Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!.

Rated T for implied partial nudity, and for feels :[

No seriously, this is pretty angsty and rough. I know that I have at least two existing fictions based on the crappiness of Marik in how he treats Téa. I think I've improved my writing since publishing both of those. I think of it as sort of a reflective writing process - how I've grown and improved as a writer. So please, please, please excuse the cliche idea.

I'm also overall pretty indifferent to Marik (at least the dark half) just because as an antagonist, he didn't really do enough to piss me off. I needed him to be a bit more sadistic and evil... like a Joffrey of Yu-Gi-Oh. (Man I love Joffrey.)

Proceed with caution.

Revolutionshipping implied.

Rage On
by Atemusluckygal
ALG Series

A wave of foreign emotion swept through the pharaoh's mind, body, and spirit. It was a color he had not yet seen; it was a degree of cold he'd never felt; it was a silhouette of an enemy he had never faced before. And it was not just one feeling that fully plagued him. There were many, too many, and it grew to overwhelm him and burst from him.

This was a game he had played many times, and had won every time. Every time, but this time. It was a game of sentiment versus practical focus. Feelings of emotional base were kept at bay, and he always remained stoic and fearless. He shared Yugi's life; his friends, his memories, his daily activities were all lived through his observation from a distance. He was there for Yugi, not for himself.

So why was he so burdened with the spectrum of emotions? Why did he feel what he was not there to feel – anger, not on a surface level of animosity towards a rival or enemy, but on a level so personal, he considered doing away with supernatural powers and physically harming he who wronged him? Why did he feel as if the wholesomeness of his being was being taken from him when a particular someone, a female in her teens of whom he had only known for two years, was in serious peril?

He was alone in his room – with Yugi, having sensed a massive hurricane approaching from his darker counterpart, having retreating to his soul room, door shut, waiting for the storm to pass and dealing with the predicament in his own ways. His physical room, on the blimp, was three doors down from him. And her.

Him, Marik. And her, Téa. They were in the same room. Both were held hostage by Marik's dark half.

Yami knew to not go to her. He knew that as soon as he tried to enter the room, Téa's lifeless corpse would be waiting for him. Marik made it clear to everyone who was listening: any attempt at rescuing her would end her life instantly, no questions asked. No one was allowed to help her in any way; she remained isolated from anyone around her during the day, and at night she was his prisoner until morning. She was his until the tournament was over, and was also likely a useful part in his final plan to garner surrender from the savior of the world. He thought of her as a pawn. A sub-human, otherwise worthless, game piece. It infuriated Yami.

Anger. Hatred. Disgust. Helplessness. Weakness. Guilt. Shame. They all merged into one monster.

The pharaoh's mind revved again, and again, with his thoughts burning into his conscience and fueling every bit of darkness that lied dormant in him for long enough to nearly be forgotten about. His soul ignited white hot fire, just waiting to explode. Tears streamed down his face, and they were heated with rage. He fell to his knees and his tightened fists slammed down onto the floor, beating the carpet repeatedly with every strike more aggressive than the next.

He suddenly stood, and before he could collect his consciousness, his fist met the wall in a violent collision, shaking the whole room and causing the furniture to rattle against its surrounding surfaces. Every movement he made was unhinged and uncalculated, just hurtling blind energy in random directions, like a loose cannon, to anything in his path that would withstand his assault.

Finally, at the height of his emotional state, he ran to the door, threw it open, and bolted down the still hallway, away from Marik's room. He sprinted as fast as he could, his boots thumping the floor with the weight of every thundering footfall. He threw his feet up the staircase to the upper deck of the blimp, two stairs at a time. He ran all the way across the dueling platform, to the end of the railing, and barely – just barely – stopped himself from pitching his body overboard.

The pharaoh let the adrenaline press his heaving chest against the railing; his breathing was heavy and ragged, beaten with emotion and exhausted from his constant rampages. His heart ravenously hammered his chest, sending blood pounding to his face and ears. He gripped the rail with both his hands and held tighter on it than anything he'd ever held, attempting to wrench it out of its base. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. His stomach lurched, and he fell on all fours in a frenzy of violent dry heaving. His face was instantly moistened with cold sweat, adding to his abundant hot tears. His body was succumbed to hysteria, and there was no controlling it now. It was like a lethal and ruthless disease, slowly conquering his body and assaulting everything from the inside out.

