Wilted Rose

Summary: (Sequel to ALFoR) After selling his soul to save Marik, the mute Malik is slowly dying with Seto finding himself powerless to help. Meanwhile, Bakura tries to reason with a reckless Marik as Ryou searches for a way to save both demon and human. (MxM, BxR)

Rated: T

Genre: Supernatural/Romance

Author's Note: Well, that didn't take to long to work out; outlined and analyzed in just two long days! To those that are following me from this story's predecessor, welcome back! To anyone who's stumbled across this fic while browsing, I strongly suggest you read A Little Fall of Rain before reading this…because, well, I doubt you'll get the story if you don't. Seriously, go read that first, this fic isn't going anywhere.

Disclaimer: It's still not mine…

1 – The Fool

Hasina Ishtar was a fairly attractive woman; this is to say, she didn't look to be in her mid-forties. Her face was only just beginning to show signs of its age, fine lines forming at the corners of her honey colored eyes and around her thin lips, which were almost always pulled into a soft smile. Grey streaks raced through her once uniformly light brown hair, though a bottle of carefully applied hair dye easily solved that inconvenience. She was often described as 'good intentioned,' always meaning well, but never understanding the full effects of her actions. Hardly anyone had ever seen her upset, save for a number of weeks seventeen years ago when the love of her life, a man whose name was never spoken, had left one night and never bothered to come back. She was left alone to care for their then three year old son, who had been understandably confused and hurt upon hearing that his own father had abandoned them. Now that son was all grown up and living in a dormitory miles away, calling twice a month and visiting even less. He had seemed to grow more mature every time she saw him, losing more and more of the childish features she had grown so accustomed to, looking now like the man he was going to become. The last visit in particular caused Hasina to experience a rush of unwanted nostalgia; his dark, half lidded stare was so reminiscent of his father's that she couldn't even look at him directly. She felt stupid for acting so awkwardly in the presence of her own son, but still couldn't help but wish he had inherited her golden eyes in lieu of his father's deep indigo.

It was early September and the air was taking on a subtle frigidness that caught many scantily clad teenagers off guard. The leaves were spotted with orange and yellow freckles, some even carrying rich red bruises; the multitude of shades and colors making Hasina's street look like it was plucked from the front of a greeting card. The single mother watched from her window as lights began to flicker on in the surrounding houses, the warm glow piercing through the incoming darkness like a hot knife through wax. There was one house, and only one house, that remained hidden in the night, as it had been for the past three and a half years.

The house directly adjacent to Hasina's was empty; the family of two orphans who had lived there last moved away six months before her son had left for college. Their departure had left him crushed and, if Hasina didn't know any better, heartbroken. One Malik Ishtal, the younger of the two siblings by a good ten years, had grown very close to her son, so much so that they could finish each other's sentences like it was second nature. He was also extremely delicate looking, a feature that defied his stubborn personality; the boy was like a firecracker packaged in beautiful wrapping paper. Her son was infamous for his biting comments and love of confrontation, and so far, Malik was the only person who could leave him speechless. Hasina often wondered how the two Ishtals were doing, hoping that one day they might even drop by for a visit. The elder sibling, Isis, had come to her in tears on more than one occasion, the stress of being so young and holding so much responsibility often getting the best of her.

Hasina drifted from the window and settled onto her couch, which had once seemed too small, but now felt too big. Extending an olive colored hand, she twisted a round knob on a small lamp until it made a soft click, enveloping the living room in a warm glow. A loud sigh reverberated throughout the house. It was only the beginning of another long, lonely night.

Just as she was about to turn on the television, her doorbell rang three consecutive times, followed by rhythmic knocks holding an air of urgency she had never heard before. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Hasina stood up quickly and wrapped her thin fingers around the cold doorknob. She paused. There wasn't anyone she was expecting, and no one in their right mind would think to sell their goods so close to dinnertime. Nevertheless, she reasoned a rapist or thief wouldn't bother knocking before entering. Just to be safe, her other hand hovered over the wooden handle of a nearby umbrella, hoping those Judo lessons she took would finally come in handy. Steadying her breath, Hasina opened the door, a rush of sweetly scented autumn wind offering her their 'hello.' She shut her eyes quickly and sneezed, not expecting such a chilly greeting.

"Uh…excuse me, are you Miss Ishtar?" A breathless voice asked tiredly.

