Chapter Fourteen: Push

"I mean it, Odion. I really don't think this is a good idea."

The large man's sighs were becoming a regular occurrence to Téa's list of experiences while staying in Egypt.

"Just try it. One throw at least."

Téa looked forlornly down at the two daggers she held in her hands. Up to this point, she'd been lucky not to cut off a finger with them. Throwing them, however, seemed as possible to her as emerging from the tunnels and finding that a snowstorm was raging outside. And for how close the target actually was, to the weapons-deficient Téa Gardner, the distance between her and the target appeared to grow the way the top of a skyscraper looms above you the closer you get. All the same, the dancer took a deep breath then raised her right arm—her throwing arm—holding the blade as delicately as she could between thumb and index finger.

She had no idea if this was the proper technique, but since she had been training with Odion for a week now, she knew that he was the type who offered advice only after she crashed and burned. He believed that there was more teaching to be done in the failure rather than the success of an action, and her failures were many.

The brunette waited a moment longer before hurling the dagger forward––

Only to watch it curve in a pathetic arc that landed it several feet in front and to the right of her target. Her concern with not cutting herself and the general awkwardness of her hold on the weapon caused her throw to lack any considerable power or aim. A shame, considering that she'd always had a decent arm when her class played baseball during gym class. Snickers and comments she'd rather just leave alone floated around her from the other men in the room. Men who were supposed to be brushing up on their own techniques but were instead gathering around to watch her.

Icarus and his melting wings of wax had nothing on her humiliation in that moment.

Somehow, she managed not to wince at the deadpan stare Odion was currently leveling at her. Shrugging, all the could think to say was, "I did tell you so."

Odion's silence was stifling. Téa still didn't know him well at all despite his efforts to teach her some basic skills now that her injuries had healed enough to allow her to learn beyond mere theory. Therefore, she couldn't tell if he was thinking of another way to approach their lessons, or if he was contemplating the best way to use her second knife to put her out of her misery.

Either thought was unsettling.

"Do you at least want to know what you did wrong?"

"Other than completely missing the target, you mean?" Her attempt at humor failed pitifully. Still not even a trace of a smile on the man's countenance.

Ignoring the girl, Odion approached her, taking the other dagger from her hand. He held it the same way she had, on the blade.

"This was your first mistake. These knives are too sharp to hold in such a way, especially at your level. The grip itself was good, but it must be held here instead, on the handle." He moved his fingers to the indicated location. Téa could have hit herself at such an obvious miscalculation. The handle was thin enough to hold comfortably, after all.

"Also, your stance was imbalanced. Again. Watch me one more time."

One more time. Another common experience.

Odion widened his stance, bending slightly at the knees and centering his weight. Then, dagger still in the proper position in his hand, he took a slight step toward the target, flung his arm forward, and released the weapon out in front of him. As expected, in a flash of movement that was graceful even on such a tall man, the dagger embedded itself into the shiny, red apple sitting innocently on a high stool before them. The weight of the dagger caused the apple to fall on its side like a dog playing dead, with the knife's handle resting at a slight angle against the stool.

All in all, Téa supposed she shouldn't feel as surprised as she was. Throwing techniques hadn't changed in three thousand years, but still. There was a notable difference in throwing a ball for someone else to catch and in throwing a blade that a more unfortunate soul couldn't dodge.

After her instructor removed his thrown knife from the apple and reset the target, he stepped aside and motioned for her wordlessly.

Try again.

Just as silent, Téa grabbed another dagger off the table beside her, blocking out the voices around her, like Nesmut had been trying to teach her all week.

The veteran thief would be less than pleased to know it wasn't working for her student so well in that moment, but the results of Tea's next throw would have been sure to make her laugh.

Following Odion's advice, Téa gripped the dagger by the handle and assumed the proper stance, all the while trying to channel the pitching talents of Daisuke Matsuzaka.

Her success, she supposed, depends on your point of view.

Téa moved her whole body with the forward motion, granting her throw both power and speed.

But without aim, that wasn't much progress.

As expected, the dagger didn't hit the apple, but it did hit the wood of the stool, ricocheting off of it so hard that several men surrounding the area let out cries of alarm as they dove out of the way from the blade's trajectory.

Téa smiled, turning her face away so only Odion could see her expression. He only shook his own head, indifferent to the situation.

Sometimes, Fate liked her.

But her humor couldn't last for long. Téa knew that her lack of talent with a weapon was damaging to Bakura's generosity for allowing her to stay here. That was part of his terms. If she survived from her ordeal, which she clearly had, then she had to be useful. And useful here apparently meant she had to be a war machine.

Right.

As it was, she was running out of options. So far, they'd tried spears (which they'd stopped with when she almost impaled herself), whips (with which she'd nearly popped herself in the eye, when she wasn't busy getting herself tangled in it), and a battle ax (which she hadn't had close to the arm strength for in the first place). All that was left to her now was hand-to-hand combat, dagger throwing, and perhaps sword wielding, though arm strength would still be a major issue for the latter, swords in this time only being made out of bronze.

"It's a start," Odion said tonelessly, looking neither pleased nor disappointed at her last debacle. "Practice it some more, and we'll try again in a few days." And then he walked off without any further instruction or passing judgment.

For Téa, this was normal. Odion usually left when he had nothing more to do with her, even if that meant leaving her there, speaking to him in mid-sentence. She'd learned not to mind too much; that's just how he was. Detached. Distant. And in some ways, distracted.

The brunette had a feeling about what his inattentiveness was about. Nesmut had been acting a little odd for the past week as well, and she hadn't seen Malik or Bakura at all.

Something was about to happen. Something big.

