Chapter Twenty Eight: For the Last Time

The tent door was flapping again. It didnt matter. Marik couldnt sleep anyway.

His later nights had been sleepless, tiring, and exhausting. Combined with the fact that now this new revelation came to life, Marik had to watch himself every night. His Anger intake, his Rage outlet, and his Vengeance lust.

He had to keep it all down. The other night had been almost surreal when he realized that he was no longer in control of his own powers. His soul had been manipulated…just as lowly, and commonly as so many people before him.

In the dream…he had been running away. Watching as the Shadows consumed so many others in awe, and secretly hoping that they'd continue to admire him back…just enough to spare him.

They were coming after him. They were going to consume him anyway.

When Marik fled from Ryou's bedroom that night, he realized that they had already consumed him.

They had destroyed the one, rational thought he contained in his mind; forced him to believe that everything he stood for was nothing but crap. Marik, as complex as he was, realized that there were only two things he had ever really depended on: the Shadows, and Ryou's love.

The Shadows had granted him immeasurable power, which brought everything else: admiration, fear, awe, fortune, and domination. Indirectly, they had also bought him Ryou, but Marik didn't want to think about that.

Ryou instead brought him not only admiration, awe, and even domination, but somehow, even his smile seemed to make everything else in the world seem worthless. Whenever he was there, admiration, fear, and domination seemed to no longer seem significant. Unfortunately for Marik, too long a time he had spent in the Shadows, tortured by the ideas of Ryou dying, leaving, betraying. Although he thought the Shadows had no affect on him in the beginning, Marik realized that a small portion of their wicked voice had followed him home, back to Ryou's arms, where all along, they had planned to strike.

The Shadows were weakened now, merely because of Marik's exhausting attempts to keep them at bay. No longer did he offer sacrifices, and every night, he would summon the Winged Dragon of Ra to keep eye on Ryou. He didn't want Ryou to ever fall into the darkness again.

But to exert so much amount of energy every night was too much, even for Marik to handle. It had been days, nights…nearly a week since he last saw Ryou. As much as Marik knew he had to go back and apologize (something he wasn't sure if he could do), this time, it wasn't Vengeance or Anger keeping him back.

Determination held him back. It made him walk outside the tent in the early twilight for hours on end, watching the sun to come out. It had made him pace back and forth in his tent, his head swarming with omni-directed thoughts. The one time he could go see Ryou, he couldn't.

Marik sighed and plopped back onto the bed. His head was aching, his body was exhausted, and his sanity was a confused mess. He laid out on his back and covered his eyes with his hand.

I suppose I'm the idealistic picture of a tragedy, aren't I? he said to himself sardonically. Great, powerful Master Marik, beaten down to a lowly commoner among the rest of the poor, forsaken souls.

Marik bit his lip and sighed. I'm probably forsaken now anyway.

Ryou…

For the first moment ever, Marik began to seriously consider what his life would be like without Ryou. Before he hadn't given it much thought, but now, he realized, the fate was quite possible.

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket. Still in immaculate condition, the little golden scarab beetle shined beautifully in the darkness of his tent. It reflected the little shimmer of moonlight that peeked into his tent, embracing it calmly and peacefully as it swung quietly from side to side.

Marik slowly flicked it open, and stared at the pictures within. His chest was suddenly tugged by twangs of pain. It had been so long since he felt that pain. Before, he had willingly fed it to the Shadows, letting them grow in power. Now, like any other human, he had to deal with it, among other emotions.

Confusion, for one. Lost was another. And also, like any other human, he now had to feel Guilt.

There wasn't a night that Marik didn't (try to) go to bed cursing at himself. Right before he slipped into bed, it was a self-punishing nightly ritual: pulling out the locket, gazing at what could possibly never happen, snapping it closed and then going, Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

This night was no different. Marik snapped the locket away and put his hand over his eyes once more.

Shit.

He knew he had screwed up. There was no use denying it anymore. Ryou was dying, he had betrayed Ryou, and now, Ryou had to suffer the consequences.

