Chapter 19: The Count of Monte Cristo

"Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when the storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine! Then the fates will know you as we know you."

xxx

The sun streamed in through the window, coaxing Anzu out of bed. She groaned, shielding her eyes and immediately reached for her phone.

7:00am.

She groaned again and flopped over on her stomach, eyes fluttering closed.

The soft feel of the pillow on her cheek and the blanket, tangled around her waist lulled her into a sense of security. Her azure eyes slipped closed and she tried to soothe her troubled mind.

Lately it had taken everything in her power to push down the intense feelings of nostalgia and guilt that had bubbled up like bile in her throat. It was painful even to be around cheerful, bubbly Andy who reminded her so much of her blonde friend from Brooklyn. And what of Tristian? Was a 3000-year-old Pharaoh the only thing that held them together?

She chewed on a fingernail absentmindedly as her mind threaded multiple needles, building on the complicated web.

And where was Seto Kaiba now? Ruling the Kaiba Corporation? Secluded forever within his palace of steel, concrete and denial. Anzu was surprised to realize that she even missed Kaiba—the cold brunette and his biting remarks. But in the end, Kaiba had proved his loyalty and respect for the Pharaoh.

Everything had changed and now the past was coming to meet the future once more—perhaps for the final time. She pulled the covers over her head, shielding her tired eyes from the sun's rays.

When Anzu finally awoke and strolled into the kitchen for brunch, she decided not to mention the drawings she had seen last night, preferring to initiate peace. Ryou hummed a tuneless song, obviously distracted as he washed the dishes.

Anzu sat at the table with her computer open; pouring over the Egyptian texts she had saved on her thumb-drive all those years before.

What does this mean? Her eyes ran up and down the page, flitting from pictogram to pictogram. She groaned to herself and dropped her head letting her hand catch her tired skull.

"Everything alright, Anzu?" Ryou asked tiredly.

"Mmmmphffff," she grunted, "Just checking emails."

The Brit was quiet for a moment as he scratched his nail vigorously over a spot where apparently a very stubborn piece of food resided.

"H-Have you heard from anyone lately?" Ryou asked, refusing to look Anzu in the eye.

The brunette looked up from her computer to watch the hunched form of her friend by the sink, "Do you mean-?"

Ryou looked up immediately, "Anzu, I-"

"What in the gods name is THIS?"

Anzu and Ryou whipped around to see a very perturbed Bakura standing in the doorway holding a small egg shaped alarm clock in his hand that was currently going off, much to Bakura's obvious annoyance.

Ryou stifled a laugh and Anzu bit her lip to keep from smirking.

"That's an alarm clock, Akefia," Ryou said as calmly as he could.

"I bloody know what it is," Bakura admonished, holding the vibrating object out in front of him in disgust, "How do you turn it off? I went to hit it this morning but it wandered over the whole gods damn room!"

Ryou couldn't help it. He let out a laugh, "Akefia, the clock is supposed to vibrate and fall off the desk and roll around the floor so you have to get up and get it—therefore waking yourself up."

Anzu almost let out a small hiccup of a laugh.

"Piss off, " Akefia responded, swinging his arm back and tossing the offending object out an open window.

"Jesus Bakura," Ryou said wryly, pushing back his hair with wet hands, "Thanks.

Anzu averted her eyes as Bakura sat down heavily across from her. The Egyptian didn't seem to notice her as he bit into the apple placed before him.

Ryou finished the dishes and cleared his throat.

"Bakura?"

"Mmmm?" the man grunted in the general direction of his better half.

"I'm going to run out and get some groceries. I'll be back in thirty minutes. Try not to commit any felonies while I'm gone."

Bakura grunted in response. With a sigh, Ryou dried his hands, and grabbed his wallet from the counter, but not before he threw a quick smile at the pretty brunette. Anzu grinned and winked at Ryou, waving as the young man clicked the door behind him.

Anzu waited until Ryou was out of earshot and his footsteps became distant. She had so many questions of what she had seen this morning—what was that village? Who was the screaming woman and the unfortunate child? Her heart raced as she studied the man across the table who refused to meet her eyes.

