence and into the yard beyond it, they remained still at first confirming that the dog was not outside before dashing to one of the basement windows. They could hear the whir of a vacuum cleaner, and judging by how fait it was the user was probably on the top floor. Pleased they set down the heavy containers of kerosene that they had been carrying on the ground, one of them revealing the pipe he had been carrying and smashed at the basement window, shattering the glass and giving them the entrance that they needed without alerting the obviously distracted occupant of the house.

 

Over the whine of the vacuum the sharp sound of glass breaking snatched Reno's over sensitive attention. The foreign sound forced him to leave his masters side and down the stairs, nose and ears working on over drive to catch an unfamiliar sent and sound. It didn't take long, whispers and subtle banging could be heard beyond the basement door. Letting out a low growl he pawed at the closed door handle, when it wouldn't budge he began to frantically bark desperately trying to gain his masters attention.

 

Reno boisterously barking broke through the intense roar of the vacuum cleaner and Yami rummaging around upstairs. Shutting off the vacuum Yami stepped out of the room and peered down at the main floor, spotting Reno viciously barking at the basement door he glared, “Reno, enough, there's no reason to bark.” The dog peered up at him, a loud whine emitting from him and he dramatically sat down looking between him and the basement door. Scowling Yami snapped his fingers and pointed at his side, commanding the dog to come to him. Without question Reno did as bided, but clearly reluctant as he constantly let out small whines and looked back at the door. Once the dog reached him Yami knelt down and gently stroked his head, trying to soothe him. “There's no one here but us Reno, calm down.”

 

But the dog refused to, he was shifting his front paws impatiently, his whine deep and insistent. Furrowing his brow Yami glanced down at the basement door cautiously. Reno was far too well trained to simply bark at nothing, Garret had been forceful when it came to only getting retired police dogs, and with how antsy he was being something had to be wrong. Shushing the dog into silence Yami strained to hear any unusual sounds in the house, flinching when the familiar sound of footsteps on the basement stairs echoed in his ears along with whispered voices.

 

Holding back the urge to panic he tightly gripped Reno's collar, pulling the dog back with him into the darkness of the upstairs landing close to the bathroom door shutting off all the upstairs lights as he went. He could still see the basement door from that angle, his eyes completely trained on while his hand reached back to the bathroom counter to fumble for the phone he remembered placing there earlier. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, his mind screaming at him in reminder that his current injuries would put him at an intense disadvantage in a fight. Keeping his breathing in check he concentrated on reaching the phone, Garret was less than a fifteen minute drive from where he was, especially if he was speeding. He could not handle an altercation at the moment, and he knew it.

 

As soon as his hand fumbled over the cold plastic the basement door slammed open, five darkly dressed and clearly armed men sprang out into the main floor. Frantically Yami pressed in Garret's cell phone number, keeping a tight and commanding hold on Reno's collar, the dog remaining silent as he was trained to do.

 

“Where the hell is the kid? The guy said he would be home, what happened to all the lights,” whispered one of the men harshly.

 

“He's here somewhere, don't worry, he heard the vacuum and saw the lights,” said another. “He probably heard us and is hiding.”

 

Hitting the call button on the phone Yami set it down and focused his attention on his attackers; he had to hold them off until he father received the call and arrived with back-up. Heaving a cleansing breath he yelled out gaining the attention of his would be assailants, “Not hiding, waiting, Reno attack!”

 

All five men glanced up him only to cry out in dismay as Yami released Reno's collar, the dog launched down the stairs and lunged at the first man in range, sharp canines digging deeply into the soft flesh of the man's forearm. Screaming the man fell to his knees fervently trying to beat the dogs head in the hopes that it would let go, it never did, instead it pulled him viciously towards the basement stairs, ripping flesh and growling at him the teeth leaving his arm the instant he tumbled down the stairs to the concrete floor. His neck snapped when his head connected with the concrete, the sickening sound echoing in the stair well only to be covered by Reno's protesting barks when he was shoved into the stairwell and the door was slammed shut.

 

Standing up Yami watched in dismay as Reno was caught by surprise and shoved into the basement stairwell, the attackers slamming the door and locking it before their angered gazes turn back to him. Gulping he took a step down the stairs, arms out in the ready position, one down four more to go. Hopefully his energy lasted long enough, and with his position on the stairs only one could really attack him at a time.

 

“You prick, you'll pay for that dirty trick!” roared one of the thugs, a shaky finger pointing up at him. “Bring him down here!”

