Malik's eyes burned as he stared at the photo, trying to decipher the carved symbols. The lighting was poor in the photo, as it appeared to have been taken before dawn. It also didn't help that the serial killer didn't understand the basic grammatical structure of the dead language.
Malik jumped back and forth between modern Egyptian Arabic and correct (for the time) hieratic inscription, a migraine beginning to form. Ryou had made both of them tea, but Malik's cup had gone cold hours before. Malik leaned back, stretching from his spot on the couch in Ryou's flat. The muscles in his neck twinged, a sharp pain shooting down his spine.
Malik sighed, rubbing at his neck and then his temple. He had called his brother Rishid to let him know that he had gotten in touch with the detective responsible for their sister's case and was now helping him. He had expected Rishid to argue otherwise, but perhaps everyone recognized how stubborn Malik was. It was just easier to let him do what he wanted.
Malik leaned back, studying the albino who sat in a crimson armchair. He held the file open in his lap, occasionally leaning over to pull his notes from his desk or write in other details. Malik tried to ask about his companion's progress, but Ryou had an unbreakable focus once he set his mind to a task. Nothing seemed to break him out of a task while he worked.
Malik wasn't so lucky in that department. He often felt distracted, exhaustion catching up to him. He glanced up, startled that the clock told him it was past one in the morning. He looked back at the detective, who didn't seem any worse for the wear.
"Do you ever sleep?" Malik asked loudly, knowing it was the only way to get Ryou's attention.
The albino didn't look up, still reading through the police report. "… I sleep when I get tired. I'm not tired right now."
Malik snorted. "Really? You have shadows under your eyes."
"They're always there. Intelligence comes with a price."
Malik rolled his eyes, holding the picture up again. "I imagine those would go away with a few nights of rest."
Ryou turned his head, cracking his neck before turning the page. "I don't have time to rest. Every day I don't catch Jack the Ripper is another day he might kill another innocent."
Malik blinked, surprised by the tone. Ryou didn't sound angry or irritated, but more resigned. Kaiba was always so brusque and short-tempered, but the detective seemed rather quiet and determined. He offered the facts as plainly as possible, leaving the invitation open to Malik to keep working with him.
And Malik knew every day that passed meant another day his sister may not live to see.
"How's the translation going?" Malik turned his head, noticing that Ryou had moved to sit next to him on the couch. His eyes lingered on the sallow look in his cheeks. The detective could stand to gain a couple of pounds. No matter the importance of the case, he really should be taking better care of himself.
"Slowly. The killer doesn't really know how to use the language. It's more his attempt at piecing together a message. Grammatically, it doesn't make much sense," Malik explained, frowning at the various combination of sentences for the same line.
Ryou grunted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Malik's work. "Okay. Is there a general theme or common thread we can pull from this, semantics aside?"
Malik glanced over his scribblings. "Yeah, one. There is a definite focus on Anubis, god of the dead." He snorted. "Which is even more baffling as the time lines don't match up. This serial killer is an idiot."
Ryou rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face. "Idiot or not, perhaps this is a clue. Anubis would ferry the souls to the afterlife, yes?"
Malik nodded. "Yeah. According to myth, when a person died, they had to be judged. He would take their heart and weigh it against Ma'at or, rather, an ostrich feather. If a person's heart was found to be good, honest, and weighed less than the feather, they would ascend to heaven. If their heart was too heavy then their soul would be eaten by Ammit."
Malik frowned, leaning back as he rubbed his temple. "I don't see how this has anything to do with his murders though. Does he fancy himself a god among men? What the hell is that sort of logic?"
"The logic of a madman," Ryou murmured, a worrying grin on his face. Malik narrowed his eyes, watching Ryou chuckle to himself. The detective stood up to grab a couple of photos. Based on the delighted look on Ryou's face, Malik questioned which one of them was the madman.
Ryou came back, showing several photos to his companion. Malik glanced away, stomach squeezing with nausea. "Do I have to look at those again?"
