China Doll, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

DIS: So, this was inspired by the poem, 'China Doll.' I never knew it existed until so many people began to use it and then I thought, 'Well, let's see what it's about...' and instantly fell in love with the poem.

Title: China Doll

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Drama

Summary: AU. MarikxMai. 'The shell she is in at any given moment may break, leaving her heart open and frightened. What will she do then, my China Doll?' The only one who can keep her intact is the one man she fears the most. One shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh, nor the poem 'China Doll,' but I might as well own this couple with how rare it is :P

Notes/Warnings: Third Marik/Mai fic; AU; illusionshipping; set in regency England; one shot; based on the poem, 'China Doll.'

Gazing intently out to a mysterious world. Waiting for an enchantment to being. She is my China Doll.

Her beauty is fragile, never to be touched by human hands. Never to be seen by human eyes. She is delicate my China Doll.

Her finely chiseled features and delicate golden eyes, shield themselves from others. She does not want to be shattered, my China Doll.

The shell she is in at any given moment may break, leaving her heart open and frightened. What will she do then, my China Doll?

Her soul is ready to take flight, but her wings have only soared once and then they were broken. Who will heal my little China Doll?

She loves, she lives, and her heart is like fine rice paper, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. Her strength comes from pain, my China Doll.

She remains hidden under sheathes of satin, waiting for a velvet touch to set her free. She is ready to feel again, my little China Doll.

China Doll

There was hardly any light that streamed through the crack in the curtains, leaving Mai Kujaku briefly disoriented. For a moment, she had been sure that it was still dark outside. She rose in her bed, sluggish and without much of her wits left. Her blonde locks fell over her shoulders, framing her fair, lovely face. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles from the lack of sleep and she turned her gaze to the curtains wearily; rising to her feet, she went to the window and threw the curtains back, unbothered that any of those on the street might look up at her town house and see her in her light chemise.

London, she thought, her violet eyes stroking the activity below her, the town in which everyone wishes to live. Anyone in the ton adores the late night parties, the gossip and trivial issues of those whose lives they are not involved in. Mai rested her shoulder against the window, her mouth curling with distaste. Disgusting. What is so admirable about this wretched place? Why do we even exist?

"Madam!" She didn't look up as her maid hurried over to her, putting her warm, plump hands on Mai's cold, thin shoulders. She allowed the woman to pull her away from the window as the maid said, "You shouldn't be revealing yourself in such a manner...Oh, you poor dear. You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep last night?" Emille, her personal maid since her parents had died in a carriage accident, had always looked out for her, knowing the lonely life Mai had lived. Her parents had left her their riches, but had rarely paid much attention to her. Her wet nurse and governess had seemed more like her parents than anyone else.

"A bit," Mai replied. Two other servants came up with a basin full of hot water. They poured it in the marble bathtub behind the screen. Mai drew away from Emille's grip, pulling her chemise over her head and tossing it to the ground. She ignored the lingering gazes of the servant girls and moved to the bathtub, stepping in it and sliding down into the heated water. "I came home rather early this morning."

"I know, I helped you into bed," Emille said, taking some lavender potion and pouring it in Mai's hair. She dampened it and then scrubbed at her scalp, foam forming from the potion. "You should be more careful whose company you keep, my lady. You could get hurt if you're not totally conscious of your surroundings. I'm not sure I could survive if you were ever harmed." Mai didn't offer a response to this, staring ahead at the screen, expressionless. "Wash and rinse yourself. I'll wait until you're ready to dress."

When Mai had finished with the tub and had been dressed for the day, the servants returned to drain the tub and dispose of the dirty water. Mai was settled at her vanity with Emille twisting up her hair and pinning the curls in place. For a moment, one of the girls paused to watch with a look of fascination on her face. Mai glanced at her and she started in embarrassment, moving to leave, but her mistress raised a hand, saying, "No, come here, girl." Mai rose from the seat, her hair finished. She ushered the girl into the seat and laid her hands on her shoulders, looking at their reflection in the looking glass. "How old are you?"

"...Four and ten, mum," she whispered.

"Four and ten. If you had been born differently, two more years and you would be making your debut into Society. Every day you would have a servant dressing your hair, helping you into elegant, silk dresses. Men would call on you, charmed by your looks and sweet countenance. It is a pity you are not from a wealthy family." She removed her hands from her shoulders and stepped back, a smile curling her rouge lips upward. "You are such a beauty. I imagine you are stuck with a mere stable boy when you could get a rich lord." Mai passed Emille, who stared at her in shock. The girl in the seat was trembling with emotion, her eyes filling with tears. "I will be going out, Emille. I doubt you should expect me home soon."

Emille didn't look at her. "...Yes, ma'am."

