.:Author's Note:. Sorry for the delay! Been busy with college and scholarship applications and such! Anyways, this chapter was a bit short, so I apologize. I wrote it all in about 2 sittings after wondering what the hell to write. I really need to get these transition chapters going. Then it should be quicker paced. Next chapter will have us seeing some action for sure!

Otherwise, anyone guessed who the voice in Marik's head is? I'm trying to make it as obvious as possible, minus the strange lapses in narration and changes in POV.

Anyways, enjoy, and remember to review!

-DxH

...

Chapter Five: Farewells

...

Marik slept restlessly that night. His body was tense and his mind reeling with excitement. Thoughts, questions, doubts and hopes flooded his head. Would they make it out alright? How would Rishid and Ishizu react? What about his father? Would he care? Marik shook his head. Of course not. He would just be outraged that his heir had run away. What about after they'd escaped? The thief, would he kill him, or let him go? And, Marik wondered, what would the Outside be like? He smiled into his pillow. Surely, it must be warm. Unlike this cold prison he was confined to underground. There, above, the sun would shine and illuminate everything. Even the moon, which, when he looked up at if from his rare opportunities in the Central Wing, appeared far off and lonely, its rays casting a sorrowful light upon his skin, must be beautiful and pristine out above. Surely everything would be different. Surely.

You really can't be serious? I scoffed.

What do you mean? He replied indignantly.

You can't possibly think it's going to go that smoothly. Anything could happen. There's only one exit out of the Tomb, and it's bolted shut. You'll have to pass through the middle of the Left Wing to make it there. It's more than likely you'll encounter guards, or worse, your father.

Marik said nothing for a while. Finally, he said,

It doesn't make a difference. I've had enough. I have to get out of here.

I couldn't help but repress a smile. I agree, of course, I said softly. However, are you still willing to leave, even if it means going up against your father?

Yes, he said immediately, his voice unwavering. This time, I did smile.

Even if it means… that you may have to kill him?

He stared at me with wide eyes, and didn't reply.

I laughed.

Marik awoke, his brow soaked in sweat, tangles in his sheets. He slowly pushed himself off, the bed, sweeping his covers aside and buried his face into his hands, taking deep breaths. It was just a dream, he told himself. But it was true. What would he do? It was inevitable that he would have to face his father in one way or another. What would he do if he had to go up against his father, or worse, Rishid?

Marik shivered. There was no way he could go up against Rishid. He was like his brother. Perhaps, Marik hoped, perhaps Rishid could help us?

Fool, don't forget you're escaping with a thief and a murderer. There's no way he'll allow that.

Marik winced.

"Shut up!" he yelled. But he was right. He was always right. Rishid, and Ishizu. There was no way he could go up against them. He couldn't abandon them either.

But you must, Marik. If you want to leave, to find true freedom, unrestrained, you will have to leave them behind. They don't understand you like I do.

"But, they're my family," Marik muttered.

And so is your father. But, then, what kind of family forces their own to remain locked up beneath the ground, shackled from the Outside and made a prisoner to a future you never chose?

Marik shook his head. "Rishid and Ishizu don't have a choice either. It's all father's fault!

You're just telling yourself that. You know as well as I that Ishizu chose to be a priestess and follow after her mother. And Rishid, well, it's obvious how much he looks up to your father. He still looks at you with jealous eyes, you know.

"Shut up! You're lying!"

Come now, Marik, when have I ever lied to you?

Marik exhaled deeply. He shook out the thoughts in his head and discarded them aside.

"That's enough." He said quietly. "I don't want to deal with this right now."

As you wish, the voice acquitted. But denying it will get you nowhere. Remember that.

"I know!" Marik said angrily. Only silence replied and he simply sighed and pushed himself off the bed. Marik stretched, groaning in pleasure as his back cracked with the effort. He rubbed his back, letting his fingers idly run over the scars lining his back. They were only soft, smooth ridges, entwined and crossing over each other like pathways. Like the tomb's pathways. Marik sighed and his hand returned to his side. He hated it. The marks that kept him a prisoner. Permanently carved into his body.

The doors creaked open, and Marik lifted his gaze to greet Ishizu, who walked in, a gentle smile on her face, with a tray of food in her arms.

"Good morning, Marik. It's surprising to see you up so early. Did you sleep well?" She asked in a bright voice. Marik nodded.

"Yes, I slept fine." Ishizu flashed him another smile.

"That's good. Look! I made you something new. It's sweet rice with coconut custard and mango, a common meal from Southeast Asia." Marik managed a smile at his sister's enthusiasm. She knew how much he wished to see the Outside, to be a part of it, so she would often sneak him new things when she could. He felt a tug at his heart. He would have to leave her, if all things went well.

"Is something wrong?" Marik started and looked up. Ishizu was watching him with concerned eyes. He blinked and grinned.

"No I'm fine, sorry. Just got lost in thought." He wandered to his desk where Ishizu had placed the food and slumped in his seat. His stomach growled at the new but sweetly tantalizing. He shoveled some of the sticky rice in his mouth with a spoon and his eyes widened in surprise.

"It's so sweet!" he exclaimed, used to the usual breakfast of beghrir with butter and honey or midammis beans and ta'miya.

