A/N: Oops! Heh, I forgot to mention this in the first chapter: 80 over 50 blood pressure is *not* good, especially in an otherwise-healthy 17 year old sexy Egyptian male. It's BAD. It means that Malik's pulse is thready, quick, and weak. Newton is making Malik *very* sick.
Tea is now ANZU. Joey is still Joey, because it's easier. Tristan is Tristan because I played too much Street Fighter with Henry and Winston when we were younger, and I always chose E. Honda, so I can't call Tristan 'Honda' because it will make me laugh too much.
Malik dreamt again of the last night he'd had of freedom. The night he had completely wasted.
He'd come to see his life at this hospital as something that Fate had ordained, and therefore, nothing he could have done would have prevented his capture. So his biggest regret was that he had completely, utterly wasted his moments of precious freedom.
January 3.
Rain fell into Malik's eyes. The garbage around him was sour smelling; his tongue felt thick in his mouth, and it was sour, too. He laughed in spite of it all and took another swig of rum. From aspirations of being Pharaoh to being drunk in a stinking alleyway. If his father could only see him now.
Isis was somewhere in this city. Whatever city it was; he'd been drunk on the plane, too, and had long since forgotten the travel plans his sister had made. Rishid...who knew where Rishid was. He wasn't nearby, Malik was sure of that, unless his friend had turned into a filthy gray rat.
"Get outta here!" Malik slurred, throwing half a broken bottle at one of the rats that had ventured too close to his feet.
He was seated on a pile of trash next to a dumpster, back leaned against the cold, wet bricks of a lingerie store. The other building that created the alley was abandoned, but had once been a bad fast food restaurant.
Some of his drink had been spilled on his shirt. It was silk...didn't silk stain easily? Malik grumbled a curse before taking another swig. It was nearly empty now. With a sigh, Malik let the bottle slip from his fingers and roll to the cracked, muddy pavement.
It was too cold to sleep, unfortunately. But on the other hand, Malik would probably have a headache when he woke up, so maybe it was better to stay awake.
"Malik Ishtar?" An unfamiliar voice came from near the lingerie shop, still under the eaves of the store and therefore out of the rain.
"Yeah? Who're you?" He squinted at the figure, not recognizing them any better for it.
"Doctor Newton. I'm with Mountain Mental Institution. Will you come with us?"
"No, gotta wait here for my sister." Malik frowned. "Not my sister...Rishid."
Newton looked over his shoulder at two men Malik couldn't, as yet, see. "He's completely soused. Just take him."
~*~*~
Today:
"I don't know what to do, Anzu." Yugi listlessly stirred the concoction his friend had put together in a mixing bowl. He couldn't even remember what they were making.
"About what?" Anzu had noticed Yugi's distraction, but so far had barely managed in getting him to respond to his own name. Now it looked like he was finally willing to talk. She should have known; cookies always did the trick.
Yugi sighed, not seeming to have heard her. "Yami has been acting so strange lately. I know he has his memories back, but he won't tell them to me. Whatever they are, they've really bothered him. I can hardly even talk to him anymore."
Anzu handed over the chocolate chips, which Yugi took without a glance and then toyed with. "I mean, if talking doesn't work, and he won't let me see his dreams, I don't know what's left. I wish he'd see that I can help him."
"But you are, Yugi!" Anzu protested. "By being his friend, aren't you helping him? Maybe he's just not ready to talk."
Her friend, who was standing on a chair and for once eye-level with her, finally responded. "I guess he's not." This was said slowly, as if he'd already thought of it. "But he still needs to. Because really... I'm all he has."
He looked hurriedly at Anzu, apologies written all over his youthful face. "Well, of course he has you, too, but it's been a long time since you-"
"Don't worry, I know what you mean," Anzu smiled. She took the chocolate, tore open the bag, and dumped the contents into the bowl. "If all else fails, you can make cookies with him. It's always worked for me."
Malik had tried everything, but Dr. Newton hadn't been by to see him since the night 'warnings' were issued. Malik had fought with the other patients, or the orderlies, or a nurse; he'd messed up the Game Room and his own cell. Once, one of the guards had tried to sedate him, but failed at getting closer than a leg's length to the Egyptian.
