Author's Rant: Thanks for reading! Cannot proofread until after work!

Beginning

He was on the edge of consciousness several times, slowly and wet, as though swimming through beneath an obsidian void. In sudden flashes, Yugi thought he could call forth a tiny bit of strength to open his eyes, but failed each time. He settled for the brief moments of pellucidity behind his eyelids, shadows traveling from one side to the next.

The smell of violets soothe him, but with that scent came lapses of pain. Yugi felt vulnerable to whoever it was causing him this gentle, calm agony. Their touches were apologetic towards the end. Maybe that was why he didn't feel so scared. What filled him with panic were the times the chills were eclipse his body in roaring tides. His bones quaked, his skin chapped and he couldn't move off his back. There was always a kind warmth to come later. Sometimes it was wide and cottony. Other times it was heavy, smooth and hot.

Tepid wet swathes stroked over his body in precise, limited marathons across his body. His feverish body welcomed the relaxing caresses. The violet smells roamed around him every day, returning again and again for long periods. New sensations came with the violet's arrival, such as the warm pressure against his lips and the subtle flow of cool fluids into his mouth. Light drags against his throat, massage the water down into his chest like the compress of ice.

In the darkness, he felt scared. Yugi was always falling. There was always this intense rumble and savage beat of baritone booms. The dreams were demons, constantly pulling at his arms and legs, bringing him down and down with them into an eternal descent. His arms flared, his legs kicked and his head lolled from side to side, fighting against them for his freedom. But then, the fall would cease to exist. Yugi would land on the pad of a soft, merciful relief, cupping his brow and whispering words he couldn't comprehend.

Yugi didn't need to. He felt their calming meaning and the blazing desire to mend his fears. How could he thank the ones protecting him? Helping him. His hunger was always sated with a foreign deliciousness and his parched tongue was forever bathed with the blessed tastes of water. Staying awake became harder and harder as time went on. How long was it? Days, weeks? Yugi couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember . . . he couldn't . . . remember . . .

Yugi didn't understand. He didn't know what it meant. All he did know was that his strength was steadily returning by puzzle pieces until at long last he was whole.

When the young man opened his eyes, his temples throbbed like the sudden collision of trains traveling from opposite ends. He shut his eyes against the blinding, white lights and the pounding pain terrorizing him. His left arm angrily protested against any movements. His sides burned from within and his and his bottom lip felt like it'd been gnawed off.

It was a gradual struggle, adjusting to the white lights intensity. The young man's nose twisted when he caught the whiff of rubbing alcohol, medications and the sterilized chill. His left eye slipped open, beating the light's glare. Everything was blurry, and discombobulated. He was vaguely aware of his left hand being encased in a rough and warm grasp, soft and light. The young man heard shifting from the side he couldn't see and when he turned, pain penetrated his temples, causing a long whimper to push from his dried throat.

"Shh, be still child. You're safe," said a quiet voice.

The young man's eyes shot open. The lights no longer fazed and the pain was momentarily forgotten as in jerked attempts, he managed to look and focus in on the person who he saw was the one holding his hand.

Beautiful walnut shaped eyes swam into focus, joined with a smile as bright as the morning sun. "You're finally awake. Thank goodness. I thought you'd sleep your life away."

The young man's face creased in a small frown as renewed fears awakened. The woman's face mirrored his perplexity, tilting her morning dawn-colored hair to the side. The bright indigo and yellow flora sundress she swore, brought out the tender shine in her gaze. Her grasp tightened around his.

He opened his mouth and a hacking cough erupted.

The woman stood from her chair and hurried grabbed a cub of ice water. "Drink." She placed the straw to his mouth and he latched on, greedily sucking the sweet nectarous juices. After he had his fill, she placed on the cub nearby for safe picking and retook her seat and his hand.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

The young man's face folded into a tighter, almost worrying scowl. An excruciating sharpness pricked at his head after his face tried to frown harder. He immediately relaxed his face and changed his eyes from her to the widely spaced room. There was a ceiling fan made of wood dangling above, a white three drawer nightstand by his side, his bed had white railings on the front and back, as if caged within and the sheets were as thin as toilet paper.