As Mai stepped out of the house with her reticule and parasol in hand, she felt a sliver of resentment for herself. A part of her had taken glee in seeing the envy in the servant girl's face when Emille had been doing her hair. She had thought to fix her hair, but the angry, bitter part of her had lashed out with cruel comments. It had been a satisfaction to see the tears in the girl's eyes; now she felt nothing but remorse. I made her cry, she thought, settling into her carriage. The horses started forward, pulling the carriage along with it.

I made a young girl cry simply to make myself smile. What kind of person am I to take enjoyment in the harm of others? Who am I...? Mai slumped against the seat, her face drawing with weariness. I am five and twenty, beyond the acceptable years in which I can marry. I am considered a spinster, but am still accepted in all the high circles of Society, as they have blamed my disinterest in marriage on my parents' death. Every time I go out, I can never remember the next day what I did. I become drunk from wine and mindless from opium. I wish I could stop and be as genteel as the other women of the ton. I have never been that way, though...Never.

The carriage came to a halt at the park. Mai stepped out of the carriage and said to the driver, "Remain here, I will return shortly. I only desire a walk around the park to clear my head." The elderly man gave a nod. Satisfied, she turned away and began her leisurely walk throughout the active park. Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the Polite World strolled, either together or with companions. Elderly women sat with their small dogs in their laps, chatting to others; young women walked with their chaperones, men eyeing them with a masculine greed. Mai felt isolated in this world that she had been born in.

I am nothing like those in Society, she bitterly thought. I do awful things and even though I know what could happen to me, I continue to do them. I never learn because it is the only thing that brings me happiness. Wine dulls my senses and makes me cheerful; the opium causes me to ignore the world, to rejoice in the freedom I feel. In reality, I am no more free than I am without the opium. Mai came to a bench that was unoccupied and settled on it, moving her restless eyes over the clear opening the bench faced. There were many people out that day, it seemed.

"May I sit with you?" Mai glanced up at the male that had spoken and nodded, turning back towards the clearing. She was at an age where attention was no surprise to her. She was no female in white muslin, unaccustomed to the interested gaze of a male's. Many would consider Mai vain and perhaps a part of her was; at one point in her life, she had craved the feel of a man's body when she went out dancing or simply when she was standing beside him, intimately close. Now, however, nothing seemed to catch her attention. Everything was shrouded in grey colours, casting a dull light to the world.

The male that shared her bench didn't attempt to begin a conversation with her, which she found unusual. Most gentleman spoke further to women, simply out of politeness. She peered at him beneath her eyelashes, curious despite herself. He had lit a cigarette in the time that he had been sitting there and was staring out at the clearing with a brooding expression. She couldn't remember ever smoking, but she rarely remembered most of the things she did at night.

She cleared her throat and queried, "You wouldn't mind offering me one, would you?" He turned his lavender gaze to her, one of his feathery blonde eyebrows rising in mild surprise. Mai stared back at him steadily and after a pause, he shifted, withdrawing his snuffbox from his pocket. He snapped it open and held it out to her. She removed a cigarette and he closed it, then lighting the cigarette for her. She smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

"Of course," he drawled, taking a drag from his cigarette, passing an interested gaze over her. "I live to serve, my lady." He sounded sarcastic, but Mai ignored the tone of his voice. They sat in companionable silence until she had finished her cigarette sometime after him. "You appear to be a woman of high social class. From what I know of them, they do not generally smoke." He tilted his head, giving her an almost taunting smile.

"I am not your traditional woman of the ton," she smoothly returned. She flicked a haughty glance to him, taking in his expensive attire. "And are you a gentleman or simply a wealthy man of trade?" Mai lifted her gaze to his, which was nearly the same colour as hers, except for a shade lighter. She was caught briefly in the heavy-lidded gaze, hardly able to lift herself from its spell without drawing unnecessary attention.

"You could say that I am both," he replied. "I was born as a gentleman, but was expelled from Society when I became involved in trade. I am now a gentleman again, though, because of my connections." He gave a dark parody of a smile that caused a shiver of unease to travel up Mai's spine. She shifted a bit, putting more space between them. Noticing, he laughed hoarsely and said, "You needn't worry about me, my lady. I would not attack you in broad daylight. I have cleared my mind enough in these calming settings for long enough, however, so I shall have to bid you farewell." He rose to his feet and then paused, retrieving something from his pocket. He handed it to her between two fingers. "I have always enjoyed my time with a lady. If you're ever interested, please come and see me. You need only ask for Marik Ishtar." She took the card without looking at it. He swept her a mocking bow, saying, "Lady," and then left her with swift, graceful strides.

Mai watched him leave, the card in her fingers. When he disappeared from her sight, she looked down at the words printed on the card. The Pleasure Pavilions it read, with an address. She considered tossing it to the ground, but instead slipped it in her reticule. Retrieving her parasol, which she had propped against the bench, she left the park to return to her carriage. She, too, had tired of the quiet park. Those that were there reminded her too much of who she was expected to be and who she wasn't.