I don't even know if I still love him, Marik thought quietly to himself. All this time I told him I didn't…even though I did deep down…and then….everything just…

Marik sighed, rubbing his head. It hurt to think too much about anything now. He didn't want to think how screwed up the Shadows had made him; how disoriented they've created him, how confused he was now and how, deep down inside, how he was now…

…even a little bit afraid.

As much as Marik did not want to admit it, that was another emotion that was weighting down on his heart. The dread that Ryou would soon leave life forever, and the idea that he would be left behind.

He felt like a small child, looking for that guardian Light who had protected him before. He felt like as if he was lost, wanting to find that Light and follow him home, only to realize that perhaps…perhaps the Light was no longer even alive.

What is love like?

For once, Marik wish he did not have to be the one in the more dominant position. At one point, he had realized what love was: how he would sacrifice so much for it, how it felt, how it bonded so many people closer together, and how it felt so good. But how, he couldn't even trust his judgment, even though the question in itself seemed so simple.

Do you love Ryou?

Deep down inside, something told Marik that he did, but he was too confused and too busy cursing himself to think about it hard enough. He knew that love was a decision he had to create for himself, but for once, he wasn't even sure what he wanted. His memories were disoriented and a jagged mess, ripped to shreds by the Shadows. His sanity was slowly cracking under the sleepless nights he spent pondering such a thing, only to come to a pretty stupid conclusion.

…Maybe if he loves me back…

Marik didn't want to continue chasing for something he couldn't get, or even want. But despite his protests, something told him that it wasn't the chase he was afraid of, but what he was chasing for.

The rejection would simply be much harder to bear if he admitted that he loved Ryou first. At least if Ryou hated him, Marik had something to compare to, something to base his emotions and past on. Then Marik could go on living …moderately happily, pursuing a new life, leaving Ryou to deal with his own life.

But is that what you want?

He clenched his hand around the chain of the locket, and let it fall onto the bed.

If he says no, wouldn't you still chase after him? Try to see him? Maybe even ask for a second chance?

Marik silently groaned and raised his hands to grip his hair.

Even if you are too afraid to ask him….at least you can do something to make it up to him.

Make it up? How could he possibly make anything up with Ryou? Even if he did love and did ask Ryou to forgive him, where was the likely chance that that would happen?

Even if he says goodbye…at least make him happy when he says so.

Happy…

Marik slowly sat back up, his hands sliding away from his hair and back onto his lap. He slowly raised his head and stared out of his tent in the open moonlight, watching as the dunes whistled their quiet tune.

Doesn't he at least deserve Happiness before he leaves?

Marik lowered his head and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Happiness…even if I give it to him…will he be happy?

He sighed.

I've taken away too much to give them back. I would have to give him the stars in order to even repay one fraction of what I've done to him. I would have to defeat Ra himself to even deserve one half of Ryou's love. In fact…

Marik raised his head again, and slowly stood up. He slowly walked towards the door, and brushed the curtain aside, staring out into the desert distantly.

To prove to him that I'm worthy…to even deserve the chance for forgiveness…

Marik paused, his hand sliding slightly on the curtain. He turned back just a bit over his shoulder, gazing distantly at the golden locket lying on his bed. The silver moonbeams complimented it beautifully as they struck its smooth, delicate surface.

"Oh Marik…you shouldn't have…it's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you."

Marik's shoulders sagged slightly, and he shook his head. At least one fragment of his memory was clear. At least Ryou had been happy to receive that locket when they were first together.

I would have to give my life…just to ask for his forgiveness.

Sighing, Marik strode back to the bed, picked up the locket, and slipped it back into his pocket. Running a hand through his hair, he picked up his cloak in the other, and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Why should I even try?

Marik sighed again, and closing his eyes, he did his best to make sure the Shadows were at bay. They were exhausted with the battle as much as he was, and now, since he was denying them sacrifices, they were growing slightly weaker.

