Title: Colors of the Soul
Author: Crimson Eyed Dragon
Pairing: Mentions of Marik/Yami
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, mentions of rape
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh

Summary: It's been three years since anyone has seen Yami and when the Kaibas' find him, even Seto's best efforts to heal this broken spirit may not be enough.

Status: 2/6

Dragon: All the color meanings seen from now on out are correct. I researched them on various sites, finding the meanings I needed to fit with the story. And thank you so much for the reviews!

Chapter 2

Mokuba paced the floor of his dorm room, slowly wearing a hole in the already flat dark green carpet. One hand continued to tug on the low ponytail that he had pulled his raven colored hair into when had stepped out of the shower. His other hand absentmindedly rubbed his dark blue gym shorts covered thigh, as if trying to wipe off something sticky and irritating. He couldn't believe he had seen Yami earlier today and at a psychiatric ward at that. Of all the places they had looked for him that wasn't one of them.

It was hard to believe that Yami had been diagnosed with PTSD with depression. That was something he would have never thought he would have ever heard said about the confident, proud person he once knew. No, this Yami was anything but. Now he just had to figure out what happened to cause it.

He never had time to ask those questions after today's session. Everything had become chaotic at one point causing Dr. Hodge to immediately leave after it was over. And Yami wasn't in any condition to talk to him he soon realized. The only words he seemed to respond with were various colors in some order that had him completely baffled.

The only thing that the doctor did offer was that Yami seemed to have changed his normal color routine to include 'yellow' at the end, something she said he had never done before today. It all confused him and left a deep feeling of worry for the friend and cousin he once knew.

There was such a lost look in his eyes. Like a deep loneliness that he couldn't explain or touch. Not to mention the lifelessness that seemed to radiate around the crimson-eyed male. It was as if his whole world was invisible at that moment to everyone but him. He was withdrawn, curled into himself – a thin shell of what he used to be.

He needed answers; he needed information – not only about his mental condition but also about what had happened to Yami several years ago to bring him to this state. And like his brother, he wouldn't stop until he got the answers he was seeking.

He stopped his pacing with one final tug on his hair and walked over to the small wooden desk in the corner of his room and flipped open his laptop. While his and Seto's search through police and hospital records had turned up nothing, he could still learn as much as he could about Yami's condition until he was able to speak to Yami's doctor in the morning. Anything he could find out would be a big help when he finally got a chance to speak to the male in question. Last thing he wanted was to accidentally do something to set him off.

Mokuba glanced over to his cellphone that lay at the edge of the wooden surface as he scratched a particular itch on his right forearm. He contemplated calling Seto to tell him that he had found Yami after all these years but then, knowing his brother, Seto would demand details – details he didn't have yet. So with that thought in mind, he turned his gaze from the phone back to the computer screen and began typing in what he needed information on. After all, he would have his answers tomorrow, and then he could call Seto.

Once warm gray eyes were now more like hard, unbending steel as Mokuba walked into the Home the next morning. He was determined to get all the answers to his questions. His sneakers squeaked as he stepped along the newly waxed white tiled floor, making his way towards Dr. Hodge's office where he had been told to meet her.

His face showed signs of a sleepless night. Small dark circles under his aged, slanted eyes and his lips in a thin line made him look more like his brother than any other time. His dreams – or rather nightmares – were plagued with visions of what might have occurred three years ago to leave Yami in this state of mind and his small friend and once hero eternally sleeping in the Domino Cemetery back in Japan.

Upon reaching the doctor's door, Mokuba took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to relive some of the tension he was feeling. Rolling his shoulders back to straighten his back, he knocked on her door and tried to smile kindly when it opened up revealing the doctor.

"Hello Mokuba. Please come in. We'll be visiting our patient shortly."

With a curt not of his head, the younger Kaiba follower her further into her office, not really glancing around at the pristine surroundings as he passed the black leather sofa and took a seat in the chair in front of her desk.

