It went by so quickly, my friends. So quickly. Sadly, this is the last chapter of this story. I've been toying with the idea of having a sequel, but I'm not sure yet. You'll have to let me know what you think of this chapter. OHH! The possibilities! So many different ways I could go with this one.

Well, on with the chapter, and I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

Slinking in the shadows somehow felt like the right thing to do, though Nekomi didn't know why. She also didn't understand where she was or why she felt that the folded piece of paper in her hand was so important. The rough baggy shirt clung around her, making her feel poor and dirty, as if the oversized white garment was all she could afford.

She made her way to a door, unmet by any passersby as of yet. There were no windows, and the corridor seemed foreboding. Nekomi crept along, her pace unsteady and movement restricted by the pain spreading through her body.

The door led to a dirty allyway where she found a pile of clothes that fit her. Dressed, Nekomi made her way back to the headquarters where she was positive Malik would be waiting for her.

A chill rushed through her, making her glance back. She was sure that someone was following her, and quickened her pace against the protest of her aching limbs. At last she made it to the back door that led expressly to her room.

It was virtually untouched since last she had left it, though the bed had been made. A few dresses were scattered about the floor, a suit case lay half packed close to the foot of the bed. Beside it was a home pregnancy test that she must have bought earlier, though didn't remember ever seeing before. She took it to the bathroom, purely out of curiosity and followed the instructions on the package.

Now it would take several minutes to desplay the results. Enough time to tidy up the mess in her room.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Hazime entered saying "-till maybe there's something that can help us track-." He fell silent upon seeing his mistress, tears of joy and relief coming, unwanted and unbidden to his eyes.

Malik nearly ran over Hazime in his haste to reach Nekomi. He took her into his arms and motioned for Hazime to leave them alone. The door was shut softly. "What happened? Are you alright? Where were you? if that... if he hurt you I'll kill him. Are you okay?" Malik's flood of questions overpowered her, his arms clutching her against him. She felt warm and at peace, though winced as some of the more painful bruises were touched.

Malik pulled away, a question in his eyes. He gently rolled up one of her long sleeves, revealing several of her handsomely colored bruises.

"I'm alright," she protested, covering her arm once more.

"What did he do to you?" He whispered, pulling her back into a much more gentle embrace. He hugged her to his chest, vowing to never let her out of his sights again. She surrendered to him, letting him whisper sweet nothings into her ear and relaxing under his comforting hand.

"Come," she said after a few long moments. "I'm fine now, but this room is a mess..."

Nekomi shuffled around the room, organizing the disarray that had spread. True to his word, Malik never took his gaze off her. He noted with a critical eye that her movemnts were stiff and forced. She had been beaten, badly, and was refusing to talk about it. Probably for some stupid reason like not wanting to upset him. Of course he was upset! She had worried him half to death and then came home, two days later, bruised and silent about the whole ordeal.

When she struggled to lift a heavy basket, his hands steadied her. Rather than being grateful, she turned on him and voiced her outrage. "I am not some delicate woman to be looked after. I-I-." Nekomi dissolved into tears as her the rough, carefree front she worked hard to keep up crumbled around her, leaving her emotionally exhausted.

She sank to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably, not understanding all she had been through, but feeling the weight of the unknown heavy upon her. The paper that had been stuffed hastily in pocket after finding the grubby clothes crumpled as Malik pulled her towards him.

"What's that?"

She handed it to him, unaware of what it contained and told of. "It must have been in here from something before."

Malik stared, open mouthed at the slightly crumpled piece of paper, "It's in your hand writting! What is this?"

Nekomi looked up from her position in his lap and read part of the letter. "I... I don't know. I don't understand. Is this some kind of joke?" The paper told of things that couldn't possibly have happened. Told of incidents that if they had happened, she would have remembered. But there was truth in the paper. She and Malik had... but what was this about Seto? And how did the writter of the paper know where she was at that time? and where had the clothes come from? Why had she needed them?

There was a blurry gap in her memory that couldn't be explained in any other way than what was written in her hand writting, addressed to her.

She traced the outline of a bruise on her arm with a delicate finger. And saw a flash of a hand coming down on her. Was she remembering? Then it was gone. Nekomi concentrated on trying to think back over the past few days. Her thoughts glossed over the past two days and remembered in vivid detail the comings and goings of the few days before. She remembered Yugi and Ki... and everything.

Nekomi wanted to scream. What was going on?

Her head pounded furiously. Malik was re-reading the letter, a ghostly look on his face. His arm seemed to tighten around her as he set the paper aside. "I love you," tears filled his eyes... or was it a trick of the light?

"Would you get me an advil?" The headache wouldn't go away. He got up reluctantly and hurried to the bathroom.

Flash- Seto, a look of anger on his face- his face controted with rage- things were beginning to come. Bits and pieces. Fragments of horrors she now had to live again, as if for the first time. She re-witnessed what she had described. Each bruise ached anew as she watched and remembered. "Ma-Malik?"

He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Instead of advil, he carried the test she had taken minutes before. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and handed it to her. A purple line ran through the indicator.

Their eyes met. "Does purple... ?" Black claws striped across her vision. Purple. Her eyes closed. Purple. How could- purple? He caught her before she hit the ground and laid her gently on the bed before kissing her eyelids.

"I will always be there to love you."