She'd tried to wheedle information out of Nesmut, only to be pointedly told that her persuasion and cunning needed some work. All she could really do now was prepare for whatever would come as best she knew how.

Which meant finding strength in numbers at this point. Where was Nesmut, anyway?

Quitting the training area altogether––but not without sheathing one of the daggers in the knife holster around her waist, an uncharacteristic gift from Odion––Téa left the few, lingering jeers of the men and the clashing of weapons behind her.

She actually found Nesmut in their shared room, but she almost missed the older girl as she was half buried under a pile of dirty clothes, only her legs and arms showing, the latter wrapped around the clothes in a brace.

"What's going on?" Téa gently asked, not wanting to startle her or make her think someone had tried to sneak up on her. Thieves were quite the paranoid bunch.

"Laundry day. Hand me a basket or something useful."

Eyes darting around the room, Téa finally located a large, woven basket peeking from the bottom of miscellaneous items Nesmut had piled on top of it. Struggling for a bit, the dancer managed to free the basket and not spill too many things in the process. Nesmut dumped the clothes inside it after Téa placed it in front of her.

"If you've got anything clean to wear, I'd go ahead and put it on, so we can get as much washed as we can," said Nesmut. Téa was slightly surprised that Nesmut would want her to come with her, but she reasoned that this would be only another way to earn her keep. Especially since training had been such a disaster. Finding a clean set of clothes folded under a chair—a simple matching ensemble of thin, tan pants and a shirt—Téa donned the clothes and tossed her dirty ones in the basket, too. That's when she noticed that there were far, far more clothes in the basket than she and Nesmut had worn, many articles unrecognizable.

"These aren't ours, are they?"

"Most aren't, no. The men have been dumping them in the women's rooms all morning, since they know it's washing day. C'mon, follow me. We'll take turns carrying."

The two navigated their way through the tunnels, passing a few men here and there. Most stared at Téa curiously, but occasionally a comment or two would reach the girls' ears, not all of them particularly flattering. One man's remark actually had Téa duck her head down to avoid any eye contact when he exclaimed to his friends, "Hey, boys, looks like we finally got some snow in Egypt!" Instead of simply walking by as they had all the others, Nesmut actually turned her head to the source, a flinty smile on her face. "I'd be careful if I were you, Hasani. Snow matures quickly into frost, and frost tends to bite."

The man's amused laughter echoed along the walls as they continued on, Nesmut appearing unaffected. Somehow, the sudden lightness of the situation and Nesmut's relaxed air set Téa back at ease.

"Thank you," she said.

"You'll learn," replied the Egyptian.

Gradually, they were joined by other women who were in pairs or groups of three or four, each laughing or engaged in their own conversation. Spilling into the opening chamber of the cave, Nesmut set her basket down before sitting on top of its over-filled contents, looking bored. Other women around them did the same, some sitting like Nesmut while others remained standing. They were waiting for everyone to arrive, it looked like.

Téa observed the others around her and was shocked at just how many women the band constituted. It looked like Bakura didn't shy away from being an Equal Opportunity Employer. So far, there looked to be around twenty women at least, some with tanned skin like Nesmut, others with darker skin like molasses, and a few who had lighter skin that reminded Téa of the whiskey her father used to drink. Her nostalgia faded after she quickly realized that, out of all the women here, she was by far the most different and therefore the most noticeable. Looks as if her teacher, Mr. Niwa, had been right: things really did change when you go somewhere where you are the minority.

And it seemed the other women noticed that, too.

Searching for a distraction, Téa asked her friend, "Isn't this a little degrading and out-of-character for you? I mean, you keep saying, 'You look after yourself around here!' yet we're still doing their clothes?"

Nesmut snorted. "Normally, I would say, 'Yeah! Screw them! They can do their own damn laundry!' But we actually tried that before, and the stench was unbearable! If we weren't living in such close quarters, underground of all places, it'd be different. Our brief sacrifice of equality is doing us all a favor. Besides, a large group of women going down to the river looks far less suspicious to any passersby than a group of machismo guys, don't you think?"

Their amused laughter at the thought was cut short when a few of the women approached them. One of them was petite with a genuine smile on her face that never seemed to fade, wearing a cotton dress of pure white. The offset of the color against her dark skin and eyes was striking, and though the dress was spotted here and there with blotches of sand and dirt, she didn't seem to mind. She greeted Nesmut warmly, which Nesmut returned a little stoically, introducing Téa to the group.

"Téana, this is Saran, the Woman Who Never Frowns."

The woman in question, Saran, laughed briefly, her brown eyes twinkling in amusement. "Nesmut and her little jokes. You're telling fibs on me to your friend here. I happen to frown often, but in private, unlike you, darling Nesmut."

"Now who's telling fibs?" Nesmut grinned, but it was brief. "And, sorry, we're being rude. The one who looks like she hasn't slept in a month is Miu—" Here, Nesmut gestured to the woman on Saran's right. The oldest of the group, looking to be in her late-twenties and wearing a faded, blue robe, nodded wearily in Téa's direction, simultaneously expecting and ignoring Nesmut's sassiness. "—and the one who looks like a dung beetle just flew up her nose is Nefertari."

"Charming, as always," came the silky response, a scowl adorning Nefertari's beautiful face.

Clearly a native, this woman looked as comfortable in her surroundings as a bird does in flight. Unlike a bird, however, which adapts to the wind currents, Nefertari held herself as if she expected the world to conform to her every need and whim. The confidence and pride in her features only proved that, and Téa saw plenty of reasons for her to be so: her rich, teal-colored eyes were rimmed in kohl as smoothly as if produced from a calligrapher's hand; her straight, thick, black hair shimmered even in the half-light of the cave; and a deep purple dress called a kalasiris, with glints of gold here and there from various adornments, draped her body. The woman clearly viewed herself as something like a queen.