Standing behind it, Dr. Hodge smiled gently at the student. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to ask you if you had any questions about the group session yesterday."

"Actually, I do have some questions but they are about one of the patients, not about what happened."

Nodding her head, she sat quietly in her chair, her hands neatly folded together. "You do know that everything that I tell you must not be repeated outside this office?"

"Yeah." Too bad he had no intentions of keeping his mouth shut. Yami was like family to them – missing family - and Kaibas never turn their backs on loved ones.

"Okay then. Who would you like to know about?"

"Yami." He began, making sure that his voice portrayed his curiosity only on a professional level. "Yesterday he only spoke in colors. According to everything that I know about PTSD, a total retardation of the mind is not part of the symptoms."

The woman sighed, hands unclasping to fumble through various files till she came across one rather thick one and handed it over to him. "You're correct. While Yami does have PTSD with depression, it's not his main problem. To tell you the truth, nothing seems to fit him. Sleeping disorders, eating disorders, panic attacks, depression, PTSD, mental retardation, speaking only in colors, and in the three years he's been here, he's only made two milestones.

"When he first came here, he only spoke in Japanese. We had no clue as to what he was saying until one of the nurses translated it for us. For six months he only spoke that language. Then suddenly, he began to speak in English. Nothing changed again till about eight months later when he started giving people names in colors instead of just chanting them over and over again."

She chuckled a little, "He calls me 'Aqua'. And at first, I took in all in stride, letting him have his comfort zone until I noticed that he seemed to state certain colors at certain times like when he was upset or looking at things. During his panic attacks, he'll repeat the same mantra of black, gray, red, brown, and white over and over again. So I got curious and one night I sat down and looked up the colors he was referring too.

"Yami is by no means unintelligent as I found out. There is meaning behind every color he uses, and when you know that, you can understand him. Did you know that the color aqua can by associated with emotional healing which is part of what I do?"

Mokuba absorbed all this information, trying not to snap at the lady and tell her that Yami had never been stupid and that she was a moron for even thinking that he was. "What about the other colors? The ones he keeps repeating?"

She pointed to the still unopened file in Mokuba's hands. "In there is an extra copy of the various colors he uses and their meanings. I make all the aids and nurses that work with him memorize it so feel free to take one and use it while you are here."

Mokuba nodded his head but didn't bother to look for the sheet just yet. He still had a few more questions. "You said yesterday that he added 'yellow' to his normal routine but you didn't explain why."

"I believe 'yellow' is the name he gave you."

"Yellow?" he murmured to himself. It seemed strange that he would be labeled with such a bright color. "Do you know what caused him to get like this?"

"According to the limited court and hospital reports, Yami was in a homosexual relationship and was a victim of domestic abuse. Not only was he emotionally abused but physically also." Mokuba could feel the bile beginning to rise in his throat as his heart began to clinch tightly. "There was evidence that this had been going on for months, maybe even years before it ended – sexually and physically assaulted. He had infected cuts and bite marks on him when the police found him. Some of the pictures they took for evidence are in that file also."

Even though he wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as his brother was, Mokuba willed himself to remain passive about the information in front of the doctor. But as his fingers began to dreaded task of opening up the innocent looking plain manila folder, he realized that is efforts weren't as good as he hoped. His movements were jerky, his fingers twitching as he flipped it open.

God, how could this have happened to someone he knew and loved like a brother? How could someone have done such horrible things to Yami of all people? And how come no one had tried to stop it before it left him in such a state? How come he had never seen it either?

"Heartbreaking isn't it?"

He looked up, stunned that she had noticed.

"His case." She stated, pointing to the now open file. "The first few cases affect you more. But over time, you almost become numb to it. Anyways," she stood up and walked towards the door. "I'll leave you here to look at that for a few minutes. I'm going to go get Yami now, then I'll come back to get you before we leave."

"Excuse me, we're leaving? Yami's our patient?"