 

Clenching his fists and flexing his arms Yami easily manoeuvred out of the first attack, the man barrelled at him in a blind rage dagger drawn and eyes wild. Dropping down on one knee he snapped his elbow up, the bent limb roughly slamming into the man's sternum, knocking the wind out of his lung and completely incapacitating him. Rising up rapidly, the adrenaline already driving his system, he slammed his flexed forearm against the man's throat the force of the blow sending the man tumbling down the stairs. His comrades barely avoided his falling body, the dodging briefly distracting them but not for long. Handling the next opponent was just as easy, catching the thrown punch with one hand Yami clenched his injured hand and slammed it down the mans elbow, bending the joint and giving him the room to ram his elbow into the side of the man's head. The thug instantly saw stars, vision waning and blurring his view of Yami, thus enabling Yami to snap one leg up in a high kick and brutally slammed his foot into the same spot on the side of the man's head. With a cry he flipped over the railing and down few feet to the hardwood floor.

 

He wasn't so lucky with his next assailant. From his heavy breathing the sting in his back and torso began to blind him, along with the sheer agony the ripped through the damaged wrist that he had just used. He barely blocked the blow to his head, the pain of the thugs arm slamming into his crippled wrist forcing him back down to one knee. Holding back a cry he snapped up his other hand, barely catching the fist that was flying towards his face, but the force of the punch sent both of them off balance. Yami fell back onto the stairs, his bruised back being crushed against the corner of a stair when his assailant collapsed onto him, his hands being forcefully pinned to the stairs by his attacker's fists.

 

“Nice try bitch,” snarled the thug on top of him, grinning cockily down at him while keeping him firmly pinned to the stairs, his comrades slowly picking themselves up and coming back up the stairs. His grin widening when Yami vehemently tried to wriggle his wrists free, only to loudly wince when he squeezed them. “Time to have some fun.”

 

“Get off of me!” Yami growled, wriggling his one knee between his assailant's legs and slammed it up, sharply connecting with his groin.

 

Screaming the man rose up; hands cupping his injured appendage, blearily watching his two comrades viciously take hold of both Yami's arms and pull him to his feet. Growling the man spat at Yami while his two comrades dragged him down the stairs, “You son of a bitch!”

 

Yami struggled wildly, ignoring the searing pain in his body he desperately tried to wrench free of the two burly men's grasp. He was at a disadvantage, not only was he wounded but all of his assailants were far larger than him in either height or muscle. He could feel his joints popping in his futile efforts to wriggle away, crimson eyes fear fully watching the leader toy with a short metal pipe. Biting his lip he double his efforts, all it did was burn more energy out of his system.

 

It was already pretty clear in Yami's mind that these men were not here to rob, they were here to kill or torture. This was something his entire family had always feared would happen. During Garret's years of working in the gang unit they had had threat after threat from gangs; one of them had nearly been able to pull through one of them. These men wanted Garret to pay for what ever wrong he had done them, and like the cowards they generally were, they were going after his family instead of confronting the man in person. Keeping his body from trembling he stared defiantly at the leader, mind excepting full well that they were going to beat him senseless until help arrived, and he would be damned it he gave them the pleasure of screaming or giving up any information that they wanted.

 

The leader grinned at him, absently gliding his hand up and down the cool metal rod, “So, you're the chief's precious puppy. Let's see how well you can play, hm. I think we should play a little game called tell me what I want to know, how's that sound.” He chuckled deeply when Yami narrowed his eyes further, boldness seeping through his pores. “Heh, tough guy huh, lets see how tough you really are, pin him against the wall.”

 

Yami had no further warning before he was rammed against the wall; both his arms successfully pinned by burly hands while one of the two gripped his chin and kept his head against the wall. He was forced to watch the leader experimentally flick the metal rod, clenching his jaw he prepared himself for the obvious blow that was about to come, willing his body to relax in hopes of reducing the damage.

 

“This,” growled the leader, winding up and slamming the metal pole across Yami's gut, disappointed when to scream rang out just a deep grunt. “Is for having your dog kill our friend.”

 

Internally retching against the pain Yami closed his eyes and breathed through the pain coursing through his stomach, his muscles tightening in reflex against it. Shuddering slightly he re-opened his eyes, glaring defiantly at the leader, his own fear dormant within him while his will to protect his father was a burning external flame. Nothing would stop him from that, not even the prospect of the amount of pain he was clearly about to go through.

