.:Author's Note:. Eh. Finally. Sorry for taking so long on the update, guys. Fanfiction wouldn't let me edit my stories for a while, so I couldn't upload a chapter. Buuuuttt it's working now.

On another note, there a bit of connecting between the two now. Not too prominent, but it's starting.

Enjoy the chapter, and remember to leave a review!

-DxH

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Running. After what seemed like hours, Marik could hardly feel his feet as they rhythmically pushed his pained and strained body through the desert, and almost stumbled to the ground as he was suddenly jerked to the left. He looked up, blinking and regaining his balance as he realized they had reached the large village. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon, leaving few people out on the streets. Those who did notice the two runaways quickly averted their eyes and shuffled away, seeking no trouble. Marik staggered behind Akefia, who weaved his way through the closely-packed clay houses. The thief had lasted well despite his crippling condition, but had begun to falter and was now straggling painfully through the streets, pausing every now and then to regain his breath and look back at Marik.

Finally, they emerged from the coil of houses into a small clearing of farmland surrounded by thickly packed date-palms. Looking up at his surroundings, Marik realized this side of the city was situated in a kind of gorge between two, grand, red-colored stone mountains. The sun was completely blocked off, submerging their surroundings in dark shadows. As they left the village, Marik followed the faltering thief in a forest of thickly growing green laurels, bushes, and date palms. Awestruck by the foreign sight, he looked around and saw a small, shallow river emerge from the bushes, the source of such fertility. Akefia slid down the bank and waded into the river, which nearly rose to the thief's hips. Akefia hissed as some water sloshed against his wound. Marik stared blankly and felt his heart drop. He'd never seen so much water, let alone tried to swim. Akefia realized Marik wasn't following and stopped, glaring weakly at the frozen boy.

"What the hell are you doing just standing there, get over here!" He barked. Marik jumped and began sliding down the bank. Suddenly, his foot caught on the end of a root and with a yelp, he fell into the water. Marik froze as he hit the freezing water, but soon began panicking as he began to feel disoriented. He thrashed wildly, searching for some ground, and felt his lungs burning as he ran out of air to fuel his movements. Everything began to turn dark and unfocused. The cold reached out with a blackened hand, its nails digging into his skin. Suddenly, Marik was jerked forcefully against the flow of the current and gasped as he was pulled roughly from the water. He coughed and sputtered, floundering until he was shoved on solid ground. Marik coughed, gasping lungfuls of air and hacking the bitter-tasting water from his throat. After regaining his breath, he slumped on his side only to be tugged back up again.

"Get up." Akefia growled. "We're not there yet." Marik groaned mentally and urged his pained limbs upright as he pushed himself to his feet. Dripping wet but thankful for the still-present heat of the desert, he followed Akefia through thickets and bushes along a barely-discernable path. He stumbled and tripped countless times as the darkness began to set, unable to place his feet where he was going. Many times he thought he'd lost the thief but would manage to spot his gleaming white hair ahead of him and hurry towards him. Finally, after an ostensibly endless amount of seemingly aimless floundering, Akefia made a sharp left and was swallowed up by a huge black hole in the mountain. Marik froze and looked hesitantly before him.

"What are you waiting for, hurry up?" He heard Akefia hiss from inside. Marik slowly made his way in to the darkness, groping around blindly in front of him until his hands touched a soft fabric. He flinched but then grabbed the fabric and pulled it aside. He was immediately greeted by a soft light coming from the center of what seemed to be a large cavern where Akefia was crouched, adding tinder and twigs to a small fire. Marik entered cautiously, looking around in astonishment. The establishment was a real cave of wonders, filled with strange and foreign looking objects of various value and use. Intricate, thickly woven carpets and furs lined the floor, and gold plates, pearls, and silver objects of unknown use lay at various corners of the room. Several gold and silver lined swords and daggers were bound together by a thick golden rope and shoved to the right, glistening under the flickering firelight. Marik noticed a moderately-sized hole to the right of the cavern's ceiling, likely the result of past water, lime, and wind erosion, which allowed for the fire's smoke to disperse and a fresh breeze to enter. Akefia leaned back against the wall of the cavern, breathing heavily. He cracked open one eye and observed Marik silently.

"Take off your tunic." He ordered between breaths. Marik blinked, confused and clearly taken aback.

"What…?"

