A/N: Next week is a school break and I'll be spending it camping, so I can't promise what days I'll update or if I will even be able to. I'll try my best. As a present, an early chapter :)
They sit in silence for a little longer, Bakura every now and then asking gentle questions and Yugi answering curtly, before Bakura goes back to the house to find Tristan, and discuss the new developments with him. Yugi opts to stay outside and explore the grounds, eager to exercise his new freedom.
The mowed lawn doesn't go for very long; enough to surround the house in a reasonable amount, enough to run around, but the further he ventures away from the stone path, the more uncultivated the grounds become, twisted with tree roots and green grass turning darker and longer, more identifiable as weeds. He trudges through it, carefully, making sure not to venture into any dark places, holed in by vegetation.
Instead he walks where the trees are spaced far apart, their canopy of leaves letting sunlight though, kicking stones here and there. The birds above him are dancing from branch to branch, clicking at him with watchful eyes, and he continues to walk around the forest area, taking in every shade of color. It's like his books coming to life.
Eleven years. Has it really been so long? Yugi has memories as a child, of running rampant in fields and building castles out of mud, but even those memories seem bland and in sepia, after so long of cream and white walls, white clothes, white carpets. Never any dirt on the floor, always impeccably clean.
He remembers when he first met Ryou in the S-CORP, and the color of Ryou's eyes shockingly reminding him of milk chocolate. He was barely seven years old. He was just a child; he had no idea why his world was changing, or what they wanted from him. He couldn't understand why he was so much colder, why they wanted to keep him trapped, away from everyone else.
A sudden noise startles him from his musings, and he unthinkingly flails his hand, jetting cold water in the general location of the sound.
"Oh," he says, stunned. A small squirrel stands upright in the ground, frozen still in a thin layer of ice, and the smothering feeling of guilt trickles in.
"That wasn't very nice," says a deep voice, amused, and Yugi's head snaps up. A crease appears between Yami's eyebrows as he approaches, and he gingerly sets down the two sacks he was carrying, and kneels on the ground. "You froze the little guy." Yami's hands wrap around the small creature, and the ice melts, causing water to spill over his fingers until the squirrel is struggling and squeaking in his hands. Yami chuckles and releases it, letting it bolt off into the woods away from them.
Yami stands slowly, wiping dirt from his knees. Yugi eyes the brown bags, but Yami doesn't pick them up again; instead he smiles at Yugi, tilting his head. Yugi bites the inside of his cheek, looking down at the ground, feeling the silence start to bear down on him. Yami takes a few steps closer.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Fine," Yugi answers, clipped.
Yami touches his arm and Yugi yanks it away, whether out of instinct or because of the sharp, hot sensation, he's not sure. Yami quickly lifts both of his hands in a surrendering gesture, and says, "I'm not going to hurt you, Yugi."
"I know that," Yugi brushes off with a hint of irritation, embarrassed. He doesn't need this new group of people to regard him as vulnerable.
"Not trying to escape, are you?" There's a joking grin on his face as he says it, and he hauls one of the sacks over his shoulder. Yugi crosses his arms tightly and merely shrugs. Yami's expression softens slightly. "Come on, I'm heading back to the manor now. I could use some help carrying these back."
He holds out the other sack, and Yugi watches him for a few long, dragging moments, before timidly reaching out and grasping it. It's heavy in his hand, and he lifts it higher, cradling it in his arms; it's sharp and edgy, strange objects making pointed shapes in the lining, and Yugi would guess it's wood.
Yami smiles, setting off in the direction Yugi had come, and slowly, Yugi follows.
The next five minutes are filled with only Yami's half hearted humming, an eerie tune, and the crunch of their feet as they step over sticks and dry weeds. The sun is at a softer angle now, behind him and giving the earth around him a pure, clean look, instead of a decidedly yellow glow. Yugi makes sure to be alert for anymore scurrying creatures, so he won't be caught unaware.
It's rather daunting; to know when he freezes something, there's little he can do to undo it. His temperature is too cold to melt it properly, and it's not as if Yami's going to be strolling along everyday. Yugi doesn't like knowing he could accidentally kill little animals like that; he actually kind of likes them.
"I was fifteen when Bakura and I were rescued," Yami starts, seemingly out of nowhere, his voice changing to a happy tone, in deep contrast to what he had been humming moments ago. "Nearly set this whole forest on fire a few times, when I arrived. Bakura was nineteen, so he had a better grip, you know? I'm pretty sure Tristan wanted to make me wear a flame-retardant suit and oven mitts, but Bakura convinced him otherwise."
