Solomon bellowed Yami's name over, and over again, shaking the slender frame as gently as he could force himself to. Yami lay limp, unresponsive, and so eerily still.
Solomon stared down at him, torn in helpless panic for a brief moment, before he straightened with a grunt, and sensibly stooped to lift Yami out from underneith the table.
Solomon grimaced with the effort, but soon realized there was no way to lift him without risking a strained back. So, he settled for dragging Yami gently across the floor
until he could half scoop, half drag the poor boy to the couch a few steps away. With as consideration for Yami as he could manage, Solomon hefted the boy high, and then
dumped him slowly onto the couch. Solomon turned towards the bedroom, to grab a pillow and some blankets, which he tucked around Yami with an efficiency brought by
long years of doing the same for his grandson when he was sick. Hesitantly, he placed a palm over Yami's drawn forehead and was struck by how cool it felt. His breathing
and pulse were not a cause for alarm. He went to the kitchen, ran cool water over a washcloth, then returned to drape it across Yami's forehead. He sent up a quick
prayer that Yami had only fainted and there was nothing more amiss, but he had no way of knowing. If the boy showed no sign of rousing, Solomon resolved to take
him to the hospital, and let a medical expert deal with this sort of situation. He was relieved to hear the soft groan from Yami, as he writhed against the blankets as if
he were fighting an unseen restraint. After a bone-rattling shudder, Yami whimpered, and went limp again. Solomon stooped over him, called his name, as Yami's face
twitched in response, and he whispered, "Shimon?" Solomon gave a tolerant smile as he rubbed the golden bangs away from Yami's forehead. "No, my boy, it's Solomon.
I believe you fainted." Yami's eyes fluttered open, slowly, the violet hazed over with confused stupor, his hands straying to his throat, his body tensed as a coil as he
forced out, "Wha...fainted? How.."
"Easy, Yami. There's no point in working yourself up. It happens." Solomon soothed quietly, as Yami grew more aware of the situation by increments. "How do you feel,
Yami?" Yami's eyebrows quirked as he struggled to answer. Lost, Sick, Weak, Afraid, and Ashamed were the thoughts that imediately came to mind. He settled for an
honest, non alarming word, "Tired. How did I get here?" He gestured towards the blanket, and ventured a hand to see what was the cooling sensation on his forehead.
He pulled off the damp, rolled rag in confusion. "Do I have a fever, sir? Is that why I am laying down?" Solomon continued to ruffle the golden bangs,and was pleased to feel
Yami relax. "I don't believe you are ill, Yami, I believe that you are hurt. Do you feel sick, or anything?" Yami shook his head, slowly. "No, sir. I...if it is alright, I would prefer
to sit up." Solomon nodded permission, and was pleased to see Yami heave himself upright with little effort, though he was tangled in the blankets. When Yami started to
stand, Solomon gently forced him back to the couch, with a forbidding shake of his head. "I think it best that you take it easy, Yami." Yami stared up at him, for a long moment,
before settling back down on the couch, swathing the blanket around his knees, the torment returning as he stared up at Solomon. "Why are you helping me, sir? Is this
another manifestation of the Puzzle?" As Solomon's offended huff, Yami recoiled, and buried his face in his hands. "I...I am sorry...I just don't know what is real, and
I don't know how much more of this I will be able to endure. Do you believe that I am going mad?"
Solomon was forced to look away from those searching eyes, as he worked his mouth into what he hoped was a paternal smile of dismissal and concern.
"Nonsense, my boy. You've suffered. Suffering doesn't lead to madness in all situations. In fact, I am sure it is very rare!" Yami's eyes narrowed at the hesitation before
the answer, and he looked as if he has been struck by some unseen blow. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but you don't believe that yourself. Why would you lie to me about it?"
The question was almost growled at Solomon, as Yami only curled deeper into his misery, with an indifferent shrug. " I understand that you are trying to be kind about this
situation, that there is absolutely no point of reference that you can apply to know if this is right. But don't you see? It only confirms my belief that everything about me is..
unfit for this world." Solomon clasped a hand over the bent shoulder. "You would only be unfit for this world if you were a monster, Yami. Which you most certainly are not.
