Atem. Atem look at me. Atem Yami, I know you can hear me. Look at me. Don't listen to them. You aren't a failure, you didn't deserve what they did to you. It's alright, Atem.

Atem Yami sighed, staring at the mirror to the small bathroom in his tiny house. Dark skin, insane, unkempt hair (with yellow highlights), crimson eyes that both loved and hated... This was the plot they provided him, his employers. Sure he could go buy something larger, but it would be farther away, and for his purposes small was beneficial. The bathroom was rather bland, as bathrooms go. There was a toilet and a shower and a mirror, but not much else save for the sink and it's various drawers. Even the walls were plain, Atem felt no need to decorate them. For his work it may end up getting in the way.

The rest of the house was a little fancier, there were two bedrooms, each fully furnished with a bed, dresser, desk and chair, and a window. Atem decorated mostly with plain things. Too many patterns would be confusing. The bedrooms were across from each other, and connected to the large living room. There were two couches there, a coffee table between them, all plain. Connected to the living room was the kitchen, separated by a bar and a free-swinging door. That was about it for the house, plain, block-like colors (they all went together rather well), suited for the insane.

Because that's just what Atem worked with, the insane.

He was expecting a new client today, one fresh out of the surgery all his clients went through. They decided it was "for the benefit of all man kind" if they injected some thick, pinkish liquid into voluntary human beings. The effect it had was different for every person who went through with it, some sprouted wings, some became animal-like, some even developed robot-like capabilities. But with these abilities came the mental stress that could drive even the most sane man insane. It could take months of nonstop therapy to help these people, and he was only allowed that if they were a dire case. It disgusted Atem, it disgusted him to no end. But was why he was here. He was here to help the patients—the victims—of the surgery, of this sick biological science funded by the government. They claimed these people would help society, but Atem knew they would be forced into wars. The successful ones would be, anyway. The failures would be cast off as rejects, the scientists not really caring what happened to them.

There was a knock at the door. That must be the new patient. Atem answered.

The boy couldn't have been more than 12, but his age wasn't what surprised Atem. The boy had a strange resemblance to him, almost uncanny. Save for the pale skin and violet eyes (and shortness, but Atem wouldn't dare go there), the new client looked exactly like Atem. Especially his hair. Rather odd.

"He just woke up, we figure it would be best to get him some place nice and comfortable," said the boy's escort, a rather nice-looking intern named Anzu. Atem never did understand her feelings on this project.

The boy looked at Anzu, scared to leave her side. His eyes pleaded with her. Don't leave me with that man, please.

"You can go with him, it's okay," Anzu told him. "Dr. Yami will take good care of you, don't worry. Oh, I almost forgot!" Anzu fished through her bag, looking for the file folder Atem was so used to being handed every time he received a new patient. Atem took it, glanced over it, then nodded.

"He's in good hands," he assured Anzu, though it was mostly for the boy's sake. Anzu knew Atem was trustworthy.

The boy looked a little frantic when Anzu left, and even more so when Atem closed the door. Atem tried to put on his warmest smile.

"Okay, let's start with introductions, shall we? I'm Doctor Atem Yami, and I'll be your psychiatrist. You can call me whatever you like, I don't have a preference. And you are..?"

The boy stared at him, then looked down at his hands. Atem prompted again, but no words were said. Atem frowned, opening the folder.

"Alright, Yuugi Mutou..?" The boy looked up at his name. "I guess I'll have to spend time reading this since you don't want to talk, but I won't force you to." Atem looked over it. Name: Yuugi Mutou, Sex: Male, Age: 17, Ethnicity: Asian—wait what? He was 17? Atem looked at Yuugi, then at the folder, then Yuugi. "Yuugi, how old are you?" No response. "It says here you're seventeen, if this true?" A pause, then a nod. Atem sighed. At least the other patients had spoken a little. Perhaps this would wear off by the next day.

"Well, Yuugi," Atem continued, "this will be your new home while you recover from treatment. We'll both be living here, so if you have any need for anything at any time, feel free to get me. I'll start you off with a tour." At this point, Atem led Yuugi around the living room, showing and explaining the various rooms and what they were used for. Yuugi didn't seem particularly fascinated, but he didn't look bored, either. He may still have been in shock from the surgery.

