The Game of Life
By: Rogue Fox
Part Twenty-Seven……… Better That Way
A/N: I'm ba-ack! And I can't concentrate because my mother is railing me and my brothers are reading over my shoulders! Anyway, new computer, old story, definitely gonna finish. I'm thinking about going through and just totally revamping this one… Tell me what you all think. Sorry about the monstrously long wait, and if there are any Dragon Knights fans out there, go check out my fic I'm putting out in that genre. Thanks for your patience (even those of you that ruthlessly e-mailed me day after day), and let's get on with the show.
Bakura+
I thought I knew about pain. I thought I was pretty familiar with what it was like to physically cringe in suffering. I was wrong. My entire body was drenched with sweat. My throat felt like every time I swallowed, the parched flesh cracked and blood would flow. Every little muscle screamed in pain. Every beat of my heart thudded painfully in my ears, making my head feel like it was caving in like a poorly supported tomb. Every flicker of light that hit my eyes sent me reeling into the dark abyss of pain. And I loathed every breath I unwillingly drew into my lungs, which screamed as painfully as everything else, for the life it flooded into my blood. I would have given any treasure I'd ever hauled from any tomb to die right then.
But then……… That would have defeated the entire purpose.
I gripped the sheets, trying in vain to ignore the waves of pain that crushed down on me relentlessly. Vague images of my past flashed before my eyes. Images of enemies, images of friends……… And two images that popped up repeatedly. An image of my mother, and another of my Princess Isis. The only two women that had ever held such importance in my life.
I flinched as something cool touched my forehead, cool and soft and wet. My hand shot up out of reflex and snagged the wrist of the person touching the wet cloth to my fevered forehead. The touch was all I needed. There was no malice in that hand. Only deep love and gentle caring, reminiscent of my mother, but not.
Is it that intense, tomb robber, that you would strike at the hand that bore you to safety? a deep, rumbling voice teased at my consciousness in Egyptian. Have you never been told not to bite the hand that feeds you? Don't hurt the hand that loves you, fool. Ishtar continued. I felt my lips curl into a snarl at him, though I would not open my eyes to see him.
" Don't nag at him, friend." A physical voice scolded, also in Egyptian. My head turned automatically to the sound of the Princess's voice.
Only noting his behavior. Ishtar mumbled, thoroughly chastened.
Go note someone else's behavior. I snapped mentally. Ishtar snorted.
Why? You are, by far, the most interesting subject present. I have never witnessed a body enduring alcohol withdrawal. he said. I growled, but it made my throat hurt.
" Enough. Ishtar, go see about some soup for him. Now." The Princess cut in. I felt Ishtar's compliance, but helplessness as well. Without simple and precise instructions, his physical body would simply continue doing what it was previously doing. I felt sorry for him. A man broken and unable to do anything, even speak, the way he wants to. He could only think so that we could understand him, and even then, Malik was still better at it than us. The Princess sighed and proceeded to give the simple and precise instructions to Ishtar. His body moved loosely to obey, like a drone or a mindless zombie. The only clue to the man trapped within was the dull light in his eyes, almost pupil-less, as though he was constantly peering into a perpetual, unbearably bright light. My own pupils were similarly small, smaller than usual because of the withdrawal symptoms, as where the Pharaoh's and his sister's.
" He used to be so intelligent." Isis moaned softly, wiping the sweat from my brow with that wonderfully cool cloth.
The poison scarred us all. I thought at her, unwilling to attempt physical speech.
" He makes me remember it more clearly." She told me, shuddering.
Not intentionally. I said. I'd snapped at him only moments before, but being one of my oldest and most trusted friends in this age, I was eager to defend him.
" Of course not." My Princess said hurriedly. " Yuki looks in his eyes and she sees right past every defense he's set up, just like she does with all of us. And whatever she sees there saddens her deeply. But her sadness is cleansing." She noted.
She becomes more like a deity with every day that passes. I said. Damn, I need something to drink. Give me some water, love. I muttered. She was quick to comply, and I couldn't restrain my joy when she didn't rebuke me for calling her "love." I even managed a physical smile.
" Not too fast." She warned me as I gulped greedily from the glass she offered. The water was cool and soothed my fevered insides. " She told me that she's not a goddess, just a human doing the best she can." She told me.
