Fallen
by
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx

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A/N : Hey, just wanted to jump in here and say thanks so much for your reviews! I'm overwhelmed by the positivity you have all shown me – I really can't thank you enough! Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

Mmm'kay. On with the story …

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"We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in another time
We might as well be strangers,
For all I know of you, now."

- Keane, 'We Might as Well Be Strangers'

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Chapter 3
Let the Rain Fall

Less than five minutes had passed before the four anxious teens were shrugging into their coats and running full pelt towards the door. Yugi's cheeks were still tear-stained, but his expression was now one of defiant determination. Solomon Mutou called out to him from the kitchen, and Yugi very nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd almost forgotten his Grandfather was still up, as well.

"Where are you kids off to at this late hour? Don't you have school in the morning?"

The four shared a nervous look, before all eyes swivelled expectantly to face Yugi. Joey was idly scratching his head and Tristan's one-shoulder shrug told Yugi that he was the one tasked with getting them out of this one.

Mentally scowling, he tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible and fixed his grandfather with an (hopefully) innocent-looking stare, forcing a small smile.

"I need some air, Gramps. I've been stuck in here for days, y'know? The guys are coming with me, so I'll be safe. We won't be long, I just ... just need to get out and clear my head."

His grandfather frowned, knowingly. "Hmm, you do realise it's throwing it down, out there, don't you?"

Joey squashed a groan of irritation before it could fully escape him. Téa flashed him a warning look and he carefully straightened his face, once again.

"It's fine, really. We won't be long, I promise," Yugi responded, not missing a beat.

Solomon considered the four of them for a few seconds, quite obviously not buying their tale. But at the same time, the prospect of Yugi actually wanting to get out of the house for the first time in many weeks was too great an opportunity to pass on.

"Okay then," he finally conceded. "But wrap up warm, and you three take good care of him, won't you?" he added, nodding once to Joey, Tristan and Téa in turn.

"Thanks, Grandpa," Yugi sighed, his gratitude incredibly apparent. The four turned tail and hurried for the door with renewed vigour, upturning their jacket collars to protect themselves against the biting chill of the wind.

"Yeah, thanks Mr. Mutou," Téa called over her shoulder as she vanished from sight with a tiny wave.

Solomon Mutou nodded one final time, before shuffling over to the staircase. With a quick, sneaky glance back at the departing teens, he shook his head once before disappearing from view, just as the door clicked softly closed behind them.

"Oh man, this has got to be a trap, you guys," Tristan shouted out to them, struggling to make his voice heard over the pounding hum of the steadily falling rain.

The exact same thought had crossed through Yugi's mind as well, but unlike Tristan, he didn't seem to be all too bothered by the notion.

He lifted his head slightly so as to ensure his weary voice carried over to his friends. "I know, but the person on the phone sounded so sincere and so fearful. It wasn't acting, Tristan, the guy was being totally honest with us! I could never forgive myself if I let my only chance to get him back slip away, just because I was scared that something might happen to me, instead." He shook his head in an attempt to whip his soaking blonde bangs out of his eyes, and hurried on, a fountain of hope blossoming deep within his soul. "I know the Pharaoh will be there, I just know it."

Joey nodded his agreement, expression grim. "Yeah, it's a trap, alrigh'. But they've made two grave miscalculations. Not only are we about to get the Pharaoh back from 'em since they've been kind enough to return him, but they're going to have the four of us to deal with, not just you, Yug. They'll be sorry they ever messed with us, don't you worry!"

"Too right," Tristan added, confidently. "You're not on your own, pal. And we're not going to let anything else happen to you or the Pharaoh, you got that?"

Yugi shot him a watery smile. "Yeah, got it," he whispered, knowing full well they probably wouldn't hear it, but grateful all the same. Suddenly spurred on, he doubled his pace, trying to ignore the icy sting of the pounding water droplets as they splashed onto his face. His jacket was already soaked through, but he refused to let it bother him. The thought of finally seeing Yami again after so many months of waiting made him feel almost immune to the cold and the rain, and the protesting ache amassing in his over-taxed limbs. A strength he hadn't experienced for too many weeks was now coursing through his veins with a vengeance. He may have been cold, and tired, and terrified, but he felt alive again for the first time since this horrific ordeal had begun.