Yuugi never said any words for the entirety of the evening. He sat quietly as Atem cooked dinner, he sat quietly as he ate, he sat quietly as Atem asked him questions, he sat quietly while Atem looked through his file. Yuugi Mutou, enjoyed puzzles, came from a poor family. Apparently he had decided to do this in order to get money for his family. He never truly wanted to go through with it, but the money was impossible to pass up, and even though his family urged against it, he had gone through with it anyway. Atem looked up at Yuugi. The boy was sitting across from him, hugging his knees. He was still in those stupid hospital clothes—white scrub and shorts. Atem needed to get him out of those, but the boy didn't seem to have any clothes of his own. There was probably something Yuugi could wear in Atem's closet. The psychiatrist motioned for Yuugi.

"C'mon, let's get you something decent to put on."

The clothes Atem chose only accented Yuugi's innocent cuteness. Atem's shirt was a little too big, and it just hung loosely around Yuugi's legs, accompanied by a pair of black sweats. Yuugi looked at him, tilting his head slightly as if asking why Atem was doing this.

"Well," Atem sighed, "at least you aren't in that hospital gown anymore."

Yuugi's refusal to speak continued through the next day, and the day after, and the week after, as so on. No matter how much Atem prompted, the boy would not utter a single word. If it weren't for Yuugi's little squeaks of surprise and pain during mental or physical therapy (mental therapy was a little difficult since Yuugi refused to talk), Atem would have branded the child mute. Yuugi, however, was not mute and therefore branded "shy" instead.

It didn't take Atem long to notice Yuugi's attraction to games. Hardly a day had passed since his arrival before he found the Rubix Cube and solved it 37 times (Atem knew this because Yuugi would draw a line on a piece of paper every time he solved it). The puzzle seemed to calm him down, he almost looked comfortable. As days went by, Atem found him more puzzles to play with, as well as a polygonal and 10x10 Rubix Cube to play with. Playing with Yuugi (Atem called it "therapy") reminded the psychiatrist of the days when he was this kid's age. He was jokingly called "The King of Games" among his friends. He was always rather proud of the title.

After a few days a suitcase arrived with some of Yuugi's belongings. His family had apparently realized that Yuugi wasn't coming back anytime soon and sent him the things they thought he'd really miss. Days turned to weeks turned to months, and it was only a matter of time before Atem heard that familiar knock on the door. He looked at Yuugi, who was intently working on a 5000-piece puzzle. Atem answered the door.

"Good morning, Dr. Yami," said a fat man. He was well in his fifties, completely selfish, and the worst guy to put at the head of training the "newbies." He was simply known as "Mr. Smith."

"Mr. Smith," Atem replied.

"How are things going with the new kid?"

"Well, I suppose," Atem stepped to block the door a little more. The action didn't go unnoticed, and Mr. Smith beckoned for someone to join him—a tall, broad-shoulder man whose name Atem wasn't familiar with. His hair was insanely pointy.

"Dr. Yami, I do believe it is time to take him back to where he belongs," Mr. Smith said.

"I suppose you don't mean he's going home, do you." It wasn't a question.

"Of course not! I just need to know what he can do, and I'll take him under my wing." The fat man moved to step past Atem, but the psychiatrist slammed his hand against the door, blocking Mr. Smith's path.

"He's not ready."

"You said things were going well."

"They are, for a seventeen-year-old child who just underwent a life-changing operation." Atem couldn't hide the disgust in his voice.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

"It's a terrible thing!"

"Dr. Yami, you can't hold on to him forever." Mr. Smith glanced at the man behind him.

"He doesn't even talk yet, Mr. Smith! I can't get a word out of him! I've tried everything I know, but not a peep, not even a sign of his power. If he can't control it, he can't leave, and he can't control it if he isn't aware of it!" Atem felt his hand tense up against the door. Calm down.

"Perhaps if you tried... endangering him?" Mr. Smith's eyes flashed. Atem snapped.

"You little bastard..." he snarled.

Yuugi's head snapped up. What was going on with Atem's hand? It was... odd.

"Looks like someone's crossing the line," Mr. Smith sneered. The man behind him lunged, grabbing Atem's shoulders and shoving him back, back into the room. Atem struggled against him, of course. Yuugi squeaked and ran into the kitchen. His eyes drifted to Atem's hand. It was... It was different... odd..? Atem was slammed into the coffee table, the 5000-piece puzzle falling apart, the table splintering and cracking and collapsing and Atem's head hit something sharp and Oh My God it hurt was he bleeding? Then something hit him in the stomach.

