Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ HOUNDS ❯ The Beast ( Chapter 11 )

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HOUNDS. The Beast.

~By Sweetdeily.
“Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin; it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.
~Unknown.”

~

It was that white, brilliant light that your unconsciousness seemed to enjoy forever gazing at. He couldn’t feel his body- didn’t even remember that he had one. He would have been hard-pressed to give his name even. But the brief flash of realization that he was staring at the whiteness of his mind allowed the sentence to slip in.

“He’s lost a lot of blood- survival is chancy at best.”

The words were disembodied; almost slipping from his mind as they came and went with the flashes of consciousness he rolled through.

It was quiet in his mind. The kind of silence that a shape-shifter is in no way accustomed to. Usually there was the quiet buzzing of the human thoughts, but always, under that was the desire of the Beast. Now, there was nothing. It was empty, as though waiting to be filled by something… anything.

The word chancy echoed in his conscious thoughts. Like an afterglow; a fading cinema screen. It brought something to the tip of his consciousness- a silent presence that was always there but never imposing. The feeling of warm fur spread across his body, running over his thoughts as if some kind of creature brushed against his brain, leaving a faint, musky imprint that was so natural to his mind he barely had a single word for it.

Chancy. Chances were that…Jounouchi’s mind stirred.

Chances are likely that… the silent creature shifted, bringing Jounouchi’s consciousness back into his mind, pulling at the strong bond between them.

He slowly fell into the feeling; the warm, long fur that rushed around his consciousness, keeping him safe, keeping him strong. But wanting assertion; wanting domination, wanting to fight, to lead the pack, to mark his territory…

He fell into that mind, the big russet eyes that looked alien- and yet so familiar. The desire for the brush of fur against fur seemed to explode in his very bones. The desire to be alpha- to be the leader. This was the wolf. It urged him to be stronger, to fight longer, harder.

He found the dream slowly, as if it were an effort to fight through the whiteness, even with the strength of the wolf. It was strange- Jounouchi knew that he was slowly regaining his grip on consciousness- as though he were pushing away from the brink of some terrible finality- but something was missing. It came to him as he dreamt with the wolf. Slower, weaker, less dominating.

Always there was the forest. Blurry and lost in focus- as though important, but never important enough to draw his attention. The trees could have been from any part of the world. The snow could have been warm or cold. And then there was the animal. The face that stared at him with its almost human intelligence. No… there was no ‘almost’ about the animal’s gaze. They started at each other, russet eyes on russet eyes. Muzzle on nose. Fangs on canines. Blending into one being, the mind of the hunter, the alpha. But they are not alone. Softening as the third is added to their consciousness. The submissive, the protector.

The eyes are rounder, less aggressive. The half-wolf. The pet.

No need for struggle. This is the Beast. Rising and falling with a whine and a growl as he draws a deep breath. Take strength from one, take care from the other. The three parts are needed to be complete, to be fulfilled.

But it is also a struggle. Become the Beast. Become the master. Hunter, alpha, leader, dominant. Or a human.

It is a struggle that any shape-shifter can understand. There are no words for it. The Beast is need. The Beast is desire.

Always there. Always tugging on the desires and needs of the carrier.

He struggles to pull himself free of the jumbled mess. To be human, or at least to have the human mind in control. He will not become the Beast. There is more to life than living. Control the Beast; do not let it control you.

These are words that remind him of human wants. Of human desires. Human needs. Meat, yes… but also sex for pleasure. And shopping. Clothing. Cars. Jobs.

The human desires that bring his own name to his mind. Jounouchi Katsuya. He pushes down the Beast, but lets the warmth of the fur and heat surround him. It comforts his mind, it comforts his body.

The Beast is always there- always ready to come just above the surface. But it is a comforting desire. It reminds him that he is alive.

Unbeknownst to the struggle in Jounouchi’s consciousness, the heartbeat monitor finally steadies into a comfortable rhythm.