"Tell me about Kul Elna," Anzu said quietly, before taking a shaky sip of her grape juice.

She expected the Egyptian to toss a well-aimed retort at her or threaten her for speaking of the horrid events.

"Kul Elna?" Akefia said with a smirk, his eyes finally meeting hers, "Why the fuck do you even care?"

"I'm trying to understand how this all started!" Anzu responded, "Since I'm now in the middle of this mess, I want to know the origin of all of this. I think it's a fair question. Though I'm not sure the word "fair" is part of your vocabulary."

Bakura nodded and barked out a laugh, "You are right, it's not."

Anzu relaxed against the chair, "It must have been horrible. To lose your parents and your village so violently—I can't imagine."

"No you can't," said Bakura coldly, "Drop it, girl. That's a warning."

But Anzu was too far in now to stop. Her eyes traced over his handsome face—well-defined cheekbones, fiery eyes and his pale locks that had become his trademark. She could see the lines etched into his face and the shadows under his eyes. The mysterious scar cut a faint jagged path down his face.

"Where did you get the scar?"

Bakura grabbed the knife next to him and began to attack the loaf of hard bread that had been placed in front of him. He did not respond.

Anzu pressed again, "Where. Did. You. Get. That. Scar."

The knife clattered onto the plate, making Anzu jump from the sudden noise. Bakura sat there, chest heaving, "Do you always ask these questions, slut? It doesn't concern you. All you should be worried about is translating those texts. That's what you are here for. That's the only reason you are alive."

Anzu's eyes flashed, "I won't do it. I won't give you the spell you need. Not until you tell me how all of this started."

Bakura rose abruptly, knocking the chair to the ground with a crash.

Anzu watched as Bakura pointed the steak knife at her throat, "Really girl?" He cocked his head and the smirk vanished.

Anzu stared at the knife and then back into the deep, dark pools of his eyes.

"I-I won't give it to you."

Bakura brought the knife closer, "Is your pride worth the bloodstains on the carpet?"

Anzu pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Or maybe the Pharaoh's?" Bakura raised an elegant eyebrow.

"S-Stop it, Bakura," Anzu said quietly, tearing her gaze from his own.

"That's what I thought." He put the knife down and tore through the bread greedily. She watched him for a minute, lost in a daze of thoughts and guilt. What was pride worth anyway?

"You remind me of a character in a book," she finally said, "The Count of Monte Cristo."

Bakura paused mid-chew.

"It's about a man who was betrayed by his best friend and his colleague who were both jealous of his good fortune and beautiful fiancée, Mercedes. They framed him and he spent years in a jail, suffering until he broke free and threatened to enact revenge on the people who had wronged him. He lost everything, even his fiancée to the man he once had called a friend."

Bakura stayed quiet, staring at her.

Anzu chewed her lip and began again, "They say when you set out for revenge, plan to dig two graves."

Bakura looked up, "I dug those two graves a long time ago—it's now time I fill them."

Anzu shivered at the intensity in the Egyptian's voice.

Bakura took another bite of the apple on his plate, chewing nosily before swallowing, "And so what happened to the woman? That bitch that married his enemy?"

Anzu was secretly pleased that he was at least slightly interested in one of her favorite novels.

"She didn't know he was alive," Anzu countered, "Not at first. In the end he fell in love with another character—a beautiful slave girl named Haydee. She was the key to his happiness."

Anzu felt her cheeks burn as the thief looked on, chewing on his next bite slowly over a haughty smirk.

"His happiness?" Bakura mused in a voice drenched in thick, sickly, sweet tones, "You are quite the romantic, aren't you? Do you really believe these stupid notions?"

Anzu glared at him, "Some endings are happy."

"Most are not," Akefia responded, rising from his seat to stand behind her. His arms rested on her shoulders. He leaned down so that his cheek brushed against hers. She smelled the heady scent of an unknown spice that had since become his signature calling card. Her skin prickled as his hot breath fanned across her neck. Gently he gathered her hair from her neck, letting the smooth locks slide through his calloused fingers.