"Now, now, Atem, look what you've done to your cute little house, all because you wanted to 'protect' that boy from something that wasn't going to hurt him," Mr. Smith teased. Atem squirmed under pointy-hair-man's grasp. His arm caught a piece of the fractured table, and a red line followed. He groaned. Yuugi squealed. Point-hair-man punched Atem in the stomach again, he coughed, the other smirked, raising his fist again and then-

"Ow!"

Pointy-hair-man looked at his hand, now red and burned from the whateveritwas that his him. Then his eyes searched for what shot the whateveritwas that hit him. Atem saw it first.

Yuugi was on one knee, somewhat horrified and somewhat determined. One arm was estended, the other holding it to steady it, like it was a gun. Which it was. Yuugi's forearm was a gun, a cylindrical, silver-melt-to-flesh gun. Vein-like wires poked out of his skin and attached to the base of it, an rectangular red lights pulsed a glow on the sides. Mr. Smith stared, shocked. Pointy-hair-man scowled. Atem didn't know what expression he was making.

The weight holding Atem down vanished as Yuugi shoved the hefty man off of him. The boy, his arm returned to normal, clung to Atem's shirt, eyes begging him to be okay. Eyes, those purple eyes that shone with worry, so full of life. Not like the other eyes that stared at him, the other eyes that begged him why, why, why? Atem felt cold, and a black haze filled the edges of his sight and he had to stay awake no matter what because Yuugi needed him right now. Yuugi was alive.

"Well, I guess we know what he can do," Mr. Smith said, a smile creeping over his face.

Yuugi let out a small gasp and wrapped his arms around Atem's neck. He stared at Mr. Smith with eyes that said "I won't leave him" so strongly at even the fat man knew it was best to leave the child in Atem's care for now (or vice versa).

"Well, let's go. We'll collect him later, when he's more used to what he can do." He turned to leave, and the beefy man followed.

Yuugi stared at Atem. Are you okay? You won't die will you? Atem smiled, raising his hand to stroke the boy's cheek.

"I'm fine Yuugi, don't worry."

Yuugi stepped through the doorway to Atem's room. It was probably around three in the morning, but he didn't care. He couldn't sleep and he wanted to be with Atem. The room was dark except for the little bit of moonlight trickling in through the window. Yuugi took another step towards Atem, but then something caught his eye. There was a folder on the desk... Yuugi's? It was his, so there shouldn't be any problem with looking at it, right? Yuugi let his fingers brush over the surface before opening it. It was hard to read in the dim light, but he could see that there were little notes everywhere—doesn't like to talk, enjoys games. Some of the notes seemed a little personal, making Yuugi blush. He closed the folder, and was just about to leave the desk when another thing caught his eye. There was a second folder under his. He felt chills run down his spine as he picked it up and opened it.

NAME: Atem Yami

SEX: Male

AGE: 20 (The date on the folder said it was three years old)

Yuugi almost couldn't continue. What was this? Was Atem...? Yuugi looked over his shoulder at the man asleep on the bed before working up the courage to continue. There were notes on this one, too, but the handwriting was slanted and neater, easier to read even in the dim light. This was not Atem's handwriting.

"He really hates this place."

"Says his friends put him up to this, they were all going to do it. They weren't as lucky as him."

"Nice kid, been through a lot."

"Just caught a glimpse of his abilities, it's simply amazing."

"Had a hard time in training today. Came back for more therapy."

"Almost killed someone today, they wanted to lock him up, but I vouched for him. He's staying with me a little longer."

"He's getting quieter, he won't talk as much."

"He says something hurts, but he won't tell me what."

"Keeps complaining about a constant pain. I wish I knew what he was talking about."

"Finally got him to show me his wings. I think they're rotting."

"Pretty sure they're rotting."

"His wings fell apart today. Like actually fell apart, leaving only bone and clinging flesh and feathers. I don't know what to do anymore. No treatment seems to work."

"He's been branded a failure, but I refuse to stamp this folder."

"It worries him, I told him he wasn't a failure but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Threatens suicide often."

"Almost succeeded."

"Claims to see the dead in his dreams."

"He decided he's going to help the others that go through this."

"He's actually very interested in Psychiatry. He learns fast. There isn't much I can do for him anymore."

"Haven't seen those wings in weeks, wonder if he just got over it."

"Got a job here, this is the last time I'll see this folder."