But instead on feeding on everyone else's souls, they fed on his. Marik supposed the only reason why he was still alive was probably because there was no one else to feed them, should he die. Bakura's 'darkness' was now balanced by Malik's 'light', and strangely enough, the Shadows seemed to leave them well enough alone.

They've got a good balance, I guess, Marik thought absent-mindedly as he searched for his pocket money. Maybe that's why the Shadows can't hurt them as bad.

Finding his bag of money, Marik popped that into his pocket too, and headed for the door. When the curtain flapped open, Marik paused for a moment. Arching his neck, he closed his eyes, and for a pure, tranquil moment, he appreciated the moon's breath on his face.

Even if I can't ask for his forgiveness, Marik thought as he breathed in the night air. I should at least repay everything I've done.

With this in mind, Marik left his tent, and headed towards the village.

After all…I should try, just to make him happy.


Anas was working late at night once more, once again. With his father in elderly shape and his younger brother to take care of, he had a lot of work to do. His older brother was a priest, and it sucked that although Karim often sent money to support them, all of the money had to go towards his younger brother's life fund.

That, and he was engaged as well. With Karim as a priest, Mahdi so young, Anas had to work every day and every night to support his family. Nevertheless, Anas was quite happy with his current arrangement: he loved his fiancé, his brother, and his father was still in decently good health. He supposed there were other people worse off than him.

The family business was an apothecary and a healing tent at the same time. His father had been a rather highly respected doctor, and how, older in his years, Anas has to take after him, since Karim managed to become a priest. One would think such high status brought Anas's family more fortune than any one else, but regardless, Anas still had to work very hard to keep everything up to shape.

He was digging through the barrels of the apothecary when someone came through the door. Anas looked up from the barrel, his arms still hidden within the sticky bowels, his long, black hair hanging scraggily over his eyes. The customer's face was hidden by his cloak, but Anas could see the slight flicker of annoyance when he didn't greet the customer.

Realizing his bad manners, Anas leapt from his barrel and quickly brushed his lock of hair over his head and out of the way. He smiled a friendly smile and walked around the counter, wiping his arms and hands on a rag.

"Hello. Welcome to the Taweret. I'm Anas. How can I help you?"

The stranger looked at him expressionlessly from under his hood. Without an introduction back, the man turned slightly to look around the apothecary.

"Is it common to belittle a goddess's name with a market shop?" the man asked silkily.

Anas chuckled. "Well, we thought it was fitting. Many a child have been delivered here any way." He nodded over to the sick bed in the corner. The man made a rather flat sort of grimace.

"Do you often leave your stores open so late at night?" the customer asked.

Anas nodded. "Whatever keeps the business in, you know? Plus, I mean, women and childbirth and sickness…when the pharaoh's too busy, they'll have to come here, so may as well open wide."

The man twitched slightly. Impatiently, he turned back to Anas, and looked at him directly from under the hood. Anas, being a little shorter than the man, managed to catch a glimpse of rather striking amethyst eyes.

"I hope your competence will serve me well then," the stranger said darkly. Though smaller, Anas was not a man to be intimidated with, so he merely nodded and ignored the customer's dark tone.

"But of course. Come," Anas turned around and beckoned his customer to the counter as he walked around it. Meeting his customer again, Anas smiled firmly at the man, and gestured to the shelves of medicine, balms, and healing herbs behind him. "So. What are you looking for?"

The man turned to stare at him a bit, as though analyzing him carefully. Anas inwardly sighed. Some of his customers were paranoid about confidentiality and all…Anas could only assume that the reason why this man was so hard towards him was because there was something he didn't want any one to know.

Regardless, Anas was a friendly man, as suitable to his name, and he leaned onto the counter casually. He looked back and forth between the shelves and the man, pretending that he had thought the man was looking at an item on the shelf.

"You look reasonably healthy, so I guess I'll skip that section," Anas said, raising his hand and pointing to the top shelf. "We keep most of our emergency potions there…strained muscle, perhaps? Small cough? Infection?"

The man said nothing. Anas looked back for a moment, but when the man still did not reply, Anas tried a different tactic.