"I try," Nesmut quipped. "But what did you get all dolled up for? I seem to recall that today is Laundry Day, not Nefer's-Gonna-Get-Us-All-Arrested-Because-She's-We aring-The-Royal-Color-Out-In-Public Day."

"I'm sure if any of the royal guards are out and about," said Saran, "Nefer will just win them over with her charm."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Nefertari, however, appeared to have had enough of Nesmut's snide remarks, for she cut in, "So, whose is she?" nodding her head in Téa's direction, to the dancer's growing confusion. "Mahu's? Amun's? Malik's?"

"Wha—?"

"She's Bakura's," Nesmut deadpanned. Téa's head whipped to look at Nesmut, eyes widened comically.

"What? Her?" Nefertari scoffed. "Come now, don't play your games with me. Since when has Bakura shown interest in women like that?"

Hey, what's that supposed to mean, lady? Téa had the distinct impression that she should be insulted, but she also knew that any conversation that involved Bakura she wanted to steer clear from.

"She's not sleeping with him, you idiot! He's testing her."

Oh. OH! That's what they're talking about… Wait, what? Okay, Téa knew what she was doing with this whole time traveling business was crazy, but—God—her sleep with Bakura of all people? First off, no. Second off, she didn't have a death wish just yet. And third off, hell no!

"...Oh. I see." Why did Nefertari suddenly sound so disappointed? With how territorial she was acting, shouldn't she be gleeful, like a witch stirring her cauldron full of foiled dreams and uncharted mayhem?

"Oh, you see, do you? Well, good. You know not to interfere then. Pass the word along, will you? We all know what happens to people who get in the way of Bakura's fun by now, don't we?" The sudden warning in Nesmut's tone left little doubt that her statement had been rhetorical. Deadly rhetorical.

"No need to get nasty. But if what you say is true, then, new girl," Nefertari said, fully looking at Téa for the first time, and Téa admitted to herself that she had trouble holding the strong gaze of this powerful woman, "I wish you luck."

Téa couldn't read her now at all. At first, this woman had reminded her of Mai when they'd first met, but now… Now, she couldn't tell at all if her words were sincere or not, her expression and voice were so controlled, so Téa did the only thing that made sense to her in that situation. Giving a little bow, she thanked her, not catching the look of puzzlement Nesmut cast at her.

Téa squinted in the harsh light of the sun, unused to the natural light outside. It didn't help that the light was reflecting off the sand around her, making it appear ghostly white. The air rippling with heat in the distance, and she could already feel her exposed skin baking. Luckily, her shirt and pants were long and helped shield her from the brunt of it. The lack of humidity was certainly nice, she thought, but she still felt flabbergasted about how it was possible still be so hot.

"I swear, she's always got a cactus up her ass about something. Not the most attractive trait," grouched Nesmut as she continued her running commentary about the women they'd met, Nefertari being her latest target. As they walked along the sand, Téa smile as she saw their destination in the distance, the river's surface glinting with light. Or maybe that was the heat she was seeing.

"What exactly was that about?" asked Téa.

"Oh, really, don't mind Nefer. She's an acquired taste, and I mean that in every available sense of the word."

"Nesmut," said Téa seriously, "if I'm going to survive here, I need to know as much as possible, don't you think? Especially the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Sighing, her companion conceded her the victory.

"You saw what she was wearing, right? Yeah, I know, hard to miss. Obviously, all the stuff we have is stolen or has been acquired in some other…not so honest way. Basically, everyone here has a very specific skill set that benefits both themselves and the group as a whole, and that's why they're allowed to be here. We're trying to find yours, for instance, and depending on what it is, that will determine your worth."

"Yeah, I know. Malik told me a bit about this."

"Did he? Well, then you should know that Nefertari is what we call a Mover. Did he tell you about that?"

"Um," Téa stammered, coming up blank. Had Malik mentioned anything about that? She'd been sort of drugged up at the time, but not that drugged up.

"Basically, she's multi-talented, and I'll deny it if you mention that I said that to anyone. We're dealing with enough egos as it is. Little Miss Perfect can simultaneously act as a lookout and puller. And she's one of the best decoys we've got. Honestly, that woman can act like none I've ever seen. She once made one of the pharaoh's lieutenants fall in love with her a few days before we'd planned to raid a tomb he was guarding, playing the broken victim who'd barely escaped us alive, you know, and before he realized it, she'd made off with his entire weapons' stash until he was left with nothing but his spear. Which, supposedly, she broke and killed him with herself. He's never turned up, so I guess it's true."

Téa gaped, speechless, to which Nesmut briefly laughed. She'd been doing that a lot around this girl lately. "I admit, it sounds like a tall tale—"

"Really tall," replied Téa. "I bet the man grows in size and the amount of weapons stolen increases with every retell."

"How'd you know?"

Some minutes later, they'd arrived at the river, and for the first time, Téa was overcome with its beauty. And its expanse. Off in the distance, she could even make out small boats—like canoes—in the water. All around her, the other women were dumping clothes here and there on the bank, some already wading in the water, but staying close to the shore. And—oh—some were disrobing completely. Embarrassed, Téa averted her eyes, decades of instilled privacy, respect of that privacy, and modesty compelling her to do little else.

Only to find that Nesmut was doing pretty much the same thing in front of her, wearing only her seashell necklace that seemed to glow against her tanned skin.

"What? It's hot. I don't understand what you're waiting for."

"…I blister easily," Téa lied pathetically. The two women stared into each other's eyes, Téa in the attempt to maintain decorum, and Nesmut because she could tell it made Téana uncomfortable. "And I'm shy."