 

Temper flaring the leader tapped the pole against his leg, pacing in slow deliberate steps in front of his captive, “Where is the Chief?” Meeting a dark stare and a silent brick wall he raised the weapon and propelled it into Yami's sternum, grinning at the audible cracking of bone. Again, Yami did not give him the blood chilling scream nor did he give the information, he merely grunted low in his throat and scrunched his face against the pain. Snarling he wound up again for another strike, determined to get some sort of vocal response. “Tell me you little fucker or I'll beat you senseless.”

 

Shuddering violently through the second wave of pain Yami swallowed the copper tasting liquid that welled up in his throat. Inhaling carefully he returned to glaring at the leader, suppressing a smirk when the man shuddered under his garnet gaze. Relaxing his body as much as he could he snapped out his response, knowing full well the consequence it was going to bring. “Fuck you!”

 

He was barely able to quell the screams that wanted to rip his throat apart, the pain from the raining blows from the hard pole overwhelming his senses. There was nothing he could do to fight back; he was rendered completely immobile by the two men holding him in place, none of them hindered by their dead companion or the unconscious one by the stairs. He could taste blood pooling in the back of his mouth, the extent of the damage being exemplified by it, reminding him that the human body can only take so much torment.

 

His vision began to blacken when the blows suddenly stopped; bewildered he lifted his head with a groan, glaring across at the leader. His glare faltered as he spotted a berretta in the leader's hand, cocked and pointed at his chest. Swallowing hard he tried to wrench away, panic setting in as he realised that the men knew full well he wasn't going to talk and were just going to be rid of him. The click of the trigger echoed loudly in his ears, his fear amplifying the sound of the gun going off.

 

White-hot pain sliced through him the instant the bullet hit his left lung, the intense burning sensation of the bullet ricocheting around in his torso knocking the breath and a strained scream from him. They let go of him, his body simply collapsed much akin to a broken doll, first to his knees then dropping down onto his left side. Warm blood was already starting to seep from him, soaking his shit and pooling on the floor. He tried to focus on anything, his consciousness rapidly fading from the pain and the beginning of significant blood loss. His mind was barely able to register the sound of the front door slamming open, his gaze lifted to see Garret stumble in through the front door gun drawn and deep voice roaring at the intruders. Yami tried to scream, tried to tell Garret to run, but his vocal cords refused to work.

 

Everything moved in slow motion. Garret running into the house, demanding that the intruders leave before back-up arrives. The leader lifting the hand holding the gun and swivelling it towards Garret, the chief missing it completely as his eyes fell on the bloodied body of his barely breathing son on the floor. Again, the clicking noise echoed shrilly along with the bang of the gun. Garret had no chance, his eyes remained fixated on Yami's stunned crimson eyes while the bullet buried itself in his forehead, through his cranium and out blood exploding in it its wake.

 

Stunned Yami released a silent scream, eyes absorbing the entire scene in horror. Garret's joints buckled, snapping as if the strings holding him up had been cut and he collapsed to the floor in an undignified heap, lifeless with milky eyes, eyes that were still fixated on his face. He was frozen, not only in agony and shock but also in sheer terror. The face of his mother when she died blurred with his father's rapidly paling one, his mind screaming at him to get up and run, he did not want to die, not like this, not now.

 

Shutting down he tried to relax, his breathing shallow and wheezing while his heart pounded at an alarming speed, neither of which he could fix. He had no strength left to stay awake, the last thing that registered in his mind was the smell of kerosene then the sudden and intense roar of flames.

 

From down the street Soren was snapped out of his relaxed state by screams outside. Groggily he sat up and rubbed his eyes so he could see what time it was. He hadn't been home long, maybe forty minutes. Abby was fast asleep beside him, being a heavy sleeper she did not even notice him get up from the bed and lethargically stumble over to the bedroom window. Yawning he opened the blinds, needing to know what the screaming was for, growling to himself that it had better not be drunk teenagers. What he was met by dried his mouth and stole the air from his lungs. He lived at the end of the long cul-de-sac, giving him a perfect view of the entire street. All that registered was the angry red flames that were rapidly engulfing Yami's home, and the fact that he could not spot his friend anywhere outside.

 

“No…no, no, no!” he yelled, scrambling to pull on his clothes, all the while not noticing Abby sitting up in bed.

 

“Honey, what's wrong?” She asked groggily.

 

“Yami's house is on fire, call the fire department, I'm going over there.” He replied hastily, giving her a pointed look before dashing out the bedroom and to the front door.