"Well, we have some painkillers here…you look like a strong guy. Working out in the sun a lot…oh, we have some good balms that can protect you from the sun, that's good. So what would you like? Cough syrup? Pain remedies? Anesthetics?" Anas briefly looked back at the man, and noted the hard, deep scowl. Laughing gas, maybe, Anas thought to himself. Geez this guy needs to smile more often…

The man continued to gaze at him, as though trying to find out why he was being so friendly. Anas smiled and leaned back, allowing his customer to take his time.

"My father is sleeping right now, but if you wish, I could give you a small checkup," Anas offered. The man continued to stare at him for a few more moments, before turning back to the shelf.

"Whipping."

Startled, Anas shook his head, standing upright. "Excuse me?"

The man returned his cold, amethyst stare. "Whip wounds. What do you have for whip wounds?"

Anas tried his best to hide his confusion, but quickly turned to look onto the shelf. "How severe are the whip marks?" he asked, knowing that the best way to deal with customers of suspicious wounds was to stay on topic. The man paused for a moment, before speaking again.

"Moderately healed," he said. Anas nodded.

"I see. How intense is the pain? Are you picky about pain? We have a balm here that might help…it's quick and will help heal the wound very quickly, but it's a rather acidic and very painful…"

The man stayed silent. Anas looked back and tried to analyze his customer, before frowning at his shelf.

"Here," Anas said finally. He picked up a jar and placed it on the counter. "This ointment isn't acidic, so it won't inflame the skin. Although it's not the fastest medicine we have to recover whip wounds, it is one of the more…comforting ones. If you have sensitive skin or you're prone to infection, you're probably better off with this." Anas tapped the lid. "It's not meant for deep wounds though. It's best to apply it when the wound is just scarring, so it heals more quickly and efficiently. It doesn't cost much. Would you like it?"

Anas looked up at the man, and noticed the man staring at him strangely again. Anas sighed and smiled at the stranger.

"If you don't mind, sir, who is this ointment for?" Anas asked. The man seemed to stiffen and from beneath the hood, his amethyst eyes seemed to glower. Once again, Anas was not an easy person to intimidate, so he merely looked away.

"Sorry, sir," Anas apologized. "I shouldn't intrude. You just didn't seem to be hurt."

The man was silent for a moment, before he finally spoke.

"You haven't been working long, have you?" he asked.

Anas laughed and turned back to the man. "What gave me away?"

"The fact that you have not let learned that trust is not a free thing to give," the man said. Anas sighed dramatically.

"Sorry, sir," Anas apologized. "Things just have been a bit busy lately. I'm letting my guard down."

"You shouldn't let weakness pull you down," the man replied. Anas raised his eyebrow.

"Really?" he said, surprised. "Personally, I don't believe that. Weakness is there for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"If we were born without weakness, Ra would not be our god," Anas explained simply. "Weakness allows us to have a moment to ourselves. To let us take a break. If we had no weaknesses, we'd be like Ra himself."

The man stared at him blankly. Anas sighed and smiled.

"Sorry. I get philosophical a lot. My brother's a priest, so I think he's rubbing off on me."

"Your brother is a priest?" the man repeated. Anas nodded and returned to the shelf.

"Yep, he is," Anas said, running his fingers along the labels. "Introduced me to my fiancé. We're going to get married soon." Anas paused and looked over his shoulder. He grinned. "But enough about me. What else are you looking for?"

The man blinked, before returning to gaze at the jars.

"…What do you have for fevers?"

"Fever?" Anas suddenly lost his smile and frowned. "How bad is the fever?"

The man paused.

"Very severe," he said, after a while.

Anas nodded seriously, and quickly ducked for a small stepladder. He climbed onto it and looked onto the top shelf, fingering each jar impatiently.

"How long has the fever been present?" Anas asked. Fevers were a dangerous thing among Egypt. Depending on the person's Ba and Ka, a fever could carry infections, destroy the system, and most likely, kill the victim if there for too long. A fever was always among top priority for Anas and his father's apothecary.