"Yes to both. Yami is scheduled for his exposure therapy today. And since nothing has worked so far, we are going to try the next step and take him back to the scene of the crime."

Mokuba was too shocked to say anything but figured he must not have shown it on his face or she didn't care because Dr. Hodge just walked out the door without a second glance. Closing his eyes, he sank back into the chair. He was going to go to where Yami had lived? And worse yet, Yami was going to have to revisit a place that would obviously hold bad memories for him. He honestly didn't think his friend could handle that again. And he wasn't even sure he could handle it himself.

Knowing that he only had a few minutes before she came back, he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, opened his eyes and began to look at the file in his lap. The first page was one of those copies the doctor had talked about so he pulled it out and placed on top of her desk. The next page was the patient profile sheet.

Name: Atemu Yami Ishtar
Age: 25
Parents: Deceased – no living relatives

Well that explained one of the reasons they'd had such a hard time finding him. Yami had never gone by the name of Atemu or Ishtar – it had always been Mutou. And well, yes, Yami's parents were dead –had been for over three thousand years – but the 'no living relatives' part was false. He had a grandfather. But then again, Jou did say that Mr. Mutou told them that he had no other grandson other than Yugi.

Anger replaced the sick feeling in his stomach. Had Mr. Mutou known about Yami's condition and yet still denied him when he was needed the most? He must have seen the marks, the evidence or did he just turn his back without even bothering to at least check on him? Whatever it was, it still wasn't right in Mokuba's eyes.

He flipped to the next page and instantly one of his hands flew to his mouth, muffling the gasp he knew he would emit at the horrible pictures he saw paper clipped to the page.

Three pictures from different angles showed black eyes, bite marks on his shoulders and neck, various cuts – one in particular looked like some form of hieroglyphs carved on his left pectoral muscle above his nipple. They were angry, red, raw looking – clear signs that they were infected. But the completely soulless, lifeless look in Yami's eyes was what made Mokuba want to cry for the first time in years.

Unable to look at them any longer, he turned the page and began reading what looked like a court report ordering a year of psychiatric therapy.

"Are you ready?"

Mokuba jumped slightly as Dr. Hodge's voice rang through the room. Nodding his head, he closed the file, placed it on her desk and picked up the color sheet. When he turned around, he had to force himself not to stop and stare at Yami, who was currently standing behind the doctor.

He was once again dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeved T-shirt but instead of gray like last time, it was black. Mokuba guessed now that it was to cover up the scars on his body, something a lot of victims did to hide the harsh truth of their lives. He gave Yami a brief, yet gentle smile, as he walked out of the room and followed behind the other two. He hated seeing Yami walk with his head down, shoulders slumped, feet dragging the ground. He hated everything period for neither of them should be doing this right now.

Silently, the three made their way down to the unmarked van that was sitting outside of the main entrance to the Home. Climbing up into the front passenger seat, Mokuba turned back to help Yami with his seat belt only to raise an eyebrow when he saw it was already clicked in place.

"He's not totally incompetent as his mental status would have you believe." Dr. Hodge replied as she got in and started up the van. "He dresses himself, takes his own showers, feeds himself, etc. That's another confusing part about him. He totally functions in life normally except for his speech and thought patterns. If he had family, I wouldn't hesitate to send him to them. He would be much better off around people that loved him, not just help take care of him."

Well that was good to know. Makes things easier on them when they were ready to get him out of here. With one last glance at Yami, who was now staring out the window, he turned to look at the doctor. "In the files, it said that a court ordered him here for only a year. Now I assume that since he has no family that he just stayed here under the state's control after the year was up. But why was the court, of all places, ordering it and not the hospital?"

Pulling the van out of the driveway, she nodded her head, "You're correct but as for your question, he went to trial. You see, he killed his abusive boyfriend and it had to be proven that it was self-defense."

"He killed him?"

"Gray plus black equals red. Black minus white is invisible."