Yami was tired of it all. He was tired of having to convince himself to be emotionless, to not have sentiment or outward care for others. He was tired of shutting himself down and letting something like this accumulate inside him. He was tired of his friends getting threatened, hurt, or worse. He was tired of everything going wrong, just when things were starting to make sense.

"Pharaoh."

Her sweet voice entered Yami's ears. It was so faint, so fleeting that he barely heard it over his panting. Téa was near – he sensed her… but how? How did he not hear her approaching? Was he so occupied with his episode that his physical senses shut off to everything else around him? With difficulty, Yami straightened himself, and faced her. The sight of Téa choked him in surprise and panic – she stood there, disrobed down to her blush pink undergarments; her bare flesh reflected the pallid glow of the moonlight. Her eyes were hollow and blank. Her hair tossed to the left in the high altitude winds.

"Téa…" he whispered, his throat catching a lump. To see her like this, stripped of her clothing and her dignity before him, was beyond the sickness he imagined Marik was capable of, and it caused him to feel physically ill. He slowly reached out to her, wanting to hold her and cloak her from the peering eyes of the world, and was instantly stopped by her singsong voice. Hers, and Marik's in tandem.

"Ah-ah-ah, don't get too close. You know what happens."

Yami's hand retreated at once. He turned his head to the side. "Let her go, Marik. It's me you want. She has nothing to do with this." His voice simmered, reining back supreme disgust.

Téa's mouth twisted into a maniacal grin that wasn't hers. "Oh, but Pharaoh, I thought you'd appreciate the company."

The pharaoh's hands balled into rigid fists, shaking uncontrollably, imagining himself ripping Marik's arms from his body. "You are a sick man. This is beyond cruel, even for you."

"Look at her," Marik commanded.

Yami only turned his head further away. "I won't. Her nudity is not mine to behold."

"Pharaoh, might I remind you that if you wish to preserve her life, you will do as I say? It wouldn't matter how much clothing she's wearing if she's dead, would it? You're playing by my rules now."

Jaw set tight, Yami faced forward, fixed only on her pale eyes.

"That's better. Now listen, she's a pretty one, isn't she?" Téa's hand rose to caress her face with her fingers.

"Stop it."

"I'm sure a pharaoh of your greatness had a harem full of beauties like this." Her hand settled just above her left breast, threatening to go lower. Her other hand inserted the very tips of its fingers beneath her panties.

"Stop it." Yami stared violet daggers at Téa, knowing it was only meant for Marik. How dare he. Did he think this was amusing, toying with an innocent girl to assert his dominance?

Téa stepped forward, her opaque orbs settled on Yami. She continued approaching him, as Yami stepped back, leaving distance between them before his back hit the railing. Still she came, and pressed her nearly-bare body to him. Yami felt cornered, trapped, his hands trained to his sides. Téa's hands gripped the sides of his waist, pulling her hips flush against his pelvis, pushing him further into the railing. She brought her face inches from his. A flash of blue crossed her eyes of lackluster grey, so sudden and quick he thought he'd imagined it.

"H-help…"

A small cry, a whimper, a plea. Yami heard it and he knew he wasn't fooling himself. Téa's faint voice was strained and scared. It was not spoken from her mouth, but rather echoed in his ears. Her grip on him became tight and desperate, as if she were fighting his control with all of her might. Buds of tears rimmed her lower lashes. Her lips quivered.

"Téa…" Fresh new tears of his own emerged, and his arms tensed from forcing his hands away from her. He dared not encourage her to fight further. Marik had her mortal life in the palm of his hand.

Marik's voice rejoined hers. "Yes… isn't she lovely…"

Téa's left cheek grazed Yami's right, and her lips tucked under his jawbone to place gentle kisses along the length of his neck. Powerless to move, Yami could only close his eyes and try to stifle his gasps and trembles. "Don't you dare move," she warned seductively, as her nimble fingers unbuckled the navy collar around his neck and tossed it away. Placing one hand on the other side of his neck and the other resting on his shoulder, she bit down on the newly exposed flesh without warning, forcing a startled moan from the pharaoh. His muscles contracted and his whole body tightened and twitched, his face burning something fierce, but her mouth continued mercilessly sucking the skin between her teeth.

"Please… stop…" Yami pleaded her and Marik at the same time. The sensation was painful, but tantalizing and sensual and arousing; at moments it was easy to forget that it was Marik's influence upon his skin and not the Téa he knew. His focus was weakened with every wave of pleasure that coursed through him as Téa continued to munch on his tender flesh, even as he tried to fight away the gratification.