You are certainly not insane, my boy, but I'm not sure that you are really in a good...position right now to be rational. You have been through quite a trauma,and it might
be best if you simply lay back down and rest for a while. Almost everything looks better after a long nap, you know." Yami shivered, and stared up at him with so much
blind, wrenching fear and pain for a moment. "Are you going to force me into slumber, sir?" Solomon stared down at him, raised an eyebrow, buried his quaking hands in
the blankets that he was preparing to arrange, hoping it hid his horror at the question."Whatever do you mean, Yami? I was just going to let you fall asleep on the couch,
unless you had some other idea?" Yami looked at him, lost, and completely unable to even attempt to answer. He could only stare, and quiver, and try not to collapse
and shatter beyond repair."Yami," said Solomon in weary patience. "I promise you, you are safe here, and nobody is going to hurt you. I don't know how to convince you
of that, but I won't force you to do anything. Now, do you want to lay down, or do you want me to find something to help you sleep?" Yami just gulped, heavily, and tried
to mentally uncoil the confused noose of anguish, and convince his tensed and aching muscles to relax against all his instincts. With a weary sigh,he muttered, in a low
voice, "I would prefer to drift to sleep on my own, sir." Solomon nodded, as he offered Yami an extra pillow. Yami took it, and hesitated, before he lay it down in a more
accomodating position for his head. "Why are you doing this, sir?" Yami's question made Solomon stop his arranging of the blankets, and he watched Yami draw his knees
to his chest in almost fetal position. Solomon said nothing for a moment, as he draped the slight form with the blanket, careful not to make its tucking in any way confining.
"Because you need it, Yami. What other reason does a person need beside that?" Yami raised a worried eyebrow, but settled himself into a more comfortable position.
"Kindness is never a reason behind a person's motives, sir. But I thank you for this anyway." His voice was already muffled from his head being cradled over the pillow, and
Solomon watched as Yami took three breaths and smiled when he heard the snore that announced the young king was indeed resting peacefully. Solomon sighed, and sat
back as he turned on the soft lamp in the darkened room, to maintain his quiet vigil over the sleeping boy.
Solomon must have dozed off himself, because he was startled awake by the bang of the front door, and the cheery sound of Yugi's greeting as he lit through the entry way,
and then skidded to a stop when he saw Yami curled up and buried under the blankets, and Solomon slumped in the chair beside him. Solomon waved a hand in warning,
hissing and putting a silencing finger over his own lips in emphasis, as Yugi stared down at Yami with concern. "Grandpa? Is he alright?" Solomon nodded. "Of course, he is
Yugi. Is there something so wrong with him taking a nap?" Yugi glanced at his grandfather, clearly concerned. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the gruff
announcement of Kaiba entering the room with a purposeful stride, hands on his hips, his long coat flaring behind him, and his eyes scathing their irritated inspection
of the humble surroundings. He grimaced further at the sound of Yugi's apologetic stammering, as he fluttered a hand towards Seto by way of introduction. Solomon peered up
at the intruder in his living room, warily. Kaiba force himself to nod politely, call the old man Mr. Moto, and flung a deck of duel monster cards on the table closest to Yami.
"You left your deck in my car, Yugi."
Seto opted to spare himself any awkward lingering, and fully intended to leave, when his eyes fell on the crouched form that was cradled under the blankets. Yami's distinctive
gold bangs shadowed his face, and concealed his tight features, but Seto was struck by the strange resemblance to Yugi. "Who is this?" Yugi sent a panicked look to
Solomon, who smoothly rose, and shifted protectively between Yami and Seto. "This is Yami, Seto. A distant cousin of Yugi's who is staying around to help me with the
game shop for the time being. Now, if you don't mind, kindly leave him be. He's sleeping as you can see." Seto raised a questioning eyebrow, knowing he was being
lied to, but saw no reason to pursue the reasons why. With that, he spun on his heel, and strode out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. Yami stirred, and flinched, and
Solomon hastily put a soothing hand over his forehead. He heard Yami sigh and roll over, muttering something.
--
It was later that night that Yami had recovered enough of his wits to attempt an explanation of his strange
behavior to the Motos. Yugi had apparently been sternly warned by Solomon not to pry into Yami's thoughts, evidenced by the almost shy, guarded restraint Yugi treated him with for the rest of the time. Solomon had said nothing of his distress, only that he expected Yami to rest.
There was no demand for answers, though he could sense Yugi's growing frustration, and Solomon's alarm. And what hurt the most was that Yami
had not done anything wrong to deserve this sort of secrecy...as if his blood had been tainted by the violence against it, and there was nothing
more to be done for its redemption. But, Solomon had offered him a listening ear, and Yugi had given him complete acceptance without question.
Yami had not felt that safe in conversing with anybody since Isis, and that was over 5000 years ago.
So, that was how Yami found himself huddled on the couch, with a cup of tea gripped between his shaking hands, as he was flanked by Solomon
on one side, and Yugi on the other, near enough that he felt safe, and sheltered, but not so chokingly close he felt trapped. From his uncertain
glance seeking permission to speak from Yugi, to his shivering acceptance of Solomon's steadying hand over his spine, it was clear that he was
almost at the end of his limits, and it terrified him. He stared at the two drawn faces of the Motos, twisted in concern, and gentle regard, but he honestly did not know how long that would remain after he finished telling them everything. Would they think he was mad? Would they
hurt him? He could not imagine either one of them willfully seeking to harm anybody, but he was honestly too shattered and despairing at the
moment to even begin to wonder what he would do if they did. He only buried his head in his hands. Even now, among friends, he could not for
the love of Ra stop driving himself insane with all this torture he kept inflicting on himself. Maybe he deserved no less for being so weak, he honestly didn't know any more.
