Crimson Ties in Lullabies

by Ferris Ulf

Sequel:Not all of Apophis is gone,forcing Ryou and his friends to flee.Accompanied by a reluctant Minkah,they find there are things about the Egyptian that will decide who he protects and who he kills...But do all the assassins truly have the same goals?

28. Chapter 28: Fanin

Ah my loves, it has been too long! So this didn't go quite as I planned-the chapter was so long and fragmented that there are TWO lovely chapters. (This one is 33 frikin' pages on its own) The second is nearing completion now that I've got this one sorted out.

assif: sorry

habibi: my love

fanin: mortal

Lyrics from Within Temptation's "Forgiven". This chapter dedication shall go to Kai (glad to hear it's a fav! Hope the ending exceeds expectations!) and LYNN 08. Let's get a move'on, shall we? XD

Couldn't save you from the start
Love you so it hurts my soul
Can you forgive me for trying again?
Your silence makes me hold my breath
Oh, time has passed you by

Chapter 28: Fanin

(Niu's POV)

"Boys, you're going to be late again!" the shop keeper's muffled shout reaches all corners of the apartment. "Don't expect me to keep making excuses for you! Hurry up!"

Suffice to say he is a shop keeper no longer. Thankfully we don't have to worry about all of the outrageous medical bills. It's one of the many things the army took care of for us in exchange for what they believe is full cooperation on our part. Really it is in their best interests to keep a close eye on us. To me this feeling of being hovered over, someone always watching my every move is akin to my life in Apophis. The positive is I don't have to kill anyone…for now anyway.

I lean back against the cheap metal headboard that squeaks from my weight. My fingers drum on the geometric patterns of the quilt for the sake of doing something. Car horns blare a mere two blocks away on one of the main roads of Domino. They never come any closer to this place tucked away in the forgotten side streets of the city.

Mr. Mutou's footsteps stride down the narrow hall and he raps his hand on the door across from ours.

"Yugi, Marik, let's go! Yami's ready! The bus will be here any minute!"

"All right! All right!" the shorter boy exclaims in vexation, not enthusiastic in the slightest.

The customary weekday morning commotion has roused my roommate. A groan from the single bed beside mine proves how paper thin the walls are. Ryou emerges from beneath a winter comforter. He blinks several times before brown eyes settle upon me.

"Time for school, huh?"

I nod with a brittle smile as Yugi vocalizes more complaints about being in the minority that has to attend. With the last of his surgeries complete, Ryou will soon be joining his adoptive family. The scars are not as defined as Minkah's since Ryou had access to better medicinal care and corrective surgeries. They had worried about the usage of his right eye, but when Kek slit the lid he did no damage to the actual eye. If he were to walk side-by-side with Minkah down the street they would receive equal amounts of second glances; more so because of how similar they are in appearance.

Ryou folds back the cover neatly as if he were going to attempt to make the bed while still on it. He doesn't move further, listening to Mr. Mutou herding Marik, Yugi, and Yami on their way. Most of them possess the expression Ryou wears now. It's a sort of helplessness. They want to do something productive. Under the scrutiny and tight security of the Japanese army they have been unable to find such an aspiration. School, if nothing else, is a good distraction.

He and I both stiffen at the softer knock on the door. There is a split second where the teen is transported back into that house with Kek. He still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night and clings fast to the nearest person for hours. His nightmares have becomes ours. It's as much a challenge to soothe him as Minkah was after being raped by Kaiba. No, this is more difficult given my own impairment. Both perpetrators are dead but the nightmares live on.

"Boys?"

Ryou awakens from his stupor, sending me an apologetic "I forgot" look when I don't answer the man. These have become less frequent as everyone, myself included, adjusts.

"We're awake, Mr. Mutou."

The elderly man enters, smiling at us. I nod my greeting to him as Ryou climbs out of bed.

"Malik is already dressed. He's a bit impatient," the old man tells us with a twinkle in his eye.

"I can get ready fast," Ryou assures him hurrying over to the single whitewashed dresser we share. He scrounges through one of his two drawers like a burrowing rodent.

Mr. Mutou turns his attention to me as Ryou dresses. The former shop keeper seems so much older than the day I met him. Can people age so quickly? Given how hard an uphill battle he's fought to keep their family together it isn't surprising. Lines etch out all of his qualms and trials these past four months. He's resilient nonetheless; more so than the army gave him credit. His will is something no one can shatter. Mr. Mutou truly is the core of this family.

"Will you be coming with us, Niu?"

I shake my head.

"You know I don't like anyone staying here by themselves. And we might not get back until this evening…"

I repeat the action in determination and the lecture trails off. He sighs and I almost reconsider for his sake. When will his kindness be fully rewarded? Somehow I manage to keep face and hold my resolve steady.

"Very well. Yugi, Yami, and Marik will be home by three o'clock. And it's Friday, so Jounouchi and Honda should be dropping in as well. Don't let them eat all the dinner if we do run late."

My lips lift and I nod in confirmation that I will keep the two in line. My entire jawline tingles at the movement. The duo is still becoming accustomed to there not being any leftovers in the Mutou residence with new members to the household. I had been surprised how soon they had returned to school but what else could they do since it was determined their families should be kept in the dark about Apophis? We must never tell a soul about our fighting the soldiers in the mountains. That means no counseling of any kind lest they should blurt it out in a moment of emotional distress. It's better they be in school rather than pacing at home with too much time on their hands to think.

Ryou makes his bed, fluffing the two pillows and tucking the sheets tight. He looks around the room empty aside from the two beds and one dresser as if searching for a way to make it more welcoming. To his pleading look I can only offer a stare that says, "Yes, that's about it." Shoulders sagging he leaves the room in defeat without a farewell of any kind. Perhaps it's disappointing to him due to the life he had before with an entire house. These jam-packed accommodations hold nothing sentimental like photographs. The white walls are bare. This is nothing new to me but a shock to the rest of them who are used to a cheery home filled with objects that were treasures.

They thought they were offering us more when we were each invited into their family. Little did they suspect that it was the family and the family alone they had to present. Nothing spectacular. No fortunes or multiple levels. No quaint store to run with its regular customers in a charming neighborhood where everyone knows each other.

For Minkah it was enough. That was what he had both been yearning to have. The closest thing to normalcy. Ryou was easier to disappoint in the realm of worldly possessions. Minkah and I never cared for such things and grew up deprived of them. We felt no loss or that we had been cheated when brought to this place. Rather there was a sense of relief on my part. It was a safe environment filled with people who would not even think of harming us. I have no obligations to anyone that make me contemplate suicide.

If only it were enough. Those two bastards left an ungodly heavy burden on my shoulders.

There are twenty-four large ceiling tiles. All of them are white with little pockmarks in them giving the impression of cork. A vent rests on the one third from the right near the head of the bed. The heart monitor beeps a most annoying sound, a signal to anyone who has a reason to care I'm still alive.

"Take the pen!" a soldier not much older than me half-commands, half-pleads holding out the writing utensil. A pad of paper lies on my chest where he placed it ten minutes earlier when the attempted interrogation began.

I decide to re-count the tiles again. Perhaps this time I'll calculate the average indentations in the overlays. One. Two. Three…

"He's in shock. What do you expect?" their grandfather tirelessly attempts to dissuade the young officer assigned to this tedious task.

The man huffs in frustration and I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling. It's one of the few useful tools I took away from Apophis. Evasion.

"Well he will have to answer us sooner or later…"

"His jaw is wired shut!" Honda explodes. "He just woke up yesterday and you're already hounding him!"

I do not fully understand the meaning of "hounding" but I have a general idea. This erupts into a heated argument between Honda and the soldier, Mr. Mutou raising his voice in an effort to make some sort of truce for the time being. I don't bother listening to their words. It means nothing to me even if I could comprehend what they are saying. From what I've gathered, the army doesn't know my Japanese is limited. And, like most people with a second or third language, I'm stronger in writing than speaking. Not that spoken language is of any relevance anymore.

"The lieutenant won't grant your request until we have interviewed this one…"

"Interrogate is more accurate."

The shouting match commences yet again. My ears perk as Minkah's name is thrown into the jumble of hastened, angry speech several times. Even though they have caught my interest I cannot keep up with them. Instead of finding a way to interrupt, I remain quiescent.

He's been demanding to see me. When they brought him in he was hallucinating. Whether it was due to hypothermia or trauma, it's anyone's guess. Perhaps a combination. Ever since he has refused to talk or answer any questions, bordering on the brink of hysteria when they were forced to inform him I had not yet awakened from my surgery.