~

Hospitals, even the good ones, are never quite free of the sickening smell of illness. It soaks into the hallways and the rooms like a ghost, hungry to be heard, to be felt one last time before passing on- and yet never satisfied.

Vomit, chemicals and linen blankets.

The sweet, sickly, sour aftertaste of the water from the taps; like someone has made the water stale just to piss the cancer victims off one last time.

The vending machine in the hallway that sells cheese sandwiches that taste like unbuttered bread, minus the cheese.

The coffee that is actually kind of good until you realize the machine is now broken and you’ve only got half a cup to last you through a brutal eight-hour wait for a loved one to come out of surgery.

The handrails and enough bathrooms that you’d think the person who’s knocking on the door would just find another one.

The linoleum floors and the blaring lights that are always on.

The old man watching the races with the volume up so loud you can hear it all the way down the corridor.

And then there are the things uncommon of the hospital. Like the tapping of his boot against the floor. Tap, tap, taptap, tap…

The room is small, the chairs seem squashed around the bed, the one that he sits in is between the bed and the door, the second chair is unoccupied, but plays host to a pair of black coats. The bed is off to the side of the small, square room. Near the window but not within touching distance of the wall. The white blankets are tucked around the occupant like a set of restraints. The little table for food- or whatever the hospital tries to pass off as edible- has a single cup of water on its surface. Half a dozen monitors litter the room, all with varying displays of stats and numbers that mean little to the three occupants.

The shift of fabric against metal as the officer moves his weight from one foot to the other.

The beat of the heart monitor, less worrying now, calming mostly. A testament that the boy is no longer in danger of dying. The drip and slurp of the transfusion as the blood trickles down into the boy’s arm. He looks pale and delicate under the harsh white lights. Like touching his bare arms might break him. The scratches that are visible- mostly those on his face- seem harsh and red, glaring like a witness that the boy deserves the rest that he is getting. There are half a dozen needles poking out of the boy’s body. Something for nutrients, another one for blood, a third for painkillers, a forth for the allergic reaction, and two more whose purposes seemed important but unpronounceable.

He’s naked under the covers.

Cobalt eyes shift to the officer, a tongue flickers along thin lips, telling him more about the other man than could ever be gazed by eyes alone. Boredom, a glazed look about his eyes that suggests his mind is not on the door, the bed or the job- probably off playing a sport with a daughter or son.

So he enjoys the boy’s nakedness privately. It’s not like he does anything but taste the air. But taste has such a strange advantage; the beads of sweat on the boy’s forehead. The whiteness of the normally tanned skin; so deathly pale. The clumps of short blonde hair- all messed up and fuzzy. He can sense the dandruff too. And the rise and fall of the boy’s stomach- the shift of the stitches against the fabric tastes especially strange and unnatural. The softness of the boy’s penis, however, doesn’t go unnoticed. He dwells on it, the tip of his tongue shifting to the right to catch every part of it.

Another might recognize his perverted action- but they are so rare that he has never had to worry about it. Overconfident- yes. But justly so.

He wonders what is ticking away inside the boy’s head. So smart, for a man his age. He has many uses for the kind of intelligence evident in the other. And he can tell that the blonde wants to be useful.

“Sir?” The question tugs his mind back into the room, out from under the covers of the bed and poised to attention.

“What?” He doesn’t bother whispering- the boy is in an almost comatose state. Not much will wake him.

“Someone’s coming.” The officer squares his already square shoulders, the glazed look in his eyes is gone now and he is alert.

Seto Kaiba shifts and stands, hand resting on his gun. The steps outside are hurried, unmeasured; someone in a rush to get where they’re going.

This corridor has no other patients, so the HOUNDS must assume that the person is coming to this room.

The smell hits them just outside the door. Therianthrope… feline. Seto’s eyes narrow. He glances at the officer, insinuating that the door is to be opened.

The officer, Dave, the nametag reads, moves to open the door, but he is beaten by the person on the other side.

They draw their guns in a blinding flash, aiming, but not shooting, not yet.

The weretiger on the other side blinks and freezes- a horrified look frozen on his features.