Alive and determined.

They pressed on, running full-speed through the winding alleyways and deserted streets, every step taking them closer to the Pier, closer to their fallen friend.

'Don't worry, Yami,' Yugi whispered to the nothingness shrouding half of his soul – the half his Dark had once occupied. He shot a glance at the unrelenting skies above, and sighed. 'Not long, now. We're coming to get you.'

Macros was feeling incredibly restless. The (former) Village Noble's house was far too small for his liking, and his constant pacing of the tiny room was an act born from pure frustration and irritation. The more circuits he prowled round the cramped office, the more tiresome it became. And yet, on he proceeded, regardless.

Back and forth, round and round and round again, never stopping; the momentum just refused to relent, no matter how much he wished for his legs to cease their endless, pointless roaming.

Every now and again, he would force himself to take a seat behind the simple-but-polished oak desk, and there he would sit with his head propped up on upturned palms, staring out into the pouring rain. And he'd think. He'd consider the size of the room, and realise just how little space the deceased Noble's home really contained. This thought would unpleasantly remind him of the many millennia he had been forced to spend trapped in the Shadow Realm, forever condemned to prowl the darkness in solitude with nothing and no-one to break the monotony, or stifle the cold sense of death and decay that hung around his being like an intoxicating veil.

At which point during his mental wanderings, he would find himself overwhelmed by an intense feeling of claustrophobia, and thus, the pacing would resume.

But the confusion and conflict was too great a distraction for Macros to focus on physically stopping his incessant wanders. Too many thoughts craved attention, and with so much to think about ... well, that restless energy had to go somewhere.

And so he paced.

He paced and he pondered.

He had given the order to have his men withdraw from the warehouse, and was certain they would be on their way back to him, even as he stood here.

But had he really made the right decision?

The Items he so desperately craved for were making a bee-line for Domino Pier at this very moment in time. He could easily outsmart a teenager – or group of teenagers, had little Yugi decided to bring back-up with him. What chance did a few young school-children have against the strongest and most experienced members of this village? Men who hunted on a daily basis to provide food for their families, and who had built themselves a comfortable and manageable settlement with no assistance from the outside world, whatsoever.

It amazed Macros. This village had everything it could ever need. The people led simple but fulfilling lives with no complexities to worry about, no wars to fight, no criminals to punish or strangers to feel suspicious towards (well, not until recently, anyway). They simply ... were. They lived, and that was all.

Were he at all familiar with the emotion, he would have acknowledged the small but prominent sense of guilt on his part for ruining their perfectly preserved existence. But as it was, he merely saw this village as a means to an end. Five thousand years of loneliness and suffering had evidently shredded all traces of compassion and morality within the ancient spirit. And they had been replaced with hatred, darkness and a lust for revenge that could not be sated until the Pharaoh's powers resided within his own veins.

So far, his plan to accomplish just that was playing out exactly as he had expected it would. Unfortunately, he was harboured by last-minute doubts. Common sense suggested he remains focussed on the original plan; it would require a little patience from him, but ultimately, the plan was flawless. Very little – if anything – could go wrong, he was certain of that.

But at the same time, it meant he would be forced to wait around for the opportune moment. And he was sick of waiting. He could quite as easily have been preparing to end the whole affair any minute now – all he needed to do was silence the whelp who carried the three Egyptian God Cards and the Millennium Puzzle ...

But no, that would mean abandoning his original plan, and as a man of tactical mind, he could see far too many potential flaws and holes that would ultimately result in Macros never obtaining the necessary items.

Better to play it safe and stick to the plan. It appeared to be unfolding quite perfectly, as it was – yes, he would have been a fool to try and intervene when, at this rate, he would be Pharaoh in a matter of months ...

Macros finally paused in his pacing to stand and stare at the torrential downpour outside, watching as the giant droplets of water collided one after another with the office window. He loved the rain. It spoke volumes when he himself was lost for words. How fitting a setting for the events that were about to unfold for little Yugi and the Pharaoh. And all thanks to his water-tight plan of action.

Yes, he had waited many thousands of years for revenge. So what was the rush? A few more months couldn't hurt. And this was nothing if not the perfect opportunity to obtain a thorough understanding of his enemies without them ever realising just what awaited them.