Ryou seemed puzzled as he offered the photos of dissected victims. The detective had done what he could to catch Malik up on the case, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with the bloody photos. As a historian, most of the dead bodies he dealt with were mummified.
"Do you need me to describe what I'm looking at, then?" Ryou asked. If Malik hadn't spent the last few days with the detective, he would have suspected sarcasm.
Malik snorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No. Just… tell me what I'm looking at."
Ryou accepted his answer, laying the four photos on the table in front of them. "I can't speak for all of the victims, but something I did notice with these four was that there were several organs missing from the body. One was missing a liver and their heart, another had her kidneys, gall bladder and heart taken, this one-"
"Okay, they're missing organs. I got the picture. What point are you driving at?" Malik cut Ryou off, glancing away to focus on the albino next to him. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for a murder case. He could only pray that his sister wouldn't receive this sort of treatment.
Ryou looked somewhat miffed at being interrupted, leaning back into the couch. "What I'm getting at is the only common organ all four women were missing was the heart."
Ryou leaned in close, a sharp glint in his eyes. Malik leaned away until his back hit the arm of the couch, trying to hide his own bewilderment. Ryou smiled, a gleeful look on his face. "Wouldn't it be interesting if the killer kept those hearts?"
Malik blinked, eyes wandering around the pale face that had invaded his personal space. He struggled to see the point Ryou was trying to make. "Why would he keep the hearts? You don't really think he believes himself to be Anubis?"
Ryou shrugged, raising a finger to fiddle with a strand of white hair that had fallen forward. His hair only seemed to grow wilder as time went on. "I'm not sure about Anubis, but perhaps he has a god complex. Perhaps he enjoys having power over those he considers powerless. Maybe he had been in a situation where a power dichotomy dictated his own form of living."
Ryou's eyes shifted away, now staring at the piece of hair he fiddled with. Malik watched, resisting the strange urge to raise his hands. To do what, he wasn't really sure. Ryou's soft murmuring caught his ear.
"Perhaps the killer comes from an abusive household. That would be a fair assumption in most circumstances. But nothing else indicates that he views himself as a survivor of abuse. Unless he doesn't believe he was abused and believes he has always held power. Perhaps he bore witness to abuse first hand. But who? Perhaps he also ca-"
Ryou abruptly stopped talking, tearing his hand away from his hair as if catching himself. Malik narrowed his eyes, noticing how the detective was suddenly hyper conscious of his presence. Ryou usually worked as if Malik didn't exist and only interacted when need be. This sudden insecurity seemed peculiar for him.
Well, more peculiar than his other habits.
Regardless, Malik figured he could ask the question on his mind. "Even if what you're saying is true, I fail to see how knowing his personality gets any closer to finding my sister."
Ryou looked shocked, stunned by this claim. "Malik, figuring out how the killer thinks is how we'll find your sister. Evidence is only so good if it helps us find the killer. But hard evidence is few and scarce. If we want to know what the killer will do next, we have to think like him. We have to get into his mind and understand how he operates."
Malik watched over Ryou, an odd grin on his companion's face. Malik's brows furrowed, turning away. If he didn't know better, he would think Ryou was… too intrigued by this killer. He seemed to have this strange closeness to the murderer that was concerning, to say the least.
He felt like he should address this.
"It sounds like you have a personal interest in the killer," Malik stated cautiously, trying to gauge Ryou's reaction.
Ryou contemplated the question, leaning back in the couch. A wry smile grew on his face. "I'm not sure if I would say personal… but I won't lie and say that I'm not fascinated by the killer. I want to know how he got to this point. How such an intellectual man would be driven to murder. How a decent man suddenly becomes a monster. For as horrid and monstrous as he is, he's elusive and mystifying. As a detective, it's quite vexing."
Malik narrowed his eyes but said nothing. The parallels implied were far too disconcerting in Malik's view.
Ryou stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Malik could hear the bones cracking back into place, ignoring the shiver that went down his spine at the sound. Ryou gave Malik a small smile. "Can I make you any tea? I imagine yours has gone cold."
Malik glanced down, shaking his head. "No, thanks. I'd rather just focus on finishing up this translation."