Amber eyes cracked open to find a sweaty young man with a piercing gaze standing at the doorstep, face damp with perspiration. She drew her hand away from the umbrella and clasped both on her chest, looking at the stranger tenderly.

"Yes? Can I help you?" The man's mahogany eyes regarded her skeptically, as if weighing the sincerity of her words.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late at night," he continued, lowering his gaze, "but I have some news concerning your son; I'm his roommate you see and-"

"Has something happened to Marik?" The older woman said feverishly, grabbing both his shoulders. "Why didn't he come to me himself? Is he hurt? Was there an accident?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong with him at the moment, but-"

"Oh thank the heavens, you scared me for a moment," she sighed, running a shaking hand through her short hair. "Ah! I'm sorry, I never offered you a proper welcome, did I Mr.…?"

"My name is Bakura Touzoku," the medical student said quickly, irritated he was cut off. "But there's still something I wanted to talk to you-"

"Oh, I'll be happy to talk, just not here. It's much too cold for you to be standing outside you see. How did you get here? I didn't hear a car coming…" She looked over his shoulder at an extremely worn looking bicycle. "Don't tell me that you biked all the way here? Do you have any idea how far we are from your college? Oh you poor thing, you must be exhausted! Would you care for a cup of tea? I was just about to brew some up."

"Miss Ishtar I really-"

"Please, you can call me Hasina."

"Eh…Hasina, I need to get back to the dormitories before tomorrow morning, so if I could just tell you-"

"I understand completely; we'll talk over tea, how does that sound? And I'll drive you back if we run a bit late, hm? Don't want you traversing the streets alone in the dark now! Come in, come in! Make yourself at home."

Before Bakura could protest, the woman had walked briskly into the kitchen, humming a bubbly melody he recognized from Marik's cell phone ring. Slipping off his shoes, Bakura stepped into the large house barefooted, enjoying the cool tile beneath his tired feet. He paused in front of a circular mirror in the hallway, cringing at the sight of his sweat-drenched face. His first instinct was to beg Marik's mother to let him use the shower, but decided against it. He was in a hurry, and things like personal hygiene would have to be put aside for more important matters.

A table full of framed pictures caught Bakura's eye next. Checking to see that Hasina was still busy, he walked over and inspected one of the largest photographs very closely. It must have been taken a short time before Malik had left for America, for the younger boy's face was just as Bakura had remembered it: young, gorgeous, and full of life. The young Ishtal was posed playfully in front of Marik, who looked like he was trying to seduce the camera. Hasina sat in the back, once again smiling her sweet smile. There was another woman Bakura had never seen before, but he assumed it was Malik's older sister. Her long black hair framed a sculpted tan face, and brilliant teal eyes shone regally from under heavily applied eyeliner. She also looked to be annoyed, despite the smile. The medical student could only assume it was because Marik was so close to her brother.

"Tea's done!" Hasina chimed, walking into the living room with a tray full of drink and some crackers. "I hope you don't mind that it's a bit strong, I could grab some honey if you want me to."

"No, it'll fine," Bakura insisted, taking his spot across from her and selecting his cup.

"You must forgive me for being so scatter-brained," she apologized, bowing slightly. "It's just that ever since Marik left, the only human contact I've had recently is with my boyfriend. Ooh, but I don't think Marik likes him much…that could be a problem…"

"Speaking of your son Miss Ishtar," Bakura grumbled, seeing as that was the reason he was there in the first place, "while he's not in any trouble currently, I felt like I needed to tell you about certain…erm, changes he's been going through lately."

"Everyone goes through changes Bakura; it's a part of growing up." She blew gently on her tea before taking a small sip.

"These aren't typical changes Miss Ishtar!"

A tinge of irritation glimmered in Hasina's eye. "Bakura, my son isn't a typical boy as you very well know having lived in the same room with him for so long. It's very sweet that you're concerned, but coming to tell me face to face that Marik is acting strange is hardly any reason to give me a heart attack. And furthermore-"

"Marik's tried to kill himself three times already," Bakura blurted out, deciding the sugarcoated approach wasn't working. "He first tried to purposely overdose on some painkillers, later he jammed one of our butter knives into a light socket. Two weeks ago I found him lying in our bathroom after cutting his wrists." He looked into Hasina's kind golden eyes, now widened in terror. "You don't need me to tell you that this is serious."

"Why?" She whispered, tearing up. "Why would he do any of those things? H-Haven't I been giving him enough attention? Did something happen in school? Are his grades dropping, what is it?" Her voice became higher after each question until it was almost a shriek.

