It was the tortured way he accepted his suffering, almost with perverse relish, that both disturbed and heartened Isis. What Isis regarded as a horrendous onslaught, Seth accepted with arms flung open in perverse welcome, a sad smile of acceptance and gratitude lighting his wan lips. Isis knew on a deeper level than she dared admit that Seth would prefer to delude himself into believing that the distraction of Yami's pain might somehow forge a bright and shining path to redemption, eventually.

But the horrific image of Yami bleeding and dying and hurting as his throat was slashed open, and that grim, triumphant smirk across Seth's lips was enough to harden her heart against any prayer that Seth's punishment be negated. And seeing the horrific damage done to Yami's spirit...the broken tears, and the sad way he could be broken without provocation...how each moment was refracted and mutilated by a blade wet with his blood, and the shards of memories fresh with violated pain that seemed to bleed up unbidden, even now...after so long...

She shuddered, with bitter realization. Even now, as Seth allowed another grunt of pain, and met her eyes with a coy, knowing smile, before he dipped his head in regard-It was Yami who was still suffering.

Seth had the luxury of penance, forgiveness to seek, absolution to recieve, something to toil for, and anticipate.

Poor Yami's only reward was 5000 years of existance, haunting the depths and the darkness of his golden prison, reduced to only an echo and a fragment. There was no forgiveness for him, because there was no wrong to be absolved.

It had been one of the few attributes of the Puzzle she had liked. The Item, for whatever strange reason, had yielded to her command of yoking Seth with the agony that Yami would have borne. The cursed gold had gleamed in smug secrecy, as if it were concealing a great and gleeful suprise, when she invoked the spell.
It had not resisted, and she was almost gratified to feel its yielding. It left her saddened, though.
To cage all that power must have cost Yami dearly. It had almost cost him everything.

It had sickened her, to see the manipulation of that young child Yami was incensed and adamant about protecting. She sensed from the beginning this boy...Yugi, that was his name, was worthy of the protection.
He was obviously inocent and good, and an unknowing victim. To see the callous indifference that Yugi had handled Yami's obvious suffering from that wounded rib nearly drove her mad. She had not seen the Pharoah that powerless and agonized since Seth's brutal attack. To know that Yami was suffering because he offered himself as a sacrifice-again-was almost amusingly predictable, if there was anything delightful about the young king's anguish continuing. But, it was seeing Yami's pain harden into brutal retribution, and seeing the monster awaken from the broken wreck, and the rage flame forth from the vulnerability that tore at her.

Isis sighed at the deception she was forced to manufacture, biting her lip in bitter contemplation at how far the spiraling aftermath of the lie would be now. What she neglected to tell Yami, what she vowed never to voice to anybody, regardless of the cost...was that Yami had actually attempted to kill Yugi. That horrendous nightmare was definitely spurred on by the Puzzle, of course...but it gave her little comfort. The rage, the tortured helplessness, the onslaught of torment...any one of those things could be the final blow that shattered Yami beyond any salvation. And what would arise from those shattered fragments of his soul, would either be a broken wreck bleeding itself out beyound any hope of rising, or a monster forged by rage and burning for eternity against the scars it was forced to bare.
She flinched when she heard Seth's pathetic groan of her name.

With a resignated sigh, she bowed her head, quickly hiked the flowing hem of her white skirt above her ankles so they would not be slimed by the muck that seemed to coat the floor. It was the rattle of chains, and the soft, heartbreaking smile that lit Seth's face that made her gut clench in revulsion. The glitter of insane rapture danced across his fever-bright eyes, as he beamed up at her from the floor, uncrossing his shackled legs and extending a shaking arm to reveal yet another scar.

"Isis...my lady Isis!" He whispered, rocking back and forth, with a high-pitched giggle. "Look! I've been granted another scar! Another pain my lord bears no longer!"

The "scar" was a deep slash, the scarlet weeping in a slow trickled down the filthy rags that covered his arm.
Seth eyed it with delight, giggled again, and put the battered limb to his mouth. Isis wanted to wretch when she saw his tongue dance across his own flesh and lap it up like a dog.

It disgusted her, but she hid it well, with the ease of long-suffering tolerance. With a sigh, she reached for the fresh water that sat untouched by Seth, and the pristine white cloth she had brought to try to tend to some of his wounds. Dipping it in the water until it was soaked, she extended her hands to Seth.

"Will you allow me to see it, please?" She gave him a disarming smile, inwardly wincing at what was to come.

Seto stared up at her, a petulant, childish pout gracing his once wise, and stern features. He then nodded, eagerly, lurched forward on hands and knees, and, as if he were offering a rare jewel, thrust the filthy limb into her lap, proudly.

Isis was startled, but she cupped his cheek in a reassuring pat, comforting him the way she would a small child. This was the level the high priest had been reduced to by his own choices. She did not torture herself into thinking what horrors might have awaited Yami, were it not for Seth's decision. In a perverse way, she was glad that the maddness had engulfed Seth. It had broken his mind, yes, and left him this delusional babbling wretch, but it had spared him the guilt, and freed him from any more responsibility.

With a gentle grip on his dirty wrist, she dabbed at the flesh with the cloth, only to hear the animalistic scream explode from Seth's lips. She sighed, and hastily wiped away as much as she could before he succeeded in snatching his wrist away, and snarling at her, as he coiled himself up in a corner, and shoved his bottom lip out in a balant pout.

"You hurt me, Isis. Only bad people hurt this much. Was I a bad person to deserve this?"

Isis watched with sad finality to see the scar reappear, and bleed afresh, as Seth stopped to gaze at it, the rapture filling his eyes, as he raised it to her.