"Now, that I believe. Well, if you won't relax with the rest of us, best get to work. Get some lye and grab a shirt. Oh, and watch for crocodiles."

"You're kidding."

"No."

The two got to work, and all the while Nesmut talked and Téa listened. She explained that Nefertari's usefulness came with certain perks for her, so much so that men often competed for her affection.

"That nice dress she's wearing? A gift from Mahu, if I'm willing to guess. It looks like it came from one of the Pharaoh's mistresses from our last raid on the palace. I bet a lot of things went missing from there that night."

"Is that why she seemed so…antagonistic? She thought I was, what, stealing her man?"

"Well, sort of. More like you were stealing her shiny things, and the number one rule of thievery out here is that you don't steal from another thief, unless you can handle their unholy wrath."

Téa chuckled softly, amused. "And here I thought she was getting jealous over Bakura, not that I understand why anyone would."

"Wow, you are brave. Better be grateful he wasn't here to hear that." Nesmut winked at her. "Besides, if anyone should have the right to become jealous of you over that man, I guess it would have to be me."

At that moment, Téa nearly slipped and fell into the Nile, clothes and all. "What? Are you serious? You and—and Bakura?"

"Yeah," Nesmut laughed before sobering quickly. "Yeah. Honestly, it's sort of ancient history now, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wasn't ever anything substantial, you know? Shashai was—was gone, and I'd just joined the Thief King's band, and for a while I was out of it. I threw myself into just about anything: extra training, volunteering before anyone else to go on missions, to make runs, to steal, to kill—just anything to get my mind off of the fact that I was alone. And, I don't know, this was back when Bakura was first becoming known as a threat to the land; he was a bit different back then, a bit more fun, I guess. Still as embittered about the whole Kul-Elna thing, but fun. Something about me must have interested him or attracted him, and I was lonely and he made me forget that for awhile." Nesmut shrugged, wringing out a pair of now clean pants. "Once upon a time, we had a mutual, sexual attraction to each other, but it's never gone further than that. I don't think either of us is capable of more. Not to say that we don't still exploit that attraction from time to time, it's just—that's all there is, you know?"

Feeling herself blushing madly at Nesmut's honest and open approach to sex and sexuality—talk about a different world—Téa tried to focus and understand what the Egyptian was implying.

"And…that was okay with you? You never wished for more, right?"

"Not from Bakura, no. Ra, Téana, I'm pretty messed up, I know, but I'm not an idiot," said Nesmut. "Personally, I've got my sights set on Odie."

The thought of the restrained, silent Odion being with Nesmut, the epitome of sarcasm and wiliness, was hilarious to picture—yet strangely fitting—to Téa. Until she glanced over at Nesmut and saw the thief looking at her as if she knew exactly what Téa had been imagining—and simultaneously loved and pitied her for it.

Nesmut's eyes widened, surprised at her thoughts. Loved, huh?

Was it really so surprising, though? She'd already noticed how Téana reminded her of her sister. It only made sense that the girl could amuse her like Shashai once did. That she could smile and joke around her so easily. She should put a stop to this, shouldn't she? She should back off before she got hurt.

Brow furrowed, a sudden harsh frown on her face, Nesmut gripped the lye in her hand and began scrubbing her new dirty article of clothing with abandon. All the while, she said nothing, acknowledging another woman's shouted greeting with a stiff nod. To anyone else, it looked as if she were just focused on her work, willing them all to get serious and return to the hideout faster.

But they'd been cooped up in those close walls, squinting under dim lights, and smelling the same stale air for far too long for that to be the case.

Téa noticed Nesmut's swift change in mood but wasn't sure what to say or what could have caused it. It was strange to already be so attuned to a person in a span of only a few days, but somehow it felt so natural. It felt like she had a friend again. Maybe that was why she didn't miss Yugi and the others as much as she had when she first came here. After all, they would be there, waiting for her, when she finished her task presumably. Nesmut, however… Nesmut didn't appear to have anybody, and her last confession had pretty much confirmed that. If she did nothing else right, Téa wanted Nesmut to know that she was loved and appreciated. That they were friends.

For a moment, Téa questioned the wisdom of what she was about to do, but she couldn't foresee how it could truly hurt her later. Besides, there shouldn't be secrets kept between friends, and if she could afford to clear at least one of the many she had, it could at least be this one.

"Hey, Nesmut. Call me Téa. To be honest, I prefer it, but... That's what everyone calls me back home, so I'd appreciate it if you kept it...between us?"

The look in Nesmut's eyes was so searching, Téa imagined that her thoughts were now mired in the uncertainty that her own had been in only moments before. But since Nesmut was still mostly naked, Téa had to do all she could not to crack a smile and start giggling. The seriousness was now so very funny.

"I understand," said Nesmut slowly, feeling that her previous notions of maintaining distance had just been completely stolen out from under her, no doubt like that stupid lieutenant's weapons from Nefertari's story.

Was this what having a confidant felt like? Was this that thing called trust? Real trust, not just the word they threw around here when somebody wanted something? It'd been so long, but then again not that long. Unbelievable that she had forgotten, that she had become so desensitized from it.

"Téa," huh? Somehow, that fit the girl even better than her given name. Just like, so long ago, "Nessy" had for her.

"Say, Téa." That really did sound better. That sounded right.

"…Yeah?"

"I'm really glad…you didn't die back there."

Téa grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, me too, actually."