" Her best surpasses anything any other human can do." I said, venturing to speak physically. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. Princess smiled down at me as I opened my eyes to observe her.
" What's the fate of my little one?" she wondered sadly. " I grow stronger every day while she withers away, growing fat off her loss." Her voice, even filled with sorrow, was wonderfully refreshing, especially when she spoke the old tongue.
" Even light can kill." I whispered. She nodded sadly.
" But why only Yuki? Why only my child? Ryou grows stronger every day, and Malik is perfectly healthy, and Yugi looks taller every time I see him. Why does only my baby suffer?" she wondered angrily. Her anger wasn't directed at me or anyone else. But it was still there.
" I wish I could answer you, but I can't. I don't know." I told her. All I really knew was pain, anyway. I just wanted things to be like they were. I felt it as sharply as everyone else. The despair, the fear. We, even the ones we call mortals, are more in tune to the world than most people. We felt it heaving its final, desperate attempts at life. We felt the chilling claws of death closing over the world. This thing that had happened, the social workers taking the little ones, it was a sign of the beginning of the end. We all felt it. Apocalypse. Doomsday. Raganok. The end of the world.
Isis+
It was good to see the tomb robber on his feet again. He was paler than usual, gaunt, but alive. And we were grateful. We were all grateful to have that small triumph in the face of the terror that none of us dared mention to the others. Malik woke screaming in the dead of night, screaming the Egyptian word for "life." Ryou would sob in his sleep, not awakened but full of despair and sorrow. Yugi would thrash out against unseen enemies, fighting against the inevitable, as was always his wont. And Yuki……… Yuki did not sleep. She would lay awake in the night, eyes closed. She might fool some of us, but the rest of us knew. She feared the dreams that would haunt her if she dared submit to the exhaustion. And when she did, her power surged forward and scorched any near her.
Yuki was the lifeline of bravery that held us all afloat through that time of silent turmoil. We were all afraid, but Yuki still plunged into every day as bravely as ever before. She was taking on a system she protested. Somehow, it was creepy, walking into that beautiful home she shared with Seto Kaiba and not hearing the happy shrieks of children, not seeing her walk up to greet me with Charity in her arms. She made such a wonderful, devoted mother. They took away her world when they took the children of her heart away.
I sighed as Yami pulled up to the mansion. It seemed dark and unhappy. Like my mood. A gentle hand patted my shoulder, and I turned to see the Pharaoh's majestic eyes watching me sympathetically. I knew I should just get up and go in, get out of that car before I did or said something stupid, but I didn't. His eyes held me in my place.
" This bites." I said, copying a phrase I'd heard Malik use. Yami laughed softly. He had such a sad laugh. I wondered what it would be like so hear him laugh with joy and mirth, not with that strange, old sadness that seemed to cling to his features, like a man who couldn't stand to look in the mirror.
" A truly understandable expression." He admits, looking up at the mansion absently.
" He's always been a bit strange, especially since he unlocked that damn Rod, but this is too weird, even for him." I said. Yami shook his head.
" Malik is like his yami. He'll do what he pleases, when he pleases." He said quietly. It was obvious where Yuki had inherited her gentle understanding from.
" What's wrong with him? Why won't he talk to me?" I asked out loud, unable to keep my lip from trembling, try as I might.
" Some things……… are hard to say." The Pharaoh muttered, turning away from me for a second. When he turned back, his eyes were as hard, cold and smoothly beautiful as twin marbles set against the creamy soft gold of his skin and framed my his golden bangs that tumbled around his face. I remembered the majestic king from my visions of the past, and I realized that his eyes had not always been so cold and hard. Like the man I was seeing only seconds before, he had once had kind and caring eyes. But there had always been the taint of sadness in his visage, a deep sadness he carried deep within his heart.
" We should go in." he told me, opening the driver's side door and sliding out of the car. I followed suit.
" I don't want to make Yuki worry." I said doubtfully.
" He won't talk to you or his own yami, he doesn't trust me or Yugi, and I don't think he knows anyone else well enough." The Pharaoh told me softly. " It's the fact that he won't even see Ryou that worries me most." He muttered absently.