"You're getting water all over my carpets. And if you keep standing like that in wet clothes, you'll get hypothermia and die. As a dead hostage, you're basically useless."

Marik hesitated. He didn't feel comfortable enough revealing his tattoos in front of the white-haired thief, but he knew he had no choice and obediently striped off his tunic, leaving him in a pair of white shorts. He placed the tunic near the fire to dry it off and removed Akefia's shoes from his feet, placing them beside the shirt. He sat beside the fire, inspected his blister-covered soles with a grimace.

Akefia drew a small rough-leather gourd from his pile of treasures, popped off the cork and began gulping down the cool liquid. He suddenly choked and spewed some water from his mouth, coughing and cursing. After recovering, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered the gourd to Marik, who gratefully accepted it and drank down a good portion before handing it back with a satisfied sigh. Marik busied himself by combing a hand through his messy, half-dried, sand-clotted hair. If his sister saw him now, she surely would have thrown a fit. The memory of his sister didn't improve his mood. He regretted not having been able to check on her. Akefia had assured him that she'd only been stunned, but could he trust such a man? After all, if Marik had… killed his own father, he could easily have done the same to his sister. Marik shuddered and tried to chase the ideas from his head.

He suddenly heard a clatter and turned to see Akefia shoveling through a leather bag, pulling out white cloth bandages and a large, silver knife. The blade of the knife gleamed eerily against the firelight, stirring unpleasant memories. Marik shuddered and peeled his eyes away from it to watch Akefia as he placed the blade of the knife into the fire's coals and began awkwardly shrugging out of his red robe, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Akefia fumbled clumsily at the cloth strips tied around his waist, cursing inwardly as his pain-blurred sight lapsed in and out of focus. He suddenly froze as something moved in front of him and a small, olive-toned hand reached out to untie the strips and pull them away. Akefia looked up to see a pair of downcast amethyst eyes which shyly returned his gaze before flicking back down to his wound.

"What are you doing?" Akefia growled. Marik flinched but stayed put.

"You saved me." He mumbled, "I want to return the favor." Akefia let out a weak snort of derision.

"I told you. You're no use to me dead. Of course I would save you." Marik didn't reply but instead gently pulled the bloody strips away from Akefia's skin. Marik's stomach somersaulted at the sight of the blood-crusted wound, still clogged by the imbedded arrowhead. Akefia grimaced.

"This is going to have to be done quickly. You sure you're up to this, kid?" Marik swallowed and nodded, his eyes glued to the wound. Akefia sighed and pushed himself more upright against the wall with a grunt.

"First, I need you to get some water boiling. There's water in that gourd, pour it into that silver pan and set it on the fire." Marik did as he was told, grabbing a small silver pan from the pile of valuable-looking objects by its handle and filling it half way with water from a leather-skin gourd. He then placed the pan in the center of the small fire on a bed of coals and logs. Marik turned expectantly towards Akefia, who lay, breathing heavily, against the wall.

"Good." The thief commended. He weakly rummaged through his pile of treasures and pulled out a large pouch tied with a piece of worn rope. He tossed it to Marik, who grasped it in midair, surprised by the pouch's weight and its contents' granule, sand-like texture. "Now put a handful of this in the water." Akefia finished.

"What is it?" Marik asked, picking at the knot of the rope.

"Salt. It helps disinfect the tools and wound." Marik blinked, not entirely comprehending, but opened the bag regardless, reached in, and pulled out a small handful of the tiny white crystals. He dumped it in the pan and closed the pouch back up, setting it back with the thief's other belongings.

Looking back, Marik saw Akefia lightly dozing against the wall, the flickering light of the fire dancing across his face, locked in a battle against slivers of shadow which jumped from beneath his eyes to his cheeks and lips. The white-haired man's face was an unhealthy pale pallor, even by warm light of the fire, his lips were dry and cracked and his body expunging sweat and water from his body

Marik then looked around and spotted the leather bag beside the thief. He hopped over to the bag, grabbed it, and began rummaging through. Small knives, packets of odorless herbs, silver instruments in strange shapes, rolls of white cloth bandages, and various other tools and objects of likely medical use. Marik glanced up at Akefia and saw the thief watching him closely with one eye open. He quickly looked down again and found what he was looking for – a medium sized, relatively clean looking white rag. He folded the rag in four and poured some of the cool water from the leather gourd onto it, lightly soaking the rag. Marik crawled towards Akefia who regarded him dubiously. As he lifted the towel, Akefia snatched his wrist tightly and glared at him darkly.