Why does he want to see me of all people? No one is sure. He hasn't asked about Ryou or Malik or any of the others. Aside from me the only other person he asked for was Afika. Where is Afika? He would not allow Minkah to fall into enemy hands again. Unless it was to keep Minkah alive. The safest bet would be the soldiers transporting him to a hospital. It could be that Afika is nearby, biding his time until Minkah has recovered enough to travel. If this is the case we are running out of time. He's obeying them as far as his wellbeing is concerned, determined to live. Determined to see me.

I would sigh if not for the tracheotomy. The thin tube leads across my chest and is hooked up to a machine beside the bed. My throat is swelled shut. With great effort, I manage to lift my trembling right arm, grasping the pen that the soldier tossed onto my chest. Straining to see without moving my head, I scrawl the words blindly across the top page. None of them take any notice, their faces bright red as they fight to be heard over the other two.

Rolling my eyes, I try to think of some way to get their attention that won't hurt like hell. I would throw the pen at the soldier's head if I had the strength to lift my arm that far. When I attempt to use my vocal cords the pain increases in my throat and spreads through my jaw. It then dawns upon me. So incredibly simple. Reaching across my body, I lift my left arm with the IV lodged in a vein and the electrocardiogram locked around my index finger. With my right hand I feebly twist the device off the digit.

The machine flat-lines. A long, drawn out mechanical wail with no end causes them all to freeze. Quickly they turn to me in a panic. I stare at their frightened expressions impatiently, tapping the paper with my hand still grasping the monitor.

"Fuck! Don't do that, Niu!" Honda breathes coming over and picking up the pad. His brow furrows as he reads the sloppy message. "Are you sure? You haven't been awake for that long, Niu. Don't let them bully you…"

Unable to turn my head without serious pain I drum my fingers rapidly on the heart monitor. Somehow he gets the hint to stop trying to change my mind. Mr. Mutou has taken the paper from Honda, the soldier reading over his shoulder. I watch their faces for an initial reaction to my appeal. The soldier's features tighten, knowing he will have to pull more than a few strings. No doubt he's in hot water already for not squeezing something useful out of me.

Mr. Mutou is calmer than Honda and less edgy than the soldier. He has been spending the majority of his hours the past few days at Minkah's bedside. Yesterday the foolishly determined teen decided he would try to sneak out and track me down. The old man realizes, as do I, that the most assured way of impeding Minkah's rash behavior is to give him what he wants.

"What if I bring him in right after you answer a few…" The soldier's face falls as I begin tapping again. "Very well. I'll run this by my superiors, but don't get your hopes up," he warns us, lingering on me.

Their suspicion of me is not misplaced. Mr. Mutou has documentation to prove that he adopted Malik and Marik. Before Mr. Bakura went missing he and the others all bore testament that Minkah was his son. In hindsight we know the bastard only did so to keep up the façade for Ryou, believing Minkah was dead. They're still trying to find a loose end to his story but haven't been able to find any concrete evidence against Minkah tying him to Apophis.

I'm a completely different story. Anyone who is not Japanese stand out in this country. The people in this area of Domino no longer even spare the Ishtar brothers a second glance. Dark skin like mine tends to attract quite a bit of attention. There is no family or records of any kind. No history of my life in Japan or anywhere else for that matter. That's how it is supposed to be. In the event I was ever captured Apophis wanted to make certain I could be held on anything. Who's going to waste their time on a nobody?

Unfortunately Kasiya, Severa, and Afika are still out there. Or so I must assume until given anything that would suggest otherwise. The army is under the impression there are still assassins on the loose. This supposition, as far as I can gather, is correct. The only death they have confirmed for me is Kek's.

"Honda, you need to cool it," Mr. Mutou is admonishing the brunette after the displeased soldier took his leave. "It won't help anyone if you set off their tempers."

"I don't care!" Honda retorts angrily pacing in the cramped quarters. "They shouldn't be treating them like criminals! They nearly died!"

Nearly—but we didn't. None of us. How is that possible? Apparently out of the entire group I was one of the worst off. And I'm alive. I don't know how when I shouldn't be. Should I be glad? I'm not. Truth be told I would rather have bled to death out there having been fighting for something. It's not about pride or anything noble like that. There was a purpose for that short span; something and someone to protect. Now I'm of no use to anyone, even less than before.

More stern words and Mr. Mutou leaves to track down the soldier. No doubt he'll make his rounds to other rooms to check in on his grandsons. Honda remains with me. During another quarrel it came to light that he hasn't left my side for the past few days. I have a sneaking suspicion as to the reason.

"Stupid!" he spits tugging at the collar of the tee-shirt with a snug fit that has "I'm a Grandpa!" printed on it in big blue letters; a donation from the hospital gift shop. "These people don't make good on their promises. Don't expect any miracles."

I watch him pace, all the while maintaining that edgy look that has been chiseled into his features since the firefight in the forest. Every time I drift off he's on his feet. When I reawaken he's walking around the room aimlessly, ready for the next confrontation with whatever unfortunate soul happens inside. He has developed a distinct "them" and "us" outlook.

There is no way to lecture him or tell him to simmer down. My newfound friend is through being pushed and shoved. He won't allow his friends to be terrorized further.

With shaking fingers I clumsily hold up the pen inquiringly. Honda glances around the room for a spare slip of paper. The soldier took the pad with him.

"This is ridiculous!" Honda gripes, eyes landing on a laminated chart on the wall. He rips it off in one fluid motion. "These bastards can't do squat!"

The chart is placed with its plain side upwards on my chest. He takes the heart monitor from me and carefully places it back on my left index finger. I try to ignore the stupid beeping.

"Stupid doctors didn't even come when this thing flat-lined!" he continues to rant as I fumble with the slippery page. "None of these people are dependable!"

I click the pen as a signal. Unable to move my head, I cannot see if the ink even appeared on the glossy surface. Honda ceases his tirade glowering at my writing when he sees it.

"Damn. Didn't show up."

Immediately he's throwing open cupboards filled with medical equipment. Gauze, boxes of bandages and cotton balls are tossed carelessly onto the countertop. He's cursing all the while, not bothering to keep his voice down. No one comes to see what all the ruckus is about. At this point they know who is the source. This only worsens the cramp in the pit of my stomach. He isn't usually this easy to set off. Anxiety is the true basis of this fury.

"Might as well tell you now since they're out and you're awake." Honda straightens up and approaches the bedside empty-handed. "Three of them are still unaccounted for," he informs me in a hushed voice, afraid the walls might hear. "Nothing's been confirmed. All of those places are ashes and there's so much ground to cover. It'll be forever before they find anything…if they ever find anything."

All at once everything falls into place. That is why he hasn't left me alone for a second. My fears have been confirmed. The unsettled, harried appearances of Honda and Mr. Mutou are at once realized. My former comrades will return for Minkah and me at the very least. There's no debate about that. A lone sentinel, Honda is doing the only thing he can to shield me from them. Constant vigil.

My fingers around the pen loosen and I close my eyes. He won't find something better to do even if I could find a way to order him. There is nothing left but to wait now. I can only pray the soldiers will come to a decision on my deal before three assassins show up at the hospital doors…

"Niu!"

"Easy Minkah! He's still hurting bad…!"

"Niu!" the persistent voice urges me to awaken. I don't obey. I'm weary and in no mood for the soldiers prodding for answers. Someone shakes the bed impatiently.

"Minkah, sit down and I'll…!"

"Niu!"

I open my eyes, registering at once what's happening when Minkah is right in my face, our noses inches apart. Honda and Mr. Mutou are trying to wrestle him back into the wheel chair behind him, one to an arm. He pays them no heed, disregarding his own frail health and the bandages covering his arms; one hand wrapped in a ball of white fabric. Relief floods those desperate grey eyes when I look at him and he obediently falls back into the chair without protest.

"You have to tell me," he entreats me for an answer to a question I do not even know. "Tell me who did it."

I gaze at him in stupefaction, glancing past him to Honda for some assistance. The brunette shrugs and Mr. Mutou shakes his head proving they are just as lost as I am. Was there something I was supposed to tell him? Not that I can recall.

Minkah's face falls and he scoots the wheelchair so his chest is pressed into the edge of the bed. He leans as close as he can, uninjured hand grasping the thin sheets. His breath is wheezing from the effort he has put into getting here. The teen has worked himself up to a frenzy. There must be some logical reason in the midst of the madness. Who or what gave him the idea that I have information for him? I was unconscious far too early in the fight to have any idea as to what he might be referring to.

"Afik said…" he attempts to explain breathlessly. "He said you could tell me. Kek told you. Remember Niu?"