"Do you…do you remember a boy named Malik Ishtal?"

"Yes, he used to be our next door neighbor," she answered, gesturing toward the empty house next to hers. "But what does Malik have to do with anything? He and his sister moved to America around three years ago. They left so quickly that they didn't even bother selling their place, it's considered abandoned."

"Marik found out that they had died in a house fire a few months after they arrived," Bakura said solemnly, conveniently leaving out how. Pale hands dug into his jean pockets as he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to Hasina. "I brought some newspaper articles I found on the Internet. I know that he and Malik were very close."

"You have no idea," Hasina breathed, reading the English words with some difficulty. "You couldn't separate them…they were closer than peanut butter and jelly…" She paused, a watery smile pulling at her lips. "You know, when they were younger, I used to tell them they were like apples and cinnamon…Marik was always very tart and Malik so sweet…I can't believe he's gone…And Isis, that poor girl…"

"You know them better than I do," Bakura continued, reaching for a small cookie. "Marik thinks that by taking his own life, he'll be able to reunite with Malik. There must be something you could tell him so he'll come to his senses. Marik's been lucky so far, but I don't know how long that'll last. Please Miss Ishtar…"

Hasina closed her eyes and handed back the printed article. "I'm sorry Bakura."

"Wait, what?" Bakura gasped in horror. "What do you mean sorry?"

"Marik's an adult, he can make his own decisions," she said softly, taking another sip. "This is Marik's choice, not mine."

"He's your son!"

"And I raised my son so he would become a strong, independent man," the woman said firmly, her voice increasing in volume. "I've prepared him the best I could for the harsh realities of the real world, my part is done. If Marik believes death is the best solution, then so be it. I don't agree with it, God knows I don't agree with it, but it isn't my place to challenge what he feels is right."

"This isn't the time to put personal freedoms first!" Bakura snarled impatiently, slamming his cup down. "Marik will die if you don't do something!"

"If death is the only thing that will bring him happiness, then I don't want to keep him from it!" Hasina replied, now screaming. "I trust him to know what's right, and if you cared even an ounce about him then you would let him be!"

"I see it now," the medical student began darkly, his hands shaking. "When I first arrived I wondered how such a kind woman could have given birth to such a reckless nutcase. But now I can see the two of you are exactly alike. You're both IDIOTS!" He stood up quickly and strode towards the door, ignoring the fact that his legs were still sore from the long bike ride. "If you're not going to do anything to help him, then I will. I just wonder how you'll be able to live with yourself knowing that you just stood there while your own son threw his life away." Bakura stepped outside and paused. "Th-Thank you for your hospitality."

The door slammed shut and Hasina remained on the couch, staring determinedly at the tealeaves settled on the bottom of her cup. After a few moments, she laid the saucer down, placed her head into quivering palms, and sobbed.

"So let me get this straight," Mahaado said slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You want us angels to come to the aid of a young demon who, just months ago, you were trying to kill?"

The smaller angel nodded enthusiastically.

Mahaado blinked and slumped back onto his golden throne, brown bangs falling haphazardly over dark blue eyes. "Yeah…see, I just don't see any point in doing that."

"But we're supposed to help people!" Ryou protested. "And Malik clearly needs out help! You must feel some sympathy for him, the poor thing can't even speak anymore; he's doing all this so he can save a human from destroying himself! The least we can do is find some other way for the human to live without endangering Malik in doing so!"

"I'll commend him for being so selfless," the archangel sighed. "But angels are driven to save humans, not demons. It isn't our place to meddle with the affairs of the damned; they have a completely different sense of right and wrong down there, even if we did try to help them we'd be causing more harm than good. Your concern is noble, but I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do."

"Of course there's something you can do, you just won't do it!"

"So what if that's true? Ryou you know that it's impossible to make everyone happy."

"That's just it!" Ryou insisted, his white wings opening to their full extent. "We're angels, we can make the impossible possible! We were granted powers superior to that of human or demon, it's our responsibility to use them in situations where it feels like all hope is lost. We are hope!"

Mahaado sighed again and took a long sip from his wine goblet, surveying the sprawling city in front of him. While Hell took on a considerably more rustic layout, Heaven was similar to a busy metropolis…minus the smog.

"This is highly unorthodox," he said finally, seeing Ryou had began to retreat in disappointment. "And if you tell any of the other council members that I granted you permission, then I won't hesitate to take you down with me."