Seto’s lips tug into a sneer, the Beast releases a growl through his mouth and he relaxes his shoulders, putting his gun down. “Yami Nagisawa.”

The weretiger blinks, still frozen mid-stride. His eyes on the gun still pointed in his direction.

Seto nods to Dave and the gun falls, not holstered, but no longer a threat. The officer holds it at the ready, lose in his right hand- the safety is still off, and if he were a younger, jumpier man, he might be aiming it vaguely toward the shadows.

Yami relaxes and steps slowly into the room, glancing at the bed before closing the door behind him. “What happened to him?”

“Cuts, bruises, broken ribs, broken arm, fractured this, and a silver bullet in the gut.” He shifted, placing himself between the weretiger and the bed. “And he’s in no condition for your ‘treatments’.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed, the red was glaringly obvious in the light Seto Kaiba recognized it as the night vision of a cat, only Yami’s never seemed to be off, like part of him was always stuck in his animal form. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Half of this, you caused. He’s under HOUNDS protection now, so stay away from him.”

They glared at each other for a while, the cat was being confrontational. Finally, Dave broke the stalemate. “The doctors will be checking him soon, how many should we allow into the room?”

“Just one.” Seto growled; he took his chair again.

The weretiger moved to go to the bed but at a warning growl from the HOUNDS he stopped. “I just want to see it up close.”

“I don’t think so.”

The tension in the room rose visibly. Dave was a seasoned veteran, but even he shifted on the balls of his feet, hurriedly looking away from the two alphas.

~

The light, in the end, wakes him. At first he thinks it’s odd, to be pulled from the dark dreams, slowly, but inevitably toward that glistening light. He fights it, rolling over so it won’t disturb him, but somehow- as though the sun follows his movements like an evil little pixie- it finds his eyelids. Unwilling to open his eyes, he takes in the sounds first. Beeping, loud, incessant, irritating beeps that vibrate his ears. He’s surprised that this sound wasn’t what got him awake. Because now that he was awake, the machines were certainly keeping him that way.

The shift of fabric, the swallow of someone’s dry throat, a murmur of voices outside. His senses felt hyper-aware. The dull thumping that must have been a heartbeat. A couch. A yawn. The sound of a metallic female voice paging Doctor Roberts.

The stench of illness. Vomit, crap, pills, chemicals, plastic and three day old clothing. His throat is dry from the air conditioned room.

His body doesn’t feel as painful as he expects. He feels drowsy, light-headed. Like he could close his eyes and sleep again. He wants to… but the beeping really irritates him. His hands sting, and he can hear the drip of liquid that rushes down a tube and into his body. His stomach is queasy and tight, but otherwise not too painful.

Slowly, because he’s completely disorganized and disorientated, he pries his eyelids open.

The light is blinding, and he has to blink a few times before he can finally see the white of the ceiling. His head begins pounding, his pupils feel lazy and totally relaxed. Either the ceiling is lined with fur, or his vision is fuzzy. A groan and a scrunching of his eyes helps; his head feels overly large and thick- too heavy to shake.

The ceiling is a little blurry, but otherwise focused. His body throbs that ‘I gotta move soon or I’ll turn to stone’ kind of throbbing.

Someone leans over his face, close and personal. The brown hair, attractive nose and sharp cobalt eyes take only a second for his brain to place. “Seto Kaiba?”

A look of sharp, unhindered relief flooded those tight features, making Jounouchi squirm despite himself. He bit his lip to stop from smiling, finding that his lip, like much of his body, was sort of numb.

“He’s awake. Can you remember anything but my name? Do you remember your name?”

“Yes and yes. Jounouchi Katsuya.” Better to concentrate on the words, not how close they were and how they were in a hospital and…

He had a flash, almost as though his mind wasn’t sure it had been real or fake, of someone calling his name, right before he’d run into the forest. The voice had been so familiar. Had it been Seto? He didn’t think so, somehow.

“Can you tell me what happened at the party?”