A few nights later, Mai was exiting a party when she recalled that she had sent her carriage home. She held her head, a bit confused as she gazed around. Even though she knew that her carriage wouldn't be waiting for her, she still expected it to be awaiting her return. Seeing it missing, she sighed and stepped down to catch a hackney. She raised a hand and the hackney rumbled to a stop. "Where to?" The driver asked in a gruff voice that sounded as if he could care less who she was or what happened to her.

The tone of his voice cleared the alcohol in Mai's system and she was sober and painfully lonely. There had been men at the soiree that she could have gone with, but none of them had interested her. A vague idea rose in her mind as she dug through her reticule, handing the card she had received days earlier to the driver. He took one look at it, his eyes darting to her suspiciously. He handed the card back silently, extending his hand for the money. She dropped the coins in his hand, knowing it was more than was needed. She climbed into the hackney and as soon as the door shut, it lunged forward. She grasped the wall to steady herself, letting loose a heavy breath.

Mai wanted nothing to do with the man that had given her the card, but she wasn't ready to go home yet and she didn't have the strength to remember any of the other balls that were taking place that night. She had received several calling cards during the week, so she should have been able to come up with another name. Unfortunately, the alcohol had caused negative effects on her memory.

As she waited for the hackney to arrive at its destination, she reached inside her reticule and felt for the tiny pouch that held the ocher powder that she put in her drinks more than once a week. Opium was dried juice from opium poppy and incredibly addictive. Emille claimed that she was addicted, but Mai had gone without it for weeks at a time and had been fine. It was wine that she often could not go without. She ran her thumb over the velvet pouch, deliberating over whether she should have any that night. Opium generally had a numbing effect on the body; it tended to numb Mai's mind more than anything, blocking out the constant depressing emotions that overcame her.

The hackney rolled to a stop and she stepped out, not bothering to thank the driver. She looked at the gates, startled. It was clear she would have to pay in order to enter and her mouth turned downward in irritation. She paid the fee and the gates were opened by the guards. When she stepped inside, her eyes brightened at seeing there were people of all classes here, with all sorts of attractions. She plunged forth into the chaos, feeling as if she were caught in a lover's embrace.

This is what I needed tonight, Mai told herself, a sigh slipping through her lips. She went from building to building with interest until she came to the largest building that turned out to be a gaming hell. As she had never attended a gaming hell without someone with her, she played with the idea of finding someone to spend the night with there. Instead of continuing with that thought, she entered the gaming establishment and immediately found a table where an empty place was. She had played all sorts of card games and did so well enough, though she enjoyed cheating more often than was healthy.

That night, she felt confident enough that in such a crowded place no one would catch her sneaky tricks with the cards. With the constant activity of hands, she was able to slip cards from other player's pool and transfer her unneeded cards to theirs. Unbeknownst to her, there was a male that had been watching the game progress only a few feet away and saw her quick movements. When Mai felt that it would be suspicious to continue her winning streak, she collected her money and gave a sultry smile to the males at the table. Those that had been glaring at her blinked and stared at her with a wholly different expression.

Turning, she smirked to herself smugly. Idiots, just like the rest of the male race, she concluded. Tease them with subtle invitations, lure them in with your looks and a seductive perfume and you have them. If the dealer had known I was cheating, he would have told the proprietor; he didn't know anything about my card playing. She chuckled, slipping her winnings in her reticule and sauntering away, choosing to play at another table. Cheating always did cheer her up.

Before she could approach another table, however, a hand grasped her upper arm and stopped her. She whirled around and glowered at the male that had a hold of her. "How dare you?" She flung his hand away, an outraged expression on her face. "Do you think that you can simply put your hands on me? You have no idea who you are dealing with, sir." He simply stared back at her, unmoved by her words.

"Unless you want those men to know that you cheated at that game, I suggest you come with me," he murmured in her ear so that only she could hear. She froze, her eyes flying up to his. He gave a self-satisfying smile that made her furious. She raised her hand to strike him, but he caught it and pulled her to him, making it appear as they were simply two lovers embracing. "Don't play with me, woman, because I am not the right person to gamble with. Now, are you going to come willingly or not?" She felt something hard press into her ribs and glanced down to see the barrel of a pistol pressed against the silk of her rouge dress.

"...Yes, of course," she murmured. He removed the pistol and took her hand, placing it on his arm. She followed him unwillingly, choosing not to cause any other conflict with this man. Even if she could not see the pistol, she knew the weapon lied somewhere on his person and that he could withdraw it in an instant and end her life. As miserable as she habitually felt, she knew by the spike of fear that had increased her pulse that she wasn't ready to die.