"Child?"

The young man blinked at her, the frown came back and his eyes squinted.

She started to speak again and still his expression didn't change. The woman caressed his palms with the tips of her fingers, concern lightly bringing wrinkles to her dark complexion. She freed one of her hands to lightly clutch his jaw. The young man's eyes half-lidded and sort more of that maternal touch, because with it came the scent of violets. That much he did remember and it caused his frown to vanish all together, now replaced with a small smile.

The woman's posture slacked of its previous tension as her thumb stroked over the young man's bandaged chin. "I'm very happy to see you awake," she whispered, sweet as honey. "What is your name?"

Sadness came this time. The young man lifted his hand tenderly to cover hers, lips pursed together.

"I," he coughed and tried again. "I don't . . . understand you," his voice mumbled in a regretful whisper.

It was her turn to frown thoughtfully. The woman was stunned as the realization abruptly seized her mind. This young man didn't speak her language, just as she didn't speak his. How, then how could she communicate with him? He was more lost then she imagined.

The hand on his face left to her cup her mouth as tears welled up in her bright lavender eyes. The poor thing. Grief as well as sorrow for his emptiness, caused her to stand up and sit on the edge of the bed. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if touching glass and carefully brought his face to her shoulder, stroking his hair.

"Please don't cry," the young man said, using his good arm to pat her back. "I'm sorry." He was rocked back and forth, unsure if she comprehended a single word he said. There was so much pity in the way she affectionately combed her slender fingers through his hair and kissed his neck.

The dark woman peeled away from him to look mournfully in his large purple eyes and suddenly broke into sobbing fit.

The young man softly shushed her and cupped her cheek. "Please," he tried once more. "I'm begging you not to cry."

His foreign words touched her heart. She didn't need to interpret his meaning, because the emotions in his eyes spoke valiantly of his concern for her. The woman pawed his cheek and kissed each one. A blush raced from the young man's neck to the bridge of his nose as he ducked his head sheepishly, chuckling.

"Thank you."

She touched his face again and again as if checking for some sign. His accent made no sense to her. Standing from his bedside, she allowed her hand to linger on his face until leaving his side and started to walk toward the door.

The young man's eyes widened. "Wait!" he held out his arms.

The woman whirled around with a bright smile, all white teeth gleaming against her dark brown skin. She motioned with her hand for the young man to stay. She pointed at the door and herself and then him and opened her palm, telling him to wait until she returned. He understood and nodded. With a larger smile, she left the room.

Minutes passed into a full hour. The young man nervously pinched at the loose treads on his blanket, staring out the glass-less window. Birds, red ones and blue would occasionally perch on the sill and warble a high pitched greeting. The young man, grateful for the break in silence, stared and wondered, confusion growing in broken bits.

No matter how hard he tried to think, nothing surfaced. Nothing. He lifted his hand and gazed at the plastic band branded across his wrist. The written language was jumbled. His examination continued as he glanced all over, wishing something in here would trigger a familiar thought process. Still, he came up with nothing.

The fears returned in giant leaps and bounds. Why was it so hard to remember? Why? This didn't make sense. A hot sting teased the back of his eyes and he quickly squeezed them shut to prevent the flow of tears. He was trying so hard to summon a memory but all that came was a blank darkness.

There was a knock on the door before the doorknob latch dropped and pushed open. Several people entered. The woman, the young man was thankful to see, and with her was a tall, thickly set man with pale skin and brown eyes wearing a long lab coat and behind him was a young, frail framed man with slanted lavender eyes and dark shoulder length hair, bearing a remarkable resemblance to the woman. He was wearing dark tan cargo shorts, and a white and red striped t-shirt.

At once the young man tried to sit up but the fellow in the lab coat shook his head, motioning for him to lay back down. The young man did as he was told with a curt nod.