" He always tells Ryou everything. He trusts Ryou." I agreed. More than me, I added silently, feeling the familiar twinge of jealousy.
" Yuki's just the best choice. People like to talk to her. She makes them feel loved and trusted and appreciated. It's a talent of hers." Yami said, walking briskly up the stairs to the front door.
" Pharaoh?" I called after him. His shoulders tensed as he turned back to me, his eyes flashing oddly.
" Please, call me Yami." He said.
" Yami." I repeated softly. " Why do you care? Not even a year ago you would have slit Malik's throat rather than look at him." I asked. For a long moment, the Pharaoh I used to see in my dreams didn't respond. He stood there, considering his answer. He was darkly alluring and handsome, a trademark of his kind. He was dressed in black leather that showed his physique off attractively, and his dark, serious face was so majestic and……… well, kingly.
" A lot can change a person in that amount of time." He said finally. Again, I could hear the taint of sadness in his voice. The loss of the children had hurt him as deeply as it hurt Yuki, but his sadness was old, too. " I don't like what Ishtar did……… I especially don't like what he wanted to do." Yami continued. " But that's not Malik's fault. I can't blame him for his yami's behavior any more than I can blame Ryou for his yami being a thief or Yuki for Himeko's bad temper, or Yugi for my faults." He said with a sad smile.
" We've all made mistakes." I said, unsure of what to do. Yami sighed.
" Mistakes………" he muttered with a sad laugh. " My whole life has been a mistake." He told me, promptly turning around and continuing up to the front door. I followed him, his words ringing painfully in my head. His life had been a mistake, my life had been a mistake. All our lives had been a mistake. A pointless, cruel, terrible mistake. A cruel joke that tore us all apart and ripped our hearts to shreds. A hoax that stole my family from me, that took my chance at a real life. A mistake that broke Ishtar, that poisoned Himeko and Yami and Bakura, that scarred Malik, hurt Ryou, slapped Yugi, and was killing Yuki. A cruel mistake.
The mansion was eerily quiet. No laughter, no screaming. Not even Otogi Ryuuji running through the living room to avoid whatever Yuki was throwing at him. Just terrible silence. Yuki appeared at the top of the stairs, coming down at a brisk pace. Sharing her brother's majestic and calm appearance, Yugi's kindness, and Himeko's bright passion, she still managed to look positive, upbeat, and a beacon of hope that – though I'd never admit it – I sorely needed to see. Besides, she had a light all her own, a feeling that was unique to her……… She made me feel happy and confident and……… hopeful. She made me feel like it would be okay.
" Good morning." She greeted us, forcing a small smile on a face that was weighed with years she hadn't earned.
" We have a small problem, Yuki." Yami said, not sparing her the niceties. Yuki sighed.
" I thought so. Your faces were so tight……… But I kind of hoped………" she muttered. I felt awful about making her worry. She had enough on her plate.
" Malik has locked himself in out apartment, and he hasn't come out for three days. He stole my key and Ishtar's, unplugged the phone, and locked all the doors. He's done this before, but never this long. I'm……… worried." I confessed. Yuki sighed again.
" I'll go tell Seto that I'm going out." She said.
Yuki+
I was a sad excuse for the girl Seto took out of Oklahoma nearly a year ago. Thin, pale, sick. But despite what Himeko thought, I wasn't weakening. Physically, my body was dying. I was aware of that. But my soul was more alive that it had ever been. I was buzzing with spiritual energy, and my skill were honed to perfection, like one of Ryou's prize culinary knives. And with that perfection came the sense of dread. I felt myself drawn away, my subconscious pulling my attention somewhere else. But there were problems to attend to. Court. But first things first. Malik was behaving oddly, and Isis had come to me for help. How could I turn them down and call myself a friend? Yami's concern surprised me, though. I didn't honestly think he cared about Malik or Ishtar or even Isis. But somehow, his concern seemed right. I smiled softly at nothing as we pulled up to the apartment complex. I wanted to know that my biggest brother would be okay after I was gone. Which would be soon. Too soon. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it. I was down to months.