"Mahaado…"

"Deals between a human and a demon…even between a demon and a demon are tricky. There's always some kind of bias favoring the party who receives the soul…and there are often hidden details that can be added onto the original contract after the signature has been applied. I told you, the demonic justice system is messy, so repercussions are uncommon. The younger demon, is he an independent or…?"

"Well I know that he always hangs around this other demon named Seto Kaiba."

"So that means he's a charge," Mahaado muttered, placing his index finger on his chin. "That complicates things a bit…"

"What do you mean by charge?"

"It's when a younger demon is placed under an older one's care," the angel explained offhandedly. "The concept began only about fifty years ago; something about too many newborns getting killed within the first three months or something. Anyway, it's primarily to keep their population up."

"I see…" Ryou muttered, remembering how protective the azure-eyed demon was of the smaller Malik.

A small frown appeared on Mahaado's handsome face, "I'll need to do some research before I tell you exactly what you'll need to do. Tell you what, keep an eye on the parties involved, and I'll get back to you as soon as I find some tangible information, alright?"

"Thank you so much," Ryou smiled, bowing appreciatively. "Do I have permission to reveal information to the humans?"

"I'll leave that up to you." The other shrugged, waving him off.

The younger angel stretched luxuriously and flew off, excited at the prospect of getting to see Bakura again. There was nothing Ryou loved more than flying, feeling the warm breeze against his pale cheeks was always refreshing, and the air in Heaven had a certain scent to it that made it especially pleasing. The only unpleasant experience he had while soaring through they sky was during a rather violent thunderstorm, when he found himself battling against two very aggressive demons, his only goal to shatter a life giving pearl. Malik had surprised him; though the blonde was considerably younger than he was, his movements were just as quick and calculated as any experienced flyer. Ryou grimaced; just remembering the look of pure loathing on Malik's face gave him a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"WATCH OUT!"

Ryou was snapped back into reality by a pair of large blue eyes speeding towards him at what seemed like 90 miles an hour. He tried his best to duck, pause, even fly the other way, but the younger angel came crashing into him with a loud thump, leaving both of them sprawled atop the white fluffy clouds.

"Ahh, I'm so sorry Mr. Ryou sir," the other angel whined, holding her head comically. "But I needed to deliver something to Mr. Mahaado, and I didn't see you there, and you seemed so deep in thought, so I didn't think I should bother you, but then I-"

"Mana, don't worry about it," Ryou sweatdropped, knowing full well that she could talk about nothing for hours on end. He picked up Mana's fallen parcel and handed it to her, noticing the unique design on the box. "This isn't a gift for Mahaado, is it?"

"Um! Well no…I mean yes, but not really it's sort of an…um…well," she blushed, scratching her head embarrassedly. "Promise you won't tell anyone I've been crushing on Mahaado?"

"You have my word." Ryou giggled. "Good luck to you!"

The brunette winked before she shot up and bolted towards Mahaado's building, scattering crowds of startled angels as she did so. Ryou rubbed his throbbing nose and chuckled lightly. "Poor Mahaado…"

Seto Kaiba played idly with the melting ice cubes in his drink, occasionally pausing to take a small sip. The tavern was closed for the night; chairs stacked haphazardly onto the wooden tables, the floor swept clean of any leftover food, and the torch lights breathing on their last dying embers. He was the only one still awake, his two blonde companions having turned in for the night. It wasn't unusual for Seto to remain up way beyond the hours of any normal sleeping routine; however, the reason for his current insomnia was not simply restlessness. It was anxiety.

He didn't know why he blamed himself for Malik's foolish sacrifice; he knew the boy had made the decision on his own accord, and even if Seto had intervened, the blonde would have probably found another way to do it. Loss of speech and a missing portion of his soul didn't seem to slow Malik down too much; he was just as cheeky and rebellious as ever, albeit silently. However, Seto did notice the young demon taking more breaks than he had before, and often found him staring off into the distance, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. Malik also was more prone to losing his train of thought, setting out to do something only to forget why he wanted to do it to begin with. The changes were subtle, non-existent almost; but whenever Seto looked into the blonde's single scarlet eye, he could feel nothing but guilt.

Cerulean eyes snapped open at the sound of faint footfalls descending the staircase. Seto quickly shrugged it off and continued to stir his drink, determined to focus on the amber liquid. The familiar scent of cinnamon wafted through the stagnant air, allowing the veteran demon to identify the newcomer without having to look up.