The doctor approached with a micro-sized flash light, flicking it back and forth over the young man's eyes. The pupils reacted normally, he deduced with a nod and went about doing other bodily examinations. He held up his index and pointed to himself, then to the young man. The doctor took a deep breath and exhaled. He pointed at the patient to do the same.

When he did, he quickly stopped as a dull pain stabbed his sides. The doctor shook his head and wrote something down on his clipboard. Next he retrieved a syringe and promptly pricked it in the young man's arm. He stood, said something to the woman and the newcomer and left the room. Now alone, the woman gazed at her visitor and sighed, turning sad eyes at the young man in bed. She said something in that language again and the man nodded, gripping his hands together.

He approached and sat on the edge of the mattress, youthful lavender eyes, a shade darker than the woman's and offered a toothy smile.

"Hello, my name is Heba."

The young man blinked, stunned. He understood him! He couldn't believe it. This Heba person's accent wove in and out of English language with broken and spaced practice but it didn't matter. The young man understood enough to respond. A rush of gratification poured in his chest as he returned the same expression.

Heba grinned wider. "This is my mother, Desta. She cared for you when you were unconscious."

The young man smiled at her. "Thank you."

Heba turned to his mother and interpreted what was said. Desta giggled behind her hand and openly went into a slew of long sentences and gestures.

"She says, you scared her half to death. When you're feeling better, she promises to feed you much better food than what this horrid place has given you. What is your name? What tribe are you from?" Heba's gaze darkened. "And who were the devils responsibly for hurting you like this?"

The young man's face pinched into that familiar frown as if he didn't hear a single word. Subtle forlornness reflected on his face.

Heba assumed the stranger was going through the horrible scenes in his mind, because he could never imagine someone looking so helplessly dismal. The cowards to cause this person such pain and dare to flee, shall be caught and punished. When the stranger didn't reply, turning his face away and scowling, Heba took his chin between two fingers and pulled his face back so their eyes met.

"You mustn't feel ashamed," Heba bitterly said. "It was not your fault. Not yours at all. They were worthless, evil men who prey on the weak. They took advantage of you."

'Is that—is that what happened? Was I attacked? Beaten?' For some reason that didn't feel accurate. The young man shifted his face away from the vicious glare, not directed at him, but at the supposed enemies who'd caused this to him.

Shaking his head, the young man silently drew in a long breath and closed his eyes. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I can't remember."

"You're traumatized," Heba concluded on his own. "It's to be expected. You needn't try to think about it now. It's not important." He patted the stranger's knee. "You're safe and well and that's all that matters."

"No, no." The young man shook his head, frustration nipping at his patience. "I don't remember anything. My head, I'm trying, nothing's coming," he blabbered on and on, as the words spoken aloud confirmed his dreadful situation. "My name, oh god, I don't know." He slowly started to panic. His uninjured hand rose to tangle in his hair like jagged hooks. "Why can't I remember? Why can't I remember anything?!"

"Stop it, don't you hurt yourself!" Heba snarled, snatching the hand away. There were hundreds of loosened treads in the stranger's palm. Heba dusted them away and held his hand, lest he were to try such a thing again. "You must calm down. Try to relax. You may remember something if you're not so agitated."

Desta's accented concern reached out to Heba, shooting horrified question after question, gesturing wildly at the young man on the bed. Heba, knowing he had to remain calm, faced his mother and relayed the fears and worries the stranger was experience. Once again, her hand found her mouth and she couldn't bear to stare at the hopeless despair dashed across the young man's pale face.

She said something to her son. Whatever she said, he didn't agree with. Heba twisted his head around, mouth hard as he replied back in a tone stone firm. Desta returned the argument back with a sharper disposition to her poise, head held high and her chin jutted out. She said something else and turned on her heel, going out the door.

The stranger looked between them, worried. "What happened?"

Heba sighed, staring off after his mother's sudden departure. "She's worried for you. But what are we to do?" Heba mumbled more to himself then for the stranger's ears. When he returned his attention back to the patient, he found his pale face downcast into the gapping space between his legs. Heba shook his head, and tilted the stranger's face up again. "Keep your head up, man. We've all waited a long time to see you open your eyes. Don't keep this gift from us."