The voice was low and deep but barely above a whisper and yet Mokuba heard them as if they had been shouted off a cliff to echo repeatedly in a valley below. Eyes wide, he turned his head to look at Yami who was staring at him…with absolutely no expression or emotion whatsoever. It was eerie to see him when he looked like that – his black hair and red eyes – a hollow, haunted soul.

He gulped, not looking at the doctor since Yami hadn't stop looking at him. "What does he mean by that?"

"That is still a mystery. We can't figure what he means, Mokuba."

"Yellow."

Dr. Hodge smiled as she took her eyes off the road to glance in the rearview mirror at Yami, who had yet still not taken his eyes off the young man. "That's right, Yami. Mokuba is Yellow."

With a curt nod of his head, as if he was satisfied that he had been understood and taken seriously, Yami finally looked away and back out the window, allowing Mokuba to tear his own gaze away and look at the paper still in his hands. His gray eyes scanned the page until it fell onto the color he was searching for.

Yellow – Joy, happiness, intellect, energy.

He blinked in confusion till it clicked in his mind why Yami was insisting that was his color. Last time they saw each other, he was still basically a kid and a hyperactive one at that. Of course Yami would be drawing on some type of memory, if not then he once spirit still had that amazing ability to see into people's souls even if that was nearly damn impossible since all of his powers had been stripped away when he received his own body.

But then, some people did show signs of being able to read people, to know a person almost inside and out even if they had just met. A great judge of character most people called it. The same could hold true for Yami even in his current state of mind.

Nothing more of any importance was said as they drove through the California traffic. Idle chitchat about Japan and her family was passed back and forth all the while Mokuba noticed that Yami never once looked away from the window or uttered another word.

Soon the younger Kaiba noticed that they had left the 'better' part of the city and was now heading towards the more rundown, remote area of San Francisco. He watched the buildings and houses whip by with a foreboding sense of dread.

"What are we going to do once we get here?"

Dr. Hodge turned the van down another street. "Nothing really. I want to see if just seeing this place will bring out any memory, emotion or noticeable change in him. If it does, then we are on the right track, if it doesn't then we may have to push him a bit by bring up things that could have happened to him."

"So basically, you want him to force himself to deal with something that was so sever that it caused him to become this way and hope that it has a positive outcome?"

"Yes."

"And if it has a negative one?"

"Exposure therapy has proven very affective with patience suffering from PTSD."

"But didn't you also say that PTSD wasn't his only problem? And if what you said is true, then this could very well have negative results." His voice had a steely edge to it as he spoke. The more and more he heard, the more and more he was beginning to dislike the 'supposed' proven methods these people were using on Yami.

Yami didn't deserve any of this.

She didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride and whether that was from her own doubts or the way he was rebuking her knowledge and abilities, he had no clue nor did he care. All that mattered now was that he had to be there for Yami and that they needed to get him out of this place as soon as possible and back home in Japan where he belonged.

As soon as the van stopped and the doctor cut the engine, Mokuba glanced back to Yami and immediately narrowed his eyes. Yami was staring out the window, crimson eyes trained steadily on one of the houses and his right hand crept under the neck of his shirt and was rubbing the skin over and over again in the same spot and if Mokuba remembered correctly, that was where the infected bite mark had been.

So it begins.

Dr. Hodge opened her driver's side door and stepped out, Mokuba doing the same before he opened the side door, letting it slide all the way back. "Come on Yami, let's go." His heart screamed at him to stop this, to demand that they leave Yami alone and get away from here. But at the same time, a morbid curiosity from his mind wanted too see how this played out, to see how Yami would react to all of this.

With slow methodical movements, Yami made his way out of the van, placing his black sneaker covered feet onto the dark, cracked asphalt. His eyes held a bit of wariness in them as he stared at the house in front of them and across the street. It was easy for Mokuba to pick out which house had been his, with the bordered up windows and the yellow 'condemned' paper posted on the front door. The place was a dump plain and simple.