Watching Téana—Téa—break down into a fit of giggles brought out a smile that Nesmut didn't even try to hold back. It'd probably be a waste of energy, and they were both already behind on the washing anyway, having talked so much. See? She'd stayed close. She'd made a friend, and her work ethic was already suffering… But Nesmut found that acting standoffish, or cruel, or angry at Téa was about as impossible as doing the same thing towards a kitten. It felt awful and futile, so why try?

Well, she'd had sex with Bakura. More than once. And enjoyed it. Clearly, she was a glutton for doing things that were bad for her. Repeatedly.

What could one more bad thing hurt?

"I still can't believe you pushed me into the river."

Nesmut maintained a straight face as she lounged on her bed, patiently waiting for Téa to change clothes for the second time that day. "I know, right? You are way lighter than I thought you were."

"I could have been eaten."

"Nah, I checked for crocodiles beforehand," Nesmut fibbed. "Besides, you looked really hot. You probably would have passed out on the walk back, and since you were the one carrying the basket, that would have meant dirtying all the clothes I worked so hard to wash."

"You mean, the clothes that I worked so hard to wash."

"You can move out anytime you want. There's the door."

"Yeah, yeah."

They were interrupted by a curt knock on Nesmut's makeshift door. Tossing a change of clothes to Téa, who was busy removing her wet clothes behind a changing screen, Nesmut hurried to answer it before whoever was on the other side could barge in.

"What?" she snapped, slamming the door closed behind her. The thief before her—a young man with a built frame, world-weary, dark-gray eyes, and a stylish, black goatee, took a step back in surprise at her sudden appearance. He masked his surprise with a quick, exaggerated eye roll at the woman's antics. He never seemed to catch her on a good day. Nesmut scowled when she realized—not for the first time—that he was taller than her. Much taller. And she was a decent height herself, dammit!

"Oh, Wati, it's just you," she said.

"Just me? Wow, thanks," he quipped sarcastically. "I'm feeling the love so much right now."

"You wanted something?"

"Not me. Lord Bakura." Nesmut sobered at that admission. "He wants to see you. Immediately. Oh, and tell the new girl that I'll be expecting her in the treasury after dinner. Seems like I'm finally getting some help in there. I hope she's trustworthy?"

"She is," Nesmut gritted out, feeling like she'd just missed the last step on a staircase. Why was Bakura assigning Téa to the treasury? Was he just looking for an easier reason to have her stringed up? If anything in that room went missing or was misplaced…

"Fine," she finished, leaving Wati standing there without a second glance as she returned to her room.

"Um, Nesmut?" Téa's voice squeaked from behind the screen. "Are you sure I should wear this? It's a little showy and—"

"Why are you being sent to the treasury?"

A slight pause filled the room, and then Téa answered. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I asked Malik if I could be assigned there as a bookkeeper or something. I guess he must have talked to Bakura, then?"

"You guess right," Nesmut intoned shortly.

"You sound upset."

Nesmut shut her eyes, searching for patience. "I'm not upset." She was a little upset, but why? "I just don't understand—we don't need a bookkeeper. We're constantly moving. I mean, can you even write in our language, Téa?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure, but if not I'm sure there's something else I can do for the place. Listen, though, about this shirt, I don't think—"

"If any of that stuff goes missing—no, seriously, look, if even so much as a ring is unaccounted for, if a delicate fabric so much as frays, it doesn't matter if you have the records to prove your innocence. Bakura hones in on that kind of crap… No, you know what? Whatever. Do what you want, Téa. I'm not your keeper. If you feel fine with this, then I feel fine with this. Go to the treasury after dinner. You're expected. I'm going to a meeting."

Téa, alarmed at Nesmut's mood swing, the second one that day, tried to stop her from leaving, but a quick "see you later" and a closed door muffled her spoken pleas.

And the silence that filled the room reminded her of how horribly alone she actually was. Despite her efforts, there was so much of this she still didn't understand. She was so very separate, and all it took was having Nesmut act erratically from what Téa was used to to prove that to her.

She'd tried to stay in the room, but her thoughts troubled her. She found herself thinking of Thema and Jabari again. Of their warmth and of their violent, undeserved demise. Then, she'd think of her friends, of her mom, of how she'd even gotten here, in this room, and it all started again. And then there was Nesmut. Just as she'd begun to understand the woman, she changed like the tide. What was up with her chilly behavior all of a sudden?

When she was forced to realize that her latest "happy" memory was of her unplanned, intimate moment with Malik, that's when she knew she had to get out of the room. Staying there with that state of mind couldn't be healthy, and dinner was still a few hours away.

She took one last look down at herself, sighing heavily. Nesmut had given her a complete lehenga choli, similar to the one Nesmut wore when Téa first met her except this one was blue and included the matching skirt. Which she loved, admittedly. It was long and flowing; she hadn't resisted giving a little twirl with it just to see the skirt flare up dramatically. The shirt, however, bore far too much of her midriff than she was comfortable with. She'd worn modern shirts like it before, of course; she'd even been daring and felt comfortable enough to wear a crop top to her surprise date with Yami, but these things had a time and a place.

This was neither the time nor the place.

Just walk with confidence, Téa coached herself. Act like you belong here, and no one will bother you. And if they do, you can handle it. You dealt with that creep Johnny, and you can deal with these guys.

Except Johnny had been all loud-mouthed ego and little else. He wouldn't dare pull a knife on her or anything crazy like that, in public or private. It wasn't in his nature. She couldn't voice the same confidence with the people here.

And with that cheery thought, she left the room.

As predicted, she received stares from nearly everyone she passed in the halls, but that wasn't anything different from what she was used to. At one point, she ran into Saran, who'd been looking for Nesmut with the intent to return some clothes to her.