"Isn't it? I was told kids enjoy it. But don't tell father. You know how he is. It's just a treat," Ishizu said secretively. Marik narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not a kid, sis." He growled, but took another spoonful of rice and custard regardless. Ishizu smiled warmly, patiently watching as Marik bolted up his breakfast and washed it down with some sheep's milk. After he finished, Ishizu gathered the tray.

"Your father is busy dealing with some pressing issues in the Central Wing today, so Rishid will tutor you for the day. You'll have the afternoon to yourself though, alright?" Marik nodded. This was good, he could execute the plan sooner than he'd thought. From what he'd recently noticed, the guard was tightened at night, so, though during the day they were more likely to be seen, they were less likely to be hindered. The plan would be executed tonight.

"Marik, is that alright?" Marik blinked and looked up. Ishizu smiled wryly. "Were you daydreaming again?" She teased. He smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't get much sleep last night." He apologized.

"It's fine. You can sleep a bit more if you would like. Rishid won't be down here for another hour or so." She said brightly, before turning on her heels and exiting the room. Marik watched her go, her long dark hair flowing around her shoulders with every step. Marik sighed, his heart sinking in his chest. He hated lying to his sister. And he knew it would be the last time he saw her.

When Rishid arrived, Marik was lying on his bed, dozing off, his mind filled with the images of palm trees and colorful markets from the magazine clippings Ishizu had smuggled him every now and then. Rishid's eyes softened as he watched the sleeping boy, a small smile at his lips. Gently, he reached out and shook Marik's shoulder.

"Master Marik, it's time to wake up." Marik mumbled something under his breath and rubbed a sleep-heavy eye, before blinking up at Rishid, his purple eyes wide and bright. Rishid grinned.

"It's time for your classes now, master Marik." Marik nodded and sat up on his bed.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Master, Rishid? You're like my brother, you know." Rishid blinked, slightly taken aback. He managed a small smile and sighed.

"Yes. Forgive me, Marik." The young Egyptian smiled and skipped to his desk. The session went by quickly, and for once, Marik enjoyed his lesson. Rishid enjoyed adding small tidbits of interesting facts, such as details about the Pharaohs private lives.

"Are you serious? Ramses had over 100 children?" Marik gasped. Rishid grinned.

"Well, that's what they say. He had about a dozen or so wives, you know." Marik stared at him in horror.

"That's terrible!" Rishid blinked and looked down at the boy, who had suddenly paled and was looking down in a mixture of confusion and dread.

"Wh–" Rishid clamped his mouth shut. Of course, he thought. Marik's mother died giving birth to him. Of all people, Marik would be the most repulsed by the thought of childbirth. Rishid kneeled beside the boy.

"It's alright, Marik. All this happened many, many years ago, and Ramses was a bit indulgent. Most people don't have a dozen wives. Not even the pharaoh." Marik looked up sheepishly and managed a small smile.

"I would hope not. That's a lot of nagging mothers." Rishid laughed heartily and rubbed Marik's head.

"That's for sure." Rishid stood up and shuffled through the test Marik had written down.

"Well, I think that's enough for today. I would offer to play bocce but I'm afraid your father has asked for my assistance with something today. And you look like you could get some rest." Marik nodded, trying to hide the look of disappointment on his face. As Rishid turned away, Marik suddenly felt his heart tighten.

"Rishid –" he called out. Rishid continued on, and Marik realized the word hadn't left his throat. He tried again, more forcefully. This time Rishid turned back to look at him questioningly. Marik immediately stumbled from his chair and threw himself at Rishid, clutching at the surprised young man's tunic. Rishid looked down and gently embraced the young boy.

"Mas– Marik? What's the matter?" He asked concernedly. Marik only clutched the tunic tighter and buried his head in Rishid's torso. Rishid kneeled and tightly hugged the young Egyptian.

"If there's anything you need, you can always come to me, alright Marik?" Marik looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. He wanted so much to break down, tell Rishid everything – his wishes to escape, his hatred for the tomb and the initiation and the pharaoh – but he couldn't. Not now. Not anymore. So he willed the tears back, pushed the conflicting emotions down his throat, and nodded. Rishid pulled Marik away, reaching into his pant pockets. He pulled out a pair of glistening gold objects – earrings, perhaps, long and slender with a cylindrical, triangular point – and held them out in the palm of his hand. Marik detached his trembling fingers from Rishid's tunic and gathered the earrings in his own hands. A small, mournful smile touched Rishid's lips.

"They were mothers. I think… she would have wanted you to have them. Keeps her close." Marik stared in awe at the golden trinkets, so small and fragile even in his own hands.

"Thank you." He whispered, closing his fingers over them protectively. Rishid smiled and ruffled Marik's hair familiarly.

"Of course. And when you turn thirteen, I'll personally pierce your ears myself." Marik grinned.

"Okay!" Rished flashed him a last smile and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Marik's hands tightened around the earrings. They felt as heavy as iron in his grip, and weighed down on his heart as heavily as in his hands.

"Except…" he murmured, in a mournful air, "you'll never see me turn thirteen, Rishid."

...

.:Author's Notes:. Anywone bawling? Haaah. That wasn't supposed to be that mopey, but I liked the whole earrings touch.

Anywho feed my review whore Nessy! SHE APPRECIATES!

-DxH