" Yell if you need help." Yami told me, concern etching over his features. His sadness washed over me like a slow ocean wave. I couldn't explain it, but the emotions of those around me had become palpable to me. I could feel what everyone around me felt. Yami was always so sad………
" I'll be fine." I promised softly, smiling at Isis reassuringly. She was afraid, and her fear was twisting like a dagger in my heart. She had lost everything she cared about, and all she had left were Malik and Ishtar. She didn't want to lose either of them. I started up the stairs, ignoring the tired aching in my bones. My body was chafing under the pressure of my soul. Soon, the one would devour the other, and I would die. I'd accepted that. It was the world I was leaving behind that made me anxious. Could I leave Charity and the boys to grow up in a world like the one I lived in? Could I leave Seto alone in that world? I didn't think so. I paused at the door of the Ishtar apartment. I couldn't ignore the fact that Malik was upset about something, and I couldn't ignore the fact that I was dying, and I might be leaving the people I love in a tainted, sinful world. It filled me with such intense sadness. I knocked on the door, feeling a sudden upheaval of desperation and grief from within.
" Go away." Malik's voice growled. A frightening sound, I assure you. But I knew better than to fear Malik.
" Malik, it's me." I called.
" Go away." Malik growled again, his voice more insistent. He sounded closer.
" I'd like to talk to you." I continued.
" Why?" Malik asked, despair washing through him and over me. My own grief welled up in my throat. What was making him hurt so much?
" Because I care. Because Isis cares. Because Ishtar cares. Because we all care." I answered. I was surprised when the door swung open, revealing Malik, shirtless with dark circles under his eyes. He looked as upset as he felt. That was easier than I thought it would be, I thought. I slipped past him into the apartment before he could change his mind and slam the door closed. He closed it behind me, though, and locked it tight. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that the place was utterly spotless. Malik and his obsessive-compulsive tendencies. But the place looked like it could be an ad for Clorox. He must be really upset, I thought.
" What do you want?" Malik asked.
" To know why you've locked yourself up." I answered.
" I don't think it's any of your business." Malik told me haughtily. I smiled brightly.
" You let me in, so that says you think just the opposite." I said. Malik's well-muscled shoulders slumped in defeat and he turned his back to me. I saw, for the first time, the terrible marks all over his back. I reached out and touched the winged disc at the top, sensing the pain and the agony from deep inside his heart. His shoulders tensed again. " It hurts." I said. It wasn't a question. It was statement of a fact.
" Not so much as it used to……… Since I met Ryou and you and all the others." He told me, turning back to me. He tossed an arm over his shoulder to touch the marks himself. " But I still remember………" he mumbled. I remembered with him. The fear, the confusion, the pain………
" You were just a child." I whispered. And he was, still. At least, like one. With his innocent face and his under-developed physique. Better developed than the other guy hikaris, bigger, taller, but still so young in appearance. His difference was his pain. " What's making you remember these things?" I asked. Malik's face scrunched up in something between anger and grief.
" That's what I've been trying to figure out." He muttered, plopping down on the couch. I sat next to him. I felt a deep affection rise in his heart as I did so. " Why do you care?" he asked me.
" I don't know." I answered honestly. Malik smiled, shaking his head in amusement and tossing his bouncy platinum hair as he did so. His hair seemed to represent his natural personality, bouncy and bright and soft. Suddenly, his face turned serious.
" Yuki, can you do me a favor?" he asked.
" Of course." I agreed readily.
" This is gonna sound stupid." He warned me.
" I've heard a lot of stupid things." I reminded him with a smile.
" I guess so." He said, returning my smile. " Okay, here goes……… Can I hold you?" he asked. His face was so serious………
" Well." I said, cocking my head. " That was certainly not what I was expecting." I admitted to him.
" I completely understand if you don't want to, I mean, that was kinda out of the blue, and, well, I don't think the Pharaoh'd be very happy-" Malik babbled nervously. I managed to shut him up by putting a finger on his lips.
" Sure." I told him. " Go ahead." I think that surprised him thoroughly.
Malik's arms were like scented silk around me, light and airy and smelling of cinnamon and other exotic spices and a single scent I couldn't place……… I imagined that that was the scent of sunlight. I just lay in his arms, warm and safe and content, and he seemed content just to hold me there. We stayed there, both of us companionably silent for a while, before Malik withdrew his embrace.
" Thanks." He said, a slight blush tainting his tan features.
" Mind if I ask what that was about?" I asked.