The man took her away from the first floor, pulling her up a dark staircase that led upstairs. She felt him close to her, but could see little in the dimness. As they passed a window on a landing, the moon gleamed through, giving light to the staircase she was ascending. When they at last came to a lit corridor, he led her to a door and opened it, saying, "I've found a cheater, Marik."

Marik, she thought. That name is so familiar...Where have I heard it?

"Thank you, Bakura," a voice purred. She was dragged in front of the man named Bakura and she cringed back against him at being faced with the man from the park, Marik Ishtar. Bakura might hold a pistol on him, but there was something about Marik that caused her heart to race with fear. Perhaps it was his emotionless gaze that seemed to bore through her or the strength in his lean, masculine body. In any other circumstances, she might have found him handsome and became interested. Although she agreed with the first sentiment, she could not find herself wanting to bed a man that struck fear in her. "Well...It is you. I invite you here and you decide to cheat, instead? That is not polite." His voice was calm, steady, and the tone was that of a man that might have been speaking civilly about normal matters.

Bakura released her, tossing her towards the proprietor of the establishment. He didn't say a word as he backed out of the door and shut it firmly behind him. Mai forced herself to straighten so that she could portray herself accurately as a woman of the ton. Any other woman born in her place would have been railing indignantly and trying to worm her way out of the position she had put herself in; Mai knew she had done wrong, though, and knew that she would lose any argument with this man.

"Sit down," he said, nodding to a seat in front of the desk. She glanced at the comfortable, leather seat and then approached it, settling in it, and smoothing her skirts out. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his hands spread out to clasp the mahogany wood of the edge, his expression unreadable as he analyzed Mai. "Hmm...You look like you haven't slept in days, yet you are out past midnight and seem completely awake. How interesting. You are obviously awake enough to cheat at cards. My dealers are sharp, so you must have been quite quick to evade one of them." She stared at him mutely, her eyebrows drawn down petulantly. "What is your name?"

"Mai Kujaku," she answered. "Who are you?"

"You have forgotten me already?" He queried in mock offense. "I told you when I handed you the card – Marik Ishtar. My companion, the one who caught you cheating, is Bakura Ryou, but I can see that you do not care." He held out a hand. "Let me see your reticule." She clutched at it, glaring at him. "You can give it to me or I can take it. The decision is yours."

Once again, I am being forced to do something I dislike. Perhaps he has a pistol, too, she thought, handing him her reticule. She watched as he dumped it on the desk and shifted through her things. He put her coin purse aside and read through the notes and cards she possessed. He opened her velvet pouch of opium and stared in it with a black expression for a moment, not speaking.

"Opium," he said in a neutral tone. "Why do you have this?"

"It is my own business," she coldly replied.

"Did you know, Mai Kujaku, that my younger brother was killed by opium? You can take the juice from the poppy and inject it in your system, were you aware of that? My brother and I both had our share of our enemies. One of his enemies got a hold of him and injected the juice directly into his veins. They pumped it in his blood until he was dead. Too much of the drug is fatal to one's person. I once did opium every once in awhile." He raised the velvet pouch, waving it like a pendulum. "When I discovered how he was killed, I stopped, along with Bakura. This drug is dangerous, possibly one of the most dangerous."

"I don't use it regularly. It is simply for numbing."

"Numbing what?" He let out a bark of laughter. "You are not a good liar, my lady, even if you cheat well enough." He tucked the opium in his pocket and then returned the contents to her reticule, save for her coin purse. "I will keep your money in retribution for cheating here."

"How will I get home?"

"Perhaps you ought to have thought of that before playing unfairly in my establishment, hmm?" She leapt from her chair and seized her coin purse from his hand, but he had a tight grip on it. Her eyes flashed with fury, her face close to his. Up close, he was more handsome than from far away. She wondered what he thought she looked up close. Her fingers tightened on the coin purse and she raised her other hand to slap him, but he caught her hand, holding it above her head. "You certainly are acting unladylike, Lady Kujaku. Not only do you smoke, but you drug yourself, you gamble, and you just now attacked a gentleman."

"You are no gentleman!" She hissed. She paused, realizing that she was using the wrong tactic. Getting angry would get her nowhere and Mai had dealt with men many times since her debut. Her tense hand that had been meant for his cheek relaxed and she let her body ease against his. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move from his position, his grip on the coin purse not loosening. She had hoped to surprise him enough to snatch her coin purse and flee. As that was not working, Mai knew she would have to seduce this fiend that was torturing her. Releasing the coin purse briefly, she ran her hand over his cheek and gave a sultry smile. "Gentleman do not allow women to get this close to them," she said in a breathy murmur.

"As I said, lady, I was born a gentleman, but am not necessarily one." He released her wrist, pocketing the coin purse. Frustrated that he had decided to conceal the coin purse instead of simply setting it on the desk like other fools might have, she pressed herself closer to him, running her fingers down his sides, lingering near his hips.