I would shake my head to let him know I don't remember. If he would just be a little more detailed as to what he wants to know I might recall. The anticipation and fear that have been building inside of Minkah the past few days leave him incapable of rationality. It will intensify if he's forced to leave without that answer today.

"Minkah, I don't think he understands what you are talking about," Mr. Mutou says carefully while reaching around the distraught white-haired teen and handing me the pad of paper. "If you could just…"

"I need to know!" Minkah shouts at me, eyes wild. His hand clamps down around my wrist as I accept the paper. "Who killed her, Niu?"

Her? A female was killed? I thought Severa was still…

"Kek told me I did it," he practically whimpers, lip trembling as it turns into a death-grip. "But Afik said…" He gulps. "Afik said he did."

Who did Kek say Minkah killed? And why is Afika taking the fall for whoever…?

Dimah Rabiya.

Oh God, what did those two do? They were playing tug of war with his mind, fraying memories and lies seeming equally real. With those two in control anything must have seemed feasible.

"Niu?" Minkah pleads. "Niu please. I need to know the truth. Please tell me!"

I stare at him, biding my time as I witness the anguish he has been suffering. I remember what Kek told me before he cut out my tongue in order to assure my silence on the matter. My current injury is the price I unintentionally paid for this damning information. If only I had forgotten…

Tears leave lonely trails down his face and I internally grimace. There is no answer that won't break his heart. Either way it will cause a great rift in his spirit. All his beliefs will be put to the test. We saw firsthand what happens to him when his past is drawn out.

I can almost picture Afika standing behind Minkah watching me in smug satisfaction as I put the pen to the paper, Minkah's crushing grip in my arm making it challenging to write. If I could I would grit my teeth, curse him to the deepest depths of Hell. Will we ever be free of him?

Using Arabic script, I write a single name. Minkah takes one look at it and collapses in a heap with a strangled sob. The lesser of two evils. That bastard used me again.

Even from the grave Afika manipulates me. Despite Minkah's insistence, the majority of us now believe the assassin is dead. What he described in the house with Afika and Severa…the amount of blood Afika had lost…There is little chance he is still of this world despite Minkah's fraught wishes.

'I'll bet you're gloating wherever you are,' I reflect with resentment listening to the distant traffic with disinterest. 'I did what you wanted—followed an unvoiced order. It's too bad Severa didn't come to finish me off at the hospital.'

Running my fingers gingerly along my aching jaw, I am all too aware of the empty chasm inside. My price for this knowledge. I had demanded Kek for it, not knowing the consequences or what a burden I would be undertaking. It hadn't mattered because I wasn't going to live through it.

Drumming my fingers on my legs I wait for 3 o'clock to arrive. Until then my day will be plagued with sheer boredom.

'You'd be so proud of me, you bastard. You chose me to take your place and watch over him…knew I would understand.'

It wasn't his original plan, but things always seemed to work out in his favor just enough. Looking back, I see I dragged myself into this. After turning the matter over and over I reached a conclusion—one that I detest but can no longer deny to myself.

I've essentially become him.

(Ryou's POV)

Our small procession moves along in an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Mutou leads the way, eyes flickering behind him on occasion to check that we're all still following. Malik brings up the rear, keeping a keen eyes on the buildings as we pass, alert to every shadow and sound. His eyes are narrowed, pinched at the bridge of his nose held in place by stiff bandages. They are supposed to be "skin-colored" but are several shades too light for his golden complexion. It's in the likeness of a falcon's hooked beak. Every thirty seconds or so his feet shuffle as he gives something or someone an additional glance.

I don't know if I should look at Minkah or not. He keeps pace with me but doesn't spare me a look. As soon as we stepped out the locking doors of the psychiatric hospital his head snapped up and his eyes that had been dull moments before were churning with anticipation. It was like watching an animal step outside its cage for the first time. Only this dog is on the hunt.

Minkah's eyes dart as we turn onto one of the busier streets, overwhelmed by all the sights and noises. Frantically he searches, mouth drawn in a thin line as he strains his neck to see as far as possible. I look over my shoulder at Malik but he too is busy watching the world around us too. Unlike the wearied hope in Minkah's, Malik's eyes are cutting everything apart in search of any hidden enemies lying in wait for us.

This pack mentality makes me want to shake them by the shoulders and scream in their faces. I hate what we've become. While we have become inseparable, emotionally we have distanced ourselves. We couldn't be closer while being so far apart if we tried. The other members of our group and family are the only form of support we have, so we stay together. If it were possible to reach out to someone else…I wonder…

"We still have to make a quick stop and fill out some paperwork," Mr. Mutou states casually casting another glance at us.

The three of us know what he means but won't utter in public. Every time we "fill out paperwork" the army reminds us how much they have done for us; how lenient they've been and that we should be grateful. I can't find it in myself to feel indebted to these power-hungry men after all they've put us through. Just because Apophis was in the wrong does not put the soldiers and their superiors on a pedestal as they would have us believe. They are not our saviors. If they weren't so convinced we are the key to rounding up the last of the assassins—my brother and Niu included if they had their way—then we would be on the streets with a huge debt in medical expenses.

Malik flips the collar of his navy blue jacket up to ward off the cold, producing a scowl as the wind picks up. Beside me my brother tries to suppress a shiver. We had all been horrified when the true winter came just as recoveries were being made, having forgotten that the snow in those icy mountains remain there. It had been autumn when we'd taken refuge there. With cruel irony we made it back just in time for the real frost. Jounouchi had been swearing like a madman and even Mr. Mutou admitted he wouldn't shed a tear if he never saw snow again.

My fingers knot into fists inside my coat pockets. They made us stay. We weren't given a choice in anything. If we would go to the same school, our everyday activities, our home…

Only after it is dark and Niu tweaks the bugs that are planted in the apartment, but pretend we know nothing about, do we speak our minds. The fire at the Game Shop could easily have been Severa. It would be a message that she hasn't forgotten us and we shouldn't be so naïve as to disregard her. Neither Niu or Minkah have had the opportunity to see the tattered remains and look for some kind of signature. We only have the army's word. That's not good enough for any of us.

Malik and Honda have other ideas, convinced it was a cover-up by the army so they could place us wherever they please. We are under constant surveillance. It's unclear for what they're more hopeful: an assassin to appear and try to kill us or to have Niu and Minkah break ranks with us and unleash all hell.

"Has Niu figured out anything yet?" Minkah asks gruffly as if it were of little importance.

"They're keeping tabs on us like crazy," Malik mutters from behind us, not enough space for three of us to walk side-by-side on the pavement. "Watching us right now, no doubt."

"That'll get us paranoid. Do they really expect us to act when they're…?"

"That's enough of that kind of talk!" Mr. Mutou cuts my brother off without turning.

Minkah falls back in step beside me, mouth snapping shut and turning down as he goes back to surveying our environment. None of us make a comment on his unvarying tracking. I'm being generous by referring to it as such. In order to track one needs a starting point and a trail. He has neither.

"The sooner we get this shit taken care of the better!" Malik grates in a nasal voice courtesy of his damaged nose; quietly so our grandfather does not hear. "I'm actually beginning to hope she does show her face and tries to burn us to a crisp. The sooner the bitch is dead the sooner we can get back to our own lives."

None of us believe that, not even Malik. That doesn't stop us from seeking out Severa, anticipating her around every corner. Whenever I hear sirens my stomach tumbles awfully as I wait for the flames. We've yet to have sirens blare for us. I suppose this is a good thing. By the time the authorities caught wind of it it would already be too late.

"Before anyone tries to kill her…"

"I know I know," Malik sighs, weary of Minkah's persistence. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance to chat with her or whatever the hell you plan to do. What are you really expecting though?"

My brother doesn't reply staring straight ahead. I slow my steps, easing back to Malik who is opening his mouth to say those words that will make Minkah's fragile mind snap. I grab a hold of the blonde Egyptian's arm and he stares at me in stubborn defiance.

Don't, I mouth but do dare not say aloud.

He jerks his arm free and I release him only when I am certain he will not say anything. A deep frown is etched on Malik's face as he gazes at my brother's back. It's as if he's trying to force himself into my brother's head and untwist all of the knots. Too great an undertaking for any one person. This cannot be accomplished by just Malik or me. It's much larger than the two of us.

"Ryou, we can't keep shielding him from this. Sooner or later he's gonna crash. The longer we let him live this fantasy…"

"Can we talk about this later?" I interject, worried my brother will overhear. We can't let him have a meltdown out here in public.

"He hasn't even noticed you're not beside him," Malik points out in frustration tossing his head back.

This appears to be the case. Either that or he doesn't really care what we're discussing. In his mind, Minkah has much more important things to do than eavesdrop. I try not to be hurt that he hasn't realized my absence.

