A/N: Yay! I got some reviewers! And guess what? Borath beta'd the very-tricky-Chapter Seven already (thank you so much, Borath *hug*), so all that's left is your reviews. Yes...Review...you know you want to....
There were twenty minutes left before the subway train would arrive. Isis had sat down on a bench with Rishid standing next to her, watching the crowds with no expression while Yugi was off buying a snack.
Malik had started to go after Yugi when a funny, thick feeling formed in the back of hist throat; the muscles constricted and flexed against the phlegm that continually tried to work its way up into his mouth.
Quickly, he made a beeline for the restroom and locked himself into a toilet-paper strewn stall. He coughed and a thick, almost solid substance came up over his tongue and fell to the water in the toilet. He was startled and frightened to find that what he spat up was more blood than mucus.
It wasn't bright red. It was rust-colored, like his shirt had been after his yami killed his father. Like it was dried. The blood was also apparently very heavy, as it sank to the bottom of the toilet bowl, never once losing its shape.
Three mouthfuls of the nauseating stuff later, and his chest hurt from coughing so hard. But at least the pressure around his tonsils was relieved.
"Lord Malik?"
He spat once more to try and get the slick, bitter taste out of his mouth. After flushing the toilet, he walked out to meet Rishid.
"What is it?" Rishid didn't answer, since he knew Malik had already caught on that he and Isis were worried.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you where I was going." Malik said this as he scrubbed his hands and arms, and was annoyed to find there was nothing to dry his hands with; even the hot air dryer was hanging halfway off the wall.
When they went back to the bench, Isis was gone, asking people if they'd seen Malik. It didn't take long for her to notice them.
Frowning, Malik looked at his three companions and demanded, "How long was I gone?" He'd meant to show them they were being foolish and smothering for worrying.
"Twenty minutes," Isis answered, just as the train rode up.
Yugi led the way on, with little resistance from the other passengers due to Rishid's intimidating presence. They found a few spots towards the front of the train, well away from the exit.
"Where will we be staying?" Malik murmured.
Isis turned to him. "In a hotel, brother. Why?"
"No reason." He was relieved to hear her answer. He didn't savor the idea of being around his former victims, and at least he could stay in the hotel room and let his mind dissolve into endless hours of watching cable TV. Even if anyone found out he was in Domino, and then abandoned common sense and decided to visit him, he wouldn't have to open the door.
Yugi had overheard; shaking his head, he protested, "If you're going to be here a whole month, it would be cheaper to spend at least a few days with my grandpa and me."
Isis shook her head firmly. "Thank you, but we will be here at least two months, and I didn't come unprepared."
"Neither did I," Malik said. "I have money."
Yugi's gaze drifted to the floor. "Well, ok. But just remember, if anyone in the hotel turns up dead...." Malik swallowed, anger and shame burning his face.
Yugi noticed and turned brick red. "No, no! I mean that it isn't as safe there as my house is."
Though relieved that Yugi wasn't implying-or pointing out--that he was a murderer, the attention was almost as embarrassing. "Don't apologize...it's alright. We shouldn't get much trouble. If we do, I always have Rishid."
The small teen smiled hesitantly at Rishid, remembering the abilities the tall, silent Egyptian had. "I almost forgot about him," Yugi admitted softly.
Isis glanced at her surrogate brother, who didn't seem to be taking much notice of their conversation. She smiled faintly at Yugi and offered, "He's good at going unnoticed."
"He's sitting right next to me," Malik muttered, then touched Rishid's elbow to get his attention. "You know that if you don't want to be talked about as if you weren't here, you could just say so."
The train lurched to a halt, and Rishid turned to study the passengers trading places with those out on the platforms and walkways. No one spoke for the rest of the ride.
When they arrived at the hotel it was late, the rain had stopped, but Yugi was half-asleep. Isis thanked him, took her luggage, and led her brothers up to their rooms. After a brief debate, Malik convinced Isis to take her own room and not to feel bad that he and Rishid would be sharing. They had two beds, after all.
The three of them fell asleep after lying awake for another half hour listening to the others breathe.
Malik woke around noon. Rishid was gone, his bed neatly made with a note on the pillow explaining that Isis had gone to work and needed Rishid to carry things for her. The key to the hotel room was on the table, he could reach Isis at such and such phone number, money for breakfast or entertainment was on the television.
Malik swallowed hard, his eyes burning with frightened tears as he stared at the carefully locked metal door. To reassure himself, he opened, shut, locked, and opened it several times. When the irrational association of this comfortable room to his cell in the hospital was sorted out, he laughed and locked it again. Certainly no one could get in unless he let them.
Finally, just because he could, he went to take a shower. After scrubbing with the sample sized, foul-smelling soaps, he decided to go out. The Pharaoh and Ryou were in school, so there was no real danger of running into them.
Malik had hardly walked an entire block when black spots began floating in his vision. He placed his hand on the rough, warm bricks of a beauty supply shop and waited to catch his breath.