In the meantime, the Villagers would just have to put up with his restless and obsessive wanderings around their former-Noble's stately home for a little bit longer.

Téa stumbled to a halt against a flickering lamppost, resting her hands against her knees and struggling to draw in much needed breaths. Yugi hesitated at the sight, reducing his pace and turning to her with a look of worried urgency.

"Now's not really the time to be resting, Téa," he called out to her, matter-of-factly.

She waved a half-hearted hand, eyes glistening with frustration and guilt.

"I know," she panted, absently gripping at a stitch in her side. "I just need a sec."

Joey and Tristan, too, skidded to a stop at this revelation. They took a few moments to compose themselves before Joey straightened up and took to straining his eyes against the gloom in a vain attempt to decipher their surroundings.

"Hey, you guys," he called, voice serious. "We're here."

Yugi turned to see where he was indicating, and felt a shiver nibbling at his spine. The dimmed orange light permeating the vicinity from the damaged street lamp above Téa's head was just enough to illuminate a small circle around them.

And sure enough, just to Joey's left was a huge and ominous-looking warehouse door. Yugi ignored the constant onslaught from above, no longer able to feel the numbing cold droplets of rainwater. Instead, he drew his attention across to the sizeable plaque placed on the left side of the enormous door.

'Warehouse E22,' it read.

For just a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. Even the spritely sounds of the night's heavy downpour weren't acknowledged by the four drenched and shivering teenagers as they simply stood there, staring in wonder at the rows upon rows of warehouses channelling down either side of them.

And suddenly, noise returned, slamming into Yugi's ears with the force of a speeding freight train, leaving him reeling. The gasps and hushed whispers of his friends offset by the roaring of the rain and the distant callings of sirens were mixing into a cacophony of unwanted sounds. He couldn't keep from swaying slightly, a trembling hand lifting to his head before he could catch himself and replace the capable facade he had previously been wearing.

He was struggling, he knew, due to the months he had wasted, hardly eating and rarely sleeping. Running the many miles towards Domino Pier had pretty much sapped any residual energy he had managed to save over the past few weeks in an instant; he should realistically have been expecting something like this to happen, if he was being totally honest with himself.

But thankfully, the others didn't appear to detect his moment of weakness, anyway.

Joey was too busy counting the buildings, running to those nearest to peer eagerly at the numbers so as to ascertain which way led to 'D17'. Tristan kept glancing back over his shoulder at the way they had come from; he couldn't suppress a whistle of ... well, either annoyance or amazement, Yugi couldn't tell, though he was sure it had something to do with the fact they had run a good quarter of a mile into the warehouse base without even realising where they were. And Téa was still leaning against the lamppost for support, though her breaths weren't as laboured, now, which Yugi took to be a good sign.

"You guys," he started, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat slightly, taking a moment to compose himself as the three turned to him in response, before licking his dry lips in an attempt to steady his already shredded nerves. "You know, if you wanted to get back, I wouldn't mind. I can -"

His friends wore identical 'Don't-even-start-that-again' looks that left Yugi visibly wilting before he could finish his statement.

Téa grinned, rolling her eyes. "Sure, because I've just run three miles at 11:00 at night in the pouring rain in high heels for the fun of it, Yugi." He appeared to want to argue the case with her, but she shook her head. "We're here, now. And we're coming. So ssshh," she added for good measure.

As touched as he was, Yugi couldn't help but feel a little frustrated, at the same time. Who knew what was going to be waiting for them inside that warehouse! Why did he always have to lead the people he cared about into danger? And why did they never heed his warnings? But his frustration was admittedly short-lived, once he realised exactly how much it meant to him; the fact they willingly volunteered every time just so he wasn't running into danger all alone...

"Come on, Yug. The Pharaoh needs us," Joey shouted over the ruckus. "The warehouses count down, this way. E21 here, see? So shouldn't be too far."

Yugi nodded and raced after him as Joey took off towards the middle of the bay, with Téa and Tristan not even a beat behind them.

The arguing voices above him were disjointed and seemed to be somewhat lacking in clear focus and steady volume.

"... Need to leave, right now ..."

"... Not think ... should wait until –?"

"Move it!"