Yami jumps over a bundle of rocks, the sack lifting with momentum and slamming into his back, but if it hurt him, he doesn't show it. He turns his head a little, grinning, and says, "You're a quiet one, aren't you?"
Yugi bristles at this; the boy can't possibly be older than him, and yet his teasing manner flows freely from one sentence to the next. Yugi says, "I only talk when it means something." He lets the subtle insinuation of his words rest, and Yami slows to walk in step with him, lifting an eyebrow.
"Cold on the inside as well, eh?"
Yugi drops the sack to the ground, and wood scatters out from it. He glares and snaps, "Carry it yourself."
As he stalks off, he hears Yami calling out that he was just kidding, but Yugi keeps walking, each stomp leaving frozen drops of ice over the grass.
A headache throbs behind Yugi's eyes, and he leans his head back on the couch, closing them. The living room is empty and quiet, because the house – or manor as they call it – is exceedingly large and most of the rooms are unoccupied at one time or another. Yugi's caught sight of others, some as young as even 7, around the house, but decided to avoid them for the meanwhile.
Gentle fingertips probe at his temples, and Yugi's eyelids flick open, but above him is only empty space. "Ry?" he says.
Ryou appears above him, brown eyes watching expectantly. His fingers massage more deeply, and he says, "You've been hiding."
Yugi rolls his eyes at the irony, and Ryou allows himself a wry smile.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Ryou murmurs, "Not being in our rooms anymore."
Yugi nods, and then winces. Ryou strokes his fingers down the sides of his forehead, and says, "You should ask Bakura about something to help with your headaches."
Yugi groans.
"Don't tell me you dislike them already," Ryou says, disbelieving and disappointed.
"No, it's not that," Yugi says, grudgingly. Ryou moves around him to sit next to him on the couch, tugging his legs up close to curl on the cushion.
"Then what?"
Yugi closes his eyes again, knowing Ryou's close, and tries to relax his thoughts a little. "You don't think I'm... cold, do you?" The living room has a scent of lavender all around it.
There's a pause. "You mean, literally or-"
"Never mind," Yugi cuts him off.
Ryou makes an affronted noise, and Yugi imagines he's about to defend himself if not for another voice coming from the doorway.
"So there you boys are." Mai tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling so persistently. "Want to help make dinner? The others have all gone out, and I could use an extra set of hands."
Yugi stands up quickly, casting her a polite smile. "Sure." All his best habits seem to come into play when she's around.
Ryou agrees, giving Yugi a slightly calculating look, before following Mai from the room. He murmurs, almost inaudibly, "Nice to see your bad moods are selective."
Yugi pinches Ryou's side, and Ryou laughs.
There's an undetermined amount of people that live in the house. Mai says older members tend to disappear and return, so there's never an exact amount, unless there's an important meeting that requires them all, which rarely ever happens.
Yugi's introduced to some of the younger children, although he doesn't grasp all their names, except for the one instance that caught in his mind - the three fourteen year old boys named Alex. Other than that, he tries to smile and avoid times when he needs to address them by name.
It's a curious sight to see all the younger ones together, completely unabashed in their unruly control of power. Two boys competing in the middle of the room, one racing around the other with inhuman speed, while the other places his hand on the floor, turning it into to a mud-like consistency, catching the other's feet and causing him to slow. A blonde girl levitates high above them, out of the ruckus.
"Mark!" Mai scolds, "You turn the floor back to how it was this instant. And Jamie, you're ruining the floorboards."
The boys whine a little but they restore the peace, and a girl from the other side of the room asks, "Is dinner ready?" They're all still animated and hungry from their outdoor trip, and Mai can't seem to help the smile that comes to her face.
"When everyone comes back inside," Mai tells her, and Yugi moves back to the kitchen, where Ryou's setting out plates for the older ones; the children usually eat in the living room, since it avoids protests of having to leave their board game or television show.
"I didn't know how many plates to put, so I just filled the table," Ryou says, moving to stand beside Yugi and admire his work. Yugi puts his head on Ryou's shoulder, and they stand in silence.