When he left us in the army vehicle to return to the house, I don't doubt it had to do with Afika. If my brain had been full-functioning I would have known it then too. When they brought him to the hospital the first thing out of his mouth were demands about Afika's whereabouts. Why had they left the other assassin behind in the snow to freeze? The soldiers claimed they found him all alone. No one knew how to answer him. Instead they delayed. They thought he would come to his senses as he recovered.

After what felt like a lifetime I was finally allowed to visit with him. Minkah practically ignored me when he found out I had no information to offer regarding Afika. He hadn't even inquired about my heavily bandaged face which had already received two emergency surgeries and I could not sit up without aid. His interest peaked when I asked my brother if he had been the one who drove us to safety.

"Did you see their face?"

"No."

"Did they say anything?" he prompts.

"No."

He isn't done, not deterred in the slightest. Glancing at the door knowing there is a soldier on guard on the other side, he leans toward me, voice hoarse. The weariness is gone from his features, replaced by a frantic excitement that frightens me. There is a gleam in those grey eyes as if he just solved some great mystery.

"Was it Afik?"

When I could not give a description of any kind besides "black boots" my brother was fully awake. While most would think my answer would have disappointed him, he was far from disenchanted. He suddenly decided that it had indeed been Afika that had saved Malik, Niu, and me. When Honda tried to reason that this made no sense, Minkah countered by claiming Afika needed Niu alive to prove something. He wouldn't elaborate, resolving that he must see Niu without further delay.

I bite down on my bottom lip. Niu gave him the answer he needed to hear. All of us can agree upon that. What would Minkah have done if he believed he had killed his own mother? You can't recover from something so horrible as that.

"There's nothing for it," Malik says under his breath that puffs like smoke from a irate dragon. "He has to wake up sooner or later!"

"Does he?"

My friend—no, my future adoptive brother of sorts, opens his mouth to retort blatantly that no, it is not possible for Minkah to remain in this illusionary realm his mind has created as a defense. Minkah has grown disheartened and impatient. Soon he will give up on waiting for someone else to bring news of Afika and take matters into his own hands.

"I wouldn't be so cautious of this if all he were doing was talk about his one true love," Malik remarks in a much softer tone than originally intended, nodding at my brother who's eyes never still. "That's not what's happening, Ryou. He hasn't settled down. He's getting by on just two or three hours of sleep. Next he'll suggest a family vacation to Egypt so he can look for Afika. When we refuse he'll sneak out under our noses; slip away late at night all alone. How do we defend him after that?"

The four of us visibly jolt when a car horn blares at a fellow motorist. All the small hairs on my body stand upright as bumps line my arms and legs. My brother shudders, shaking his head in assurance when Mr. Mutou addresses him in concern. After affirming nods from Malik and I that we are unscathed and intact our group resumes at a faster pace. Mr. Mutou remains by Minkah's side this time as if the corn horn were a fateful reminder of how easily we could lose him again.

(Yami's POV)

The halls are a mass of teenagers shoving this way and that without method or any attempt at order. Holding tight to the strap of my brand new, overstuffed book bag I sidle along the lockers off to the side as much as I am physically able. Despite my efforts I still receive unintended elbows in the side. I don't bother trailing the assailants and forcing an apology out of them like my beloved koi would do if he were here. Honda and Jou would be disgusted with my lack of enthusiasm as well.

Malik ordered me to build a "badass status" from day one. At our previous high school no one messed with our group, thanks to Malik, Otogi, and I. Honda and Jounouchi would jump in and out of our group depending on how much breathing room they gave Otogi, staying well out of range.

'You're going to have your work cut out for you, Malik.' I grunt as a sneaker comes down atop mine. 'I just don't feel like putting up a fight.'

"Yami!"

My brother's voice is loud enough to be heard about this mayhem. It figures. Not moments later the crowd scrambles to part as Marik breaks through at an impressive speed, body sideways, one foot placed before the other. His elbow is up in front of him. It's at the perfect height, supplying a direct hit to the abdomen or face of oncoming traffic depending on the stature of the accidental and unfortunate person who fails to clear the way in time. Yugi is in tow. Literally. He's holding fast to the blonde's other arm for dear life while shooting fierce looks at anyone who stares for a second too long.

"You should be charging him to be his personal battering ram, Marik," I chuckle as they reach me, the three of us shoving towards the nearest exit.

"Ha ha ha." My brother is glowering, not loosening his grip on Marik. "These idiots would trample me and not even notice!"

He doesn't say it, but Marik and I are both fully aware Yugi blames me for not building a fearsome reputation. He didn't have to worry about anything at our old school. It was a rare, extremely foolish soul that dared harass anyone from our odd little group.

I exhale in relief as we burst through the heavy doors into the winter air. Marik's green scarf is already meticulously wrapped around his throat as we take our place on the curb. Yugi has let go of the Egyptian but keeps muttering about the "stupid fucking army".

"Watch it," I warn without any real conviction. Let them hear how much we hate them.

"Why?" He rounds on me, minute hands balled into fists. "What are they gonna do? Blow their cover and converge on us at the bus stop in broad daylight?"

Marik and I exchange exasperated but amused smiles to my brother's irritation. No one takes notice of us and soldiers don't jump out from behind bushes and from under parked cars. To everyone we are three somewhat normal teenagers. Well, normal enough not to waste their time with.

"Would it have been so hard to find us an apartment near the shop? Hell, I don't care if I would have had to take a bus across town! There was no reason to make us switch schools!"

The smiles are replaced by grimaces. Despite my brother's loud complaints and the protests of Honda and Jounouchi, the army and Niu both separately came to a similar conclusion that is a damn good reason.

"The shop was burned to the ground while we were still in the hospital," I remind him, weary of another verbal onslaught from Yugi. "Whoever did it most likely knows not only where we lived but also where we attended schoo…"

"I know that!" my brother snaps, stamping his feet to ward off the cold and release some pent-up anger. "What do you care anyway? You and Malik are graduating at the end of the semester. You aren't stuck here."

He needs to rant and blame the army because he has an outlet to take out this resentment on. I warned him and the others to stop acting so hostile towards the soldiers and lieutenant. They are frustrated as us, having yet to identify a live Apophis member. The soldiers are ready to pounce at first opportunity that presents itself. They're just waiting for us to slip up. At this rate, with tempers flaring on our side it won't be long.

"It's only temporary," I try to reassure the two disheartened teens, wincing as an ambulance speeds by with its sirens screaming, lights flashing. "All they have to do is catch Severa and make sure she doesn't incriminate Niu or Minkah."

"Minkah seems to be doing a fine job of that on his own," Marik speaks for the first time since our escaping the school, violet eyes trained on the emergency vehicle already veering around a corner down the block.

This statement seems to rile Yugi up again but he waits impatiently as several giggling girls strut by, peeking at us from behind books they're carrying. The boldest, a redhead with a large bust, tosses her hair over her shoulder. My brother scowls at them as they ogle at me.

"Are you quite done?" he scoffs to which they frown and hurry away chattering furiously amongst themselves.

Some things never change.

"Do you think he's gonna settle down soon? I mean, he hasn't even mentioned his mother…"

"Yugi, another time, another place."

What I really mean is: Not now. Not ever.

He ignores me, naturally.

"Marik agreed with me when I asked his opinion."

I send the blonde a misgiving look who smiles apologetically. Marik used to be much better at keeping things under wraps. He's become bolder, more openly opinionated. The soft-spoken teen doesn't always side with the more rational any longer.

It is something I fail to understand. When I awoke in the hospital after my fever broke, everything and everyone had changed. They were all on edge understandably. Marik, Grandpa, Yugi and I had been barricaded inside a burning house. Malik, Minkah, and Niu saw combat and were each gravely injured in the process. Ryou had been kidnapped twice and tortured. As for Honda and Jounouchi, something befell them too. They won't reveal what despite Jounouchi's bullet wound. When he gets anxious the shaking fits start where he is unable to control the tremors that take over his entire body. And Honda will lapse into a detached silence for hours at a time. How do I deal with all of this? How do I identify with traumas that I have not experienced or even witnessed?

I want to apologize to them. I did to Malik when we were alone in bed and he smacked me over the head saying I had nothing to be sorry for except for saying dumbass things like that. This only frustrated me and I told him how out of place I feel. Then that hollowness came to his eyes that I haven't seen for years.

"Then be grateful you do feel so disconnected," he had whispered. That was the end of that.