Very little appeared to want to register in his brain, but the next obvious sound he managed to digest was the loud creaking of a rusted door, followed by an even louder bang as that very same door was slammed closed behind whoever had decided to abandon him.

Where a moment before there had been enough noise to rouse him from what little sleep he had managed to capture for himself, there was now only a pounding, echoing quietness that left every nerve end tingling with apprehension. Even the steady rainfall beyond the corroded gates of his new prison had fallen into complete muteness. The sudden absence of speech and sound left Yami idly wondering if he had lost the ability to hear. That is, until the ragged sounds of his own half-hearted attempts to draw in much needed oxygen began to consume his thoughts. The noises sounded foreign and unnatural, even to his own ears - A dying man's last breaths, horrendously magnified by the sheer enormity of his current jail.

In the hopes of drowning out the pitiful sounds, Yami tried to focus on the now noticeable absence of his former captors. It took a few moments, but Yami managed to tug his eyes open just enough to scan his immediate surroundings. After turning his head a little too far, causing an intense agony to spasm periodically up and down his spine, he ascertained movement to be a bad idea, and instead settled on blinking the grime (and blood) out of his eyes to slightly clear his vision. As the hazy fog began to lift, Yami was greeted with the sight of a dimly lit open-plan space currently devoid of anything that could have been considered interesting to look at. The only light in the room was falling from a half-shattered, amber-flickering beam situated a little way above his current position. While not big enough to illuminate the entire room, it gave him an all too clear view of the colourless and unforgiving concrete floor upon which he was currently lying. And it highlighted even further the sudden nonexistence of his previous subjugators.

Yami couldn't tell why he was so overjoyed by their absence, considering they had most definitely condemned him to a slow and painful death, trapped alone in the confines of an unused building. But the simple fact that they had left him in peace at the end of all things caused an almost tangible happiness to blossom like a wild flower within his heart.

His death would not be witnessed. And he would not be missed.

There was someone ... someone he had wanted to see before it happened, though ... someone he needed to say goodbye to. An overwhelming urge to apologise for something, as well, was eating away at his thoughts.

Yami frowned, trying to collect the disarray of half-formed memories and reorganise them into an order that made vague sense to his falling mind. Everything he had faced over the last few months – all of the injuries that were, at this very moment, counting down the seconds to his demise - had been willingly taken in the place of someone else ... he had accepted the punishment, gladly, if it spared any harm befalling his ... friend? Whatever had happened to him, Yami desperately wanted to see that person just one more time and tell them how sorry he was for putting them through such pain and suffering. No doubt they would have missed him, greatly.

'Or would they?'

No doubt they would have worried constantly about him ...

'That's what you think. Who would miss you? You have no friends, here. This isn't your time. Your friends died out thousands of years ago, Pharaoh.'

Yami's breath hitched as he strained the muscles in his right wrist, unconsciously balling it into a protective fist. His eyes slid closed and he tried to focus his mind on evening out his uncontrollable breaths.

'What's the point in that? You don't have much longer, anyway.'

Yami wanted to cry out to the unknown person taunting him, whether to beg them for help or to tell them to leave him alone, he wasn't sure. But his vocal chords were disobeying his commands.

'Not long now,' the mysterious voice crowed. Yami bit down hard on his lip in an attempt to block the words out. He couldn't be certain if the speaker was himself; there was no doubt the words were only being whispered inside his own head – a voice of reason, maybe? Yami wasn't too familiar with the complex workings of the mind during a state of crisis. It was perfectly logical that his mind would have something to say, at the very end. The fact that the voice seemed to have an almost ... feminine quality about it didn't go unnoticed by Yami, but in his current predicament, he wasn't physically or mentally capable of dwelling on that unusual anomaly.

'Yes, perfectly logical indeed. You should be grateful you've got me to keep you company, Pharaoh. After all, it's not like there's anyone else.'

A twinge of regret and sorrow nibbled at Yami's heart, and he tried to suppress a tiny moan of longing. His wounds were screaming in agony as the icy cold of the concrete seeped into them. His soaked clothes were causing shivers to attack his body whilst his limbs began to ache and protest at the lack of use. Shaking his head miserably, he tried to encourage the blackness to take him for the last time.

'Willing it yourself, now?'

Irritated, Yami cracked an eye open.