"Do you recognize this place Yami?" Dr. Hodge asked finally, gaining Mokuba's attention.

But the crimson-eyed male never answered her. He just stood there, back stiff and tight, eyes wide and unblinking while the hand that was still on the bite mark began to rub harder, faster on the scared flesh, till his fingers curled and began to scratch the skin under the shirt.

"Black."

Gray and brown eyes looked at Yami when he spoke, carefully observing him for any signs that he would bolt if the strain became too much. The scratching intensified making Mokuba wonder just how much damage he was doing to himself.

"Gray."

He mentally kicked himself for leaving that color sheet in the van, he would have loved to try to figure out what Yami might be referring to at this time but he was reluctant to leave the other's side.

Suddenly, Yami jerked, his hand going still, eyes snapped closed, his breathing becoming erratic. Mokuba made a move to go to Yami, to see if he could sooth the panicking soul but a hand on his arm stopped him. He narrowed his eyes as Dr. Hodge shook her head.

"Leave him alone, he needs to do this." She whispered to him while adjusting something on a small recorder he just noticed for the first time.

"Don't you think that this could be…" His words were drowned out by the sound of an anguished cry. Both their heads snapped towards Yami to see him looking horrified at his right hand that was now covered in small amounts of fresh blood.

"Red, red, red, red…." The words were repeated over and over again, going from soft to loud in a matter of seconds making it all too clear to Mokuba what the word had meant all along to Yami. The smaller man began to curl into himself, taking slow, shaky steps backwards till he hit the side of the van, with a small thud, leaving him no place to escape to.

Mokuba watched, both in shock and slight awe as Yami's words became more and more jumbled, more erratic. He was frozen in place not only by the hand that still lingered on his arm but also because of his unease of the whole situation.

"Black, gray, red, red-brown, white, white-red, white-brown, black, red, black minus white, invisible, invisible, invisible…."

The words went on and on, only making sense to the one that was voicing them as Yami's body continued to curl into itself till it could do nothing more than slid dejectedly down the side of the van to curl up in a ball on the dirty asphalt.

Mokuba bit his lip, not sure what to do to not only help his friend but also not wanting to make any wrong movement that could send Yami into a state of panic so great that they might not be able to bring him out of it again. It was horrifying, intriguing, overwhelming to witness this event. But all his indecisions were taken away when he heard one word, one different word being added to the whole strange mantra…..

"Yellow."

Jerking his hand away from the doctor, Mokuba ignored her words telling him to stop and quickly walked over to the broken spirit and knelt down beside him.

"Yellow, yellow, yellow…."

He couldn't help it. Tears flowed from his eyes as he gathered up the smaller man in his arms, ignoring the sudden stiffing of the body in his arms and began to rock him back and forth whispering soothing words, drowning out the strange colored words with his own voice. Mokuba hadn't cried in years – not since Yugi's funeral - but this had to be one of the most heartbreaking sights he had ever seen and it was one he never wanted to see again. Yami wouldn't or couldn't cry but Mokuba would cry for him.

"Black minus yellow?"

Stunned at the new line, Mokuba stopped rocking Yami and looked into the same dull crimson eyes, but this time, yes this time, he could see a spark of something else in their depths. Something that hadn't been there before now.

"Black minus yellow?"

It was a question, how he knew that he didn't know for Yami's voice never changed form the monotone that he had been using but something in Mokuba's soul stirred at those words. He had no clue what Yami was trying to ask, no idea at the importance of those three little seemingly innocent words but he just knew the answer to it anyways as if his heart and soul understood the pleading the wounded spirit in his arms was emitting.

"Black minus yellow?"

Drawing Yami once again closer to him, he ran a hand through strange black locks and smiled through his tears. He knew this answer, his heart knew it long before his mind did and as he gave Yami his answer, and he finally understood that longing, that strange voice that called him to a foreign land and away from his brother….

"No, Yami. Black plus yellow."