Gingerly I massage my palm shielded by thick winter gloves. Marik gives me a questioning look, inquiring as to whether it is still giving me trouble. Yugi is staring at me defiantly, waiting for some cue to speak or something. No one else takes notice. We're alone save for a few stragglers here and there, none close enough to eavesdrop even if they were interested in our conversations.

"Out with it before I change my mind," I sigh, knowing I'm not going to like whatever their theory they've concocted is. Until he gets it out he's going to give me hell.

Yugi perks.

"It's hard to say if he'll stay put or not—what with Severa…"

"Enough. No talk like that. Not at home. Not anywhere. Especially not around Minkah."

"I'm not stupid, Yami!"

The shrieking breaks of the school bus announces its anticipated appearance and the subject is dropped. To be in close proximity with others would make it unwise to do otherwise. I am thankful for this and the warmth blasting from the musty vents as we board. Everyone scrambles though the narrow aisle for a seat close to the front where it's warmest. Yugi and Marik snag the coveted spot three rows behind the driver. Any closer and you will reek by the time you exit the bus. Quickly we have learned the laws of our new jungle. The pungent odor of gasoline and cigarettes cloud the senses enough to make the eyes water.

The bus lurches forward before everyone is seated, several peoples' faces imprinted into the tops of the worn plastic material of the reddish cushions that are undoubtedly never cleaned. I hold onto my book bag that's crammed between the back of the next seat and my knees, having opted for a spot further back on the bus for the sake of not having to share a seat with anyone.

My brother's words eat away at me, he being the second person to vocalize what we all have felt and passed back and forth to one another with our eyes. Niu would not comment further on what he told Minkah and no of us dared ask him if it was the truth. The point is Minkah believes it. He's not the guilty one. That's all that matters. It's easier to hoist all that blame on Afika. Who keeps secrets better than the deceased?

In the dead of night after Niu had switched the bugs off, my koi voiced his opinion with the very same inkling. He was troubled at the thought that this time it is us participating in brainwashing Minkah. He wanted none of it.

"How many times have we altered things for Marik's sake?" I indicate before yawning, hating that we have to wait until ungodly hours to talk without reserve.

Malik won't come to bed, stubbornly sitting atop the sheets. Everyone else is in their designated rooms. Maybe some of them are still awake, taking advantage of this window of opportunity to speak openly. It's regular routine now, the devices due to restart at 4 AM. Until then Niu found a way to have it play over an array of different night noises that should be enough to content the army that we are a boring crowd that sleep all through the night.

"This is different."

"Is it so different? Or is it that you want it to be?"

"Of course I want it to be! But that's not my point! Minkah and Marik…" My koi is glaring at the hallways leading to the two bedrooms crammed with the rest of our family.

"Yes the situations have many divergences," I agree gently sitting up as well. No use pretending I'm going to get any sleep until we've trekked this path a bit. "The fact that he needs to be protected to a certain degree is the same."

This is an answer he won't accept. Malik's eyes are burning as he reaches up and runs his fingers along the stiff bandages covering his nose. I hate this look he gets when he goes back there—back to that house and to the horrors that ensued there. The rest of them have similar episodes where they shut down emotionally. I have to snap him out of it before it reaches that.

"What is it, Malik?"

Haunted violet eyes lift, half-lidded as he looks through me to some specter that's been following him ever since that night in the mountains.

"Kek."

"What about him?"

"Kek didn't have a reason to lie, Yami. He of all people knew how damning the truth is." His eyes are alight and his words biting as he relives it. "He said he could tell me like he did Niu. The bastard wanted to reveal it to Minkah personally."

Sobering, he finally finds me as the apparitions diminish. Malik is quaking with rage and despair, wanting me to somehow disprove the facts he's placing before me. How can I? I only ever saw Kek once at the Game Shop. Malik would be a better judge of what Kek was capable of than I. I just want that bitterness to leave my koi's voice.

"There was no reason to lie," he repeats inaudibly. "And Afika had every reason to."

What do I say? 'No, that can't be right'? It certainly sounds like Malik has figured them out. He won't let the wool be pulled over his eyes. Hell, he'll fight it. Malik has always been one to seek the truth regardless of what he may find. It's gotten him hurt many times but he's so resilient. I'm thankful of that and yet wish he would learn to back down once in a while.

"This may be a time…when it's best he be told what he wants to hear."

"Minkah doesn't want to be lied to!"

"Are you certain of that?" I counter in a hushed tone, not wanting to pick a fight or have the others join us. "Don't you think at some level he already knows?"

"I…"

"What if he knew? Maybe he realized the truth thanks to Kek. How could he possibly cope? He would crumble. Think of all the things you can never tell Marik! What if Marik began asking questions about your past? What would your answer be, Malik? Would you tell him all those things you had to do to survive? What's the alternative?"

Malik shakes his head steadfastly, not wanting to accept it. It can't turn out this way. Can't come to this.

"Did Minkah do it? I don't know. Niu and Afika gave him another option: what he wanted to hear. He chose to believe it. He needs to believe it, Malik. Whether it's the truth or not no longer matters."

(Malik's POV)

"Welcome home!" Jounouchi's greeting is a fog horn to our ears as he throws open the door, adding to the indentation in the wall as the knob hits it.

Ah yes. I had forgotten it is Friday.

"Quit doing that," Minkah growls without much conviction, shoving past the joyful blonde. What he is specifically complaining about is unclear. It is of little importance.

Jounouchi brushes off his attitude with ease, slapping me on the shoulder as we shuffle into the living room that consists of a hide-a-bed that is folded up into its couch form for the day. At night this is Yami and my room. It lacks the privacy we crave but it was either this or sharing one of the bedrooms with someone else. A definite no.

"Hey," I greet Honda who is lounging next to Niu on the sofa, the television on some sports overview channel; Honda's pick no doubt. There is a notebook open on the small coffee table, half of the current page already filled with partial sentences. Niu's half of their conversations. Ra knows how many of such notebooks we've already gone through since the army won't allow us to keep a computer and other technology that would aid him greatly in everyday things. Of course, thanks mostly to Jounouchi, there is less of a need when the blonde is around.

"Niu an' me were trying out more sign language!" he informs us enthusiastically as we pack into the room.

"It's not sign language!" Honda protests from beside our mute friend. "You're just making it up as you go!"

Jounouchi plants his feet, arms akimbo as he playfully stares down Honda. "Well we're using hand signals and communicating. Sounds like sign language to me!"

"It's not like he can use it with anyone else."

"Let's test it." Jou holds up his middle finger with an impish grin. "Translate that for everybody, Honda man!"

"That's quite enough of that kind of language," I 'tsk' as Grandpa merely shakes his head.

"I think I'll lay down for a while. Are the others…?"

"Not home yet, Gramps. Get your beauty sleep before they get here. Don't you worry. We'll use sign language so it'll be nice and quiet!" he hollers after the poor man who's already plodding off down the hallway to the room he shares with Mare and Yugi.

"It's not…Forget it," Honda mutters in defeat, slouching beside an amused Niu.

Amidst Jounouchi's presentation Minkah and Ryou managed to sneak away as well. The Egyptian showed signs of exhaustion the second we stepped into the building, allowing his defenses to drop.

Niu flicks his fingers in a bizarre manner and Jounouchi smiles.

"Nah. They're both prolly gonna crash," he answers while signing to aid Niu with the slang.

"Psychiatric evaluations are taxing," I agree stretching out on the faded cobalt carpet.

We've all had the pleasure of firsthand experience with therapists, save Jounouchi and Honda. Apparently the army doesn't think much of them. I've always brushed off those quacks, but they have helped Mare in the past. We have routine visits which are becoming less frequent. Minkah is the only one who had to stay more than a day at a time.

"He looks…better."

"And when Jou says 'better' what he means is 'quieter'."

"Calmer," I concur in a congested voice that I'm stuck with until these fucking bandages come off. If it's still screwed up there will be hell to pay. I'm too gorgeous to be stuck with a voice like this.

More gestures from Niu. Jou follows the movements with rapt attention as Honda watches on with a line of perplexity creasing his brow. We no longer accuse Niu and Jounouchi of playing a trick. After many attempts to get them to reveal how they were really communicating we came to the astonishing conclusion that Niu could actually follow Jou's strange logics. The tech expert learned this gibberish of twisting fingers and contorted gestures that look like a poor attempt at shadow puppets.

"That's a good question." Jou turns to me. "Did Mink say anything on the way home?"

I have to pause and think back on it. Ryou and I debated about Minkah quite a bit, but did Minkah himself speak much?

"No," I reply remembering that distant look in his eyes. "He kept to himself mostly."

"Let me guess," Honda glowers while Jou drapes over the back of the couch. "He's looking for a certain someone."