 

Shoving on his shoes he shot out the front door sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him to his friends burning home. Avoiding the few people that were out on the street he skidded to a halt in front of the house, taking in the image of the intense dancing flames and black smoke rising from the home that he had known and loved for the past twenty years. Snapping his gaze away he peered around for Yami, again not seeing him he turned to a nearby couple, “Has anyone seen Yami and Garret come out? The vehicles are here they have to be home.” The couple shook their heads. Cursing Soren pleaded gripping the man's coat, “I'm an EMT, I need to go in there and see if they're home, I need your jacket so I can have a screen from the smoke.”

 

The man nodded, willingly giving him his coat and begging him to be careful. Soren didn't hear it, he quickly covered his mouth with the fabric and sprinted to the open front door. The heat hit his face, tearing at his flesh and daring him to enter the blazing him. Coughing against the smoke he peered around. The flames were everywhere, no apparent starting point just livid flames scorching the house to ashes. Loud creaking caught his attention and he yelped as parts of the stair well crumbled and fell into the kitchen. Then he both heard and spotted two of the individuals living in the house. Reno was barking behind the basement door, while at his feet Soren stared down at Garret's lifeless body retching when he noticed the glassy stare and the bullet hole in his head.

 

“I need some help here!” he yelled out to the crowd, a hopeful smile crossing his features as a police car pulled up to the front yard. Bakura and Grey were dashing out and within seconds were at his side, both pale with shock.

 

“What the hell happened here,” Grey demanded, staring at Garret's corpse.

 

“I don't know, but we need to get Garret out of here. I can hear Reno but I haven't been able to get in yet and look for Yami,” Soren expounded, voice muffled through the jacket.

 

Squinting against the heat Bakura clenched his fists, “I'll look for Yami, you two get Garret and Reno out. Hurry, we don't have much time.”

 

He didn't even give the two a moment to protest before he covered his mouth with his shirt and stormed into the raging out, cringing from the inferno heat that besieged him. He could hear Grey and Soren letting the dog out of the basement before dragging Garret's body out of the house. All he could see and hear was the roaring flames, it was overwhelming him to the point where he could barely think or see. Seeing that the stairs were destroyed he prayed to any God that would listen that Yami wasn't up there. His prayers were answered when his eyes caught sight of the young man's trademark hair in the kitchen, his hope faltering when he saw that the fallen debris from the stairs was blocking his way to him and that Yami was clearly unconscious.

 

Growling he pulled his sleeve down so it was covering his hand and moved towards the debris, violently hacking at the fallen piece of railing with his arm, nearly jumping for joy when it crumbled instantly. Scrambling over it he dashed over to where Yami was lying, his stomach turning when he noticed the large pool of blood gathering around him, the liquid bubbling from the high temperature of the flames. Snarling he dropped down, he knew something was wrong, he just hadn't imagined that it was something this bad. Reaching out he ran his hand over Yami's face and down the entire length of his body, feeling crepitus beneath his fingers along with hot bloody and an extremely faint pulse he shook his head, “They beat the shit out of him, whoever they are.”

 

“Bakura, did you find him,” Grey called from the doorway, slowly making his way back into the inferno.

 

“He's here, I'm going to need some help,” he yelled out, taking off his jacket and covering Yami's battered body with it. “Hurry, this whole place is going to collapse soon.”

 

Jumping over the smashed remnants of the stair railing Grey knelt down at Yami's other side, taking quick inventory of the obvious damage, “Someone tried to kill them then cover it up, hes got a gunshot wound too.”

 

“Among other things. Shut up and help me get him in my arms, we need to get out of here, he's inhaled way too much smoke and is in way too bad of shape to handle it,” Bakura snapped.

 

“Alright,” Grey murmured, waiting till Bakura had rolled Yami onto his back and had firmly tucked his arms under his neck and knees before moving to help. Supporting Yami's side to make sure he didn't tumble the two of them stood up, shifting Yami's weight until he was completely in Bakura's firm hold.

 

“Come on,” Bakura growled out, grunting at Yami's lightweight and careening out the front door and into the cold night. Keeping a firm hold on Yami he dashed down the stairs and towards Soren whom was sitting in the front yard by Garret's body. The young man looked up at him and paled seeing his best friends condition, Bakura cringed at the sob he heard emit from Soren's mouth as he carefully knelt

down and laid Yami on the grass while Grey moved to keep the people away.

 

Soren's hands fumbled, clearly trying to hold back tears as he did a quick assessment, taking in vitals and the obvious damage. Bakura watched him lose the battle, biting his lip and watching the young man's face become rapidly stained with tears. Seeing that Soren was in no state to do anything Bakura put his hand over the gunshot wound to Yami's chest and applied pressure, “What's damage?”