'Who are you?' he mentally asked, unable to speak the words aloud.

'I could well be the last person you will ever speak to,' the strange voice replied. 'Or ... maybe I'm the one who's keeping your brain working, and thus is keeping you alive for the moment. You should be thanking me, not scrutinising me.'

Had he the strength or the ability, Yami would have laughed at that. As it was, he managed a strangled choke and had to force his eye closed again to stave off the sudden wave of dizziness that attacked as his chest heaved.

'Who knew talking to yourself could keep death at bay,' he mused as the nausea subsided.

'Keep the brain active, that's the key. If I give you something to think about, your body won't want to submit until it has fully figured out the problem you've been presented with. And though you might be feeling otherwise ... while those injuries may be severe ... well, you've got a few hours in you, yet.'

Yami frowned. 'You seem to know a lot about me,' he murmured. 'How is that possible? If you really were an extended voice of my own mind, surely you'd be thinking things the same way I do.'

The voice laughed softly. 'Ahh, well. You will just have to see. If you manage to survive this, we shall talk again, Pharaoh. All will become clear, soon enough.'

Yami felt steady panic rising in his chest. He groaned, opened his eyes and struggled to raise his head a little from the ground. The movement only served to send more shockwaves along his spinal cord.

'Wait,' he pleaded softly, 'don't go. Don't leave me here!'

The voice seemed to consider him for a few seconds, before retreating, the words fading away as though the speaker was walking out of the room.

'You have other things to occupy your mind, now.'

A twisted pang of loneliness clawed its way through his battered and bruised body. Whether the voice was real or just a figment of his imagination, it had been welcome company amidst the dark and oppressive grasp of his failing mind. He didn't want to be alone, not now.

But the only thoughts permeating his brain now were ones of panicked resignation.

Yami shivered against the chilly concrete floor, unable to hold back the welling tears any longer.

"D17," Yugi whispered, staring at the faded plaque with a mixture of inevitable relief and all-consuming terror. His friends skidded to a halt a few paces behind him, each one glaring apprehensively at the sealed doorway. Yugi hesitated, then turned to face them, his dripping blonde bangs plastered to his face, framing an expression of reserved determination. His clothes were soaked through thanks to the torrential downpour, leaving the navy blue jacket looking more like a midnight black jacket in the sparse orange light shining down from the streetlamp above his head. With one final glance at the ominously faded plaque, Yugi returned his full attention to Téa, Joey and Tristan. He sighed heavily.

"I don't know what we're about to find in there," he started, cringing as a montage of horrific possibilities played out beneath his skull – each one depicting a more disturbing and gruesome scene than its predecessor. He paused, wringing his hands nervously and shaking the sopping blonde locks from his eyes. "But if anything looks like it's about to go wrong, you guys have to promise me you'll leave me and leg it. I couldn't bear the thought of putting you in even more danger. I know I can't change your minds about coming in with me, but that doesn't mean I'm being any less conservative about your wellbeing – so, no matter what, if things take a turn for the worst, promise me you'll get yourselves to safety and alert the authorities."

Téa lifter her chin and opened her mouth, clearly about to argue her case, but Yugi shook his head adamantly.

"I don't want to hear it, Téa. As long as I know you guys are safe, I don't care what happens to me in there. Promise me you'll look after yourselves."

Téa bit her lip, but Tristan and Joey nodded their understanding before she could voice her doubts, effectively closing the discussion – not that Yugi had left it open for debate in the first place.

Satisfied, he returned his attention to the door.

Now that he was standing here, with only this one final barrier between him and his Dark, the situation seemed all the more real to him. If the thugs who had taken Yami were still in there, and this had indeed been a trap to lure Yugi out all along ... well, he was walking right into it with open arms. And if they got him, all of Yami's sacrifices would have been in vain. Everything the Pharaoh had been forced to endure over the course of the past few months would have been for nothing.

But he couldn't just leave Yami there ... no, he couldn't. No way. As scared as he was, Yugi knew he was doing the right thing.

"It looks locked," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. He took an anxious step forward, stopping right in front of the button mechanism situated just beside the numeric plaque. "What if it's alarmed?"

Joey frowned, shaking his head.

"Nah, I doubt it will be. How else could those creeps have gotten in without setting the alarms off? There'd be police all over the place, by now."