Crestfallen, Niu doesn't motion to Jounouchi again. This time he picks up the pen and paper. The three of us stiffen but don't remark aloud. The bugs are in place and operating right now. Honda glances from next to Niu, clearing his throat loudly to catch Jou's attention.

"Ah well. He's getting there. If Marik can recover so well…"

I'm not really listening to he and Jou as Niu holds out the notebook to me. As I sit up and draw near I can see the elegant curves of the Arabic alphabet. Our friends cover out written conversation with an innocent but believable verbal one. It'd be suspicious if we suddenly lapsed into complete silence after all, especially with Jou present.

Do you have any propositions? To allow him to continue to believe Afika is alive will only put him in more danger. How do we confront him about it? We need to be cautious concerning his emotions.

"…need? We should cut class and go visit them at their new crappy school next week!"

"That would go over well," I say dryly before accepting the pen, pondering a moment.

"As if we haven't been in enough trouble lately," Honda concurs with me, peering intently at the page even though he cannot read any of it.

"That's just how we role, man!"

"And look where that got us."

"Well sure we got banged up a bit…"

"A bit? Malik looks like he got a nose job!"

"Thank you for that," I snarl—nasally—at Honda, knowing the conversation is only for the army but can't help it with the sport they're getting out of my misfortunes. The couch trembles as Jounouchi fails to contain his amusement. Hastily I finish my note amid the blonde's chortling and return it to Niu's outstretched hand. The longer this draws out the more opportunities they have to make jokes at my expense knowing I can't throttle them…for the moment.

By his face and the speed at which he's scratching his reply I know Niu did not take to my humble suggestion of me being the one to try and reason with the white-haired Egyptian.

You let your temper overtake you. That's not what he needs right now. It would only worsen things.

It takes all my willpower not to burst at this simple but blunt observation which would only serve to prove his point. Honda falters as my face heats up, my nose burning underneath the gauze and thick layers of tape. Gripping the pen so strongly my knuckles turn white, I almost blindly retort:

Are you saying you'd be a better candidate? That has been your answer more and more lately.

Only as he calmly accepts the page holding these angry, resentful words do I regret it already. Since it's Niu, he doesn't tear up the page, hurl the notebook at me, or launch back insults and spiteful accusations of his own. Our friends' voices are white noise clogged in my ears when dark brown eyes meet mine. Being perceptive, he no doubt can see my regret. Hell, the other two can as well. I mouth assif, not waiting for my turn with the pen.

He shrugs it off. Something he shouldn't do as often as he does. We're polar opposites in that sense. I jump in and start a brawl upon insult or injury to myself or a friend. Niu holds off the offensive tactics when possible. He lived for years in the shadows of bloodthirsty warmongers that relished in the suffering they caused. The tombs were no doubt a similar atmosphere. Only I had Marik. Niu had no one. He had to learn to cope with everything on his own.

And yet his words come back to me when he confronted Minkah at Otogi's place, showing a fierce side not even Minkah was aware existed in the tech expert. This other side of Niu, while ferocious, is still controlled. Every movement was calculated, every word measured to the length at which he could remain himself. He is the one who thinks things through beforehand, not a hothead like me.

I watch the writing utensil gliding effortlessly with several distinct pauses as he chooses his phrasing carefully. The manner in which he held my "outburst" just now…how easily he could soothe Minkah's fears when we were still trapped in the mountains…All my attempted intercessions with Minkah either turned into make-out sessions or confrontations. That won't do. My pride is not worth the risk involved.

"You two morons spending the weekend then?" I pipe up in a bored tone.

They immediately break from the façade, eager to have a real conversation. Niu's hand halts and he gazes at me expectantly.

"Nah. Shizuka's flying in tonight!" Jounouchi bubbles happily, visits from his sister rare following their parents' messy divorce. "She an' I are gonna hang out until Sunday afternoon when she has to go back home."

"Hey! Why wasn't I informed about this?" Honda prods our friend. Jouchouchi scowls at him.

"Because you turn into a horn-dog whenever she's here."

As Honda explodes I motion to Niu that there will be no translation for that last bit. To this he smiles wryly, already accustomed to these lapses in Jounouchi and Honda's conversations that cease to have any meaning. That's part of what makes their friendship so exceptional. They spend over half the time quarrelling. Niu watches on with mild amusement, resting his chin on his palm as the neighbors bang on the wall; a signal that goes unheeded by the shouting pair.

(Minkah's POV)

"Do you want anything?" Ryou asks meekly following me to the bedroom we share with Niu. "A glass of water? I could make a snack…"

"Forget it."

I crawl onto the first of the two single beds, throwing back the covers and collapsing onto the mattress with a grunt. Ryou doesn't ask any more questions. I've made it crystal clear that I am not interested in dialogue of any kind. There has been enough talking. Too many questions. Ones I couldn't answer, won't ever answer.

The springs on the other bed compress as Ryou sinks down on it. Unable to endure his concerned, pitying looks any longer I yank the sheets over my head. I burrow deep where no one can stare and poke and prod. No more retelling of the same events over and over. I'm hidden from the suspicious glares of the army and their overpaid, high-and-mighty therapists.

Why can't they just leave me alone? Why is everyone so intent on crushing me? They speak in hushed, urgent voices and stop abruptly whenever I so much as glance at them. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, even my own brother. That hurts more than anything else. While he has stuck by my side like he promised, he doesn't fully trust me anymore. None of them do.

What is the point of living this way anyhow? I'm not allowed to attend school like the others. I've been deemed too "unstable" and "in a fragile state of mind". Even if I manage to pull myself together they will still find another reason to refuse me. They won't risk letting me assimilate with the innocent teens of their society.

I'm useless in every way.

'Why haven't you come for me?'

I have to squeeze my eyes shut tight to hold back the tears. How am I able to cry after all this time? He would admonish me for this weakness. But he's not here. I need him. Need him to tell me what to do. How to act. How do I make sense of this place and its customs? I don't belong here, never have. Before it was different. As an assassin on an assignment, when I was pretending it was easy. Little did I realize how impossible it is to actually be like them.

'Get me out of here!' I want to scream to him; want him to answer. It is a terrifying prospect that he might not.

Don't go there. Don't think like that. He'll come. He always comes back.

Desperate to escape the realities pressing in from all sides, I retreat to a place away from such horrors. Shutting out all sounds around me, I let the darkness encompass me, dragging me down, down…I sink beneath the horizon into the dismal depths where, somewhere lying in wait, the great snake is supposed to dwell.

The boat is stationary. The ceiling of the cavern hanging treacherously low, walls crowding in from both sides. It's claustrophobic, like squeezing down an esophagus. Yet somehow I feel safer here. There aren't any drafts but it that is of little consequence. The sails are not up. In front of the tall beam sits a wooden chair decorated in beautiful patterns of red, green, blue, and yellow. Geometrical shapes and meaningless contours map the stately chair that sits above the rest of the vessel.

I sit as close to the center as I can manage without sitting on the chair itself, clutching my khepesh that the army has confiscated once again in the real world. I hold it tight to my chest as if to somehow shield my heart. Running my fingertips blindly along the carvings of the ivory I find the familiar form of a scarab beetle, lining it over my heart as I perspire. Afik had pointed it out to me before, telling me to keep it close when I fear. I never understood why. Didn't he inform me so confidently that there was nothing after this? That there was no Afterlife? That there are no truths to the ancient Egyptian belief system?

Nothing is immortal. Always remember.

Many things he has done and said are contradictory. Just as what I remember of Um and what others have spoken of her are incongruous. Someone has it wrong. No one person is that complex and paradoxical.

I stare blankly at the ceiling waiting for some kind of sign as to what my next course of action should be. This ancient craft has two oars on the back. I cannot venture anywhere. Just like outside of this safe haven, I am a prisoner.

From nothing a foot steps onto the hull, a body suddenly manifesting before me as I scramble up. I gaze at him in momentary astonishment. Usually when I do this no one can find me, wrapped deeply inside protective layers of my mind. It scared them half to death the first time. I'm glad to see him, eased for another presence. Dark eyes roam the ancient Egyptian ship that is my refuge, linger on the adorned, vacant seat I stand beside.

"You know, this is rather large to be taking on all by oneself," Niu comments allowing his fingertips to graze along the edge of the vessel. He's never been here specifically before. I've never allowed him this far.

I shrug, not wanting to admit that the long craft has been impossible to steer. That is a task requiring more than just myself. Compared to all the complex technology this boat must seem a trifle to him.

He's the only one I have allowed access to my innermost thoughts. I'm not quite sure why I singled him out. The others are just as concerned for my wellbeing. No, I wasn't the one who chose him. Afik did. He wanted Niu to live to prove my innocence to myself. For a second time he has entrusted me to Niu to watch over.