When the man replied, there was an almost regretful, sad tone in his voice. "A few weeks."

Anas' eyes jumped open and he turned to stare at the man incredulously. "A few weeks?"

The man nodded. Anas lowered himself off the stepladder and looked at the man sharply in the eye. "Obviously the fever has been helped before. What did you take before?"

"What do you mean?"

"What have you done before to destroy the fever?" Anas clarified. The man paused again.

"…We've had a healing ritual," the man explained, a bit softly. Anas arched his eyebrow.

"A healing ritual? Performed by my brother? Surely then whoever you are taking care of should be healed then."

"It wasn't your brother that healed him," the man said impatiently. "But we had to use the ritual twice. Apparently there was something wrong with his lungs. Some sort of sickness he's always had since he was a child."

Anas frowned, and slowly braced himself on the counter. He stared up at the man, thinking deeply. "…I know I said I didn't want to intrude, but I'm afraid you're going to have to tell me what your friend's body is like. I wouldn't want to give him anything that's going to make him worse."

The man bit his lip and the amethyst glow in his eyes intensified sharply beneath his shadowed hood.

"What makes you think you can save him?"

"I'll do the best, regardless if I can," Anas replied shortly. "Now, you'll have to tell me. We don't want this fever progressing any more than it has to. What is your friend's body like?"

The man paused, as though he were thinking very deeply.

"…He's very weak right now," the man said. "We've had two rituals for him, once because of his wounds, and once for his fever and his lungs. Apparently he has some sort of sickness that makes it hard for his lungs to breathe…consumption, I believe. He's had it since he a child."

"Consumption," Anas breathed. "Forgive me for saying, but your friend should be dead by now."

"He's had medical help before," the man explained. "It would only get severe if he was stressed or extremely sick. He had a fever already before he got hurt…his fever only got worse after he got hurt."

Anas nodded slowly. "Alright. How is he doing now? Are his wounds healed? Is he in any immediate pain?"

The man nodded slowly back. "…He's always in pain," the man said quietly.

Anas bit his lip and returned to the top of his ladder. "I assume your friend hallucinates too?" Anas called down, as he rummaged through the many bottles.

"Yes," the man replied, sounding surprised. "How did you know?"

Anas bundled a couple of bottles in his arms and came back down. "Ra tends to make his creations based on different strengths and weaknesses. You said that your friend got easily sick when he was stressed? He must be a spiritual boy then." Anas placed the jars on the table. "There are some people in the world who are susceptible to sickness easily based on their Ka. Some people in this world depend on their Ba. From what you tell me, he seems to be a rather …fragile person, isn't he?" Anas looked up, and the man nodded fractionally. "I see. Well, normally people like your friend depend their health on their spirituality. What they feel that day, what makes them tick, what makes them live. Only when they are happy are they healthy, and only then will they continue to live in such a way."

Anas picked up a bottle and examined it carefully, his eyebrows furrowing at the label. The man snorted.

"That sounds like a lot of bullshit to me."

"..." Anas briefly raised his eyebrows at the customer. "Be that as it may, it's simply something I've noticed among my patients. Spirit, soul, and health all intermingle with one another. Can anyone truly live without a soul, a spirit, and happiness? I doubt it. One would die long before then."

"Only if they have nothing to live for."

"Having no soul, no spirit, no happiness isn't much of a life to live for, in some people's eyes," Anas said, putting down the bottle and picking up another. "What other wounds does your friend have?"

The man lowered his head in thought. "He has….many bruises," he recalled. "…Inflamed skin….maybe even a broken rib."

Anas put down his bottle abruptly and stared at the man incredulously. "Why haven't you asked for another ritual already? What the heck happened to your friend?"

The man stiffened and reached out towards a small gourd. "…He was getting better before," he said quietly, fingering the neck of the gourd absently. "…He just got a little beaten up yesterday…he hadn't been getting sleep or eating much…"

Anas whistled lowly and looked at his customer seriously. "You better get your friend to a priest or this apothecary fast. I'm surprised he held out as long as he did."