Now his antics were ignored. He hadn't heard any noises from the level above the Game Room in over a week (or perhaps more). He didn't believe for an instant that Newton had suddenly gained a conscience (if those existed), and decided to stop... But Malik couldn't imagine what else was going on.
It turned out the good doctor had been out to a seminar.
With all of the malpractice going on in this hospital, Malik had to admit Newton had guts, to show his face in a room full of renowned surgeons.
Yet even after his return, when Malik was reported as a troublesome patient, even then Newton didn't take him away. Nor did he even offer the dreaded 'second warning'. Malik finally had to resign himself to the apparent fact that Newton was a pervert who was only out to prey on girls.
Malik had been turning these events over in his mind, lounging on his bed, when Dr. Newton entered for the customary physical exam and questionaire. "Well, Malik, how have you felt? The medication working for you?"
The Egyptian turned a glare on him. "I don't *need* medication, if that's even what you're giving me."
"Hm. You think I would give you something that wouldn't help you?"
"Precisely." Malik bit out.
"Developing paranoia...interesting." Newton scribbled something down in the manila file that bore Malik's name.
"Paranoia? I'm not paranoid! I know what you've been doing!"
Newton wrote something more down. "Tell me about..." he glanced at his notes "Bakura."
That completely threw Malik off guard. "Ba...what? How did you-?"
"Mr. Smith," Newton gestured at the door, "heard you calling for 'Bakura' in your sleep." But Malik remained silent. Yet another note was taken. Seconds passed in frozen quiet, until, "Do you still think you're a Pharaoh?"
"What?"
"After the drugs kicked in yesterday, you kept saying things like, 'I don't want to be Pharaoh anymore'." Dark eyes watched Malik intently.
"It was a dream," the boy hissed. "I'm not a Pharaoh. I never was, and I know that."
Infuriatingly, more hidden sentences were written in the folder. "Well," Newton said at last. "I think we've spent enough time on this for today."
When the Doctor left, food was brought: soggy toast, a glass of water, and mashed peaches. Malik wondered if that meant it was breakfast time, or if they'd just not bothered to prepare anything else.
Though in the end, it didn't really matter.
The Dark Magician. Draped in royal purple, frozen forever on the face of a card, still had cold eyes that gleamed out of the shadows.
Yami stared at his Dark Magician card, remembering the last duel he had fought in Egypt; he'd won using this very monster. That day was still very foggy, but for once his lack of memory didn't annoy him.
Slowly he shuffled to the next card.
The God of Ra card met his gaze, baring its fangs, wings fanned out behind it. And then a much more recent duel came to mind, one that had again ensured his eternal place as Pharaoh, and saved the world from the maniacal rule of Malik Ishtar.
Unlike the misty images from his past, the modern memories gave Yami comfort. Dark half of Yugi's soul or not, surely saving the world redeemed him from the horrific deeds he had left in Ancient Egypt.
Gently, he took the card from his deck, remembering the duel's every aspect.
Malik, too, had done things that he now regretted, and in the name of Pharaoh. Yami scoffed at the irony.
Ishtar had said that when they met again, they would be friends. This Yami had, at the time, written off as someone who simply wished to escape judgement. Now he knew there was much more to it. It had been the pleading of a torn, guilty soul for forgiveness.
He remembered the look of agony in Malik's eyes when he saw at last just what he had given up, or had taken from him, over so many years.
"Yami?" Yugi asked.
"What is it?" Yami quickly placed the card back.
"Is something wrong?" Yami was about to deny that there was, but Yugi continued, "You're thinking about Malik, aren't you. Do you think he went back to Egypt with his sister?"
"I don't know," Yami admitted. "I know that I wouldn't be prepared to return so quickly, if I had done what he did. But I doubt he stayed in Japan. We know that Isis left, probably taking Rishid and Malik with her...By now, he could be anywhere."
"I hope he doesn't give up gaming altogether. He was a good duelist," Yugi said, looking over at the case where he kept Isis's and Malik's Millennium Items.
Yami didn't answer.