"You said that you enjoyed time with a lady," she said, leaning up closer, her breath massaging his lips. "If I was interested, you told me to come here. I wasn't sure who I should ask to see you. This seems to have worked just as well, doesn't it?" Her mouth curved in a teasing smile. She met his gaze and saw that he was trying to decide how honest she was being. His body seemed to win over his mind, because he turned so that she was pressed against the table and his mouth crushed against hers. At first, she was repulsed that she was kissing a man so ruthless and arrogant, but she, too, was overwhelmed by her body. She hadn't consciously been with a man for some time. If she had ever been with a man recently, she had either been intoxicated or doped up from the opium.

She pushed her hands through his thick, dirty blonde hair, arching her body beneath his, feeling his hands slide on her back, pushing her closer to him. When his tongue slid past her lips, she drank in the taste of brandy and the lingering taste of a cigarette. It was completely masculine, more so than she had ever experienced. The only thing between them was silk and cloth, but she could feel every contour of his body. When his mouth left hers, ravaging her throat, she heard the tingle of coins from his pocket and she was lifted from the enchantment she had undergone. Her original plan reappeared to her and she slipped her hand in his pocket without being detected. Her breath was quick from his kiss and the anxiety of trying to retrieve her money.

When he kissed her again, she had the coin purse grasped tight in her fingers. She reached behind her to retrieve her reticule and then pulled away from his kiss. He frowned at her sweet smile. She lifted her knee and drove it into his stomach, shoving away from him. He let out a strangled curse as she dashed across the room and threw the door open. She ran down the corridor and stumbled down the stairs, barreling into Bakura on her way down. He shouted after her, "Hey! What the hell – "

Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here, she repeated in her mind, lifting her skirts above her ankles and hurrying out of the gaming hell. She ran through the Pleasure Pavilions and found a place where she could hide for a moment and catch her breath. She glanced around, seeing that it appeared to be a garden of some sort. At the moment, it was abandoned with only the sounds of the rest of the Pavilions and running water from fountains filling the gardens. Breathing hard, she went to a fountain and checked her reflection, startled. I have some colour in my cheeks, Mai thought, staring down at the beautiful creature in the water. "I hate you," she said to the woman that stared back up at her.

She let her head fall back as she caught her breath and took in the cool, fresh air of the night. Her lips parted as she breathed in, cold air slipping past her warm lips that tingled from the kiss of Marik Ishtar's. Her eyebrows knitted together at the thought of the man. He is a monster, she thought, but I enjoyed kissing him. I enjoyed being pressed to his body and knowing that he wanted me. I could get that from any other man. I have never been as excited as I was with him, as if I had made some great accomplishment. I am sure many other women have done that to him. She let her head sling forward and opened her eyes to look at her reflection.

For a moment, she didn't comprehend that there was one other person that her in the waters. And it took her another second to realize that there shouldn't be anyone else in the reflection, let alone Marik Ishtar. She whipped around and he grabbed her waist, pulling her forward and clasping a hand over her mouth at the same time. She stared at him in disbelief, unable to summon any fear. "You know," he murmured, "I should be pissed off at you right now. No one denies me what I want, tricks me, and then knees me in the stomach all in one night. Even if they do, they usually regret it in the same hour as they perform it. Do you realize that you did this all because of money?" Mai stared at him, still trying to get over the fact that he had recovered to chase after her and discover where she was hiding in such little time. "If I remove my hand, are you going to scream?" She shook her head and he removed his hand slowly, not completely trusting her.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "How did you find me here?"

"This is the only place you could have gone where no one else would be. The gardens are closed tonight and obviously you wouldn't run out of the Pavilions, panting, to get a hackney." His eyes narrowed on her. "No...As much as I dislike admitting it, you have the unwavering conviction to pause long enough that someone could catch you. And even now, you seem without worry."

"What will you do? Shoot me? Or does Bakura only do that?" She demanded, knowing that she was working on nerve alone now. She had nothing else to depend on, as she had used it all when she first escaped from Marik. He didn't seem to be concerned about the money she had stolen back from him; in fact, that appeared to be the last thing on his mind. Her traitorous heart raced at the notion that he might have pursued her simply because he wanted her.

"I'm not interested in shooting you," he said. "You interest me in different ways." She blinked once and then he swept her against him, kissing her. Mai melted against him and knew without thinking about it that she would let him do whatever he wished with her that night. She was craving it as badly as he was and even though he wasn't the man she would have found herself attracted to because of his ugly personality, she couldn't help what her body was feeling.

At times, lust controlled her above all else.

Marik woke up before Mai, the light from the window hitting his face. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned towards the window. With a groan, he turned away from the sun and buried his face in the pillow. After a moment, he braced his hands against the bed and raised half his body up. He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, confused as to his surroundings until realizing he was in his bedchambers. He looked to the side to see Mai snuggled in the covers. He frowned at seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes. He shifted on his side, reaching over and brushing a thumb beneath her eyes. He thought perhaps it was her cosmetics, but it was a purple shadow of lack of sleep.