"There wouldn't be much you could do for him," the man said shortly. "Even the Priestess couldn't heal him entirely. She believed that if she went too far, he would no longer be able to bear with the pain and his soul would break."

"That's one of the principles of the Ka/Ba theory," Anas explained, nodding his head. "It's not a wide-known theory, but I've seen it in people before. Your friend must have an awfully strong spirit to have something so chronic for so long."

"Believe me, you wouldn't be able to help him much."

Anas sighed and shook his head, pushing away some bottles with his hand. "I suppose not. All I have are these potions. The Priests and their help are the best you can give to someone of the sick. All I can do is …try to help." He pointed to the gourd. "If you let him drink that, he'll probably sleep dreamless for many nights. I assume since he hallucinates, he dreams nightmares too, correct?"

The man nodded. Anas continued.

"This bottle is for his lungs," Anas pointed to the next one, with a much taller neck and a wider bottom. "It's full of iron and lots of minerals to help the blood breathe and refreshed, so it won't tire so easily from defeating germs. I would only recommend a small dosage once per meal."

The man's gaze followed as Anas continued to give his curt instructions. He held up a jar of pills.

"This is nowhere as close to whatever the priests got," Anas said, wrinkling his nose distastefully, "but I tried my best. It's of my own concoction, but it's nowhere as good as what they serve up at the palace. If you give this to him once every night, it will help tranquilize his convulsions, and even minimize his pain. It can't, however, protect his lungs from breathing improperly."

Anas sighed and scooped the rest of the jars and bottles against the previously mentioned antidotes. He braced himself on the counter once more and looked up at the man seriously.

"Everything here is cool to help keep his temperature down," Anas explained. "The rest is all for his wounds and preventing internal and external infection. But all you can do now other than to give him all this is to make sure he's cool enough, eating enough, and sleeping enough."

"…What should I feed him?" asked the man, sounding a bit hollow, as though he was too busy trying to intake everything at once. Anas scratched his head.

"Soup, broth," he finally said. "I don't trust that your friend can take solids right now. Give him as much water as possible and lots of broth and soup. Keep his body fresh." Anas stood up and crossed his arms over his shoulder, his long black hair trailing over his elbows. "You should've come to me when he was initially sick, sir," Anas said, falling back to his teenage-clerk position. "We wouldn't need all this if you came in earlier."

The man's face, although darkened already by his hood, seemed to glower even darker beneath the hood. Anas sighed and shook his head.

"It's alright. Accidents happen. What happened to your friend anyway? Displeased the master?"

The man suddenly bristled and jerked his head upright. Anas was startled to see how brightly those amethyst eyes were glaring from the darkness of the hood. They seemed to be shining a strikingly harsh lavender, as though daring him to say anything more. Anas sighed.

"Sorry, sorry. I have to keep on remembering not to intrude."

Slowly, Anas looked away, turning to begin filing out the sheets for the man's purchase and medication. He paused only when the customer's voice floated softly from the hood.

"Why do you care so much?"

Anas paused in his writing, his quill scratching in mid-air. "…Curiosity, I suppose," Anas smiled faintly. "I always like helping people. It makes me feel good."

"You are married?" the man asked suddenly. Anas blinked for a moment, before noticing the man's gaze on his ring finger. Anas laughed, and this time, it was a good, wholesome-hearted, tender laugh.

"Yeah," he said, fingering the ring fondly. "I'm a lucky man."

"Who is she?" the man asked. Anas was surprised with this line of questioning, but answered regardless.

"A beautiful woman," Anas smiled. "Both inside, and outside. She's ..hardworking, tender…and she has…the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen." Anas looked down on his ring finger and rolled it tenderly around his finger. "…I was so worried when she came home yesterday," Anas admitted. "She had been at the bar with a couple of friends of mine…they were trying to show her a good time." Anas smiled sheepishly and scratched his head awkwardly. "…I guess I should've been there for her," Anas admitted quietly.