"Where do you think you're going on this thing?" my companion persists when I don't answer his first question. I'm in no mood for more queries even if they are from him. All at once I am resentful and want to be left alone.

"Leave me be. Go back."

"To what?"

"You figured out how to get onboard!" I rejoin, getting perturbed by his know-it-all attitude. "You should be able to go back without hassle!"

He shakes his head dolefully.

"You let me on. Besides, you really expect me to do that? Not after seeing what you're trying to undertake alone."

"That's just the problem!" I snap. "I haven't had the chance to try anything!"

"Hn. Good thing too. You're not in the right frame of mind to attempt anything."

I cannot hold my gaze, opting to glare at the throne placed beside me. Painted in vibrant colors, it's the only beautiful thing in this dark realm.

"You haven't sat there?"

Swallowing, I cannot look away from it. This seat was meant for the master of this boat. For a great king. A god.

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not for me. You know it's not for me."

"…It could be if you took the chance. That's what's frightening you, isn't it?"

Haven't I already gone through this on my own? That voice, I cannot put a face to that voice asking me the same question again and again: "Tell me, Minkah, which will you bring back?"

"I don't belong on that seat." I send him a fierce look. "I can't take charge of all this."

"And yet you keep returning. You can't go back really, can you?"

This is false. I could go back to who I was before I met Ryou, Malik, and the rest of them. If it was for the right cause I could. And I am the one who decides what is worthy this time. If only I had that much faith in my own conscience. Afik has been my dictator of right and wrong for as long as I can remember.

"This is insane!" I bellow at Niu and to anyone who may be trying to eavesdrop from the shadows. "I can't be an assassin anymore but I can't be like them either! How do they do it, Niu? How can they just move on with their lives and be content when she's still out there?"

My voice bounces off the jagged walls that cut it into scattered syllables that shout at each other in an incomprehensible dispute. Niu stands with his arms at his sides, expression sober as he patiently waits for the echoes to cease. He won't waste his breath just to be drowned out.

"Quite simple. We can't undo what we've done. Can't un-live your own life. If it were that simplistic he would perhaps still be alive today." Niu catches the fierce spark his words ignite in me. "But it wasn't to be."

They told me that Afik is dead. Preposterous. He can't be dead. That's just not possible. What I thought I witnessed at the cabin—Afik lying in a pool of his own blood-was because of the drug Severa hit me with. I saw him later. I talked with him. How could that not have been real?

I've forgiven him. He gave me the truth about Um. I need to find him and let him know I don't hate him for it. How can I hold it against him after everything we've been through together? But how am I supposed to do that when everyone else keeps up the fabrication that he is dead?

Shaking my head angrily I begin pacing around the throne. Niu doesn't budge, doesn't intrude any further without permission. This is the opposite of what I want. I need him to tell me some sweet lie. Niu has never led me astray. He wouldn't torture me like this on purpose. That's why Afik chose him to live. Just in case…

"We're not immortal. No one is immortal. Remember that, habibi."

A hollow whimper escapes my throat as I sink down, leaning my head against the arm of the throne for support.

"Why?" I choke out while glaring wrathfully at Niu. "Why can't all of you just let it be?"

"Because you're losing yourself," he replies softly, approaching and kneeling beside me. "This isn't something you can wish away or ignore, Minkah. He's not coming back. And you know why. You were there with him to the last." I shake my head while trying to hold in a cry when he grips me firmly by the shoulder. It wasn't real.

"No…" I whisper, faltering, despair stifling me.

"You know," he repeats in a softer, kinder tone. "He's gone."

(Ryou's POV)

Niu and Minkah take no notice as Honda and Jounouchi find a new topic to quarrel about just on the other side of the wall. My brother is completely immersed in their "conversation" which is taking place on a notebook placed between the two of them on the bed. Minkah's eyes only leave it to look directly at Niu. The mute teen never spares me so much as a glance during these exchanges to let me know how things are going. For some strange reason this has become the ideal way to communicate with my brother, but only in Arabic and only for Niu.

I can't explain it, but it's like Minkah isn't all there when these discussions take place. His eyes become hazy and he ceases to react to anything going on around him. I am ashamed that I feel a twinge of jealousy that he responds to Niu but not to me. Malik at least shares my sentiments. Whenever Minkah needs comforting or assurance of some kind, he asks for Niu. Before he even opens his mouth we know.

I swallow when Minkah's lips tighten in an effort to keep them from trembling. Glancing at Niu, I try to catch his eye to get an idea of how things are going. He doesn't acknowledge me. Doesn't look away from my brother for an instant. This isn't about me, after all.

Biting my lip, the piece of paper creases in my hand as my fingers curl from tension. I don't need to look at it again, already having memorized it in an instant. It's a single sentence written in Japanese that Niu is much more fluent in writing. Despite the fear it brought to me, it's what we've all been waiting to hear.

I'm going to get through to him.

Such a simple statement. To someone who hasn't been with us it would seem useless and extremely vague. Niu could have passed this to any of our group and every single one of us would immediately comprehend.

The spell breaks when a strained noise rises in my brother's throat. The pen clatters onto the paper, useless as Minkah gapes with desperate, tormented eyes at Niu.

"Why? Why did she take him?" he wails in Arabic, Niu holding him fast as he collapses against him. "Why did she take him?"

I watch as Minkah curls against Niu, anguished sobs all at once wracking his body as he abandons the pen and paper that was placed between them. Trembling as he does when he's having an episode, he's speaking in a fraught voice. Even though I cannot understand the language, the pleading tone is unmistakable. Niu pulls my brother to his chest and Minkah screams into the front of Niu's shirt while the tech expert threads his hands through white locks. The screaming continues for several agonizing minutes, my brother barely able to get in a breath, his muscles clenching from the emotional strain. No one rushes in to see what is going on. Niu and the others discussed this prior to him confronting my brother once more.

Niu shakes his head when I move to comfort my brother. Not now. He needs this. Needs to accept it. Needs to scream and claw and release the pent up misery. And because he hasn't accepted it until now Minkah hasn't grieved. You don't mourn for someone who is still alive, even if only in your mind. All of this is bottled up suffering he has been avoiding, placing all of his hope in hallucinations he experienced following Afika's death.

I lower my eyes as he pleads more questions I cannot follow in this short time I have had Yugi and Marik tutor me. And with Minkah in this state, face buried against Niu's chest, there is very little Niu can do either. Through the hapless sobs and broken entreaties that are but syllables to my ears, the name "Afik" keeps resurfacing.

'You knew this would happen and yet what good did you do? You died—discarded him to us. How did dying help him any?' I reflect resentfully. Afika had shot my accusations down when I confronted him about my brother searching for the truth of his past. The black-haired assassin understood Minkah in a way that I did not, knowing what would do more harm than good.

From the anguished tears my brother sheds, I see he is at last acknowledging at least one fact: his lover is dead. Fear curdles in my gut as Niu attempts to console him. What now? He's going to recover from this. Then what? Will he find the strength to move on? Does he know how to move on? Who else has he ever been allowed to grieved properly?

Dimah was a phantom who was ultimately fabricated by Apophis. Minkah didn't so much mourn her as tried to please a voice that wasn't hers. We all have a fair idea whose it was.

'Don't become another voice,' I beseech the deceased assassin that still haunts my own memories. 'That's the last thing he needs.'

I'm afraid of when I speak to him like I do my mother and Amane. Afraid that maybe there will be a reply one of these times. Even though I know it won't happen—that I can separate the living and dead in my mind—there's always that lingering fear. It is not the only thing that terrifies me.

What if he doesn't recover?

'He needs to grieve,' I decide swiftly as my eyes return to my brother curled in the fetal position against Niu. 'And not just for Afika either.'

The wound must be located and tended to, lest it be left to fester and eaten away by infection. There are several wounds we must find and begin to mend.

(Malik's POV)

I stand in the open kitchen washing up the last of the dishes from dinner long after everyone else turned in for the night. Without question they will be speaking their minds, being deprived of that right during the daylight hours. All of us have turned into night owls.

A door creaks open down the short hallway where the two bedrooms and tiny bathroom reside. My ears strain and I fight the urge to look over my shoulder to see if Yami is done chatting with the others. It is too ironic. They planted devices to listen for any trace that we may be scheming against them and the world. That's what I feel like when the bugs are turned off and we're whispering conspiratorially.

Sensing someone standing behind me, I manage a nonchalant glance over my shoulder. A Minkah much paler than usual stands with his arms at his sides. Grey eyes watch my hands scrub at a particularly stubborn spot on a pan.