"But she still betrayed him. If I were the protagonist," Bakura's breath tickled her ear, "I would have dug three graves."

Anzu maintained her forward stare, shoving a spoonful of cheerios into her mouth. She chewed slowly for the food that had once felt so nourishing had simply turned to ash in her mouth.

"He did find love," she said every so softly, "with Haydee—the daughter of Ali Pasha."

Akefia leaned down and slowly ran his tongue up the side of her neck. Anzu resisted the urge to tilt her neck back, offering better access to his mouth.

"Tell me more about this girl," Akefia said, canines pressed to her soft, white neck, nibbling ardently at her pulse.

"S-she's the daughter of Ali Pasha. Damas b-buys her as a slave but he let's her live quite freely, although she doesn't leave his mansion all that often," Anzu said breathlessly, "In the end, she-"

"She what?" Bakura said huskily, sliding a hand up her shirt to knead her hard nipples through the cotton fabric of her bra.

"She is the key to his revenge. She provides the evidence to convict Fernand of treason," Anzu felt her head become thick with lust.

"Why would she do a thing like that?" Bakura asked. His other hand snaked between her legs, palming her mound. Anzu parted her legs, gasping as she ground herself shamelessly into his hand.

"S-she—God Bakura—she loved him."

Bakura stopped his ministrations for a minute, lips on her neck. Slowly he grabbed her chin and turned her face to meet his.

"And what about him?"

Anzu looked into his eyes. They flashed a brilliant crimson and for a moment she was lost in his gaze, swooning in the intensity of the moment. His hands caressed her face but his eyes were fierce, tinged with white-hot lust.

"He loved her," she whispered.

Bakura's eyes traced her face, the curvature of her lips and the soft, white neck that led to her bosom.

He leaned forward and licked her bottom lip, "Do you really believe that?"

Anzu nodded breathlessly as Bakura worked to undo the buttons on her pants, dipping his fingers below the waistline of her black panties. He traced her swollen lips with a finger, causing Anzu's eyes to roll back into her head.

With a chuckle, Bakura slid down to his knees and with a devlish smirk, dipped his head between her legs. At that precise moment, Anzu lost any shred of power and with a throaty moan, she parted her legs, tangling her fingers into his hair and she felt his hard tongue pry apart her lips as his head dipped below her stomach.

Evening: 6:45PM, London time

The phones incessant ringing pierced the silence between the two blondes. Atem's shoulders stiffened. He knew who it was. Rage ran through him like a lightening bolt.

Yugi gave him a meaningful look before sliding the phone across the bed, muting the TV as he did so.

Atem took a deep breath before clicking the "talk" button.

"Hello Akefia," the Pharaoh's voice rumbled over the line.

"Hello Pharaoh. Just calling to check in. London is beautiful this time of year isn't it?"

Atem gritted his teeth, "Where are you Bakura? My Puzzle senses you are close. Come out of hiding! Are you a coward?"

"Tsk, tsk. Patience is a virtue, Your Highness."

"Tell. Me. Where. You. Are." The King of Games grit his teeth in frustration.

Akefia ignored the question, "And where are Joey and Tristian? Were they not invited to the reunion? I guess they didn't like me much, did they?" Bakura practically cooed.

"Akefia," the Pharaoh warned through gritted teeth.

"But I guess it's not your fault that you act as flypaper for idiots," Bakura finished with a devious smile that the Pharaoh felt ooze through the connection.

"I'll come for you Bakura."

"Oh no need," the pale-haired Egyptian cooed before tossing out an address and time to the Pharaoh's waiting ears.

"There's no other place I'd rather be," Atem replied coolly, "I'll see you then."

The King hung up the phone and paused for a minute. He turned to look at Yugi, who eyed him seriously. His lavender eyes looked heavy with exhaustion. Sighing the King of Games took a deep breath before making the next phone rang twice before a man with a familiar voice answered the phone.

"Hello?" the slightly accented voice asked softly.

Atem's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the other's voice. His mind wheeled with anticipation at the gravity of it all.

"Hello Malik," he greeted in response, "It's time."