The man was quiet for a few moments. "What happened?" the stranger finally asked.

Anas sighed tiredly, and closed his eyes. "I was still working here, so I didn't know what was going on at the bar. When they came home, my friends told me about it. Apparently some jerk – ass who called himself a captain was hitting on her. If it hadn't been for someone in that bar that night, I may have just lost her then."

After grabbing a chair, Anas slowly lowered himself into it, suddenly looking years older and much more tired. "If I ever meet that guy, I have to thank him," Anas said, smiling up at the customer. "He saved her life. It's only too bad she couldn't get a good look at him. I would've done anything to repay my debt to him for taking such good care of her."

The man was once more, quiet and solemn for a long time. Anas sighed and shook his hair back and tied it into a ponytail to keep it away from his face. He turned back to the man.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Anas asked, a considerate, soft tone to his voice. "If you want, you can bring your friend here. Everything's confidential here. Not a word to anyone and not a question asked."

The stranger was still silent, but slowly lifted his head. His amethyst eyes had now lost their initial sharp, piercing intensity, and was now a sort of hard, deadened look.

"I honestly don't think you can help him," he said simply. Anas lowered his head.

"He's that bad, huh?" Anas asked. "…Well, I guess there really isn't much I can do, but I would like to help. He sounds like he's in really bad shape." Anas raised his head. "You're really concerned for him, aren't you?"

The man bristled suddenly. "What makes you think that?"
"Just how you talk about him," Anas replied, smiling. "You just seem so worried about him. He must care for you very deeply."

The man lowered his head and turned away. "I honestly doubt that."

Anas slowly stood up, and carefully approached his customer. "I'm sure he does," Anas said gently. "…We can talk about it if you want."

The man said nothing. Anas slowly took another step further.

"Or maybe---"

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a little boy ran inside. Rudely, the boy hurtled past the customer, knocking the man to the side. The boy then turned around the corner of the counter and into Anas's arms. Anas's eyes widened.

"Mad'hi!" he scolded angrily. "What are you doing so late out at night? And apologize to the man you just hit!"

The boy pouted behind his black bangs, and both he and Anas turned to apologize to the customer. Anas's eyes widened.

"Whoa…"

When his younger brother had scrambled past the customer, the stranger's cloak had fallen away. Now they revealed spikes of golden hair and unblemished, tanned skin. A simple, golden collar was strung around the man's throat, and for a moment, Anas couldn't help but stare.

Mad'hi in his arms was quiet. The man's eyes flickered briefly to Mad'hi, and they seemed to focus suddenly in thought.

"I remember you," Mad'hi said quietly. Marik nodded.

"I remember you too," he said solemnly. His eyes flickered back to Anas. "So you are all related. Go figures. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to make my payment now."
Anas nodded and put Mad'hi down. Mad'hi stood on his tiptoes and watched as Anas gathered all the medicines in a bag. A little frown creased over the boy's face.

"…The boy you were looking for," Mad'hi said quietly. He looked up at Marik. "Is he getting better?"

Marik stiffened, and turned to look at Mad'hi sharply. "What do you mean? How do you know who all this is for?"

Mad'hi shrugged and sat onto the high chair that Anas was previously sitting in. "…Anas doesn't let me go into the dungeons, but I was trying to find Karim…I saw your friend."

Marik stiffened. "Really?"

Mad'hi nodded and Anas shot him an annoyed, scolding look. "He was crying a lot," Mad'hi said quietly, as he watched Anas pack up everything. "I didn't really see him well…I got…a little afraid."

Anas stood and looked at Mad'hi in a sharp frown. "Mad'hi, you know better than to be in places like that. Karim wouldn't have been happy."

Mad'hi nodded. "I know. I…I was just hiding from them at first…and I heard him cry a lot." Mad'hi paused and looked at the bulging bag. "Is he still hurt?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Marik paused and reached over to the bag. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, he's still hurt."

Mad'hi nodded. "He sounded really bad…they were really mean to him."