The stranger sniffled and timidly nodded. "Us?"

"Ah, yes. My family. We've all been here to see you." Though Heba omitted the part about his brother, father and uncle refusing to visit. "So, do you think you will regain your memory soon?" he decided to try a new approach.

The young man allowed Heba's monotone voice to wash over him and translate what was said. Sometimes Heba went back and forth between his native tongue and English without realizing it.

"I wish I could tell you. Everything's blank and foggy. It's just so jumbled. I can't even recall where I'm from or how I got here."

"Oh," Heba hummed. "One without a name can hardly be called a person, now can he?" He tapped his chin in thought, rummaging through his brain for a solution. "Do you have any favorite foods? What colors do you like? Did you hunt at your last tribe? Were you married?"

"I-I don't know that either. I really don't. God, I wish I did." Married, a tribe, his favorite colors and food? None of it. He didn't know anything. He closed his eyes, desperately journeying through the empty cavern of his mind. The vast endlessness, settled like a boulder in his stomach. Absolutely nothing came to. Sadly, he shook his head, chewing his bottom lip.

Heba reached over to squeeze his hand, presenting a sunny smile. "Do not fret, stranger. It's fine. Shall I give you a name then?"

The stranger smiled small-like. "I'd like that."

"Ok, umm." Heba twisted his lips to the side, tilting his head, swishing a large clump of his hair on his off his shoulder. "Wekesa?"

The stranger's face scrunched up.

"No? Ok, what about Yaw?"

Another ugly expression.

"Yes, you don't look like a Thursday baby. How's Paki?"

That one made him giggle.

"Not that one either? No, I don't think it fits your face. Gosh." Heba scratched his head, drawing a blank. This was tougher then it looked. How did his parents know to name him Heba and to name Atem that when they were born? This was one of the reasons why Heba hadn't married off just yet. If it were up to him, he'd just call the children by their personalities, like the loud one or the quiet one.

"It's alright," the stranger echoed out. "We don't have to think of one today."

"Like hell," Heba snorted. "We can't keep visiting without addressing you. Hey you will get old." Heba pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, revealing an even row of bright pearly whites. "Oh I know!" He snapped his fingers, face suddenly wide and alight.

"What?"

"I'll call you Neo. I like that name."

"Neo?" The stranger debated the term in his head, going over it again and again, until he consented. "I like it too."

"Great, Neo you are and Neo you shall be." At least until they could learn more clues as to who he was and where he came from. For now, Heba was happy to see Neo was doing well. He stood after a few more minutes of talking. It was time to head home to report the news.

Neo's eyes were becoming heavy and the doctor had long since returned saying he would need his rest.

"Will you come back?" Neo asked, sleepily.

"Yes, I promise." Heba helped Neo settle into bed, tucking the sheets around his sides and made sure he knew how to summon the nurse.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Neo questioned, steadily edging closer to slumber. "I'm a stranger to you."

"Yes, well, I doubt I could live with myself knowing I had the opportunity to help a fellow brother," Heba said. Neo laid comfortably against his pillow, internally feeling at peace for once. Heba touched his cheek, inwardly marveling at the smooth texture and the urge to protect grew stronger. He would be the friend Neo needed to survive in this world. "We'll keep you safe, Neo. Hopefully we can figure out something together."

"Thank you."

Heba wouldn't let anything happen to him. That included defending Neo to his hot heated father, brother and uncle. After making sure the young man was resting, Heba brush aside some of his wilted blond banes before leaving. He found his mother outside near the Jeep, seatbelt fastened across her chest and a chiseled glare on her lovely face that could halt a rhino in the middle of a charge.

Their disagreement inside the one-story hospital. Dust flooded the grass-less terrain, rustling the loosened gravel. Heba retrieved a rubber band from his pocket to tie back his hair. His mother was very quiet. That scared him. His eyes darted to the side, he thought about it, then spoke.

"Mother, you know how they'll react to this."