He swung his legs over the bed and sat there, nude, his arms propped on his thighs as he stared around the room with a blank expression. He could see pieces of clothes strewn over the room and was a bit surprised that they had been so eager to get at each other that they had carelessly tossed their things on the floor. He glanced over his shoulder at Mai and then reached down to his coat, taking out his snuffbox and lighter, lighting a cigarette, throwing the snuffbox on the ground dismissively. He slid back in the covers, his arm propping his head up as he leisurely smoked.

Mai Kujaku, he mused. She is not an ordinary woman. She is not a gentlewoman, but not one of the working class, either. She doesn't belong anywhere, it appears. She isn't married, either, but she is old enough to have been married or to be married. His mouth tightened when he was reminded of the opium he had found in her reticule. She told me a half-truth when she said she used it for numbing. What could make a woman of the ton use opium? I expect it of the gentleman, but never the women. He took a drag of his cigarette and as he blew out a steam of smoke through his nostrils, he flicked a look to the slumbering female beside him thoughtfully. It's not my problem, nor any of my business, he concluded, taking the cigarette and crushing it in the ashtray beside him. She is just a woman I had fun with this morning. Although...She is the first to be able to seduce me and trick me so that she could get away. Nonetheless, she is only one woman among the women I have gone to bed with.

He lied there for nearly an hour before Mai stirred. He opened an eye and glanced at her as she shifted before turning on her back and sitting up. She ignored the sheet that slipped from her torso, staring around with an uncomprehending expression. After awhile, she looked beside her at Marik, her face devoid of any expression. He tensed, a bit alarmed by this strange behavior. She sighed and then looked away, closing her eyes briefly. With her eyes closed, the shadows beneath her eyes were more obvious. He reached out and pulled her down beside him. She tumbled to the bed, her blonde locks flying. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her, simply to feel the warmth of her mouth on his. The tingle of awareness that he had first felt earlier that morning when he kissed her traveled through his body. It was because of this that he had pursued her through his Pleasure Pavilions. The feeling had left him calm when he found her and made an inane desire drive him to make certain that she ended up in his bed.

"I'm leaving," she stated plainly, rolling away from him and off the bed, collecting her things. She slipped on her chemise and he watched as she dressed herself. She put her stockings on last, pushing her skirts back to slip the white stocking up her legs. He watched the silk travel up the fair skin of her leg, enchanted with the travel upward. He shook himself and half dressed himself, pulling his pants on and leaving his shirt unbuttoned as he saw her reach for her other stocking. He took it himself and she looked up at him with a furrowed brow. He took her foot and guided the stocking up her leg, keeping his eyes on her face all the while. Neither of them paid any attention to the stocking, even when he had it completely enclosing her leg, his hand resting on her thigh.

Finally, she withdrew her gaze and stood, guiding her feet in her slippers. She found her reticule and after checking her appearance in the mirror, fixing her hair into an acceptable twist, she turned to him. Marik, leaning against the chair to his desk, let his eyes drift over her. Even though he knew that she had gotten enough sleep, she looked exhausted and worn. Despite it all, she still appeared as a beautiful, unreal creature brought to him on accident. If he didn't know any better, he might have thought she could break by merely touching her, she looked so frail.

"Thank you," she told him simply, giving a small, but genuine, smile. He knew that he had only seen masks before, because there was a contented look in her eyes. He suspected it wouldn't last long. He watched her leave his chambers and when the door shut softly behind her, he sighed and pushed his hands through his hair, rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands.

Mai took a drink of her tea, raising her eyes from the glossy surface of the liquid to look at the women that sat around her. She had agreed to attend this luncheon because she didn't want to be alone after having such a splendid time with Marik. She had bathed and dressed appropriately, arriving at the house of Lady Madison before she was too late. She had been social, talking of the respectable events she had attended, gossiping with the ladies, but now she was content to simply sip her tea and listen to the other women.

Is this who I am? She wondered, having thought the words every time she ever attended such events. Am I this snobbish female who sticks her nose in other people's business? Am I like these women, simply sitting here to discuss inane subjects, such as fashion, balls, and what is going on in other people's lives? Why should I care if someone has lost their money or if their husband was found with a mistress? I don't care. This isn't me... This isn't me at all.

"I beg your pardon, ladies," Mai murmured, rising to her feet. "I am feeling a bit ill. I think I shall leave early."

"Oh, I do hope you get better, Mai," one of them, whose name she had forgotten as soon as they were introduced, said sympathetically. Mai nodded and gave a polite smile, leaving them to their conversation. She retrieved her cloak and parasol from the butler, exiting the town house to meet her carriage.