Yuugi stared. Atem was... Atem was an experiment? He was like all the patients here? And those guys outside keeping watch? Atem was a monster, like Yuugi? Atem stirred behind him. Yuugi put the folder back where he found it.

"Yuugi? What are you doing here?" asked a sleepy voice. Yuugi looked at him, eyes sad. Forget it, forget what you saw. Just act like normal. The boy walked over to Atem, putting on his "can I please sleep with you?" face. Atem sighed and scooted over. It wasn't abnormal for Yuugi to do this, but he had a feeling it had something to do with that day's events. His head still throbbed from that.

The boy snuggled close, Atem wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes and it was nice. It was really nice.

Yuugi looked at Atem, determination in his eyes. They were playing an old card game, Duel Monsters, and Yuugi seemed to be really into it. How cute of him. Atem had expected to win easily, but he was actually having difficulty beating the boy. He was better than he let on. This little game had started partially because Yuugi had discovered Atem's deck, and partially because Atem wanted to get Yuugi to speak. The game required "I play my trap card" or whatnot to be said out loud, but Yuugi wasn't doing any of that. He did laugh, though. And his laugh was adorable.

There was a knock. Atem frowned. Mr. Smith had returned, giving them barely two weeks to each other. Atem hated that man.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Yami," Mr. Smith chimed as the door opened. "Today's graduation for the little tyke, so say your goodbyes."

"He's not ready, we've barely worked on his powers and he still doesn't talk," Atem replied, wondering if he could just slam the door in the fat man's face.

"No, no, you don't understand. He's leaving whether he's 'ready' or not." The man's eyes flashed darkly. Atem realized he should have blocked the door more only as he was being shoved out of the way by pointy-hair-man and another goon of Mr. Smith's.

"What the f—You can't just take him away from me! He's my patient!" Atem snapped.

"Atem, he's been with you longer than any other 'patient.'"

"He needs more attention. I know what you sickos do to these guys once you get your claws on them, he's not leaving," Atem growled.

Yuugi let out a small yelp as he was grabbed by the goons. Atem spun around and tried to pry them off, but they just pushed him out of the way again. Atem shook his head, the room was starting to spin. They couldn't take Yuugi away from him, they couldn't! The goons left, Mr. Smith following them, and Atem quick to follow him. It all happened so fast he didn't know what was going on but it was happening and oh god it was hurting now. He hadn't been hit, but he was hurting.

"Give it up, Dr. Yami, he's ours now," Mr. Smith said, glancing over his shoulder.

"God dammit, Smith!" Atem reached out to grab his arm, but he just barely missed. That is, his fingers just barely missed, however, his nails managed to leave four red lines under four slices in fabric. Mr. Smith stared, shocked once again. The goons stopped tugging Yuugi along.

Atem's hand was clawed, taloned. His other following suit. His breathing sped up, along with his heart rate and god oh god it really hurt now. Why did it hurt so much.

"A..Atem?" Mr. Smith stared in horror as something black unfolded from Atem's back. Wings? No, just the skeletal structure and black flesh hanging on it. Feathers hung on barely to the bone and what was left of that black rotting meat. The wings spread out, like a bird preparing for liftoff or trying to appear aggressive, black spots freckling the ground and walls and whatever else was there to spatter. Thick, black liquid oozed out of his wings, his hands. It was like half-dried ink, gloopy and yet still liquid enough to behave as one. Was it blood? Black, sick black dark gross congealing blood that dripped from what it could because it couldn't stand being in Atem's body?

"Dr. Yami..?"

Atem's breathing became labored, pained, every breath was effort. He groaned, staggering back. Threat was gone. Mr. Smith grinned.

"Looks like you've crossed the line, Dr. Yami. You were nothing but a failure to begin with, weren't you," he sneered. Yuugi struggled to get free, but the goons' grip on him was too tight. "I hope you learn your lesson. I'm feeling rather generous, so perhaps I'll send Seto down here to help you. Maybe not, I don't know. You are rather annoying." Such a cruel grin.

Atem fell to his knees, then to his hands. It hurt. That black blood dripped around him like chunky rain. Mr. Smith turned, the goon's turned, Yuugi had no choice but to turn. Atem collapsed to his side. They left. Atem felt his heartbeat speed up and slow down with no pattern at all and that thump thump in his chest was like a circus was he dying?

And then one lone voice called out, high pitched but obviously male. A voice that could only belong to someone Atem had never heard speak before.

"Atem!"