"Isn't nonstick. Cheap bastards. They can afford those vehicles and can't even buy us decent cookware," I smirk at him, turning back to my blackened foe. "Everyone else busy plotting?"

He doesn't answer, wandering aimlessly over to the table that is made to seat four people comfortably, but we cram around it anyway. Sinking down on a chair, I assume he is still watching my futile attempts. Kinda embarrassing.

Minkah isn't judging my horrid housekeeping skills—or lack of. Even though he's watching me like he's under a spell I doubt he even is fully aware what he's looking at. His mind is in a fog. I heard the muffled screaming from the living room, the sound echoing in my ears long after Marik turned up the volume of the television.

'So you did it, Niu,' I silently thank the tech expert from having hindered my desire to be the one to wake Minkah up from the delusion. I can handle a lot of things. A lot of times it hasn't been by choice. Blood I can take. Pain as well. I can comfort my brother and lie through my teeth for him. Everyone knows I won't hesitate to step into the midst of a brawl for someone I care about.

But to watch Minkah break again…to have him scream and watch those tears burst that have been pent up behind walls for so long…

Maybe I'm not as strong as everyone believes.

"You hungry?" I ask. He did skip dinner after all. And I know for a fact the food at hospital food sucks.

I look over in time to see him shake his head from side to side, always staring at me. His lips remain tight, features locked in what can only be described as defeat. At once I feel guilty wanting so badly to have him recognize the truths everyone has been shoving into his face. Gazing at his despairing eyes, this can't be what I wanted. I'm not cruel, never wanted him to suffer. Hells, I wanted him to suffer less.

'Once again, Niu, you saw when I was blind.'

"Tea?" I try again. "Before you say no: It's decaf. Ah well, I'm going to have some."

The water pouring into the kettle is like an erratic metal drumbeat. Too loud for these nights we spend so quietly despite no one listening. I catch myself wincing at the noise, as if I were afraid someone is going to bang on the wall and shout at me for turning the faucet on. What if Niu missed a bug? There's no way he could, but it's a fear all of us share. One of the many fears we all cling to.

Placing the half-empty kettle on the burner I am once again left with nothing to do. The dishes are stacked neatly in the strainer. I could dry them with a towel and put them away in their designated cupboards. My lip curls in disgust when I look at the ugly sunflower patterns that trace around the rims of the cups and plates as if to mock me somehow. I've always hated flowers, but these have grown to be a personal grudge.

He's still wearing the striped tee shirt and faded jeans he returned in from the psychiatric hospital today. I meanwhile have already donned navy blue flannel pajamas to ward off the winter cold.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for spring."

This remark doesn't even prompt a response from him. I wonder if he really has heard a word I've said this entire time or if he's just been pretending to listen and respond accordingly.

"I've never liked the cold," I inform him matter-of-factly to his blank stare. "At night it was cold in Egypt. Remember that? It could get deathly cold. People from other countries think it's all hot desert, but that shows how little they know even about deserts. Sure there wasn't snow, but still…" I trail off, glancing at the light frost that is covering the power lines, making them shine in the light of the streetlamps.

Meeting his gaze I clear my throat, voice quieter as I continue. "But in the mountains here in Japan…Well that was on a whole new level. And I know any tolerance I had developed for it over the years is gone."

One of the lights flickers in the alleyway on the far edge of the building. I imagine it a candle, a flame dancing in the cold. Waiting to ignite the entire premises and sear us through and through. All the while a lone person would stand somewhere close by watching, maybe laughing…

I shudder at this image, but Minkah mistakes this as my reaction to the cold I've been droning on about for the sake of not having this looming silence. I know how badly he wants to run out that door and check to see if that dying streetlight isn't really that bitch waiting for us. For the sake of doing something…I can understand that much.

"When will it end?" his faint whisper reaches my ear.

"What?" I must be careful, mustn't make a big deal out of something that he's not even referring to. I learned that with Marik. Let him lead the conversation.

"The interrogations. The evaluations." His voice remains surprisingly neutral as he speaks. "When will they give up and leave?"

"They're a stubborn lot," I admit with a sardonic smirk, leaning my arms on the back of the chair beside him. "But their type is impatient. They'll go off on the hunt eventually. Once that happens we'll be forgotten in no time. You'll see. They just need something else to chase."

"She won't make a mistake that they would notice," he hisses between his teeth, fingers clenching on the table top. "Not unless she wants them to."

"Then let them," I counter in a heartbeat. "They want to confront her, Minkah. And if they're off chasing her that's a weight off our shoulders. I say good riddance."

His features creep with contempt. "You don't believe they'd actually bring her down?"

"Hell no. But they wouldn't be so fixated upon us, would they?"

I thank Ra when steam begins shooting from the kettle, removing it from the burner before the keening whistle can wake our neighbors. Stepping to the cupboard I grab two cups. If Minkah notices he doesn't object, watching disinterestedly as I brew the cheap tea packet.

"This stuff is shit compared to what Yami discovered. There's this great little place where you can get all sorts of teas. The foreign ones even."

I stop at that, tasting mint even as the scent of sencha fills my nostrils. I don't consume anything with a mint flavor. It causes me to gag. I can still remember the smell of their strong Arabic mint teas wafting through the thin air of the tombs.

"I don't even know what the hurry is," I admit, never looking at him during this time. "It's not like we lead the most interesting of lives to begin with."

"Your family has always been far from normal," he scoffs.

"Our family," I correct him wryly, placing a cup down in front of him before sliding onto the next chair. The small tea cup is hot between my hands, and I relish the heat. "And 'normal' is shit. No such thing. It's just a word with no real meaning."

"I assume there are more?"

"Of what?"

"Meaningless words."

"Well sure there are."

"Such as?"

"You're suddenly intrigued by my philosophies?" I grin at him.

"Only you would go so far as to call them that."

"Ouch. Right to my pride."

"You had too much anyway."

The faintest hint of amusement traces along the vowels before he stares into the cup of tea as if hoping for some kind of reading. There will be no fortune telling, the teabags offering no answers or clues. Not that I've ever been the superstitious type anyway.

I raise my head, picking up the indistinct dialogue going on in the two bedrooms. The walls giving little enough privacy to eavesdrop but enough confidentiality to not be understood. The neighbors never complain. All having lived here long enough to know that, despite its location, this is not a place of solitude.

"Supposed."

"What?"

"Supposed," I repeat lifting the cup to my lips cautiously. "Useless word. We're supposed to do it this way. Things are supposed to be done that way. It was supposed to happen like so. See? Since we've already deemed 'normal' as irrelevant then naturally 'supposed' is bullshit as well. There is no one size fits all in the grand scheme of things."

He doesn't touch his cup, studying me with intent grey eyes.

"You think it's that simple?"

"I think it's that complex."

Minkah shifts in his seat, hands lying motionless on either side of the small cup. I take another sip, thankful for the relief of the tension around him. Does he realize he is relaxing? Can he see the progress he's making? How far he's come? I can't just blatantly point it out. That would have the opposite effect of that which I intended.

"Promise."

The warm tea churns in my gut. He doesn't look angry. Nor is he breaking down again. Grey eyes are far away, looking at something I cannot see. Minkah seems to realize I do not catch his meaning.

"Another valueless word."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," I argue much to my surprise, sounding quite like a sap.

"You used it for Marik when he asked questions regarding your past in Egypt."

I swallow hard to suppress the vomit rising in my throat.

"I guess I did."

There is a long pause as he digests my answer. I didn't evade or deny lying to my brother. How can I? Minkah has known for a long while.

"But he chose to believe you regardless."

"I…yeah. He's never asked…"

"Maybe he knows better."

I try to catch his eye and read what he's thinking, but the intense look fades when his eyes avert back to his untouched tea. Whether there was more to that quick exchange than Marik's condition, I'm not sure. And I know better this time than to ask.

"Hey." I nudge his elbow with my own, impelling him to look me in the eye. "We're in a rough patch right now. Give it time."

His gaze holds longer than I anticipated making it feel I'm having a staring contest with a marble statue. Would it be stranger if I did or didn't blink? Settling back with a sigh, he picks up the cup.

" 'Obey'."

I snort, gulping down the last of my drink.

"Always hated that one too."

---

NOTE: For anyone who skipped my notes at the beginning: The final chapter ended up as two separate chapters. I am completing the final scenes of the second chapter in my free time (got a temp job for the next few weeks, so I'll do my best).

Pleas reviewsies! You may point out something I might want to change/mention for the final chapter. When a story stretches out this long even the author can forget a detail or two! ;)

See you next (last) chapter!