"It's back!" He whispered, in wonder. "It can't be taken away. It's mine, you see. Another gift from my king."

Isis forced herself to smile, accomodatingly, as she pat Seth's shoulder. "Yes, Seto. It is another gift."

His giggle made her shiver, as she turned away. It was too disgusting and sad to see Seth so damaged.

Isis knew that he would pay a high price for his treachery, but to be driven insane and now existing with a decaying mind seemed almost too cruel in retribution. With each new onslaught, there was another level of Seth's essence that was stripped away. Whether or not it came back...Isis did not know.
She remembered the tortured night, so long ago, when Yami had succumbed to madness, and was left babbling as a child. She remembered the agonized awareness that flitted across his terror-widened eyes,
and his reaction. He had thrust a knife in her hand and pleaded with her to kill him to save him from ...this.
Seth gave her a grin, as he raised the wrist again, branishing the scar and giggling.

Isis turned away so he could see her tears.

A/N: First of all, thank God I have never suffered the misfortune of having a broken rib. From the research I have done in writing this chapter, they really suck because you can't exactly splint a broken rib, or cast it the way you would, say a broken foot, (which I have endured, and it hurt like hell!) The problem with a broken rib is that you have to keep breathing, which means that whenever you take a breath, you move the broken bone. A broken rib is not usually supported by an elastic bandage, or anything that would restrict the breathing because a person has a high chance of developing a lung infection, (like pneumonia) if they don't cough, ect. I didn't know this, so it led to a few re-writes on this chapter. Anyway, with that background information...on with the story.

It only hurt when he breathed, which meant it hurt all the time. Yami found himself forced to inhale short, high pants of breath, or the dull ache that laced up his side from the rib fracture would explode into searing agony. He did not understand why he was not allowed to have a splint for the bone, or at least something to lend his battered chest some support. He heard the vague, and strange idea that any chest compression could lead to complications, but he paid them little heed. All he knew was that he was hurting and it seemed that there was nothing to be done, besides prop himself up awkwardly on the stiff pillows that he had piled at his side, and down one of the many pain pills that arrived in a steady stream.

The doctor had ordered him x-rayed to make sure that there was nothing else amiss, and Yami almost had to be sedated for the simple procedure to be accomplished. Solomon had explained to poor Yami that the doctors merely wanted "pictures of what's inside you to see if there's anything amiss." To Yami, that translated that he was to be callously cut open so that idle curiosity would be sated, and he cowered like a beaten dog against the hospital bed, refusing to let anybody near him until Solomon himself allowed his hand to be x-rayed, and Yami finally believed there was nothing to fear.

It was both fascinating and sad to see his bones, looking like the bars of a prison cell in such contrast of shining white to the black background. To see the innerworkings of his strange body was certainly unnerving.
But, he recieved the welcoming news that he was deemed well enough to discharge from the hospital, sometime the following day. Solomon gave Yami a bright, welcome grin, as Yami lay back in the hospital bed, that night.He had been given a painkiller, and the effects were obvious, from both his drooping eyelids, to his slow breathing. But, Yami was fighting the urge to sleep with every core of his being, for the moment. Solomon had to restrain himself from forcing the spirit to remain prone, as Yami struggled to rise from the bed. He grimaced at the sharp pain at his side, and wilted back into the sheets with a groan. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Solomon's brow furrowed with concern and waved him down.

"It only hurts if I move in a way that aggrivates it, sir. For a broken bone, it is not overly difficult."

Solomon only nodded sadly. "Why don't you rest, now, Yami? I know that medication is affecting you now.
Aren't you feeling rather drowsy?"

Yami yawned, blinked languidly. "It is rude of me to sleep when you are kind enough to visit, sir." His words were sluggish, as Solomon reached over to give him a reassuring pat on the arm.

"I'd best be on my way, then, Yami. I'll be here tomorrow to pick you up from the hospital."

There was no answer from Yami. He had already drifted to sleep. Solomon ruffled the golden bangs, and covered Yami with the blanket, before silently leaving the room, with a fond smile.

It was the cloying guilt and the sense of unnatural dread that clouded over everything that made Yugi almost weep when his grandfather announced he was driving to the hospital to retrieve Yami. Yugi had shocked the old man by saying he preferred to stay at home and prepare a little welcome of his own for the spirit who saved his life. Solomon, of course, had no way of knowing the true cause of Yami's injuries. All Yugi had told him was that Yami had "fallen on his rib cage," and "passed out." The fact that such a minor event could lead to nearly a week in the hospital, and almost costing Yami and Yugi their lives was never spoken of. Yugi shivered. He could not bear the thought of facing Yami now.

To recall how Yami lay crumbling and suffering underneith his single hand over his ribs...to see the bewildered hurt, the pleading, the tears, and finally, the sobbing breakdown, completed by Yami's collapse from the pain, only to be ressurected with so much rage and madness...

Yugi gulped, as he raised a trembling hand to his neck, recalling the fire and the cruelty that filled Yami's eyes, as his hands arched and bit into his flesh, strangling, and agonizing...

Yugi grimaced, and shrugged it off as an unpleasant memory, sighing when he realized he never had been able to lie to himself well enough for it to work. It had left Yugi seared to the bones with paralyzing fear, to see that ugly side of Yami. It was a side that Yugi sincerely hoped he would never see again.
He flinched when he heard the car roll into the driveway, and sighed, noting the warning that coiled in his gut, ominous as a storm cloud.

He heard Solomon bellow in greeting, announcing with joy that Yami had returned. Yugi felt the shudder reverberate through him, as he forced himself to go downstairs, shutting the door behind him. The troubling questions lingered in the air, haunting ghosts of the past, and blind seers gathering in the shadows to devour the future.