Ryou nodded, stepping into the kitchen to heat himself up a new batch. Malik watched himself, trying to shake the odd feeling he felt regarding the detective. Ryou was an odd bird, and Malik sensed that the members of the police force were put off by his behavior. Malik couldn't blame them.
The quicker he did his work, the faster they would find Isis and Malik could distance himself from the detective.
Ryou was pleasant enough and despite their rough meeting, he had been willing to overlook the slight about his feminine appearance. But Malik couldn't ignore the warning signs that Ryou was unhinged and not in a good way. More like, dangerous in the "potentially becoming a serial killer in two years' time" sort of way.
Perhaps it was a jump to make such an assumption, but the warning flags he got from Ryou were… confusing. For such a charming, intelligent person, he seemed perfectly normal and socially adept. He had his quirks, but could hold a conversation well enough and had no issue adjusting to the demands of society when need be. But it was in the small inflections and interactions that Malik had started to see the cracks in this appearance.
Malik shook his head, his focus returning to his translation notes. Worrying wouldn't help either of them now. Malik needed Ryou's help and it was clear that Ryou excelled at his job. He would do everything he could to help the detective and if meant translating this document, then so be it. Malik narrowed his eyes, ignoring the burn of tiredness as he studied the ancient script.
Malik felt warm, almost like he was floating. Aware that his eyes no longer stung, a new ache caught his attention. He squirmed, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. His scars were acting up again and he knew that their late night of studying hadn't helped.
Remembering the previous day's work started to wake Malik up, his eyes blinking open. He stared at the red couch, the leather sticking to his cheek. Malik peeled aware from the fabric, leaving a sticky residue that had Malik longing for a bath. It took him a moment to realize that this wasn't his couch, let alone his home. He sat up, rubbing the sand out of his eyes, looking around and reorienting himself.
He had forgotten that he had fallen asleep while translating. Eventually his lack of sleep caught up with him, causing him to pass out. He didn't remember when it happened, but it must have been after their conversation, probably before two am. As Malik moved to stretch, something in his lap caught his attention.
He stared at the blanket that had been bundled around him, brows furrowed. That was odd – he hadn't remembered grabbing one. He would never have gotten one in the first place, opting to return home than risk being lured in by sleep. He turned around, noticing a pillow that had been dislodged as well. Malik started to piece together the picture, noticing a plate of food set up for him for breakfast.
He sighed, a small smile on his face. "Idiot." Malik muttered, unable to bite back a strange sense of gratitude and guilt. Despite claiming not to have any personal investment in the case, Ryou cared a lot more than he let on. The thought of the detective prompted Malik to look around, trying to see where he had gone.
It took a few moments for Malik to realize that Ryou was still in the same room as him. The turned chair had blocked his view. It was only after Malik stood up to move towards the kitchen did he spotted the mess of snowy locks. He chuckled at the detective, who had slumped back in his chair, white hair a frizzed mess, papers strewn across his lap. He had apparently fallen asleep in the middle of his work.
"You're hopeless-" Malik rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket off the couch. He felt a guilty twinge of his late-night suspicion of the detective (although he was not yet convinced that Ryou didn't have deeper issues that needed to be addressed). But, more importantly, Ryou really ought to take better care of himself. Little wonder Ryou resembled a corpse more than the living.
Still, it was difficult to be mad at him when he saw the relaxed, content look on Ryou's face. Malik draped the blanket over the detective, careful not to wake him. He glanced at the clock, noticing it was just shy of seven am. He figured some more sleep would be good for Ryou, suspecting that he hadn't gotten a full night sleep in a while.
The detective was an odd bird and, sometimes, too close to unhinged. But seeing him with his guard down made Malik feel soft. He wasn't sure what to make of that feeling. He had never really had this sort of impulse with anybody before and it was… strange to say the least. But not unpleasant, per se.
It was something he needed to figure out… at a later point – his stomach rumbled for food and drink.
Malik chuckled, watching Ryou's content expression a moment longer before leaving to make himself a cup a tea.