Outside the older ones are playing a game of soccer, and Yugi feels a different sense of isolation; He pushes away after a few moments, smiling briefly, and checking the pot on the stove. He doesn't know anything about cooking, but Mai tells him things turning black are bad. Yugi's dinner is different; mostly a salad, with off-cuts of cold chicken. Mai had been more observant and analytical than he thought, knowing which foods were undesirable when cold. He hadn't needed to say anything.
Mai comes into the kitchen, nodding her head, and saying, "Good job Ry, it looks great."
Her casual use of the nickname sounds natural, and Ryou's smiling in that sheepish way again. Yugi can hear the front door open, and the chatter that hangs around like a fog comes back into the house, echoing off the walls. When they come in, they're dirty and grinning; Tèa's dark hair has leaves entangled in it, and even Joey looks run down, with grass stains on his shirt.
"Hey," Bakura says warmly to Ryou and Yugi, wiping away some of the dirt on his cheek. "You guys should come join us next time."
Yami's by his side, smiling encouragingly at them both, and Yugi gives him a flat, blank stare. Ryou steps on Yugi's foot, and says, "Sure," to Bakura. A German shepherd speeds past them, tail swishing in all directions.
"Marik," Tèa sighs, "you're not eating like that."
The German shepherd leaps up, and Marik's feet hit the ground in a smooth transition, while Mai eyes him with distaste.
"Wash those hands now you've been walking on them," Mai clicks, smacking his hands away from the plates.
"I was going to," Marik defends, and Tèa snorts at that. The kitchen feels crowded now as everyone lines up to wash their hands and Ryou helps Mai carry everything to the table. Yugi feels awkward, still in the middle of the room, and he watches a small boy run through the wall and snatch a piece of fruit from the table, and run back, completely unseen by the others. Yugi touches the wall; it's solid.
"Yugi, aren't you hungry?" Mai asks, closer than he thought, and he turns quickly.
"Sorry," he says, disoriented.
His first day out of the S-CORP and he already feels like he's drowning, wanting nothing more than to escape to his and Ryou's room for the rest of the night. He makes an excuse of not feeling well, and Mai lets him go.
The room's different to how he left it in the morning. Over each bed is a handmade quilt, with different patches but the same left corner which has family embroidered on it. Another pile rests at the foot of their beds, this time odd assortments of clothes, obviously worn before, with holes in the hems and worn seams. They all smell the same, almost like the flowers and grass from this morning.
Yugi's tutor had taught him about washing machines and the evolution of domestic machinery. He wonders if he'll see one while he's here.
He sits in the middle of the room on the floor boards and they grow colder beneath him. He closes his eyes and tries to mediate, to calm the niggling ache in the back of his mind, but he finds himself restless, unable to clear his mind. He extends his palm, and slowly makes a thin ice barrier in front of himself, and continues until he's surrounded by a 360 degree ice wall. The cold air around him sets his nerves at ease, and the superficial protection gives him slight peace of mind.
He dreamt of S-CORP the night before. He always dreams of S-CORP; he doesn't have many other experiences to contemplate over. Last night had been different, though. The facility was how it was when they were being rescued; on fire and falling apart. Dr. Gozoburo was chasing after them, in his bulky, temperature resistant suit. In the dream, Ryou was missing and Yugi didn't know if he was conscious or visible, and afraid that he was neither.
In some ways, Yugi wished Yami had burnt the place to the ground. Such a destructive power. In other ways, Yugi wishes he was still there. Yugi isn't sure he wants to be out in the real world; it's complicated; noisy; uncertain. He used to read about society and etiquette and the family unit in all the books they gave him, but he's left unbalanced in this new world. Yami had called him cold, not just literally, actually cold hearted. The man who first injected Yugi called him emotionless after Yugi gave his fingers frostbite, and they had to be amputated. He just didn't see the injustice as the scientist did.
He sucks in air, and it chills his lungs. He sets his hands on his crossed legs, and imagines nothing. Nothing but fog, a cold blanket covering his vision. All aches fade, and he feels the sweet lull.
"Yugi?"
Damn it.
Yugi lets his eyes open a bit, and the figure is blurred by ice, but Yugi knows that it's Yami. He closes his eyes again, and tries to count backwards. He just wants to be alone. He hears the footsteps come closer, and he frowns in irritation. Opening his eyes again, he sees an unfocused version of Yami kneeling on the other side of the ice, closer than Yugi thought.
"What are you doing in there?" Yami asks, confused.
"Go away," Yugi mutters.
Yami presses his palms to the ice, and Yugi watches a small ball of orange appear in each one, eating away at his wall. He groans in frustration, crossing his arms to give the point. The cold water pools and freezes around his feet as Yami appears through the gap in the ice.
"Bakura needs to see you," Yami explains, and Yugi's staring at the small candlelight flame on Yami's palm. It diminishes when Yami notices, and he repeats himself.
"Why?" Yugi questions, suspiciously.
Yami sighs, impatiently. "He wants to check out your arm, see what they put into you."
Yugi crosses his arms tighter. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll never find out what kind of dangerous substances you're pumping around." Yugi looks unwavering, so Yami adds, "Ryou trusts us."
Yugi scoffs, quietly. "You have a lenient description of trust."
A crease forms in Yami's brow. "What?"
"You don't know anything about Ryou, don't pretend to."
"Look, it won't take long, and it's in your best interest," Yami perseveres, his flushed cheeks remarkably noticeable next to the melting ice. "You can-... You can trust us, alright?"
Yugi appraises him for a few moments, scrutinizing the sincerity on his face before giving in, resigned. He unfolds his arms and gets to his feet, with Yami scrambling to as well.
"Tristan and Bakura are waiting downstairs," Yami says, indicating he'll lead the way. Yugi follows, silently, and he seems to be following everyone, lately.
He's lost his equilibrium, in this place. Doesn't know where he stands, or what he's expected to do. He walks as if pulled by string, or a route he's long memorized and no longer needs to pay any mind. The little blonde girl runs past him on the way, her shoes making clacking sounds against the boards. They pass the kitchen and down a hallway, where Yami twists the doorknob of the last room. He glances back to make sure Yugi's following, and opens the door.
The room is painfully white, in a way that reminds him of S-CORP. It looks like one of the labs, as well, but much smaller and less formal. Yami ushers him in first and follows behind, almost as if to corner Yugi into the room. Bakura and Tristan are, thankfully, not dressed in white; they are dressed in clean clothes however, having showered and changed since the soccer match. Bakura smiles welcomingly, patting the gray seat beside him.
"Hey," Bakura greets, "just have a seat here."
"What are you going to do?" Yugi asks, not moving.
"We're just going to check out the marks," Tristan responds, blinking behind glasses that Yugi hadn't seen him wear up until this point.
Yugi sits, reluctantly, and Yami moves to the side of the room, getting something from the bench.
"Why weren't you at dinner?" Bakura asks, gesturing for Yugi to lay his arm out.
"Wasn't feeling well," Yugi says, unsure. The inside of his elbow has worsened throughout the day; some of the recent marks are puckered and swollen, reddened around the edges. Bakura makes a clucking noise with his tongue, and Tristan accepts a tray from Yami.
"Then it's a good thing we're checking," Bakura says, seriously. "You might be reacting badly; they might have been keeping you under observation."
Yami sits down on Yugi's other side, watching intently, and Bakura examines his arm, prodding at a few of them as Yugi hisses. He apologies, and then grimaces.
"I need to take samples," Bakura tells him.
"You're not a doctor," Yugi blurts out before he can stop himself. What if this is another S-CORP, just with friendlier faces? A tendril of fear spreads up Yugi's spine.
"I've done a lot of study in the medical field," Bakura says, smiling wryly. "My mental capacity makes me the best candidate in this room."
Tristan lowers the tray, and Yugi's eyes flick over the cotton buds, little packets of something, and a small row of needles. Yugi tenses, and Bakura tightens his hold on his wrist.
"Easy, we're going to numb it first, with this gel," Bakura tells him, soothingly. "Then we're just going to take a little. You'll be fine, I promise."
"No," Yugi says.
"This is better than going back to CIA headquarters to do this," Tristan tells him, as Bakura smacks on gloves. "We could do it this way, or the hard way."
"Tristan," Yami murmurs, reproachfully. Yami says, to Yugi, "Don't worry, Bakura's good at this."
"I don't care-" Yugi stops short when he notices a change of hands; Tristan's holding his wrist out now, and Bakura has his eyes on a needle, screwing in the metal tip.
Yugi tries to pull back his arm, and Tristan tells him, "Relax."
Bakura rubs in a clear gel over the needle marks, and Yugi swallows, trying to remember what place he went to when the doctors injected him. He can't remember. He wants Ryou. How foolish they were to think this was going to be different, as if they would ever be free.
As his skin starts to numb, Yami's fingers stroke the inside of his other wrist, sending warmth up his arm with each touch. Tension and anxiety keep his arms in place, instead of retreating from Yami's fingers. Bakura presses the needle in, and Yugi feels the sting and burn once it gets past the first layer of skin. He hisses and makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as Bakura fills the small vial with a bloody substance, thick and vile.
When he pulls it out, a small bead of blood bubbles out over the skin. "Only a few left," Bakura says, smiling a worn smile.
Yugi pulls his arm from Yami's stroking fingers, and wrenches his hand with some difficulty from Tristan's grip. He feels hands on his shoulders but he manages to propel himself from the chair, rounding on them.
"You're no different!" he yells at them, and the blood dribbles down his arm. "You said you were rescuing us. You said we could trust you. You fucking liars."
Yugi rarely swears; it was used by the doctors and scientists many times, and he was taught all about profanity, but only now he realizes what it means to use it in such a vigorous, deserving sense.
Yami stares, stunned, and Jon's eyes are calculating, assessing the situation. Tristan looks merely intrigued, curious. Yugi runs to the door before they can restrain him, tearing down the hallway. Footsteps follow him, and he's hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu.
Being ten years old and running away as fast as he could, but never fast or far enough. The hallways were always dark by that time, when he was able to slip away. Hands used to come out of doorways, grasping at him. He would scream for his mother as they caught him, holding him tight and telling him it's alright. Everything's alright. His head throbs, headache pounding.
No hands come out of doorways here. He runs to where the hallway ends, and little eyes watch him, children curious and glancing in. Ryou's arm hooks around his waist, and Ryou pulls him closer, asking immediately after seeing the look on his face, "Hey-hey,what's wrong? What's going on?"
"We need to get out of here," Yugi tells him, urgently, and Mai throws her tea towel on to the bench, and puts her hands on her hips as the three men come into the room after him. Tèa watches from where she sits on the clear kitchen table, a colorful parrot perched on her shoulder.
"What did you boys do?" Mai scolds, shorter than them all, except for maybe Yami.
"Yugi, if you don't give us samples now, we can't be sure how much longer the residue will be there," Tristan tells him, ignoring the blonde woman between them.
"It's for your safety," Bakura says.
"Please," Yami adds, quietly, earnestly.
"I don't want to," Yugi says, his voice croaky and guttural, and Ryou grips him tighter.
"Wait," Tèa says, stroking the bird's feathers, "What could happen if he doesn't?" Her hair stops at her shoulders, and the parrot nibbles at the strands.
"Permanent damage, or worse case scenario, power explosion," Bakura answers, and Yugi watches Yami's face; he's gnawing deeply on his thin bottom lip. "If that happens, we're all in danger."
"He's showing no symptoms," Mai defends, not relaxing her stance.
"Let them, Mai," Tèa says. "It's for the best, Yugi knows that."
"He said no," Ryou argues, angered. "Yugi doesn't run from things for no reason."
The air is tense, and they all stare at each other; Yami at Mai, Tristan at Ryou, Bakura at Yugi, and Tèa glancing between them all. The blood on Yugi's arm starts to clot, and it's started to dry thin in the small dribble inching to his wrist.
A headache blooms, hard and sudden, in the forefront of his mind, and he flinches. Bakura stares harder, as if enforced, and Yugi looks away. The parrot screeches, and Tèa hushes, "Not now."
"This shouldn't even be an option, with your headaches," Bakura says, gravely. "That's a symptom for you, Mai."
"Don't talk to me like that," she bites back.
"Stop babying him or the CIA will be down here to pick him up instead," Tristan sighs, and he removes his glasses, slowly cleaning them.
She glowers at them. "Is that a threat?"
Bakura makes a face. "No-one's threatening anyone."
"I am," Tristan says, mildly, replacing his glasses. "This is a matter of national security. He's been contaminated and I'll be damned if we have a repeat of the last time."
"This is nothing like that!" she exclaims.
"We're not taking those chances," Tristan replies. "Either he comes here, or the CIA comes to him."
"Over my body," she snorts.
She moves quickly, grasping Yugi's wrist, and he hears Yami's shout of, "Mai, don't-!" before his stomach seems to bottom out and he's being stretched in impossible ways.