" Well………" Malik said softly, his blush deepening. " You've got to promise not to tell anyone. Not a single soul." He told me, his expression serious.
" I promise." I said. " As long as I think it doesn't endanger anyone." I added. Malik shook his head ferociously.
" It doesn't endanger anything, aside from my ego." He told me, abashed.
" So………?" I prodded him.
" Well………" Malik repeated, looking very nervous. His anxiety made my stomach hurt. " Okay, for a while now, I've kind of had this problem……… I couldn't ever find a girl I was attracted to." He admitted.
" That's not unusual." I said. Malik frowned.
" But……… I mean……… Damn, how do I say it? Girls……… I wasn't attracted to girls. I'm not attracted to girls." He said. I was silent for a moment as this information sank in. " I kind of figured that, well, you and Himeko were the prettiest, nicest girls I knew, and if I was going to be attracted to any girl, it'd be one of you two……… And I really do love you both……… Just not like that. I don't love any girl like that." Malik suddenly spilled.
" Is there anyone you do love, like that?" I asked gently. Malik squirmed like I was ruthlessly interrogating him.
" I think so." He answered.
" But this person isn't a girl. So I assume it's a guy?" I asked.
" That's the only other option." Malik admitted, still squirming.
" Well?" I asked patiently.
" I think I'm gay." Malik said slowly. I cocked an eyebrow at him.
" That's nothing to shake a stick at. That's pretty serious. You're sure?" I asked.
" Well, the person I……… like……… is a guy………" Malik said, looking pale and sick. I thought he might faint or throw up. " I guess I could be bi……… I never thought about it, honestly." He admitted.
" Just this one person?" I asked.
" Fine. Other guys turn me on, too." Malik said quickly. I smiled.
" I'm glad you told me." I said.
" You're not disgusted?" Malik asked.
" Why would I be? It's the way you are." I said matter-of-factly.
" I don't know……… I think my yami will kill me." he admitted. I laughed.
" He won't." I promised. " Your yami is unpredictable. There's no telling how he'd react. But he won't kill you." Malik didn't reply to that. He just sort of sat there. " So……… Who is it?" I asked, grinning as close to devilishly as I'm capable of coming.
" Who is what?" Malik asked, feigning bewilderment.
" Who are you in love with?" I asked slowly. I thought Malik might pass out on me. His face had grown awfully pale, and I felt a sudden sickness develop in his stomach. " Are you alright?" I asked.
" I'm fine." Malik said, but the weakness in his voice betrayed him.
" So, who?" I pressed. Malik looked like he was going to pass out again.
" No one you'd know." He lied. I sighed.
" Liar." I said. " Truth, please."
" It's not important." Malik said.
" Try again." I told him.
" I want to be sure he feels the same before I tell anyone?" Malik attempted weakly.
" Uh-uh." I told him.
" Fine." Malik snapped, crossing his arms. I grinned triumphantly. He suddenly became very interested in the floor.
" I'm waiting………" I reminded him. Malik glared at me.
" You are so persistent!" he cried. I smiled again. " You've got to swear not to tell another soul!" I said, shaking his fist. I shrugged.
" Sure, whatever." I conceded. Malik looked sick again as he mumbled something under his breath. " I didn't catch that." I told him. He mumbled something again, a little louder. " Sorry, didn't catch that either." I apologize. Malik sighed and took a deep breath.
Ryou+
Malik is obsessive-compulsive in that he cleans. All the time. He cannot stand it when something is messy or gross and near him. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, if it needs cleaning, he will clean it. When he's upset, it's far worse. He'd rub all of Domino down with Clorox – his best friend, he swears it up and down – if someone didn't stop him.
I, on the other hand, am an odd case.
I never considered myself obsessive-compulsive. Besides, obsessive-compulsive cleaning isn't out of the ordinary of unordinary things. But obsessive-compulsive cooking? I think we have a new one for the medical books. But Ryou's not crazy, you say. I must correct this. I WAS not crazy. Heavy emphasis on "was." However, a certain aforementioned tow-headed, psychotic, idiotic Egyptian was making me so.