"...So you mean this color is different than your old one?" An incredulous, all too familiar voice exclaimed from the shop's exit. Raising his eyes, he found...Joey. Being smacked by Mai Kujaku with a bag of cosmetics.
Malik's hand clenched, dragging his fingernails across the bricks. 'Nowhere to go, nowhere to go...' the thought chanted, over and over.
"Hey, you okay-" Joey's concerned voice trailed off when he realized who the pitiful form in front of him was. "Ishtar. You're a wreck."
Malik's mouth stuck on any sort of retort, so he just murmured a "Thanks" and flinched at how weak it sounded. His vision had cleared enough that he stopped leaning on the wall.
Mai just stared at him cooly, unwilling to react outwardly to the shock of seeing the Egyptian youth again. Her voice was calm, chilling almost, when she said, "Why the hell are you back here?"
Malik's eyes moved frantically from one to the other until he felt dizzy.
"Well?" Joey demanded, advancing on him.
"My sister brought me. She's working here."
Mai shrugged, put her lipstick in her bag and turned. "Leave him alone, Joseph. Let's go." When there was no reply, she tossed a contemptuous glare at Malik. "Look at him. It's not worth the time."
Joey snorted and went back to her. "No kidding." They quickly went back to their banter.
Malik darted into the store; the string of brass bells slapped so hard against the glass door he was worried it would break.
A dainty, trendy girl looked up at him and smiled. "Can I help you?"
"Uhm..." He looked around. The whole room stank of perming solution and nail polish. "I need eye liner and shampoo." He wouldn't be able to get kohl here; might as well settle for something else.
"Our make-up is over on that wall, and hair products are in that aisle. If you need anything, just ask."
Malik touched the money stuffed in his pocket idly as he walked. The assortment of colors sparked his imagination-something Malik had feared his yami had taken forever. He found an almost kohl-colored pencil and took it, but his eyes lingered on the metallic colors above it. After a second, he picked up a pale blue pencil and turned to the shampoo aisle.
He spent almost two hours comparing the differences between Biolage and Paul Mitchell, not because he was the least bit interested, but the monotony was soothing and it made him forget about his encounter with Mai and Joey.
The chemical smell had faded, or else he was getting used to it. By now he was the only customer, and the cashier seemed happy to ignore him and go about restocking the shelves. Isis or Rishid, if they were worried, might realize he'd be here and come to get him, but if not....
A smile tugged at his mouth and he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. No one knew where exactly to find him, and he didn't want anyone to. He thought of laughing or hiding, or just living here forever. It could be possible. When other customers came in, he could just duck into the back room.
"Hey, are you finding everything ok?" Blinking at the cashier, Malik nodded. The absurd fantasy vanished.
Carelessly he gathered up shampoo and conditioner and carried his selections to the checkout counter. It had been ridiculous, anyway. He had no reason at all to hide from those close to him. Not having a reason, however, didn't mean that he didn't want to hide here.
With what money he had left, he set off to find food. A large café, still full of the rich smell of coffee from a busy breakfast shift, screamed for his attention.
He took a seat, ate a "Vegetarian Special" sandwich, and then stared across the street as he drank water and waited for his check. There was something eerily familiar about the place across the street. It sold hamburgers, which explained why he hadn't gone there.
He paid for his half-eaten lunch and walked out, still staring at the gaudy hamburger restaurant. Then it came to him: Anzu. Anzu worked there.
"Malik!" It was easy to recognize Yugi's voice, be he dreaded turning because he suspected the other teen wasn't alone.
He was grateful to find his suspicion was wrong. "Hello, Yugi. Out for a walk?"
"I'm going to see Anzu at work. I thought you would have gone with Isis."
Malik shook his head. "I don't find the museum all that interesting. Besides, she wouldn't want me underfoot."
"Well, you're welcome to come with me, if you want." Yugi motioned to the restaurant entrance.
"Oh. No, that's ok." Malik felt as if his feet had sunk into the pavement. The Pharaoh's vessel was kind, forgiving.... He desperately craved being around those qualities. Yugi's apparent forgiveness of all that Malik had done to him over the past year was an offering of hope, of love, to one who had been swallowed up by hatred. It was an answer to prayers Malik hadn't even known he'd made.
Anzu, however, had no reason to forget. He hadn't offered allegiance to her.
As if to solidify the decision Malik was struggling to make, the door slid open and then shut. A powerful scent of char-broiled hamburger meat washed over Yugi and Malik, tantalizing one and nauseating the other.
With an expression of finality, Malik shook his head. "I just had lunch." Yugi's large eyes didn't falter. Malik wasn't sure if the smaller boy was expecting an explanation, or just worried.
Malik was keenly aware of his own hollow cheeks, the shadows under glossy eyes, the way his clothes hung off of him no matter how tightly he cinched his belt. Anxiety and shame quickened his heart painfully, forcing him to gasp in response.
