Disclaimer: do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don't. Own. Yu-Gi-Oh!

A/N: sorry I haven't been very committed for a while :P it's my newest obsession… yes, it's The Mentalist! And I will tell you WHY I'm in love with this show, since you'll undoubtedly hear about it more – not that anyone is reading this anyway – but a) Patrick Jane is hilarious b) his actor, Simon Baker, is AUSTRALIAN and let's face it, who doesn't love an Australian man? c) He is not only Australian, he's attractive. Hellooooo! Why wouldn't I be obsessed with The Mentalist? And an added bonus – it's an awesome show!

Ally: So that's Anevay's long, lengthy and unnecessary (hey! Spelled it right!) explanation as to why she is in love/obsessed with The Mentalist. Shall we get on with the story, little writer?

Anevay: -_- sorry again, guys! Hope you'll forgive me.

Prisoners of War

Mahad followed the trail all the way to a thick forest—there, he continued on foot.

He was exhausted. He had used up too much magic in such a small amount of time. That wasn't good; he could pass out and never wake up at any moment. But no, he had to keep going for both Atem and Mana's sake. He had to keep walking.

That was when he ran into the shack.

It was of medium size, short, with a possible basement. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed to rest before he got Atem out. His brain immediately protested that if he rested now, he would be caught, but his body didn't like to listen, and he promptly passed out, face-forward on the ground.

Later, Mahad awoke to find it dark. His hands were tied and his eyes were covered with a cloth—something was shoved in his mouth to keep him from speaking. He cursed himself. Idiot, idiot! he thought angrily, now you're stuck! Almighty…you idiot. Idiot, idiot.

He tried to relax. He could sense someone else in the room. Someone familiar…

Tuning in to the aura, he found that it was familiar—it was Atem's. He was with Atem! But his body wasn't moving, for all he could tell. Listening carefully, he determined that no one was in the room but he and his friend. People were probably listening, but they weren't nearby. Not yet. Just his luck! It was the perfect opening!

He slipped his hands free without difficulty, and well, the rest was history. The gag and blindfold were removed silently, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The air was musty and bitter, almost like a bad mushroom. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and they rested on a still figure not far away.

No, no, please, he begged silently. Come on…

The arrows had been removed and the wounds roughly damaged. But was he breathing? He leaned in with bated breath, praying for a small puff of air, even just the tiniest…

There! A breath! He was breathing. Atem was alive. It was amazing. Impossible, even.

He had to make a decision, now. Atem needed immediately help. He couldn't get him back to camp in time; but for all he knew, their captors would simply kill them if he spoke up. Looking around the room, he found there was nothing to help him clean Atem's wounds. They would have to be sterilized—cleaned and properly bandaged. The damage would have to be assessed.

He knew what he had to do. "Please," he spoke up desperately, "This man needs help! I can help him. I'll do anything," he said, letting his voice grow softer and more pathetic, "Just get me the supplies I need. You obviously want this man to live, or you wouldn't have taken him and bandaged his wounds. I can help. He'll stay alive longer if you let me."

For a long moment, there was no response. Then the door opened and in came a burly man, face shadowed. He folded his arms, an obvious gesture. Mahad hesitated, pretending to shirk away. "Water," he whispered, "Lots of water. Clean bandages, something to pluck the darts from his arm, and herbs. Healing herbs."

The burly man left without a word.

All Mahad could do was sit by his friend's side, helpless, hoping the man would return with what he needed it. It was a desperate gamble, but the only one he had until he regained his strength. Atem was in no shape to move anywhere.

After what seemed an eternity, the man returned with said supplies. Again, he left without saying anything, even when Mahad thanked him quietly.

Now the Magician set to work. Atem was unresponsive the entire time, and that was good. It meant he felt no pain—or he was too far gone to realize anything, but Mahad was hoping for the first. It was better to get the nasty parts done before he awoke.