 

Fervently wiping the tears from his face Soren ran his eyes over Yami's body, both hands taking one of Yami's limp ones and holding it to his chest. “Aside from the injuries he had before, it looks like someone continually hit his stomach and chest with something, along with a sucking chest wound from the gunshot. His respirations are at twenty-six per minute, he needs artificial ventilation and fast or he has no chance, and his airway isn't clear, I can see blood. His skin is pale, cool and clammy…indicating that he is in early stages of shock from haemorrhaging, and there's some cyanosis around his lips from lack of oxygen. His pulse is rapid and thready; it's at about one hundred and twenty…way too high. Basically, he's in hemorrhagic shock, if an ambulance does not get here soon he will go into irreversible shock because of his body trying to compensate for the blood loss…he'll die…dear God…” Soren crumbled, his tears returning as he bent over and tightly held on to Yami's bloodied hand. “Please no, I can't lose you too.”

 

Biting his lip Bakura closed his eyes, hissing as more blood continued to seep between his fingers, “Dammit, is there anything we can do!?”

 

Soren shook his head, “Aside from putting pressure on the wound, there is nothing we can do until an ambulance gets here.”

 

Cursing again Bakura pushed harder down on the wound, desperately trying to stop any more of the precious fluid from leaving Yami's body. Staring down he took in the rapidly paling skin that before was a luscious bronze, the dark bruises covering the exposed parts of his battered body, Yami chest heaving violently in an attempt to breathe but was clearly failing miserably through the audible wheezes escaping him. Shaking his head Bakura frantically looked around, someone must have called for fire and EMS, why were they taking so long to get here. He had never felt so desperate and useless in his life, here was a young nineteen-year-old swiftly slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it except hope that help would arrive soon. `

 

His heart, along with Grey and Soren's, soared at the piercing roar of sirens ripping down the street towards the house. They watched the ambulance and many fire trucks pull up in front of the house, the firefighters dashing to put out the blaze while the paramedics scrambled over to them, stretcher and supplies in hand.

 

“Sir,” one of the EMT's murmured, tapping Bakura's shoulder to get his attention. “Can I ask you to take C-spine, you know how to do that right.” Nodding Bakura moved to do as asked, trapping Yami's head between his knees to keep it firmly in place, silently listening to Soren relay what he knew while the EMT's quickly divested Yami of his shirt, put a bag-valve mask over his mouth and turned on the oxygen tank and applied a dressing over the gunshot would.

 

One of the EMT's started to reassess Yami's vitals after all the interventions where in place and he had directed Soren to get the c-collar and spine board. Bakura noticed the man's eyes widen in dismay, he didn't even have to demand an answer, the EMT was instantly screaming to Soren and his partner, “He's breathless and pulse less, someone grab the AED now!”

 

His heart was in his throat, eyes widening in shock, mindlessly watching the three EMT's scramble to clean Yami's bloodied chest as much as they could and stick on the small pads from the AED while one administered CPR and Soren managed the bag-valve-mask. His brain shut off, body going numb as he continued to stare on, the three EMT's yells of clear and shocking the only thing breaking through his fog. All he could see was the heavy chest compressions, the bag-valve-mask, and Yami's body jerking when shock was administered.

 

Leaning down one of the EMT's checked Yami's vitals again after the AED voiced for it to be done, his yelp of join tearing everyone back into reality, “He's got a weak pulse, and his breathing is less than eight a minute. Let's load and go guys.”

 

Blinking Bakura shook his head and shuffled back a bit, allowing the three EMT's to administer the c-collar, carefully roll Yami onto the spine board before clipping him down and lifting him onto the stretcher. Inhaling for the first time in minutes he looked at Grey, “I'm going with them, meet me at the Foothills hospital.”

 

Stunned Grey nodded, averting from his conversation with the firefighters around him, “Is he going to make it!?”

 

Bakura shook his head in uncertainty, giving his friend a small comforting smile he dashed after the EMT's and into the back of the ambulance, assisting in closing the doors. The driver sped off without a thought, sirens blaring to aid in a speedy ride to the hospital. Sighing deeply Bakura reached out to Soren, whom was sitting beside him, and took the one hand that was not holding Yami's, “He'll make it, don't worry.”

 

Soren peered up at him dejectedly the tears still coursing down his cheeks, nodding stiffly he turned his attention back to Yami's face, “I hope so, I really do.”

 

A/N: So…please review, I love to hear what you guys have to say…and don't kill me, or I wont be able to give you the next chapter…hehe…I'm going to write the next chapter now…