"They'll not deny me," Desta fiercely declared suddenly, arms folded tight beneath her bosom. "They will not! I'll slap the ignorance off Aknamkanon's face!"

Heba hid his smile, as he turned the key in the ignition. "We have to think clearly. We never expected him to have lost his memory."

"The poor boy's spirit is what's lost, Heba," Desta sternly emphasized. "How will I live with myself knowing I didn't fight for him to stay? When the doctor releases him, he shall stay come live with us."

"Atem and Father will not like it."

"Your father and brother will have me to deal with. I do not fear them. I'll make sure the child is nurtured." Desta's ferocity lessened as memory of the young man's face developed in her mind. "Did you see his reaction? He has nothing to him. No memories, no family, no one."

"He has a name."

Desta blinked, a gasp slipping from her lips. "Oh? He remembered?"

"No," Heba winked. "I gave him one. He shall be Neo. For the time being at least."

"Neo," Desta tested the name on her tongue, and giggled. "Well done, son. It suits him."

Heba inwardly agreed. He put the car in drive and steered off the clinic's property and toward the darkly auburn dirt paths leading towards the Thika villages and namely the last one in the back, Zambia Ranch. There was a great deal of explaining that'd take place when they arrived. On top of dealing with his mother's stubbornness, the Bello family were going to have to handle convincing Heba not to allow Neo to stay. Fat chance of them changing their minds though. As far as the son and mother pair were concerned, their decisions were already made. Neo would stay and that was final.

"You have no right to make such a drastic decision without consulting us first!"

That was the first bellowed clash of words to counter Desta and Heba the following evening when they called for the entire Bello's family in the council hut. The night was pleasantly cool from the rains with gentle humid breezes swishing through the jarred windows. Shades of gold, bronze and brilliant yellows from mud cloth lamps bathe the expressions of each Bello's family member; dividing the family right down the middle of those who were for and those who were against the idea.

Everyone was assembled, including those married or soon to be married into the family. The founders of Zambia Ranch had arrived earlier that morning, both brothers seated on either end of the long mahogany table, arms clasped across their chest and faces chiseled in deeply grooved frowns. Charlize sat parallel to her husband with Seth on her left and Anzu to her right. Akefia sat next to his life, fingers lightly tracing circles on her palm to ease her aggravated state. Desta was stationed next to her husband with both Heba to her right and Yami on the far end with Seth. Atem refused to sit at all during this debate, heatedly pacing back and forth towards the back of the room, lavender eyes blazing and lips firmly pressed as tight as his fists.

"He has no idea who or what he is, Kaka," Heba tried to patiently argue, watching Atem's constant and dizzying pivots on his heels. "What are we to do? Simply abandon him there? Was it not you who said if he woke, he was my responsibility?"

Atem's neck snapped to the side so quickly, Heba flinched assuming it'd broken. "You're twenty summers, nearing your twenty first and already you know enough to care for a grown man when you know nothing about raising a child?" Atem stalked over, grey tunic flipping in his wake until he stopped by his brother's chair and flattened his palm on the table. "How many times must I say, I don't want strangers in my village? We can't give him a background check because he conveniently claims to have no memory of who he is or where he comes from? An obvious trap!"

"You weren't there to see the child's tangled misery!" Desta sharply inputted to her eldest son. "His spirit weeps for being lost in a frozen world, so empty of memories. No one here can know the pains of being abandoned and lonely like me. I know where he comes from. I know that suffering. I can't bear to think how he would feel if he were left alone."

"Which is why you hardly qualify as a reasonable defense for this man, Auntie," Seth gently scolded. "You're allowing your mind to cloud up with this self-related pity, instead of realizing this could be a trap to weave his way into our ranch. It's the biggest of the lands and the most profitable. Children litter the paths every day and more will be expected by the next harvest."

"Thank you! Finally someone speaks with sense!" Atem sarcastically growled.