Yugi called his name; reflexively, Malik tried to shake off his concern. His thoughts swam with the movement; dark spots covered his vision again, like the earth refilling a grave, and he fell heavily against the side of the Burger Palooza. Though unconsciousness never came, his sight faded from hazy twilight to solid black, then back again.
He felt himself being lifted by two sets of arms. A door opened, warmth and the sizzling of hamburgers spilled out and swallowed him up as he was carried inside. There were gasps and curious murmurs; a baby began to shriek, but its mother ignored it.
Anzu's voice: "Bring him over here, guys. Into the break room."
"Should we call an ambulance?" That was Yugi.
"No!" Malik struggled against the blackness, against the men holding him, but most of all against being put back in a hospital. Twilighted vision; Malik tried to force himself to see clearly, and the room throbbed.
"No," he said again, sitting up despite the startled protests and hovering hands. Yugi's face slowly gained color, and gradually the dim tunnel vision broadened out. "I'm not hurt."
"What are you, then?" Anzu asked drily, before turning to empty out the break room.
"Are you sure? You should really go see a doctor." A man with graying red hair spoke, crouched in front of the sofa Malik was laid on. He was actively ignoring Anzu's claims that there was nothing to see.
Rancor became a taste in Malik's mouth. "I have," he growled. "I just got here from the hospital." He swung his feet over the side of the cushions and braced himself to stand. Yugi's hands pushed him back. Unwilling to physically resist, Malik cried, "I'll be fine. I just spent too much time in the sun."
The crowd was reluctant to give up on the excitement. They grumbled and gathered at the door until Anzu picked up the phone to make good on her threat of sending for police.
"Thanks." Malik murmured when he, Yugi, and Anzu were alone in the room.
The brunette tilted her head at him. "Yeah. I'm sure you'd do the same for us." Malik frowned, unable to read if she were being sarcastic or not.
"Do you feel up to a glass of water?" She continued, before he could puzzle out the meaning behind her words. "If you have heatstroke, you should get some fluids in you." But yet again, before he could answer she spoke. "Don't be macho. I'm not going to give you a choice, Nam-uh. Malik." Then she was gone.
Yugi smiled. "She's like that. It's best not to argue with her."
Malik nodded, toying with a bit of loose thread on the cushion. Yugi sat down next to him. "What happened to your motorcycle?"
"I had to leave it here. It's a lot more expensive to travel legally than I thought it would be. We couldn't afford to take it with us." He looked down at Yugi. "Why? Are you wanting to go for a ride?"
Yugi just smiled.
Pea gravel crunched under Malik's and Yugi's feet. Armored Storage facility was the smallest group of storage sheds in or around domino; possibly even all of Japan. They hadn't bothered with asphalt for their driveway, either.
Malik had confided on the bus ride over that he had only paid ten dollars every eight weeks to keep his bike here, and had doubts that it was still safe. Sixty dollars a year didn't buy much insurance. But aside from a layer of dust, the motorcycle was exactly as it had been left.
Malik's eyes lit with excitement when the tin door was pushed open, allowing afternoon sunlight to fall on his beloved machine.
Yugi helped him wipe it clean and buff it with lambskin cloths, unable to hide his grin at Malik's childlike eagerness. The tall blond would murmur appreciatively in that Ishtar-blend of Arabic and Egyptian, as if Yugi weren't there, or perhaps he just didn't know he was doing it.
Not perturbed at being left out of the "conversation", Yugi asked, "Is it clean yet?"
Malik rubbed one final dust spot out of it and nodded, smiling as if he'd found a lost friend. "Do you want to come with? I could drop you off at your home." His voice was just barely above a whisper, more accented than Yugi had ever heard it, and gentle as kidskin gloves on crystal.
"I'd love to go with," Yugi answered, trying to keep his voice soft and reverent as Malik's. Everyone had their eccentricities; if his could be cards, then certainly Malik could have an affinity for motorbikes.
There was never such a feeling of peace for Malik as when there was wind brushing through his hair, the soft movements of a powerful machine underneath him, the road and gravel falling away to dust and sunlight.
He was fighting the grin threatening to appear on his face so hard he actually shivered. When he urged the bike to go faster, Yugi tightened his already tense hold around Malik's waist, and the Egyptian reluctantly slowed back to the speed limit.
"Your house is a few blocks from here?" He asked over his shoulder.
Yugi nodded, realized Malik probably couldn't see him nodding, and hollered, "Yes! It's just off of Main Street!"
Malik slowed gradually as they arrived, enjoying how responsive his bike was to his every whim. "We're here," he said above the rumble of the engine.
Yugi climbed off and gave Malik back his helmet. "Thank you, Malik. I'll see you later."
Malik nodded, wondering if going for that ride with Yugi counted as a gesture of friendship. It was just as likely Yugi would only take it as a favor; his cheerful face hadn't given him any hints either way.
But enough of that. Socializing took a back seat for now. He had a motorcycle to ride.