Yugi nodded, satisfied. And with a trembling hand, he let his fingers hover for just a second above the button, the icy droplets of rain snaking in between them and sliding away down his wrist. The effect was almost soothing, the cold numbing his arm, but the shivers only grew in intensity and a few seconds was all it took for Yugi's mind to tell him he needed to get in there and fast. If not, they would likely freeze to death out here, and what use would that be to the Pharaoh?

Mind set, he closed his eyes, grit his teeth and pressed the button.

The hydraulics hissed and spluttered into life, the door painstakingly slowly raising from the ground up with a reluctant, scraping rumble. All four teens stared at it in abject fascination, straining their eyes into the gloom as the building's interior was oh-so-slowly revealed to them. No alarms went off, and there were no sounds of movement or even existence coming from the hidden depths of the warehouse.

Though, that, of course, didn't mean anything. Were the captors still inside, they were hardly going to stand around in open view waiting for him.

"Stay together," Joey whispered in warning. "Keep between us, Yugi. If anyone wants to get at you, they're gonna have to get through us, first."

Yugi mutely nodded, letting Joey and Téa take the lead, before slipping in behind them in front of Tristan who had his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The pitch-black room took some adjusting to. The only source of light was a flickering bulb located three-quarters of the way into the massive warehouse. It's light was a mere pinprick, from where they were standing, but Yugi took it to be a good sign. If there were others around, they'd be hard pressed to see him and his friends, just as they were struggling to make anything out through the gloom, themselves.

Seeing it to be as good a place to start as any, Yugi nudged Joey in the back and waved vaguely at the swinging light. His indication – 'Might as well start over there.'

Joey nodded in agreement and together, they hurried as quickly and as quietly as they could towards the miniature source of light.

Téa suddenly squeaked and tugged at Yugi's hand, her fingers like ice against his own trembling ones.

"Look!" she breathed, one hand flying to her mouth.

Yugi strained to focus on the tattered being lying directly beneath the dimmed beam of light. A collection of rags – an outfit that had once been of the most beautiful shade of navy now stained irrecoverably with blood and dirt and scorch marks. The creature's shirt had been torn open, leaving bloodied and bruised skin exposed to the cold, marks of all kinds of sickly shades littering the once perfectly preserved chest. One arm was sticking out at a bizarre angle, the fingers clenched with nails digging into the tender skin of its palm hard enough to leave bloody trails dripping like water droplets over the wrist. The boy's hair was matted, the ends scorched and the blonde bangs tarnished beyond recognition, hanging limply amidst a bed of soaked and grimy black locks. Hair that only one other person in the entire world – aside from Yugi, himself - possessed.

"No, Yami," Yugi whispered, voice cracking as he ran forward, throwing all caution to the winds, no longer caring whether or not the people who had taken Yami were even now preparing to jump out and grab him. Choking on a cry, Yugi dropped to his knees beside his Dark, tears falling like icy daggers from puffy eyes as he reached out a trembling hand, brushing hair gently away from the Pharaoh's sweat-soaked forehead. Yugi paled as Yami flinched at the contact, the tiniest of groans escaping him as the movement jarred his injuries. Faded crimson orbs blinked blearily up at him, unable to focus. Yugi took note of the drying tear tracks which were standing out with an unnatural clarity against the boy's chalk-white, sunken cheeks. The lack of recognition in his Dark's eyes left Yugi's hope spiralling away from him. "I'm here, Yami," he murmured, still automatically brushing stray strands of hair away from Yami's face, the motion soothing him almost as much as it was for his Dark. Trying to smile but unable to force his muscles to work, he shivered as Yami's eyes fluttered closed. "We're going to look after you. You're safe, now, I promise."

After what felt like an age of completely shocked silence, - during which the four teens stared on in total horror at the broken being lying at their feet - Tristan cleared his throat loudly, and Yugi glanced up just in time to see him idly scratching his head.

"Umm, I don't want to be the barer of even more bad news, you guys," he started tentatively, voice so soft it was almost a whisper, "but has anyone actually thought about how we're going to get him home?"

Yugi's heart sank.

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To Be Continued …

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Cheers for reading! More up soon!

Blessed Be!

Hugs,
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx