Ferris dropped off the face of the earth for a bit. It's dark out there in space O.o

This one is short! One chapter to go after this one (it's long!)! I'm sooo sorry for the delay, but I swear I rewrote and edited this one until my fingers felt they would fall off. I'm quite happy with how the final chapter is going and have only one narration left to write in it. (more notes about that process at the end of this chappie) Since I'm free from work for one more week, I should have plenty of time to post it, as I have the drive to do it! :) Chapter dedication to ThornyRoseIsTrue. The lyrics are from Within Temptation's "Our Farewell".

In my hands
A legacy of memories
I can hear you say my name
I can almost see your smile
Feel the warmth of your embrace
But there is nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?

Chapter 29: Grief

(Marik's POV)

"Where do you want these ones, Mr. Mutou?"

Grandpa looks to Ryou who stands beside him, having been directing traffic of our few possessions. He bites his thumbnail in thought. The living room floor is littered with boxes—opened and unopened—of various sizes. Not much, considering they are all the worldly belongings we have. It's strange to sort through your life so easily.

Yami and Yugi are unloading the small number of dishes we brought with in the kitchen. We have no use for much else from the apartment besides the beds. Mr. Bakura kept the latest appliances. All they need is a little dusting from six months of unintended neglect.

"The bedrooms could fit a bit more…"

"Not once there are people in them," Honda points out while Grandpa mops his brow with his cloth handkerchief. "Remember it's going to be a bit more crammed than before, Ryou."

"Still bigger than that dingy apartment," I remind them earning relieved grins all around.

"An' good riddance!"

I am overall pleased like them to have at last escaped the confines of that prison. At the same time I was terrified to return to this house. Because it had belonged to Mr. Bakura it has somehow become tainted. Evil. But it was also because of Mr. Bakura that everything he owned goes to the only living child that he recognized as his own. The property essentially became Ryou's upon his untimely demise in the mountains. But it would be taken care of by his charge until Ryou is of age. This was discovered after the adoption documents had already been signed and processed, much to the army's dismay. They couldn't deny us the property.

Brown eyes move over the remaining boxes dubiously and I feel a sense of pride for Ryou. Of everyone, he was the hardest to convince to return. Too many lonesome memories and treacheries stir when he even thought about this house. After nearly a week of deliberation, he mustered the courage to step foot inside once more, all of us with him; his brother right by his side.

"Look! You won't hafta bring anything from the apartment!" Jounouchi exclaims stretching his arms out and twirling around as the rest of us stand in an uneasy cluster in the living room. "Everything you need is already…"

His breath catches and several of us turn away at the sight of the brown blood covering one arm of the sofa and dried like cement on the carpet beneath it. That must have happened after we had fled. No doubt when the assassins kidnapped Mr. Bakura.

I suddenly wish I had not come, that someone else had walked through first. There are papers everywhere. Documents are littering the dining room table and scattered across the floor as if they'd been tossed like oversized confetti. It's unlike the army to leave such papers behind. I remember our group scrounging through them, involving everything from excavation sites, missing archaeologists, and Apophis. Cruel reminders none of us had readied ourselves to face so abruptly.

"Needs some cleaning is all," Honda mumbles, having joined Malik and I in the doorway to the dining area. "Bring the hide-a-bed from the apartment and we'll toss this couch."

"We can move you guys in no time, Gramps!" Jou gives us two thumbs up. "After graduation we're all yours!"

"Getting out of that place in two days? Sounds good to me," Yami agrees while Grandpa can only manage to nod, still taking it all in.

"Need to call the electric company and get the water turned back on," Yugi begins scurrying around making a mental to-do list.

"Dibs on the master bedroom!" Malik hollers as he, Yami, and Jounouchi dash after our shorter friend who is already on the stairs.

"Like hell!"

Shaking his head with a feeble smile, Grandpa wanders past me and Honda toward to the kitchen, murmuring about spoiled food. Anything but remaining near these accursed documents telling the tragic ends of so many of his colleagues. Niu approaches us, face blank as he stares at the papers. Ryou and Minkah remain glued in place near the front door. While Ryou is unable to look away from the dried blood of his father, Minkah is trembling as Niu picks up a page as if to study it.

We gape as he crumples it in his fist unceremoniously before picking up another and shredding it to pieces with nimble fingers.

"That's…!"

What is he thinking? As he does this his eyes rise to meet Minkah's. As soon as they make contact he turns pointedly to Ryou, ripping apart several sheets at once in a crisp, even sound.

Exhaling, Ryou hurries to his side, Minkah trailing behind uncertainly. Honda smirks at me, three of us following Niu's example. I relish in the feeling of the horrible facts being shredded between my fingers. Faces disappear. Ghastly accounts become rubbish, all of us making certain not a single sentence remains intact. We tear faster, having been craving such an outlet for six torturous months of silence. It's as if we erase what happened further back, then most certainly all of the horror that followed will dissipate as well.

Minkah remains at a distance watching wordlessly as the past is destroyed before his eyes. His jaw is tight, fingers twitching at his side where he used to carry his knife. I notice Niu watching him as well, waiting to see Minkah's reaction. What does he make of this lack of a response?

With a wad of shredded paper in his fist, Honda strides meaningfully past Minkah into the living room.

"I know it's summer, guys, but Niu's gotten me to thinking…" He stops and pats his hand on the mantel with a smirk. "Anyone else craving a nice warm fire?"

"This one is paperwork," Honda announces after cutting off the tape.

"My room then," Grandpa nods.

He opted for the smallest of the three bedrooms: the one given to Minkah when he first arrived in this country as an assassin. Minkah now shares a room with Niu and Ryou in his brother's old bedroom. The master bedroom that had belonged to Mr. Bakura is now occupied by four people. Malik and Yami have the queen-sized bed. Yugi and I sleeping on sleeping bags just as we did back at our old home; Malik having refused to give up the large bed. At least he's better natured now that the bandages are off and his voice has, thank God, returned to what it was.

While Honda ascends the stairs with the box bound for the second floor, my brother lifts his head as if suddenly discovering something.

"Where's Minkah?"

I answer before any of them go into a panic.

"He's still in the cab of the rental truck."

"What for?" Jounouchi asks walking over and peering out the window with his hand over his brow like a visor. "Yup. He's just…sitting there."

"It's sweltering out there," Grandpa states with a hint of worry. "He'll have a heatstroke. Someone go get him, please. If it's the work he's avoiding, we're just about done."

" 'Cept it's supper time!"

"It's only 2:30, you bottomless pit," Malik chuckles opening the front door and grimacing as the heat pours into the house. "Be right back."

I linger at the window as everyone else go back to their chores of tidying the place up, hauling all the empty boxes and packing peanuts out to the garage until trash pickup. There's a low hum of the vacuum directly overhead as Niu cleans the fine layer of dust from bedrooms. He prefers to work on his own away from the humdrum. I will admit we aren't the easiest group to grow accustomed to when it comes to the high noise and energy levels.

"Could we have a celebratory snack instead then?" the blonde hopefully requests.

Grandpa chuckles while Ryou clucks his tongue. The three of them stroll for the kitchen to join Yami and Yugi. Laughter erupts almost instantaneously, a rich warm sound that has eluded us for far too long. For the first time in months I feel like I can breathe again.

I watch from the edge of the curtain as Minkah is coaxed from the truck, a wooden chest held between he and my brother. My fingers climb to my throat as they carry it as though it held some great weight. Malik plays along, treating it with care as Minkah's grey eyes remain trained upon the bland, aged wood that we purchased at an antique store as if it were about to catch fire.

All curiosity unhinges and I make a dash for the stairs as the front door creaks open. On quiet feet I retreat to the second story as the laughter rings and the strange procession enters the house.

"Where do you want them?" Malik's voice reaches my ears and I pause in the hallway. The vacuum has been shut off. There is an awkward silence as Minkah considers.

"I…haven't…"

"Your room then?"

Another hesitation.

"Ryou wouldn't like it."

"Neither would you." It isn't a question, and my brother isn't pretending it is.

"…no."

Malik's natural impatience gets the better of him.

"He was the one who suggested the whole thing!"

I close my eyes, pleading my brother to relent, wishing he could hear me. 'This isn't easy for any of us. I know you don't want that name marring our new home. It doesn't belong. But there's nowhere else. Minkah would yearn to visit any makeshift grave which would only arouse suspicions.'

"You're all against this. I didn't even want them! Why the fuck did you encourage it?"

These spiteful words are no question. Malik quickly tries to cover his blunder about Ryou coming up with the idea for a way for Minkah to mourn. This isn't supposed to be about us.

"Minkah, I didn't…"

"It's just as well!" the white-haired teen snaps viciously. "It's not like it's them anyway!"

"Minkah…!"

I jump at the thud of the chest being dropped. Feet pound on the stairs and I fling myself against the wall just in time. Minkah storms past me, throwing open his bedroom door so hard I fear the hinges will come off. Just as fiercely it slams shut, the wall I lean against shuddering.

I hold onto the breath that had come so easily downstairs. Now the air is thin. Niu doesn't seem to notice as he steps from further down the hall where he was cleaning. Honda trails close behind him with a grim expression plastered on his face. By this point my brother is panting at the top of the stairs, gazing forlornly at the closed door. The laughter below has ceased.

Niu shakes his head when Malik makes to move forward. No one argues. Instead my brother hangs his head while Niu turns the knob and enters alone. The door closes with a click.

"Gods, tell me I haven't undone everything."

Honda frowns, face troubled and tense as he stares at the door. Ryou cautiously comes up the stairs, fear apparent when he sees the three of us gathered outside the room he shares with Niu and Minkah. Even without inquiring he knows.

"Let Niu talk to him," he says in a voice barely audible. "We can set the shrines up on the mantle."

Even though that means having to see that name in the living room, even in passing, Malik does not object. We can understand to some degree. While we weren't close to anyone else in the tombs, our loss of Otogi will help guide us to the proper way to handle this delicate matter.

"If only that bitch had left the body," my brother grates under his breath. "Minkah's not the only one who would have preferred him six feet under."

"Malik!" Ryou hushes him as they head back down the stairs to wait for Niu to set things right.

Honda doesn't budge and so I linger as well, curious as to what he hopes to gain by standing outside the door. He catches me in a sidelong glance, a mirthless smirk curving his lips.

"Guess those shrines were a waste of money. Minkah is against the idea even more than Malik."

"This will take time." I want to believe myself so badly.

A strange look creeps across Honda's features like he is about to yell at me. It's a haunted face that I have seen in the mirror many times in the past. I wait, preparing for him to release all the unspoken horrors he, Jounouchi, and Niu keep to themselves. These three are the only ones—even when the bugs were turned off—who remained tight-lipped as to what took place in the forest that night.

A smirk forms and the look breaks, leaving me with the old Honda.

"You're right," he concedes grasping me lightly by the shoulder. "You're right as usual, Mare. Let's not mope here where we're no use. Niu can handle this."

Though he wears a smile and his tone is light, I don't quite believe him. Grandpa said the worst has passed. Everyone else seems to think so as well. Lives are being reclaimed and forged. Opportunities knock. A new home embraces us. Then why do I feel this constricting feeling on my throat like the scars themselves are tightening into ropes?

Honda follows me down the stairs and I feel like a sheep being herded back to the flock. I want to cry out: "There are two more! Go back! Have you forgotten them?"

Stealing a glance over my shoulder I catch the steel in brown eyes and can see that he has not forgotten at all.

(Minkah's POV)

"You know their reservations, Minkah. No one is going to deny them," Niu gently prods me where I'm leaning against the throne, chin resting on its arm as I clutch to it like a frightened child to its mother. "Their opinions of Afika won't change. You cannot blame them after what he put them through."

Yes. I know. Gods, I know. It would be foolish to assume they could suddenly view him in a different light. I would have it no other way. He brainwashed me my entire life. I know now it wasn't ever her voice that led me on my quest for vengeance. As much as I can recollect, Um has never spoken to me following her death. At least she's no longer a demon. She can be the faded few cherished memories I possess of my early childhood.

My breath shudders as I try to gather some energy to compose myself. The ship is still stuck here, still anchored in this lonely, desolate place. Waiting for a journey—for a destination I cannot choose. There is no course I could stay true to.

"I know all that," I whisper, feeling haggard and worn through. How transparent have I become? "It's just…That shrine…it's not them. Um and Afik aren't in there."

Niu nods as he understands where I am coming from. He comprehends all too well. Surely his own family has been buried with respect somewhere though? Their friends and community assured that they were treated with dignity and given a proper place for their bodies to rest and decompose.

"Their remains are long gone. There are no records of what Apophis did with Dimah. And since it was Severa who took Afika, I think it's safe to say he was…cremated."

I grimace at the word he chose in an effort to be kind. Yes, the pyromaniac would have set the body aflame. At least I have the peace in knowing he was already dead when she did this, if nothing else. Because of her I have very little closure about anything.

"She thought it would lure you to seek her out if you didn't know what became of his body."

"Well it's working," I murmur wretchedly.

Fingers clamp down on my shoulder, his eyes flashing. "You cannot follow that path. Look what you have now! It's not worth it. He didn't save you so you would turn around and throw your life away."

"He'd want me to avenge him."

"Would he? Would he really, Minkah?"

I bite my lip, reservation overcast as I wonder. He never spoke of avenging me. Just saving me. Protecting me. Even though it was unspoken, we both expected that he would be the first to die if we didn't die fighting side by side. I had never asked him what he would want me to do, what was expected of me.

"If he didn't specify, doesn't that mean he was giving you room to make your own choice?" Niu follows my train of thought, trying to give me an opening; find a loophole that frees me from any obligations.

I reach up and gently brush his hand from my shoulder. He doesn't resist, letting me go. Gripping the smooth edges of the wood, I pull myself to my feet. There's nowhere to go. Not yet.

"You said to me before that I had to make a choice. I had to choose between my new family and Afik." Niu doesn't say anything to confirm that he remembers though I'm sure he does. "You said if I chose Afik…I'd be trapped with Apophis for the rest of my life."

"I hold to that. You cannot take the path of revenge and stay with them, Minkah. It's one or the other. They can't endure that. Putting them all in danger again…The life of an assassin and outcast is not meant for them. Life has not been kind in the choices you've had to make, but you must press on regardless. You're stronger than you give yourself credit."

Am I? Niu isn't one to give compliments unless he means them. If he thought otherwise he would simply remain silent on the matter.

"Malik makes it seem so easy," I murmur wrapping my arms around my waist.

"You're not Malik Ishtar, Minkah. He has suffered, yes, but it is of a different kind. You cannot compare your life to his and fault yourself for being unable to cope as he has."

Choking back a cry of misery I slam my fists down as hard as I can on the throne, warding off the desire to use these same fists on his face. Pain throbs through my hands as splinters bury themselves in tender flesh.

"You were the one who told me to side with them!" I accuse miserably, eyes stinging, as if all of this were somehow his fault. How would it have turned out differently if he hadn't stepped in! "You said not to miss an opportunity to be normal!"

"That's right," he replies in that calm, confident tone of his.

Hopelessness mounting, I hold out my aching hands beseechingly. "But what do I do now? I tried to live like them. I tried to let it go! I can't!"

"So stop trying. Don't try to act as they do. As I said, you are not them. Put aside the part of you that learned how to blend in so well and lose yourself to the character you play. Be angry. Yell if you need to and find an outlet that doesn't involve bloodshed." Wise eyes fixate upon the blood seeping from my trembling hands. "I advised you to live with them and be a part of their family. I never said to stop being you."

My breath cuts off. This I had never taken into consideration. Of course. How could I be content playing a part for the rest of my life? It's just as during my assignments for Apophis. A different name and story every time. Time to stop writing and let it unfold on its own.

I just have to make the decision.

How naïve I was when I faced Afik. I was so certain of what I was getting myself into. Is that why he refused to back down and join me and my newfound family? He knew it was much more complicated than I believed. How did I mislead myself so much?

"I have chosen. I told you!"

"Yes, that's what you'vesaid. But that's not really making a choice. Anyone can say something and make an oath. It's complete bullshit until you act—or don't act upon it."

Only now am I fully recognizing the forewarning lurking within that dialogue. I had to be removed from that situation and be allowed to breathe and think before I could clearly see. He was right about one thing for certain: It is complete bullshit.

I tip my head back to look at the mast that seemingly goes on forever in this cavern. Does it touch the ceiling or is that an empty black sky above? That voice I don't recognize or fear surfaces for just a moment, a mere echo of what it said what feels like a lifetime ago:

"Which will you bring back?"

Those eyes flare in front of my vision for a millisecond like a spark from a fire. I quickly banish them away, not wanting to think about that right now. Not about the recurring dream, or the eyes, or that merciful lie.

"Niu?"

"Hm?"

"You were so insistent on me staying with them," I say slowly. "Then why did you turn them down?"

I feel myself shrink down under that darkened gaze even though it isn't hostile. I don't know what prompted me to ask him again. Definitely not the assumption he would tell me this time. He and I both saw their disappointment when he declined their hopeful offer to be a part of the family. I know at least Honda and Jounouchi confronted him away from the others, but if he gave them a reason, they never said. It's the only thing that makes me wary of the army giving up and leaving us. Would there be enough for him here to make him want to stay?

"If you change your mind…"

"I won't."

"But Niu…"

He raises his eyebrows like he does out there, telling me It doesn't matter. What difference would it make if he gave me his motive? How often do I win a debate with him? Once or twice in our history have I succeeded in changing his mind. All I would have is an explanation at best.

At once he isn't talking anymore except with his eyes and an open notebook set between us on the bed, the page covered in scrawls of Arabic that become all the more illegible as my emotions had heightened. Somehow he managed to discern what I was saying. He always does. We're alone in the bedroom we share with my brother. No one has intruded. They can't reach me when I retreat. Niu's the only one. I don't know if I'll ever allow anyone else in. Right now it's a frightening thought to make myself so vulnerable. I don't believe any of them will ask for change for now either. So I just have to stop trying so hard? That's it? Was I really making it more difficult than it had to be?

"What now?"

Niu brings his hand to his mouth and makes a chewing motion with his jaw before pointing to the floor. A snack. An afternoon respite with my family and friends. Nothing momentous. Nothing that will make me feel inclined to pretend I'm content. My presence is enough for the time being.

My companion tilts his head toward the door. I nod, standing stiffly and waiting as he gathers the notebook and pen, flipping to an empty page to begin anew. The few short steps to the door seem to take far longer, my legs filled with lead. My hand goes numb as my fingers encircle the doorknob, fear of their worried looks and opinions of my behavior paralyzing me.

I blink when a page is shoved in my face, grazing my nose; having to lean back in order to see it.

You think this little incident was all that bad?

My eyes flitting to Niu, I catch the wry smirk tugging on his lips. No, I guess this wasn't so bad. I didn't lapse into delirium and attack anyone. I didn't have conversations with my deceased mother. Nor did I demand to see Afik. It dawns on me that nothing much happened. I lost my temper and retreated to my room. Niu comforted me and helped me see reason. That's about it.

I chuckle in response while pulling the door open to find the hallway empty; everyone wanting to give us privacy to talk. Light chatter has resumed downstairs as they wait for us to emerge. It's so different from all the other times that left them angry or cowering away from me. There are no tears this time. Just someone needing to vent. They understand and respect this. It wasn't anything so unordinary at all.

(Malik's POV)

He's sitting alone by the dark fireplace, a small lamp emitting a slightly reddish flush giving eeriness to the scene. It figures we could only find light bulbs for holiday decorations that I doubt the Bakura household ever used. The curtains are drawn, none of us eager for the soldiers to come snooping around our new abode. Especially on our very first night.

Shoving my hands in my pockets I try to avoid looking at the objects of his attention. Two small shrines sit atop the mantle as a cruel reminder of how these lives were lost. I'm understanding more and more why he doesn't want them here. A memorial means nothing to him. It's not the way he grieves. I'm not sure even he knows how he mourns; don't think he ever has up until now. Hell, before Otogi, I hadn't either. But that'd be one of the worst possible things I could mention to Minkah.

"Hey."

Minkah looks at me, eyes seeming to glow. He nods to me inattentively, acknowledging my presence but not engaging. I sigh noisily, louder than I intended, adding to the awkward atmosphere. I'm not sure what he took it as: my frustrations with him, with myself…

"What I said earlier…" I mumble not looking at him or the memorial with that bastard's name inscribed on it. "It was out of line…"

"I'm not mad about it anymore, Malik."

I don't quite believe him. Niu's good at talking sense into him, but I'm not always sure if Minkah's just trying to avoid dealing with something rather than admitting he's still bothered by it. I'd have him yell in my face rather than hold in some grudge that he's afraid to divulge lest it should cause a rift between us or release unpleasant emotional baggage.

"I mean it. It wasn't my place to…"

"And I meant it as well," he cuts in with an edge of irritation. "So you can drop it already."

I dare look at him just as his eyes dart to the two decorated shrines with Japanese inscriptions, a presumption of how their names might be spelled in a language so vastly dissimilar from their own. I'll bet Afika would be majorly pissed off at having a commemoration for him on display in our household. It takes a bit of willpower not to grin at the thought. So, despite his and my efforts, he ended up in the same house as me anyway. Figuratively speaking.

"What are you smirking about?"

Okay, so maybe my amusement was harder to contain that I assumed.

"Nothing."

Eyebrows rise beneath wild white bangs.

"If there is something funny about this, I'd love to hear it."

Well shit. I couldn't contain the ironies until I was off by myself where I wouldn't be badgered by people for inappropriately finding murky humor amidst the tragedy.

"That's just it. There isn't anything remotely funny."

Minkah's expression becomes downright baffled, believing I have blown a gasket grinning like a Cheshire cat at a couple of shrines, one for an enemy, in my house. It is fantastic how polar his relationship with Afika was in comparison to the short time I spent with the black-haired assassin. Cruel, really, that Minkah doesn't have anyone with whom he can share these memories that wants to hear any of it.

"I talked with Mr. Mutou," he murmurs, deciding not to remain on this strange topic with me. "The shrines go back tomorrow."

"But you need this," I protest, all at once ashamed for seeing any hilarity in what is causing him pain.

"I need something," he admits quietly averting his eyes from them. "But not those. It's too…bizarre. I guess I'm not accustomed to the normal ways of grieving."

Calloused fingers play distractedly with the frayed ends of a tear in the knee of his jeans. I study him carefully, watching for any signs of distress that could lead to a meltdown. While his features tighten, he remains composed and in control. I don't give as much credit to the shrinks as I do to Niu.

"That would be the Japanese way of grieving," I correct him leaning against the armchair he's sitting in. "Not the only way in the world. And grief even diverges throughout a single culture. You'd be surprised."

Minkah nods eyes fixated upon the carpet that has been clean thoroughly, the bloodstain still distinct in our memories where Mr. Bakura must have been attacked. Or perhaps it was all from the gunshot wound I gave him outside of the Game Shop. There is a part of me that wished I had been the one to kill the bastard. It's a sentiment that Minkah at least understands. Everyone else gives me disapproving looks if I mention anything of the sort.

What the heck could we put in place of these stupid memorials? Some sort of testament to Dimah and Afika. It has to reach Minkah on a deeper level than simply having their names scratched on some tablet and put on display like an art gallery's latest piece.

Gods, please let it be tolerable for me.

My friend is obviously stuck in the same hitch. How is he supposed to know what to do? Do these things happen effortlessly for people who haven't lived through hell like we have?

"I have never understood the workings of it," Minkah discloses with an itch in his throat. "We never stuck around to watch, you know? We were the cause. That's where it always ended. And with Um…" He releases a shaky breath, roughly pushing those uneven bangs out of his eyes in frustration. "I know it wasn't how things usually are. None of it was how it should be, hearing voices that I thought were her…"

"Don't go there. You know better now."

I had to stop him, hearing the emotions rising in his voice as he thought about the face behind the mask of his puppeteer. Her face. Her voice. His memories of her were the disguise. It was all a masquerade at his expense.

The wince might have been an attempt at a smile when he looks up at me. The skin pinches around his eyes and his mouth is frozen and straight.

"It's different this time." Grey eyes probe me hoping to find any sliver of optimism I may be holding back. "I've accepted that it was the hypothermia. But he was so…he was there, Malik."

I don't reply to the desperation in his voice for me to agree. That would only serve to encourage him to cast aside all of Niu's long conversations to get through to him. All of that would be for naught. We can't let Minkah go back to that mind frame.

A mirthless chuckle from him makes me grimace as I watch his shoulders shudder with the action. Minkah leans back, tipping his head into the cushioned chair and staring past me to the ceiling.

"I should have known right then. There was no heartbeat. I realized it and still I was convinced that he…" Lips close in a thin contour as he stares up at nothing.

"Hallucinations can be immobilizing to the mind. You're body was almost gone, Minkah. The amount of time you spent out there in the condition you were in…It's amazing you were as coherent as you were. Hell, it's a fucking miracle you're alive."

He brushes this off.

"Extreme weather conditions were one of the many trainings we received."

"Alone and as badly wounded as you were?"

He can only shrug, shoulders sagging as his gaze lowers, leveling with mine. My heart skips a beat at the fire that still blazes in my gut when he looks at me with those burning eyes. It's not the same as it used to be. There's an attraction, I will admit that to myself. He's a beautiful, damaged soul to be admired, befriended, and protected. To go beyond that would be pushing through boundaries into forbidden territory. Nothing I would delve into again. I won't take Yami for granted a second time. Minkah doesn't have what I need. And I can't offer him what he's missing now.

The fingers on his right hand twitch subconsciously. When I first noticed this I assumed it was a consequence of the bullet through the palm. Some shit with the nerves, perhaps. Always having considered myself fairly observant, it was Marik and Niu that revealed perhaps the truer reason to me: He's still pining for that knife that is long gone. Confiscated by the army. They couldn't link it to him though they have identified it as the weapon used in the majority of the killings here in Domino over eight months ago. It was easy enough to claim he had picked it up in the middle of a fight, not aware of what heinous atrocities it had been used for. They couldn't prove otherwise.

"You should take up sketching again," I blurt out without a thought in my head. It would be a way of stopping his hand from doing that. Keep it busy and preoccupied until this tic passes.

"Why?" he asks with suspicious eyes.

"Why? Because you're good at it. You've got talent. Why else?"

He shifts uncomfortably, not used to having his abilities addressed that don't involve the cost of other human lives. The notebook is gone—burned up at Otogi's place deep in the mountains. The distress at the loss shows clear. Those were recollections—many of them possibly false. Too many of them of a spiteful, angry mother that hated him. At least he's laid that lie to rest.

"It's probably best to start over. Put better memories to work."

The life comes back to grey orbs and he nods slowly, deliberately, in thought. I've given him something to consider. This could be an opportunity instead of a tragedy. He can rewrite his history in a better light, in possibly truer colors. Though I seriously doubt it. The truth is long gone; his mother, Kek, and Afika taking it with them.

"Just an idea," I suggest pushing off the chair. "Better yet, do what I do."

"What's that?"

"Don't look back at all."

It's his chance to work things out for himself. Or he could just let it all go and secure it in some dark corner of his mind like I did. I don't think it will be that simple for him. He's always clung to the past—real or not.

If he does decide to do it, it will be very interesting to see how much Dimah in particular has changed.

"I'm going to bed. You?"

"In a while," he answers distantly, already etching something out in his head, hand fidgeting on his knee. I wonder…

Who will be the villain this time?

So I'm currently working on the final chapter of this story. I decided to cut it in two due to a time lapse that I thought made it too confusing for such a long chapter. I don't start my new job for two weeks and am eager to have this one completed. Recently had an experience that brought me back to the original inspirations for this story and learned what happened next in their lives. Inspired me to change some things for this final one.

Reviews inspire me! ;D