"Take me home," she told the driver, stepping in the carriage and shutting the door. She relaxed in the seat and pressed her hand to her forehead wearily. She was feeling so lost and alone. She had to go out tonight and obtain some opium. Wine would be too weak that day. Her emotions were flooding throughout her, overlapping and spilling on top of every other possible sense she possessed.

The party Mai attended that night was the least respectable. The men were loud and raucous, the women wore dresses that promised to spill their bosom if they moved too much, and either were drunk or the men were doped up from opium. The women were likely prostitutes in stolen dresses; the classes of the men could be anything from the ton to the lowest social class possible.

But she didn't care.

She laughed and talked with the people, holding her glass of wine in which she had put opium. She drank it heartily and quickly. The party took on bright colours and she felt as if she were floating on clouds, happiness guiding her through the night. Near two in the morning, she became sluggish and fell onto a divan, lying there, listening to the loud sounds of the others. She closed her eyes and rested, knowing that the opium and wine mixed together was trying to vacate her blood stream.

Someone touched her leg, but she didn't move, letting the hand move her skirts. She couldn't move and the feeling didn't quite register in her mind until it disappeared and there was a squawk of protest from the foot of the divan. She opened her eyes, her lids feeling as heavy as lead. She blinked in confusion at seeing Marik standing over her. He held a grimy man's hand and threw him to the ground, a cold expression on his face. Beside him was his rude friend, Bakura, who was eyeing her with a look of disapproval. She barely paid attention to him, her eyes fixed on the hard gaze of Marik's.

He's ashamed of me, she thought before closing her eyes and descending into the darkness that swallowed her up and caused her to abandon any other conscious thought.

Marik watched as Mai closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. He sighed, knowing that she wouldn't wake, no matter what anyone did to her. He had been in such a deep sleep from opium himself and had tried to wake Bakura from a similar sleep. He nodded to Bakura and then gathered the woman in his arms. He frowned irritably, seeing that the shadows beneath her eyes remained there.

"Let's go," he said to his friend. Bakura walked beside him, his pistol in clear view. The people that saw them cast puzzled looks, their minds too muddled to understand the danger that could be provoked if they tried anything with these men. When Marik had seen Mai's carriage outside while passing the home, he knew too well what she was doing and knowing the people that lurked in that particular neighborhood, he assumed she would get herself into trouble and went inside to retrieve her. She was fortunate he had arrived when he did, although he was more than a bit aggravated by her foolish actions.

Bakura spoke to Mai's driver and then returned to Marik's carriage, climbing in and settling across from him, knocking on the ceiling. His blue-gray eyes fixed on Mai's face and he said, "She's been doing this for some time, it seems." Marik looked to him in question. "The shadows beneath her eyes. Do you remember when we took opium? I wasn't as bad, but you would always have shadows beneath your eyes because you never slept enough or very well. Our skin is dark enough that it blends in, but because you did it more often than I did, it was a bit more noticeable."

"Is that right?" Marik murmured. "I don't recall myself."

"The woman is trouble, Marik," Bakura warned him, folding his arms over his chest. "With the way she acts, you would think she was a common prostitute rather than a woman of the Polite World. You should have left her there so that she could learn what happens when she gets doped up in that sort of place."

"No, I have a better way of teaching her a lesson."

They came to her home and Marik stepped up to the door, knocking on it briskly. It was answered almost immediately by a short, plump, elderly woman that looked from him to Mai. Her eyes widened in terror and she gestured him inside hastily. "Is she alright?" She whispered, shutting the door behind him. Marik watched as she stroked Mai's face lovingly. "Oh, my poor dear... What will I ever do with you?" She looked up to Marik worriedly. "Is it the opium?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Her personal maid, Emille. Please, follow me to her room." Marik followed, taking in his surroundings as he did. It was a place of wealth, that much was obvious. They passed portraits and one was a family portrait, but the man and woman weren't smiling; the blonde girl between them had the slightest of smiles on her lips. He suspected the girl was Mai and the two adults were her parents. He allowed his eyes to drift over the banister, the carpets and the overall condition of the town house. He had been in many homes, so he knew what most wealthy people's homes looked like. Mai Kujaku appeared to be a particularly wealthy woman by the expensive state of the house.

So why would she waste her life away with opium? She is a respectable woman and could be accepted into any ball or gathering. There is no reason for her to be this way, Marik reflected, frustrated that he knew near to nothing about Mai's basis for turning to drugs and alcohol for entertainment.

Emille guided him inside Mai's bedchambers and he set her on the four-poster bed while the maid turned up the lamps in the room. She went to the bed and checked Mai's pulse before sighing and smoothing the tendrils from her face. After a moment of silence, she turned to Marik and said, "Thank you, my lord, for bringing her here."