Jounouchi was about to open his mouth when Yami’s voice interrupted. “He JUST woke up and you’re interrogating him. Jesus Christ! Once a cop, always a cop. Let him have something to eat or drink first, at least.”

Jounouchi turned his head, unable to see his roommate. The weretiger must have been in a corner or something. “Yami? What’re you doing here?”

The snort told Jounouchi he’d just insulted the other. “Well I thought I’d stop by and beat on you before going home. What the hell do you think? I get a call from the hospital saying you’ve been shot and are in intensive care and you don’t expect me to come running? Christ.”

Feeling abashed, but somewhat happy because it was a touching speech, Jounouchi nodded blearily. “Sorry. Thanks. For… y’know… coming.”

Yami grunted, obviously he and Seto had been talking. From the smug look on the lycanthrope’s face- which was still pretty close to Jounouchi’s own- this seemed to be the case. It seemed that it was probably a case of what had passed between the pair in the apartment too. Was Yami seriously terrority-ing Jounouchi? That didn’t seem likely.

Jounouchi yawned and squirmed until his stiff limbs were more comfortable. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days almost.” Seto answered, finally backing off and sitting in his chair- it was positioned between the bed and the door, and Jounouchi got a little thrill from assuming that was on purpose.

He was beta, and the alpha was protecting him. Jounouchi’s toes curled of their own accord. “Is there anything to eat?” He croaked out.

Seto nodded and gave a small gesture to someone. Jounouchi looked around the room, twisting his head so he could see what he was looking at. Yami was leaning against the wall in the far corner, frowning unhappily toward Seto Kaiba. A man in HOUNDS uniform detached himself from the wall next to the door and headed, presumably, out for food.

“What can you tell me?” Seto had that little notebook in one hand now, pen in the other.

Jounouchi licked his lips and tried to figure out what he was going to say. “First of all- Ryuji is dead. I was standing right next to him when he got riddled with bullets. I forgot what he was talking about- he seemed pretty wasted, but one minute he was talking, the next the world went to shit.”

He rubbed his left eye, feeling a bandaid over his eyebrow. Jounouchi bit his lip again, watching the short, neat little words write themselves across the page as Seto’s hand shifted.

“They were wearing ski masks and black gear. I didn’t get that great a look at them- whoever they were-” Again, he was reminded of the voice in the forest. So familiar…

“So you don’t have any leads about them?”

Pulling his mind away from the last coherent memory his brain had registered for that night, he shook his head. “No… I have one lead, but it scares the shit out of me to think about it. When I was doing the rounds, were you guys listening in?”

Seto nodded.

“One of the guys mentioned the Claws.”

Yami’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

Jounouchi shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Fuck. If you pissed the Claws off we need to get out of town.” Yami moved toward the door, pulling a phone out of his back pocket.

Seto frowned. “The Claws? I’ve never heard of them.” He said it as if he should of.

Jounouchi rubbed both his eyes now. “Be glad. Rumor has it that they’re a bunch of mercs. Got bored sitting around all day with nothing to kill. These guys are seriously fucked up. Supposedly they’re all shifters- but no one’s sure what kind of shifting they do.” Jounouchi felt a shiver go up his spine remembering the rumor about the snakes. That the elite of the Claws were out in Brazil. In the water. Inspiring movies about giant snakes.

“You look ill.” Seto was leaning closer again and it should have made Jounouchi feel better but he just rubbed his left wrist gently.

“Thinking about those kinds of monsters… if they were really the ones that took those guns and are even now trying to create chaos on the streets… I don’t even want to know what they’re planning.”

“Why haven’t we heard of them if you’re so afraid of them?”

“I’ve only heard rumors about them.”

“So they might not even be real?” Seto was looking skeptical now.

Jounouchi shook his head. “Oh, they’re real. Nothing fake leaves those kinds of rumors behind.”

The food finally arrived. Jounouchi was too busy wondering what a good country to move to would be to even want to eat any more.

~Tsuzuku…