Anzu audibly sighed, aloud summoning everyone's attention. "I dare say you both are being terribly harsh on this stranger. What harm can one man do to a village of nearly two hundred? I've said it before, should he prove to be a threat, we simply do away with him in a hurry." Her luminous blue eyes reflected an edgy tint to them, boldly challenging anyone to go against her idea.

This, of course, does little to faze Anzu's mother since it was a look inherited from herself. Charlize flipped a locket of her long red, green and brown beaded brunette hair with a delicate hands that never knew a day of labor.

"Should this discussion really be put into so much perspective? I've seen the lad myself, and he could hardly frighten a pea, let alone terrorize an entire village." Charlize cast a discreet wink at Desta, who visibly relaxed in her chair from the utter relief of having her sister-in-law on her side. "He'll not live here for free, naturally. When he's well enough, put him to work, make him herd the cattle, fetch water, and so forth. Until he's earned our trust, he needn't go near the children or our crops."

Yami cupped his palm under his chin, allowing his burgundy gaze to wander over everyone's faces before he added in. "If it's such a fuss, may I volunteer to be the man's guardian? If he were placed under constant watch, there'd be no need for worry. He'll be the responsibility of one." He winked at Heba. "Or two."

Heba smiled.

"I think not!" Atem fiercely distorted, new brazen anger now centered on his lover. "I won't allow it!"

"Why not?" said Yami.

Atem blanched, mouth winding harder and harder until he looked ready to chew through bark. "Why the hell would you even want to?"

Yami's eyebrow lifted. He leaned away from the table to match Atem's filthy rage with a light glare. "Weren't you the one saying you weren't comfortable with him being here? He's one man, as Ms. Charlize says. What harm could he be to us?" Yami had his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed tightly together.

The stance reminded Atem of those times they'd debate over anything, big or small, and this would be Yami's bodily definition of having concluded he was going to do whatever he wanted despite his lover's wishes.

"I don't like it," Atem finally growled, giving his back to his face and his eyes glaring out at the night as if it were the reason for this monumental change about to take place.

"And your jealousy's unbecoming," Heba grumbled to himself, crossing his arms over the table surface. "Father, Uncle, what have you to say on this?"

Aknamkanon and Aknadin, whom have held their peace until now, shared a similar grim expression and without words, communicated through their eyes how they viewed this issue. No one, except the sons of Zambia whose bond went far beyond their years, could comprehend their way of reasoning. This gaze went on for several intense seconds before they turned to face the family they formed, viewing each set of eyes until landing on their wives.

Desta's mouth pulled between her teeth, limpid lavender eyes privately pleading for her husband's approval. Her petite, calloused fingers, scarred along the fingers when those men years ago had dragged her body across the ground and she tried so desperately to cling to roots, barbs and rocks, clasped one of Aknamkanon's own.

"You cannot do this to him," Desta said for his ears only.

"He may be a danger," he returned deep voice like a stone's drop in a river. "I saved you once. If he were to bring those brutes and savages to the village and I were not here. . ."

"So you will cast away a defenseless wanderer based on mere guesses?" Desta brought his enormous palm up and curved it to her face. The rough texture prickled her smooth cheeks. She tensed the tiniest bit when his thumb slid under her chin and squeezed. "You didn't do that to me. I could've been as much a danger to you but you gave me a chance. Do the same for him."

Aknamkanon stared down at the woman who's had his heart for over two decades, thinking of the hundreds and thousands of sacrifices she's done for this ranch and for her family. She could devour his soul and stomp on his heart with spiked heels if she wanted and he would forgive her without hesitation. She'd given him two handsome, brilliant courageous sons and a life full of glorious happiness.

How could he deny her?

With a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his feet, Aknamkanon turned to his younger brother and nodded.

Aknadin returned the gesture and leaned forward to relay their decision. "He shall be allowed to stay, based on the conditions met," his raspy, bass voice said. "He's to be watched at all times. He's not to be allowed near the children, the fields or orchards without supervision. He's not to go near the weapons and he will be given work, but nothing beyond what is normally employed to the men. As far as where he stays. . ." his voice trailed off.