He removed Atem's shirt and set to cleaning the three puncture wounds from the arrows. That was the easy part. The part that was the most difficult was removing the darts—they were farther in his arm than Mahad had anticipated. It was a close process, but Atem didn't stir once (good or bad, he wasn't sure), and he managed to removed them. He placed the healing herbs on the wounds, bandaged them, and found something relatively soft to lay his friend's head on. Atem's chest was rising ever so slightly. Gently.

Now all Mahad could do was wait.

The waiting was the worst. It always was.

He eventually began to breathe heavier as he recognized the pain—when Mahad felt he had his magic reserves back, even in the slightest bit, he used his healing magic to reduce the pain and speed the process of healing. They had to get out of there soon, or they would never return home.

After the stirring came the moaning. After the moaning came the groaning. After the groaning, there was whimpering. After whimpering was crying. From crying it went to screaming. After the screaming, it became fidgeting. Then, it seemed to get better. Fidgeting, then tossing, then peaceful sleep. It went on for days in cycles, until the cycles seemed to stop on tossing, moments of restful sleep, but, more often than not, unrestful sleep.

Their captors, whoever they were, fed them enough each to keep them alive. Three small meals a day.

The process went on for a week, and then two. Atem still wasn't awake. Mahad was afraid they would never get out of there.

That was when Atem spoke. Well, spoke is a relative term. It was more of a: "Hum-uh-nuh-huh?" but it was something.

"Atem?" Mahad asked softly, keeping his voice down, "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

In response, Atem reaching out weakly to push his close face away. "No, I'm asleep. Of course I can hear you, you…" he murmured, "Mahad?"

"Yes," he whispered, a very small smile twisting his dry face. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was trampled by a thousand elephants," he groaned, voice cracked, "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Mahad responded, "But I'm going to get us out of here." He raised his voice: "Could we get some water in here, please?"

A bucket was shoved in the room, sloshing with unclean water. It was always that way. It would have to do. Mahad ladled the water into Atem's mouth, which he promptly spit out with a hiss. "I'm sorry, it's the only water we have," Mahad muttered, grimacing, "I think we're prisoners of war, Atem."

"Wonderful," he choked, accepting the water. "How do we…?"

"I'm working on it."

"Good," Atem said through nearly closed lips, drifting back off to sleep.

It was nearly a week later that the questioning began. Mahad couldn't understand what they were saying—something about hidden weapons? He kept telling them it was a mistake (which it was), and that they had the wrong people. The captors responded by pointing towards the prone, weak Atem and saying in a thick accent: "General! General! Weapons!"

To which Mahad replied: "It is over! The war is over! You can trade us in for ransom money, but I do not know about any hidden weapons! What are you talking about?"

When he wouldn't talk, he was beaten.

When Atem was stronger, he was questioned as well. After they had both received beatings, Atem finally gave them some fantasy story about weapons called 'dragons,' hidden in the main camp. Maybe they would get trapped. Maybe they would come back and beat them. Either way, they would leave them behind with some food and water and a few big guards. It was the only chance they had to escape. Mahad's magic reserves were nearly full; they had to make a move.

Mahad helped Atem in to a sitting position. Atem huffed at the spikes of pain, resisting. "Now we wait," he murmured.

"Now we wait," agreed Mahad.

Anevay: So I know that was lame, but I figured I would give you something. More tomorrow. Promise. Any ConCrit? I know this sucked :P I'll rewrite it you want, or add. I kept it simple. Dunno how that turned out. Just give me some tips, k? Sorry again, guys!

Ally: T&R, si?

Reviewers: kate, RedRosePetal, SerenePanic, me(x2), muviri, Chistarpax, & Khemet- Egyptian vapire!

Again, I am really sorry for the long delay. I had a bad block, but I think I'm kind of over it now. Thank you so much for all your wonderful compliments and being so patient with me! You guys are the best! Another chapter tomorrow, pinky promise! ^o^

-Anevay and Ally