"Nesmut may not think so, but I consider her a friend," she said, smiling all the while. "I'd hate for her favorites to get taken up just because she's working harder than the rest of the women. And she seems to trust you, so…"

On the return trip to the room to drop off the clothes, Téa reasoned that she'd probably never see her modern day clothes again. She supposed that explained why Nefertari was wearing such a beautiful dress that day even during such a menial task; someone else might have snatched it from the clean pile they'd dumped on a table in what was jokingly dubbed the "laundry room" when she wasn't looking.

After accomplishing her task, she decided to go to the training room and at least look busy. It couldn't hurt to gain a little experience, and without Odion there, she found that she was much calmer and she handled the knives with better skill, though her aim still needed much improvement. She was even grateful for her new wardrobe, as it gave her a chance to adjust and learn to maneuver in such a cumbersome dress. She had no idea when she would need to defend herself, and tripping over the hem of her skirt wasn't something she could afford. She was just considering if there was some way she could incorporate her dancing skills and what she knew of acrobatics into some form of hand-to-hand when she felt someone sidle up to her.

"You look like you could use some help, new girl."

At first, she thought she'd somehow run into a talking bear, for the thing before her towered over her and was covered in dark hair, wearing a head covering and kilt. When a pair of yellowing, yet human teeth appeared from the thick of his black, short beard, she registered that it wasn't a bear but a hulking, grinning man instead. He was probably even taller than Odion!

Isn't he hot with all that hair? He must, because even her short bob felt stifling at times.

Realizing he'd probably caught her staring, she was about to politely decline his help when he swiftly plucked the last dagger she was holding from her hand.

Someone this big shouldn't be able to move that quickly.

Warily, she watched him examine it a moment.

"Hmm, too sharp," he said to himself, tossing the dagger aside. He shuffled over to the table where nearly every type of weapon was stocked for training purposes, but he scowled when he didn't seem to find what he wanted.

"Amun!" said another man with graying hair, a distinctive scar curved around his neck. "This what you want?" He held up another dagger in his hand. Téa was just scoping out the exit when the first man, Amun, returned with the other man's dagger. She wondered if this Amun was the same one Nefertari had mentioned in passing before, but that thought dissipated as soon she noticed what he was doing.

Dagger held before him, Amun spread his feet in a defensive stance, a concentrated look on his face. "Disarm me," he said.

"What?" She must have misheard. After all, how in the hell could she manage to pry that knife out of his meaty hands, even if she had experience with such things? An optimist, Téa was, at least until recently. Even so, she wasn't an idiot.

"You heard, little girl," he said. "Pretend I'm one of the Pharaoh's bastards, and get this dagger from me as if your life is at stake. Because it will be."

He was actually serious. Great.

But he was trying to help her, it looked like. How many chances like this would she get?

Puffing out a breath, Téa assumed a slight crouched position, blue eyes darting to and fro, looking for Amun's weak points. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't recognize anything beyond his tall frame. Maybe she could get him to spin around too quickly and cause him to trip?

Yeah, and maybe after this, I'll propose to Bakura.

Just as she thought he'd grown bored waiting for her to make a move, she sprung forward, seeking to drop all her weight on his outstretched arm in an attempt to loosen his hold. She never made it.

Instead, she felt herself caught by the arm and was spun around. That same arm was pulled back behind her, and a cry of pain escaped her as her assailant tugged it in an unnatural direction. She didn't have time to react before she felt cool metal against her throat, keeping her in place.

"That was pitiful," Amun's voice tutted in her ear. "I don't think you'll last a single raid at this rate, little girl."

Before she could retort, Amun removed the knife and shoved her forward. She still had some of her wits left, and she managed to roll herself back to her feet instead of allowing herself to skin up her hands and face plant in the sand as Amun intended. Apparently, that move wasn't enough to impress him, for now he looked incredibly bored, not even bothering to raise his knife or his guard.

Without warning, though, he charged her, jabbing the knife in an upward motion, intending to stab her in the stomach. Téa spun away just in time, making sure to keep her eyes on him for his next move.

"This isn't a dance, little kitten," he called back to her.

She felt herself grow cold and sickened at the pet name. Only one other person had called her that. Even though he had been a nightmare, it still counted, and she'd be damned before she tolerated it from anyone in reality.

"It's Téana, you idiot," she said. "Not 'little girl.' Not 'kitten.' Téana. You got it? Té-an-a."

"Aw, why the sudden animosity, little girl?" Amun smiled back, ignoring the brunette's spiking anger.

"You mean, besides the fact that you're a dumb brute?" she said.

"Ouch."

"Then, how about you just tried to stab me?"

Amun erupted into an amused chuckle, stopping nearly as suddenly as he had begun. "Respect is something earned around here, little girl. You wanna play with the big boys and girls, then you gotta prove your worth. If you can't even disarm me, then you may as well leave, because we have no use for a woman who can't defend herself. Damsels are better left dead.

"As for this," he said, holding up the knife gingerly, "it's a wonder you haven't noticed. Your inexperience is worse than I thought." He swiped the blade across his palm only to reveal that his hand was completely free of blood or injury.

"It's dull. I wouldn't risk spilling the blood of one of Lord Bakura's whores."

That did it. A line she didn't know she'd had had finally been crossed.

"You people really are full of crap," she hissed, finally losing her temper. "So much for this so-called equality you seem to be so fond of boasting about. You can't even contemplate a woman's worth is she's not for sex or for sport. Well, listen to me, you scruffy-looking nerfherder, I—AM—NOT—BAKURA'S—ANYTHING! Not now, not ever! Tell your friends, get the word out."

"Then prove it, little girl," he sneered. Amun wasn't sure what a nerfherder was, but he was pretty sure he should feel offended about it.