And was proudly finished by Heba. "He can stay with me. I have the room and bedding. We can have it ready by the time he leaves the hospital!"

Yami beamed. "I'll help you make the preparations."

"So shall I," said Anzu, gripping Akefia's hand excitedly. "It'll be fun!"

"Love, you should rest," Akefia grumbled. "They won't have to listen to you complain all day about your swelled feet and you stumbling about. Let the men handle this and you focus on cooking."

Anzu properly smacked him on the back of the head for that. "Swine! God forbid, my sweet Bakura has that same pathetic way of thinking!"

Atem stared, open gapped and eyes narrowing thinner and thinner. "Have you gone lost your minds?!" He hollered, destroying whatever peace was settled. He met each one of those gazes, lingering his hurt more on Yami, his father and his mother. "This is a scheme and an obvious one at that. Why are you all so dead set on this? Mother, you especially, are letting your maternal need to nurture, mistake what he's truly capable of. My god, the man could be a danger! I'd rather he is left to wallow in whatever troubles he caused on himself and we go about our business!"

"No."

Atem blinked, and zeroed in on the one who openly defied him. "What did you say?"

Yami settled down in his chair and rested the point of his elbows on the table. "I said no. You're not being fair. As future chief, you should have the heart and intuition to week the possible good in everyone. Your fear of change divides what's logical and what isn't, Atem. Right now, you're coming off as an ignorant traditionalist he refuses to move on with the world." He stood from the table, and faced Atem's brilliant rage. "People like you miss out on opportunities because of your cowardly desire to stick to what you know. I say that's foolish."

"Foolish? Foolish?! You think me wanting to protect what's sacred, foolish? My father and uncle worked their fingers to the bone harvesting this rocky dirt until it bloomed with life. My grandmother's life was carved into every shred of prosperity gained and I value every bit of it!" Atem walked up to his fiancée's face, lips and eyes and chests without a breath of space. "I will kill before I allow that sacrifice to be wrecked simply because you and the rest of them, refuse to see passed what he may be. So don't tell me what foolishness is, Yami. What's foolish is your desire to go against me, for the sake of some fucking stranger! Are you that desperate for a friend? Is that it? You can't get along with anyone else here so you push yourself on this man in hopes he'll fill the void I couldn't?"

Silence, tense as ice blanketing a lake, hovered and gradually implanted itself in the room.

Yami stared up at Atem, his mouth jarred and face in shock from the cruel abuse; he was speechless. The hurtful claims and accusations crushed him from inside out and, in turn, provoked an angry retort to rise to his lips . . . one he held back and refused to say. How could he, how could he say such things? Despite the bitter expression on his love's face, Yami could see the hurt darkening it—the same hurt that he knew was mirrored on his own.

Defiance and anger quickly mixed and rose like a storm in Yami's dark eyes as he straightened his back and turned on his heel to leave before something else was said that would wedge a wide gap between him and Atem. He didn't expect that thickheaded, foolish, ignorant, dumb bastard to understand what he goes through every day when he wasn't around. The stares, the snickering, the conniving whispers of contempt behind his back because he'd been the first to supposedly seduce Atem into his bed.

Yami could reflect with this stranger because he knew what it was like to be alone. What was the harm in wanting to be there for him?

Neo tried countless times to conjure a small glimpse of his past but continued in fruitless despair. It was like pulling at a boundless rope with no end. He laid in bed another three days simply gazing at the sun come and go and quietly welcomed the company of the few birds that'd land on his window and sing. The doctor was a stern, hurrying man and the nurses were pleasant enough but Neo eagerly awaited each passing minute until he would see Desta and Heba again. He may not understand them but their smiles were warm and inviting.

They were the only memories he clung too. He hadn't seen them since yesterday when they returned to bring him news about him allowed to stay on their ranch. It was a gift that brought tears to his eyes. And still whenever he thought about the joyous way they went about describing how they'd go about doing what they could to ensure Neo's stay was a great one.

He didn't know how he could repay them but he would. Someone and someway.

Knock! Knock!