" Stupid idiot……… Just wait till I get my hands on him………" I grumbled to myself, stirring the makings of a casserole a little too enthusiastically. Malik Ishtar. Former homicidal maniac, neat freak to the extreme, hikari, and currently driving me bonkers. Not as though he were in the same room with me, oh no. I can handle his eccentrics when I'm standing right next to him. No, no, this was something entirely different. " Dumb psycho! How dare he go and lock himself up for three days and not say a word to me!" I cried, slamming my mixing bowl on the counter a little forcefully. I say so because it shattered into a million pieces, splattering the beginnings of casserole all over me. Now, I'm not one to curse. Never got into the habit. " Shit! Damn that dirty bastard to hell!" I screamed at no one. Oops. Spoke too soon. " Why am I even letting him get me worked up about this? Why do I care?" I wondered out loud. " Great. It's one thing to cook compulsively, but to talk to yourself? That's bad, Ryou. Worse to answer." I told myself. Said self didn't listen and kept yapping. " I mean, does he have any idea how worried I was? For all I knew he could be dead in a ditch somewhere!" I cried, attempting to pick up the shattered remains of my mixing bowl. " Ow!" I yelped as I cut myself on a shard, popping the offending finger into my mouth. " Stupid Malik!" I cried around my finger, plopping on my butt in the mess of casserole, no longer caring. I had just managed to thoroughly convince myself that this was entirely Malik's fault, and I was going to enjoy wallowing in self pity without the guilt of maybe saying something or doing something that upset Malik badly enough to lock himself up. Oops. Erase that thought, erase that thought. Too late. I promptly started bawling like a little girl. " It's not fair!" I yelled tearfully, glad no one else was in the house. " It's really not! What'd I do! Huh! Answer me!" I bellowed. All intelligent thought had ceased.
" Ryou?" A soft tenor voice asked. I yelped and jumped to my feet, wheeling around in the process. The last person I expected to see – and the last person I wanted to see right then – was standing there, giving me a rather odd stare. " Ryou, you're a mess." Malik told me, narrowing his eyes as he observed the kitchen. I could just see the compulsive gears clicking into place in his head. " Go take a shower and change into some clean clothes. I'll clean up in here." I nodded dumbly, unable to do anything aside from numbly comply.
I pulled off my messy clothes, which had splatters of all sorts of sauces and batters and a whole lot of one kind of casserole all over them, and abandoned them in the hamper. Then I retreated to the warmth and comfort of the shower. I just felt empty. I was glad I had screamed all my anger and frustration out, but I was definitely not glad Malik had walked in on the middle of it. I stood there in the shower, warm water running off of me, not willing to get out for a very long time. But eventually I did. I pulled on some clean clothes and went back downstairs into the kitchen. Malik was sitting at the table, smiling to himself like a cat that just ate his owner's beloved canary, and sipping a cup of coffee.
" Tea will be ready in a few minutes." He told me cheerfully. I was happy to hear that. I desperately needed a nice, warm, soothing cup of tea. But I was also a little baffled. Malik had never fixed me tea before. What got into him, I wondered warily. Who knew with him? I paused to look around the kitchen, which was – miraculously, cause trust me, that was one big mess – spick and span. I rolled my eyes. So that was why he was grinning like that. Malik loves nothing more than a freshly cleaned room. Malik looked up at me, those big violet eyes blinking curiously. " Expecting company?" he asked. That confused me.
" Huh?" I asked stupidly. How was it that I always managed to sound like a bumbling idiot in his presence?
" The food. You cooked enough for, like, twenty people." Malik told me, pointing to the counter. True enough, there was a lot of food. That being the understatement of all time.
" No, no one's coming over." I said. Malik blinked again.
" Then who's all the food for?" he asked.
" No one, I guess. I just……… felt like cooking." I said dumbly. That sounded stupid, even to me. Malik cocked an eyebrow and looked at the food.
" That is a lot of food." He muttered.
" Help yourself." I said, flourishing.
" Heh heh……… No, I don't think so." Malik said, smiling. " Whaddya say we call the others and tell them they can stuff their faces? You know Honda and Jou will jump on it." He said.
" Okay." I agreed. I felt better. Malik looked fine. I didn't know what his whole episode was about, but I didn't ask. And he didn't ask why he found me sitting in a mess of casserole with a bloody finger in my mouth bawling like a child. And for the moment, it was better that way.