"What do you mean?" Marik asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"They were laughing at him," Mad'hi said quietly. "They kept on asking him to prove something…they told him they'd kill someone if he didn't." Mad'hi reached over and helped Anas tie the bag up. "I hope he gets better," Mad'hi said. "He sounded really sad."

Marik said nothing and picked up his bag. He was shuffling around for money when Anas spoke.

"If your friend ever needs any help, you know where to come," Anas smiled. "I've seen the brutality of things like that. If you ever need any help, we can always talk." Anas saw the money in Marik's hand and shook his head. "Keep the money. I can't take money from someone who saved my fiancé's life." He raised his head and saw Marik's surprised expression. "A buddy told me how you looked like from underneath the cloak. It's not hard to find someone with blond hair and purple eyes."

Marik stood, dumbfounded. Regardless, he placed the coins onto the countertop.

"Keep the change," Marik said. He looked past Anas and over to the shelf. "Do you think he'll get better?"

Anas picked up a coin and stared at it distantly.

"If he doesn't, be sure to tell me," Anas said quietly. "But you know…he's a really lucky guy to have you as a friend." Anas looked back up. "Hang in there, dude. Ra works in mysterious ways."

"So do I," Marik replied. He picked up his goods and headed for the door. "So do I."

Last minute, he turned back around, and flung his choker at Anas. Anas looked at it bewilderedly, having never even touched such an amount of gold before.

Marik smirked. "Thanks."

And then he left.


So there he was, once more in front of Ryou's door. This time, however, Marik forced himself not to contemplate about anything...rather, he focused instead on forcing the Shadows away from this vicinity, and allowing Ryou a decent recovery.

Without sacrifice, the Shadows were weak. Marik took advantage of this and made sure to suppress them to the best of his ability, and slowly slipped into Ryou's room.

He didn't dare look at Ryou, merely forcing himself to go to the small table. Quietly, he unpacked everything that he had gotten, and placed them on the table. He took his time, organizing them to the best of his ability. That corner for Ryou's fever, this corner for Ryou's bruises, that one for Ryou's whip scars, and finally, Ryou's pills.

Very quietly, Marik even took out a special little something. Although it didn't seem to have much of a presence, it seemed to Marik a shrine of Light...a personal little shrine to help keep the evils away from Ryou's bed. It may not have truly helped, but Marik liked the look of it as he placed the two, wooden dolls in the center of the table. The black-armoured Marik-doll stood tall and proud in the dim candlelight, whilst Ryou...adorable, white-magician Ryou, stood next to Marik, shy and sweet.

Since white-magician Ryou's clothes were actually made of silk, one could not even tell that the doll had once been cracked to pieces. Marik had slowly painted over the cracks on Ryou's neck and face, so that once more, wooden-doll-Ryou looked flawless.

With the preparations at hand, Marik slowly sank onto his chair. With a sense of dread, Marik turned and looked at Ryou's withering, dying form.

He looked the same as his pervious sick self. Except this time, he was not crying. His breaths were short and soft, barely audible, and his whole body had curled in a miserable position of defeated hope.

Gently, Marik eased Ryou out of his position and tucked the boy in. He carefully slid a wet cloth over Ryou's forehead and left it there.

I really don't know what to do, Marik said softly. I don't even know what Love is. But maybe...when you get better, you can show me again.

So forth, as Marik sat there, watching Ryou in his unconsciousness, began a long road of hardship and recovery.


Anas, Mad'hi, a couple of guards and Anas's wife are all my craetions. Oh yeah, and Arsinoe, but we can forget abuot her.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. This was supposed to be the last chapter before I started doing something strange: Marik-Ryou present POVs! So for the next few chapters, a lot of the story is going to be told from Marik's and Ryou's point of view. Finally, we are actually following the schedule here! I haven't had a plot-chapter for a while now! The last few had just been sort of...fillers.

Anyways, we are back on track, and yay, we're almost halfway point thruogh plot. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Anas was fun to write, and I hope you guys liked him too.

Read and review! For once, I don't feel too badly about a chapter.