"Come in!" Neo sat up to support his back against the headboard, and failed to do a thing to fix his mangled, patted hair. It was a knotted ruin, spiked in ways then a cactus. He hated welcoming Heba and Desta in without looking his best, but it would have to be excused until he could get to grooming utensils.

However, instead of seeing Heba or Desta, it was someone new entering.

Neo's purple gaze widened a fraction bigger when he saw the kind smile of a pale skinned fellow with hair that complimented a sun flare. He was, in Neo's secret admiration, very striking. Tall, lithe muscularly like a runner and toned from head to his sandal feet. His eyes were polished a radiate gleam like the lambent sparkle of rubies beneath cool water. They were full of friendly charm and mischievousness that Neo couldn't resist returning the newcomer's contagious grin.

"Um, good morning," Neo tried for civility first after the person seemed content to smile and stare for two minutes.

The man approached, wearing a dark green sleeveless tunic and cream colored linen cargo pants, and took the chair stationed next to Neo's bed. He had a book in his hand. His fingers hid the title from Neo's prying eyes and when he glanced back up, the same smile and same gleeful expression was on the man's face.

Neo shifted uncomfortably, steadily trying to keep his smile planted. "How are you?"

No reply. But that visitor's smile did get bigger and brighter.

'OK' Neo declared himself officially freaked. Handsome or not, this man was starting to creep him out.

"So," Neo started, clapping his hands together, monotone voice breaking the awkward silence. "What's your name?"

The silence was deafening and as before, there was only a gleaming spark of a smile and an adorable expression. One would think this man had just found gold stored in his sock from how happily he was gazing at Neo's face.

Suddenly he leaned back and opened the book, flipping to the front page and held it out, brow concentrated in frown. After finding what he was looking for, he returned his piano smile to Neo and opened his mouth.

"My . . . n-n-name . . . is. . . Yami."

It was Neo's turn to stare and when he started he couldn't stop. He was grateful he stifled the shudder that raked his spine like talons. He could've swayed, the voice was so deep and smooth, like it was submerged beneath the voice. The young man's face flushed when he realized he was still staring and averted his gaze away, a shy smile suddenly blossoming over his boyish features.

Yami, puzzled, reopened the English book he borrow from Heba's bedroom and flipped through the pages, assuming he'd said the wrong thing. He'd thought his brother-in-law had told him that was how you introduced yourself. Maybe he didn't pronounce the words correctly. He found a new page, hummed to himself and nodded before snapping it shut.

"Yami," he said, expression dead serious. "I. . . Yami." He pointed to himself, then pointed at Neo. "You?"

Neo managed to rip himself from his minor delusional state and smiled, all teeth and all shine. "My name is Neo."

Yami beamed and quickly went through the book, looking for something. "F-f-friend, me?"

Neo retracted his body's reflex to quiver under the constant influence of that rumbling thunder and nodded. "Yes, I will be your friend."

Yami tilted his head.

Neo thought it was the cutest thing. He pointed at his chest. "Friend, me. You my friend?" He pointed at Yami.

The man lite up like a carnival and nodded. Neo chuckled and the other joined in the tiny merriment shared between new friends. Neo was glad. So far, he has yet to meet a single negative person from the Zambia Ranch village. He couldn't wait to visit the place and see who would welcome him.

For the rest of the day, he spent time speaking—trying to anyway—with Yami, correcting him at times on his English and Yami even offered to teach him a little of his native language. It was the start of a very welcomed friendship between the two. Every time they looked at each other, they sometimes shared a simultaneous sigh of relief, only known to themselves. Yami had someone he could finally speak too without glares. Neo was happy to spend time without someone who wanted to be there for him. There was a lot to gain and so little to lose.

TBC: Neo is Yugi for those who are confused. Also I must regretfully inform you all that between July 6-19, 2013, I will be unable to update due to having to perform my annual training with my unit Yes lol I'm in the Army and duty calls. So please, if you would be so very kind as to tell me how you liked this chapter or not, I'd really appreciate it. It'd give me something to read while I'm gone ^_^.