On the other hand, it looked like his goading had brought out the hellcat in this timid little kitten before him, and he mentally patted himself on the back for that accomplishment. She was much more appealing this way.

And if she was being truthful that she wasn't their leader's, that meant she was fair game, right?

He never got the chance to ask.

She charged straight at him, and he was ready for her, thinking she'd learned nothing from the first time she'd tried this. Before he could grab her again, she changed directions, feinting to the left, which he swung for.

Only to find that she wasn't there; his swing had been too slow.

Téa had gotten behind him, and she watched him turn slowly to try to find her. It was all the opportunity she needed.

He immediately tried to swing the knife down again, and she blocked his muscled arm with hers, wincing at the pain needling itself in her bones from the blow, but her momentum was already carrying her forward, making the pain worthwhile. She swung a sandaled foot forward, kicking him in the center of his left shin, and just like that, his gripped loosened on the knife, and he went tumbling down.

"OW! Shit!" Amun moaned, clutching his shin in pain. "That was a foul. A complete foul, little girl."

"I'll kick the other one if you need reminding of what my name is," Téa threatened. "Take your loss like the man you claim to be, Amun."

Amun somehow managed to groan and smile at the same time. "Point taken, but you'd never have managed this if I hadn't given you the push. Admit it."

Téa said nothing, unwilling to confirm how true his words really were. She'd been holding herself back, because she was so afraid of inciting someone's anger, of getting herself hurt. Of standing out. Undoubtedly, she needed to remain cautious, but that didn't mean she could let herself become timid, tip-toeing her way around the place. She had to be smart but not silent.

Nevertheless, that didn't mean his words were excusable…

"Still, though, Téana, all taunts aside, I don't think I deservedthat," he grouched, massaging his shin. Admittedly, the sight pleased Téa enough that she was able to ignore her own pain thrumming through her foot as she twirled the knife triumphantly in her hands, a grin on her face.

Who's the little girl now, bitch? She felt like crowing in glee, and why not? Why couldn't she have this one thing and give him a taste of his own medicine?

But, everything froze—her hands, her smile, her oncoming comeback—when another, more familiar voice answered in her stead.

"I don't know, Amun. I'd say the lady gave you exactly what you deserve."

There, leaning against a large boulder resting off to the side of the room and with a clear view of the spar, was Malik. The response was casual, airy, and almost immediately drowned out by the laughter of the other men that followed. She hadn't been aware that her little spar with Amun had gotten so much attention until the crowd around them unconsciously parted to let their second-in-command enter the circle. And how long had he even been watching, exactly?

Of course, he would see me do something like this. I just can't catch a break.

But no amount of noise around her could make her unsee how Malik looked down at Amun with a mocking grin and narrowed eyes. They lingered on Malik's countenance before he could cover them with his usual, laidback air.

"Are you alright, Téana?" Malik said.

"Y-yeah. Um, Amun was just teaching me how to disarm a guard." For some reason, she felt like the guy was in more danger than she was at the moment, and she'd been in danger nonstop since she'd arrived.

"Really?" he drawled. "It looked to me more like he was poking a viper with a stick. What do think, boys?"

The men's timed laughter—like that of a gang of minions in a cheesy '80s film—sounded as if they came from farther away than they really were, despite the lingering echoes all around her. Her vision seemed to tunnel until it only focused on Malik, and she felt lightheaded as her anger at Amun completely abated. Suddenly she was all too aware of her and Malik's last meeting together. Of his patient teaching, gentle touch, and stunning eyes that seemed to linger on her when they shouldn't. Like they were doing right now.

But there was more, too, like of what had happened after he'd left, when she'd dreamed that… He admitted she could make him fall for her. Up until now, she had attributed that to some strange but amusing delirium from the home remedy, triggered from the heated but meaningless kiss they'd shared earlier.

And that was all it was, truly. The nervousness she suddenly felt at his presence—and she'd always felt nervous around him—was due to the enigma surrounding him. Someday, this man would be reincarnated, and whatever happened in this timeline between them would determine if he killed her friends and eventually herself or not. Even if his future self was responsible, how could she be anything but nervous around him? How could she not pay attention to and overanalyze everything he did, to the minutest detail? But days of ignoring her dream, of not seeing a trace of him for days, left her hyper-aware of him and of all the ways her brain was trying to mess with her.

"Not bad form, Téana," Malik said, redirecting his gaze on Amun's collapsed form, "but this should have been your first move all along. Your enemies won't give you this many chances."

"I know," she couldn't stop herself from snapping back. The fact that she felt a blush rising to her cheeks only fueled her irritation. I've already gotten this 'little girl' treatment from Amun, so don't you dare start.

"If you knew, then why did you wait?" he asked, interestedly, giving her his full attention. She wished she hadn't responded and just let it go.

"I didn't want to hurt him on accident." She knew that was a stupid thing to say—the answering chuckles resounding around her verified that. Amun was built like a small fortress, complete with catapults and a moat; she couldn't really damage him permanently if she tried, but she couldn't think of any lie that sounded more convincing.

"This was an exercise," she defended her answer, glaring at the faces surrounding her. They seemed to be considering her words, at least. "It was obviously fake. I can tell the difference between someone who wants to hurt me and someone who doesn't."

Can you say 'Hello, fake-dance-studio creep?'

Sure, Yami had saved her from that one, but she'd learned since then. She wouldn't be passive against anyone who intended to hurt her; that's where her kindness had its limits.

"Then why'd you nail me in the shin," Amun interrupted, who was still nursing said appendage but had replaced his pained grimace with an amused smile.

She leveled her glare at him instead. "Because you pissed me off!"

Amun flinched back at her raised voice, and Malik released the laugh he'd been holding in all this time.