"What exactly is her rationale for doing this?" He asked with his usual frankness.

"Ah..." She hesitated and then gave a tiny, useless shrug. "Her parents never paid her much attention. She was rejected time and time again when she tried to speak with them. She has been so lonely all her life and the neglect turned her into a very depressed, misguided young woman. It was shortly after her debut that her parents died in a carriage accident and she inherited their money. She went out every night and came home, often in a man's carriage or if she came home alone, she was disheveled and intoxicated. It wasn't until later that she began to take opium. Please, my lord, don't judge her by this. Mai... She drinks and does opium so that she has a false sense of security and happiness. She is never happier than with people and being drunk or doped up. It's...sad, but it's the truth."

Marik chose not to make any comment besides, "I see." Emille was watching nervously, expecting him to say more. After a long while, he said, "I will come by later to see her."

"Very well, my lord."

Mai could remember nothing from last night and when she asked Emille how she had gotten home, her maid had simply shrugged, saying that she had arrived in a gentleman's carriage. She had not planned on associating with those of the ton last night, but because she could not recall where she had been and who she had been with, she wasn't sure if her plans had inadvertently changed or not.

When she was sitting in her drawing room, drinking tea, there came a knock on the door. She remained relaxed on the divan, allowing someone else to answer the door. She heard Emille say something in the foyer and turned her head slightly, curious as to why her maid would be speaking with any visitor of hers. When the drawing room doors opened, she stiffened at seeing Marik Ishtar framed in the doorway. He entered, shutting the doors behind him. Mai slowly straightened, setting her tea cup and saucer on the table. "Marik," she greeted cautiously. "What are you here for?"

"You were nearly raped last night," he bluntly stated. She stared at him, frozen in place by his words. "You had no idea what was going on. You don't even remember that I came and carried you out of that party, do you? Everyone was either drunk or taking opium. I only stopped because I saw your carriage. If you hadn't sent for it that morning, I wouldn't have even recognized it and you would probably be dead in some ditch. I took that opium from you for a reason, Mai, and you chose to ignore the unspoken advice."

"You're lying. I would have remembered – "

"You didn't even remember my name and as far as I could tell, you were wide awake and without anything in your system when you met me. Your memory is failing, Mai, along with your body because you continue to abuse it." She raised her hands to her head, as if willing the memory of that morning when Marik had taken her from the party to emerge. Nothing came, simply a blankness to which she was so accustomed. Because it seemed natural for her to forget last night's events, she had never been bothered by it. Now, with Marik's cold, unfeeling words, she wanted to remember.

"...Raped?" She whispered, her eyes fixed on her tea cup.

"Not quite, but close enough."

"I should have..." She trailed off, her hands sliding down her face to her throat. Marik watched her and saw that it was sinking in what the opium truly did to her. Marik hadn't cared about the memory loss himself, but he and Bakura both had been nervous at not knowing what they did the night before. "If that happened...I could have let other things be done to me without even knowing it."

"Yes... If you have any intelligence in you at all, you would be wise to stop taking the drug, Mai. I don't give a shit what it makes you feel. It will only bring trouble for you." She nodded slowly and dropped her hands to her lap, her face calming into a detached expression. He recognized it as a barrier she raised so that no one could see what she was thinking. He strode across the room and framed her face in his hands, tilting her head back. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before he pressed his mouth against hers. "If you continue to kill yourself with opium," he whispered against her mouth, "I will kill you myself." She trembled slightly.

"I am just another woman that will drift out your life," she bit out, jerking away from him, "just as you are another man that will drift out of mine."

"Ah." He smiled. "That is where you are wrong. I am far too fascinated by you to let you simply drift out of my life." It was his version of confessing his feelings, as vague and uncertain as they were. He recognized them for what they were, though, and knew by the dark tone in her voice when she spoke of drifting out of his life that she held some similar feelings for him. "It is not often a woman affects me as you do."

Mai looked at him and then laughed, something he had not heard her do since he first met her. When she had stopped, she smiled at him with a touch of humor in her eyes. "Is this your idea of romantic, Marik? You are failing miserably, but I suppose since you are insisting on keeping me in your life, I cannot resist." Her smile was warm and as genuine as the one she had given him the morning he woke up beside her. A tiny piece of him bubbled egotistically at knowing that he was the only one who could make her smile like that.

She doesn't seem so frail anymore, he reflected with a crooked tilt of his mouth.

Finis

DIS: Okay, I admit, Marik was pretty out of character. I imagine that Mai would do anything to escape her loneliness and that is the type of character she seemed to me in the YuGiOh series. She would always hold arrogant, confident masks until she was alone when she could really reflect on how lost she was in a world she failed to understand. That's where I got the idea for her use of opium and alcohol, since most people that are depressed turn to drugs or alcohol. Anyway, please leave me a review, telling me how you liked it. Ciao!