Téa raised her head to reconnect their cheeks. Her face felt cool against his sweltering skin. "Now wasn't that nice, my pharaoh?" she and Marik whispered into his ear.

Yami felt like his heart would burst from his chest from his fierce heartbeat. His breaths reduced to short gasps for air. Hands still held away, he leaned into her. "Release her, you monster," he sneered back, his voice depleted of energy.

"I could, I suppose."

A sudden hand clenched his throat so tightly he could barely breathe. With strength unlike Téa's, she lifted him off the ground with ease and dangled the upper half of his body over the railing. As the sharp air currents whipped at his back, Yami was fraught with panic. The release of her hand would send him tumbling to the Earth below, surely ending him and all hope for mankind. His vision darkened at the corners from his lack of oxygen intake, but his ears were able to pick up the last of Marik's words.

"I want to remind you who is in charge. Who is always in charge. Just remember this night, in case you forget. I look forward to our duel, Pharaoh."

Téa's grip immediately slackened, causing a panicked Yami to grasp her wrist with both hands. Finally able to breathe, Yami strained his eyes to see Téa, with her eyes of sapphire blue, staring back at him in alarm.

"Pharaoh!" Téa shouted, in her voice alone, free of Marik's control.

She used her hand around his throat to hold his wrist, and with her free hand grabbed his other. After a few moments of exerted effort, Yami was once again on safe ground. He remained on his knees, struggling for breath and choking occasionally. His head spun, his entire body shook ceaselessly, and cardiac arrest seemed inevitable at this point. The adrenaline rush died down, and he glanced over at his savior.

Téa sat with her legs tucked beneath her and her arms crossed over her full chest. Her head was bowed. She shivered from the blustery force of the high winds, and though the winds were loud as they whipped past Yami's ears, he could hear her soft sobbing.

How he wished, with all his heart, that he could help her. He wanted to strip off his jacket and drape it over her shoulders. He wanted to dry her tears and tell her everything was going to be alright, and that Marik wouldn't be bothering her anymore. He wanted to go with her to her room, give her warm clothes to wear, and hold her as she fell asleep. He wanted her to know that he could protect her.

But he couldn't. Marik's blasted twisted game kept him from doing any of that. Instead he had to send her, alone and still unclothed, to Marik's room, where awaited her hostage position to return to. He had to imagine the atrocities he would dare inflict upon her behind closed doors; he had to fear for her every second of his hours while she remained in his evil clutches.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Téa. But I can't help you, no matter how much I want to. He'll… he'll kill you. Or worse."

She nodded wordlessly, seeming to understand. She struggled to her feet, and Yami growled inwardly for not even being able to help her stand. He kept his distance, watching her stagger as a pang of sadness struck his core. With her hair swept away from her face, he could easily see how terrified she really was. It shattered his heart like nothing else could.

As Téa departed the deck, the pharaoh broke down one final time. He crumpled to the floor, crying audibly and freely, curling into himself. He hated Marik. He hated this tournament. He hated the Puzzle… the Shadow Realm… the God Cards… his stupid historical past that he couldn't even remember… he hated himself. Never had he felt so powerless. Never had he the heart to send the girl he adored back to her prison, lest Marik would do unspeakably terrible things to her, far worse than the treatment to which he must have already subjected her to. It wasn't fair, and there was little to nothing he could do about it.

Except win the duel.

Suddenly, the burden of saving mankind felt minimal, less important. The only thing Yami wished to see at the end of this tournament was Téa, alive and intact and free. He would conquer any and all of Marik's tricks and trials to see it through. He would not give up on her, no matter what. He would not allow his emotions to disillusion his purpose again. He owed her that and so much more.

The rising sun of dawn peeked through the clouds, signaling the start of a new day. Yami stood on shaky legs and retrieved his buckled collar. As he fastened it around his neck, he noticed that the leather material irritated his skin on one side. He brought his fingers up to his neck and felt a sore, slightly itchy swelling just above his collarbone, where Téa's lips and teeth had assaulted his flesh and left a visible mark in their wake.

It was another reminder.

A reminder that Marik truly had no boundaries for his schemes.

A reminder that no one was safe from him.

A reminder of who had all the power, and who had none.

Yami leaned over the railing, peering down at Domino City four thousand feet beneath him. He could see the earlybird cars, small like ants, on the highways heading to work.

"But that will soon change," he murmured to the city below. "As long as I'm still here, we all have a fighting chance. Téa, I will save you. I swear I will, at any cost of mine."

Yugi, in spirit form, nodded in agreement.

END