With one hand twisting itself over and over against the rim of the mug, and the other gripping the cup to the breaking point, Yami sighed, deeply, and twitched underneith Yugi's gentle hand patting his back, but he forced a smile. Ra, could they not see how he feared and hated being touched
so unexpectedly? With one more sip of tea, Yami set the cup down, his hands now twisting the blanket in his anxious figiting, he began his story.
" I feel that I owe you both an apology and an explanation for my erratic and disturbing behaviour. It was completely out of my control, and I'm
embarrassed to say that I could not stop it at the time. I know that it is a matter of concern for you both to wonder why I am so emotionally distraught, and why I cannot stand the hands of a friend upon me, or why I panick, or the scars about my neck came to be. When I am done telling
you all of this, you may understand a bit more, or I may only confirm how truly mad I fear myself to be."
Yugi only offered him a kind smile. " Yami, whatever you've been through, it's over. You are here, with us, now. You're not alone, Yami. We're here
to help you through this."
"We'll see if you retain that sentiment after I've told you the whole truth, Yugi." Yami muttered darkly. Straightening, he thrust his chin upward, in its
characteristic raised posture, the proper, cold court manners coming forth to help him speak as Pharoah, because he knew that even attempting
to talk as Yami would only cause him to break down. He took a deep breath, and sat back.
"I am honestly at a loss as to how to begin any of this. If there's any specific questions I may answer?" He waited politely, as Solomon and Yugi
exchanged uncertain glances. Yugi then tactlessly blurted out, "How did you get your scars?" Solomon scowled at his grandson, with a shake of his head, and Yugi looked ashamed as soon as the words left his mouth. Yami flinched, but managed to keep his voice steady, and his hands away from his neck. "I was murdered, Yugi." Yugi gasped in shock, and Solomon visibly paled. Yugi stared at the scars, not speaking for a long, tense
moment, before he raised violet eyes full of understanding compassion to him, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Yami."
Yami awkwardly swallowed. "It was a long time ago...I have moved on a bit from that, I assure you." Solomon gave him a sharp glance, but said
nothing. "How did it happen, Yami?" Solomon's blunt question startled Yami, and he cringed at the harsh tone.
"I can tell you how, Yugi. But I cannot tell you why." Yami answered softly. "It...was not expected." And, with those halting, tortured words, Yami
told them all that had transpired, from the discovery of the shadow games, to his laying himself down as a sacrifice to the torment and the
delusions brought about by the Puzzle, and his subsequent ressurection in the modern world. "I do not know why my high priest betrayed me so. Granted, my death was necessary, and in a sense, I was consenting. But to be at his mercy, and experience that anguish...suffice it to say that if the physical aftermath around my neck makes you cringe, then you would find life inside the Puzzle to be hellish."
"What exactly is it like inside there, Yami?" Yugi asked curiously. Yami bowed his head, searching for an answer. "Imagine a labyrith of gold, littered with your fragmented memories, and each one of those precious moments open to the cruelest manipulation possible. I experienced things that I knew never happened in my life. I watched my father beat me senseless, my loved ones betray me with depravity, and I felt my own
core shatter and fragment until I was left quivering in terror of even breathing, I was so afraid of triggering more of the Puzzle's abuse. It's darkness,
and greed and feeling both of them consume you. But what was worse was its constant torment...hinting to me that I could be delivered, but never allowing me to be free, forcing me to fight but relishing the defeat because it knew I was defenseless. It reads my thoughts, it drinks my pain..and I had no recourse, no relief from any of it, for so long...For a long time, it had me convinced that I was sealed away as a punishment for a past
treachery that I committed...and since my memories have been so mutilated by it, I had no way of knowing the truth from a lie. For so long,
all of everything that I knew and loved was locked away, lost, abused,...violated...and it sickened me, to see my most intimant, precious moments
that made who I was as a person so viciously displayed and destroyed..." Yami's face crumpled as the tears started streaming down his cheeks again. "And even though I'm safe, and free from that hell, I'm still so afraid that this is not real, that it will all be taken away, and I'll wake up from
this nightmare only to be tortured again. And even now, I feel just as trapped and broken as I did when I was sealed away, and I don't know if
that will ever heal!" Timidly, Yugi put an arm over Yami's quaking shoulder, and was pleased to see Yami lean into the offered embrace, as he
tried not to howl like an animal. Yami felt Solomon's reassuring hand over his own, and almost sobbed from the relief in it not fading away,
or rounding about him to hurt him somehow. It was exhausting, the mental taxing, Yami fighting his instinct to claw his way out of the encircling
arms, but Yami found the strength to allow his tensed body to relax, and he was so relieved to feel safe finally.
"We'll get you through this, my boy. You're going to be alright." Yami did not answer Solomon's promise, but for the first time, allowed himself to
have faith that it was possible. Perhaps it was, after all, Yami mused, as he felt the urge to flee yielding into peace.