"Go back to sleep Katsuya."

The taller of the two blonde demons scoffed. "Says the guy who hasn't had a decent sleep in ages."

"What do you want?" The brunette growled irritably.

Jounouchi walked over Seto's table, and took a spot directly across the troubled demon. Even in the dim light, he could make out the dark bags under Seto's icy blue eyes, his pale skin making the discoloration even more apparent.

"You look terrible."

"That's never stopped you before," Seto sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"Just thought I'd drop down for a little chat," the blonde began conversationally, stretching his black feathered wings. "You know, without the kid hanging around."

"I've nothing to talk about," he replied grumpily, turning away.

"Then you'll just have to listen to me talk," Jounouchi smirked. "I don't know what your big deal is with Malik; the kid obviously doesn't mind that he's signed his soul away, he thinks he's doing all this for the benefit of that human. Why ruin the fantasy by telling him that he and Marik will never see each other again?"

"I wasn't going to tell him," Seto said harshly.

"You weren't?"

"Why? Do you think I should?" the brunette whispered, a flash of concern crossing his features.

"I thought you had nothing to talk about," the other demon snickered, slouching onto the table.

Seto blushed slightly. "What would you do?"

"Me? Psh, you know I hate that little brat. If it were up to me, I'd tell him he's being an idiot and try to knock some sense into that empty little head. You can't deny that Malik's put all of this shit on himself, so stop trying to clean up his mess. Besides, I ain't missing that annoying chick's voice he has. God, when he whined it was like a cheese grater to the skull…"

"And people call me heartless…"

"Only those that don't know you as well as I do," Jounouchi cooed.

"You think you know me?" Seto scoffed, fangs glinting in the dim light. "Fool. You've barely scratched the surface."

"Whatever," the blonde snorted. "All I'm saying is, if you're beating yourself up over whether or not telling Malik his dismal fate is a good idea, then quit it. Kid's gotta grow up sometime, right? Heh…that is, if Marik stops trying to kill himself."

"You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is. You're the one acting like this is a big deal."

"If that's true, then why don't you tell him?" Seto hissed, eyes narrowing. "You look into Malik's face and tell him that all his hopes and dreams have been for naught. You think it's easy watching his eyes fill with tears? Knowing that if he could, he'd scream at the top of his lungs, cursing everything he's ever known? Then please, dear Jounouchi, kindly take this burden off my back and tell him yourself."

"I would. Thing is, you're his keeper, not me."

"Well what if I don't want to be his keeper anymore? Then what smartass?" The elder demon roared, standing up angrily, looking like he was going to chuck a chair at the indifferent blonde.

"Pfft, like that'll ever happen. After all the effort you've put into keeping that kid safe, I doubt you'd ever let anyone else take care of him. Besides, it's probably a violation of some obscure demon code…"

"There isn't one; I can relinquish my care of Malik any time I wish!"

"Then why haven't you, tough guy?"

"Well next time I see him, maybe I will." Seto growled, nostrils flaring.

"Betcha won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

Seto's mouth opened to shoot a venomous response, when a soft creak directed his attention to the stairs behind him. Eyes softening, Jounouchi nodded in a civil greeting to the bleary-eyed 'baby' of the bunch, Malik Ishtal. The boy hadn't changed much since his brief rendezvous with the world of the living; he still had the physical appearance of a very svelte seventeen year old, and his face continued to hold a childish innocence that was marred only slightly by the intense color of his left eye. His pale blonde hair was now swept into a messy ponytail, bangs left free to frame his elegant features. Clearly still half-asleep, the smaller blonde rubbed his eyes tiredly and sulked to the kitchen, an empty glass held in his clawed hands. The two older demons exchanged bewildered glances, both wondering if Malik had overheard what they had been so loudly discussing.

Apparently he hadn't, as Malik exited the kitchen with his water and slowly climbed back to his shared bedroom without even giving the other demons a second look. The soft click of a closing door echoed throughout the empty bar. Jounouchi shot his boyfriend a victorious grin.

"You were saying?"

"Be quiet."

REVIEW PLEASE!

Aha! This story will have about 12 chapters according to my very thorough outline… Tons of new revelations and a special newcomer lie in wait! Keep reading Wilted Rose!

…And while you're waiting for an update, check out Fukushu, a joint fic between dolphinabottle and me. It's got drama!