"What are you doing?" he growled menacingly. Marik almost dropped the towel but managed to keep his grip on it. He swallowed, burning under the angry glare of the dangerous thief, knowing all too well what he was capable of.

"I…" he started timidly, "I just wanted to cool you off. It's what my brother did when I… when I was sick from the Initiation." Marik said.

"Your brother?" Akefia repeated, cocking an eyebrow. Marik nodded, fighting back tears.

"He wasn't really my brother… but he was, you know?" He said quietly. Akefia sighed and released his grip on Marik's frail wrist.

"No, I have no damn clue what you're talking about, but if you're going to do something, get on with it." Marik rubbed his wrist and nodded.

He raised his hand and gently dabbed at Akefia's sweat-laced chest. With soft, even movements, he cleaned the thief's body little by little until Akefia had lapsed into a half conscious state of rough breathing and relaxed acceptance of Marik's movements. His eyes fluttered open temporarily when Marik began dabbing at Akefia's brow and cheeks, but closed again and let him be. Marik inspected the bloodied gash on his arm. It wasn't deep, and the wound had stopped bleeding, but it was crusted with blood and easily liable to be infected. Marik cleaned the rag again and lightly dabbed the wound, which Akefia responded to with several winces, but made no move to remove his arm. Marik managed to find some clean bandages in the leather pack and wrapped them firmly around the wound. After having finished, Marik cleaned off the rag and sat against the wall beside the thief. He bent his knees and hugged them to his chest, setting his chin on his knees and idly watching the pan of water from half-opened eyes.

After a few minutes, Marik shuffled back to the pan and, upon seeing it steaming and bubbling above the fire, reached out and lightly touched Akefia on the shoulder. Akefia's eyes snapped open and he flinched against Marik's touch.

"Um, the water's boiling." Marik said quietly, his hand retreating. Akefia nodded wordlessly with a heavy breath and began shifting in his spot.

"Remove the pan from the water." He responded with a horse voice. Marik turned back towards the fire and carefully removed the pan, setting it between Akefia and the fire.

Marik turned his gaze towards Akefia and his eyes widened as he saw him pull out a long dagger from a slender, curved, camel-bone sheath inlaid with intricate silver designs. In any other situation, Marik would have admired the weapon, but at this point he could only gape as Akefia held the knife out towards him, looked at the younger Egyptian with weary eyes.

"Now I need you… to cut it out." Akefia said, his hand trembling slightly. Marik swallowed and stared blankly at him.

"Cut…? Cut what out?" he whimpered. The simple prospect of using a knife sent butterflies squirming in his stomach again.

"The arrow, obviously." Akefia snapped. "It's lodged in a bone, and if we tried tugging it out, there's a possibility the head would stay in, which is going to infect the wound." Marik hesitantly accepted the knife from Akefia, who in turn grabbed another clean rag and weakly tossed it to him.

"Soak the rag in water and let the knife sit in the boiling pan." Marik did as instructed, letting the rag soak almost all the way in before pulling it out and letting it cool before wringing it out into the pan slightly and placing the knife blade-first into the boiling water. He turned to Akefia and gave him the wet rag, and the thief accepted it and began dabbing at the wound, hissing as he lightly nudged the arrow on accident. Marik watched him wordlessly, admiring the practiced movements of the white-haired man. After a few minutes had gone by and Akefia had successfully managed to clean up most of the caked blood near the wound with Marik's help, he instructed Marik to pull out the knife from the boiling water. Akefia himself held a small instrument, a long metal rod that curved sharply at the end into a flat hook, which had also been placed in the salinated water for a little while. Marik nervously but firmly held the disinfected knife by the handle and looked up at Akefia for instructions.

"Alright," the thief began, his voice straining more and more, "we're going to remove the arrow. At this point, it's lodged pretty far in, so you're likely going to have to cut through some skin and reach in with this –" he gestured with the curved instrument "– and pull it out gently. Don't go too fast. You get it?" Marik nodded, about as unsure as he'd ever been, and adjusted his grip on the knife. He accepted the curved instrument with his other hand and set it inside the pan of boiling water. Akefia pulled a large, thick cotton cloth from his bag and clenched it in his hand, leaning back and trying to settle his breathing. Marik swallowed and raised the knife.

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