"Yeah, boys," Amun grumbled, "you can tell she's been hanging around Nesmut too much. She turns all the pretty ones mean."

As if her name summoned her, Nesmut was suddenly there, squatting down to Amun's frozen form to look him dead in the eyes.

Smiling sweetly, she said, "Any meanness Téana has, she came pre-packaged with, but I can fine tune it if you like. She's a sharp girl, and I could use an apprentice."

"Ah, no. No, no," Amun laughed nervously, rising to his feet to back away from the woman with the crazed look in her eye. "Téana's perfectly fine the way she is. Wouldn't change a thing. Really," he said, turning his focus on Téa with a pleading look, "you're quite fun. Let's do this again sometime?"

Catching on, Téa couldn't resist letting him sweat for a bit, anger against him still lingering. But even after all that he'd said, he still had managed to help her, and it wasn't in her to be cruel. She hurriedly replied, "Right, of course! Anytime, Amun. Only..." she couldn't help but add mischievously, "you really think I'm pretty?"

Amun's face loosened in shock, at a loss for words. Téa could even see the slight blush emerging from under his beard. Nesmut was looking at her with a mixture of amazement and pride.

But it was time to put him out of his misery. "Don't think about it too hard," Téa laughed. "You might hurt my feelings."

Was winking at him overkill? Well, she'd done it, so oh well. It seemed to be exactly what Amun needed, though, to realize she'd been messing with him.

"Women," he huffed, rising to his feet. A universal sign of acknowledgement rippled through all the men still lingering in the room.

With that, the crowd scattered like birds startled into flight, leaving Nesmut, Malik, and Téa to themselves.

"Have you been here this whole time, hussy?" Nesmut asked. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Téa felt relieved. It seemed whatever strange anger had gripped the ebony-haired woman previously had dissipated. Maybe her dealing with Bakura had something to do with it.

Not in a sexual way, she was sure, but in a "wow-you're-so-infuriating-I-want-to-strangle-you" way. Not unlike what she'd just went through with Amun, except with more words, less violence. Not that she doubted Bakura's violent tendencies, or Nesmut's for that matter.

"Yeah, I figured I would train a bit while you were off plotting. It was either that, or count the cracks in your room's walls again," she joked. "Oh, and I also returned some clothes to your room, courtesy of Saran. She's nice."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Nesmut waved her off tiredly. "Whatever. Meeting's adjourned and I'm starving, so why don't we get something to eat now?"

"Actually," Malik said, "Téana and I have already made plans for dinner."

Nesmut looked as if she'd just seen a crocodile walk on its hind legs. "She did?"

I did?

"You don't mind, right? I'm sure Téana has been cooped up under your wing long enough these past few days. She needs a change. In the meantime, I'm sure Saran and your favorite person ever, Nefertari, would be delighted to share your company. You know the saying: 'Absence makes the heart—'"

"Fuck you, Malik."

"That's not quite how it goes, but I'm willing to compromise."

"Fine. You've got a point, I guess," Nesmut conceded. Not about Saran and Nefer, but about how much time she and Téa were spending together. She was hovering a bit, she knew that. Pointing at Téa, she said, "Just don't forget: treasury after dinner. Good? Good." With that, she exited the room, leaving them alone.

Wait, alone?

Apparently, at the word "dinner," the others filed hurriedly after Nesmut, eager for food. Apparently, the other women had been busy preparing a feast with all the fish some of the group had caught as the others washed the clothes. Word traveled fast around here.

"Are you particularly hungry right now?"

She nearly jumped at how close his voice sounded, not noticing that he'd come to stand beside her.

"Uh, not really," she said. Not anymore.

"Good," he responded, and—was he started to circle her? "Because you and I have some business to discuss before we can partake in some of the…finer pleasures of life."

A slight shiver made its way down her spine, and she couldn't tell if it was because of what he said, the quieter, deeper quality of his voice, the breath she felt wisp against the back of her neck, or the sudden chill she felt from the cool sweat on her skin.

Malik's vibrant, amethyst eyes held hers as he came to stand still in front of her. The flames of the various surrounding torches glinted in their depths, giving his eyes a shrouded, yet intense quality. She had no idea what they needed to talk about, what he felt was so important between them. Not unless he'd somehow figured out who she really was and where she was really from, but that wasn't possible.

She wished she could think that with any kind of certainty, but she couldn't. At any point, she expected him to turn on her in anger, just as her dreams always showed her he did. That despite how obviously, unfairly attractive he was, he harbored the most destructive anger and hatred within him, more than she'd ever seen anyone harbor before. She was just waiting for Fate to turn and show her just how fruitless her attempts to change her destiny—and his—really were.

A slow grin spread across his face, and she held her breath.

"We need to talk about that kiss," he murmured lowly.

She didn't release her breath. She didn't blink, didn't move an inch.

Oh, no, this is much worse. Fate, you are an unbelievable bitch.

She knew the devil he could be. She was crystal clear of that, in fact. But this one, simply spoken sentence presented to her a side of her enemy that she'd never dared to imagine. A side that was equally as dangerous as the other, but for different reasons, reasons that seemed to be somehow dependent on her, and she had no hint as to how to respond to ensure that she would escape with herself intact. Yes, this was so much worse.

And from the look on his face, he knew it, too.

A/N: So, I'm thinking I'm finally about halfway through with this story now. Maybe? That's what it feels like, yet there's still so much to cover. I know this chapter was a bit filler-y, but it was necessary. Expect some action-the physical, not sexual kind, sorry-in the next chapter. Things are gonna get fun. I hope you all are still with me, and THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed and favorited. You all have kept me going.