When Saif arrived at the hospital, he felt exhausted. Fatigue weighed down his legs and body, and he was grateful to see Rishid standing outside. Rishid ran to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to support him. "Saif - you're covered in blood," Rishid pointed out. "Please tell me you didn't…"
Saif laughed weakly. "Sorry. To be fair, he came at us with a knife."
Rishid sighed, brows creasing in worry as he helped Saif towards the hospital. "Self-defense. They'll most likely call the police."
"I don't know if I can remember where it happened," Saif confessed quietly as they entered the sterile-looking waiting room. "There were four of 'em. I ran after…"
"Okay." Rishid helped him sit down and went to the desk to check in. Saif settled into the chair, sighing and closing his eyes. He was the unfortunate kind of tired where his head started to spin, making his stomach churn. Rishid eventually returned to him, hugging him again. "Are you going to go?" he asked quietly.
"'M hanging on," Saif mumbled, but it was getting increasingly hard to focus. "I'll let you know."
"Tell me what happened just in case."
If Saif could appreciate anything about Rishid, it was how easily he had stepped in as their advocate. It had taken years for them to get to this point; Rishid had been understandably cautious around Saif for a long time, and although Saif could understand why, it had taken nearly as long for him to stop being resentful. "I woke up in the alley," Saif recalled, the events of the night playing back in his mind. "There were four guys. One came at me, I, uh…" He couldn't help himself from making a throat-slitting gesture with his thumb. "And then I ran. I must've lost them at some point," he lied. He very well couldn't explain to Rishid how he'd found the Dark One sealed away in a random basement and it had killed his assailants.
A nurse finally called them back, and as they rose to follow him to an observation table, Saif told Rishid what little he remembered of the men's appearances. He knew the police probably wouldn't find them, but he needed to pretend to be normal, especially once the nurse started examining him and asked about pre-existing conditions. Rishid waited for Saif to nod in permission before explaining, "My brother has dissociative identity disorder. This is Saif, but his ID will say Marik." The nurse eyed them skeptically but got to work cleaning the bullet wound. All the while, Saif's resistance was waning, his head bobbing as he tried to stay awake. "It's alright, Saif," Rishid said gently. "I can take it from here."
Saif couldn't help but grimace. Rishid being here would help, certainly, but he knew that Marik was going to be upset. Still, he closed his eyes and pulled back. He'd hear about the consequences later.
Marik slowly woke to the sounds of muttered conversation and the steady beeping of machinery. His head swimming, he groaned, then yelped as he felt a horrible, stinging pain in his shoulder, flailing with a screamed, "Stop!"
"Marik!" The sound of Rishid's voice cut through the confusion and the fog, and he opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by fluorescent lights. A nurse was staring down at him in utter confusion, and Rishid was sitting next to him, taking gentle hold of his arm. "It's alright."
"Rishid?" Marik squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to think. He was well used to the confusion of waking up after a switch. He just needed to remember what had caused it.
"He'll be alright," he heard Rishid say presumably to the nurse. "I told you. This is Marik now. Marik, Saif said that you were attacked."
As soon as Rishid said the words, Marik remembered. "Yeah, I… I'm so sorry," he said, the gravity of the night's events hitting him like a brick. Someone waves him over into an alley, and he goes, assuming it's someone who needs help with something. A man, standing in the darkness, suddenly joined by three more that surround him and pull out knives, demanding his money. "I got home late and didn't have anything for dinner, so… I went out… Saif's been saying not to go out alone but I was just going down the street…"
"They shot you." Marik sniffled, pressing his hands against his eyes as they started to burn. "Saif brought you here."
"Mr. Ishtar, I need to finish disinfecting your injury," the nurse chimed in, voice trying to sound assuring. Marik nodded and straightened back up, unable to hold back a whimper as the nurse started pressing antiseptic on his injury again. "We'll also need -"
"Marik!"
He flinched at the sound of a woman calling out to him and the clicking of heels approaching their stall. He looked wide-eyed at Rishid and asked, "You called Ishizu?"
"You were shot, Marik. Of course I called her."
Ishizu nearly passed right by before stopping, staring at Marik for a second. "Are you alright?" she asked as she pushed into the stall, followed by another nurse who was trying to call her back to no avail.
"It's alright," Rishid said, standing up to stop the second nurse. "She's our sister."
"Aside from being shot? I mostly just feel stupid," Marik joked weakly, his voice cracking with emotion. He was fully aware of how lucky he was that it wasn't worse than a quick visit to the hospital. "I forgot to get groceries this morning. I just needed dinner."
"You could have called us," Ishizu chided, taking his free hand before she paused. "I'm glad you're alright," she said a bit more gently.
"I'll need to do stitches," the nurse said as he pulled back, reaching for a suture kit on the tray beside him. "As I was saying, we'll need to file a report with the police since you were injured as a result of criminal activity."
Marik paled slightly. "No," he said, heart starting to race. "No police."
"I don't have a choice, Mr. Ishtar. I have to report this." Marik slumped in the bed, hissing in pain as the nurse started to stitch up his shoulder.
The police came just as the nurse was finishing up: two officers, both men, who seemed relatively bored as they sat in a private examination room. "Tell us what happened," one of the officers said, his notepad in hand.
"Marik went out for groceries -" Rishid started.
The other officer abruptly cut him off and said, "Let Mr. Ishtar answer, please."
Marik took a deep breath. "Well… there's not much I can tell you. I went out to get dinner, some men pulled me into an alley. They had knives. They told me to give them my money, and that's when Saif took over."
"Who's Saif?"
"My alter. I have dissociative identity disorder. I can't tell you what happened next, but he told Rishid everything before he gave me back control."
The officers looked at each other. "Right," the first one said, thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. "And what did this 'Saif' say happened?"
Rishid frowned. "He fought back, but they outnumbered him, so he ran. One of them shot him, but he hid until they lost his trail."
"How many were there?"
"Four, but…" Rishid glanced at Marik apologetically. "Saif said that he attacked one of them in self-defense. He didn't get a good look of where it happened."
"It was just a few blocks from my apartment," Marik recalled, his head starting to hurt. "I could show you."
"Alright. Once the hospital clears you, we'll take a ride." The officers stood and departed the room.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Marik buried his head in his hands. "He killed them, didn't he?"
"He made it sound like just one of them."
Marik couldn't hold back the tears this time. "I can't do this again, akh. It was horrible enough the first time."
Rishid leaned over to hug him tightly. "It'll be alright."
Once Marik was cleared to leave, the officers dismissed Rishid and loaded Marik into their cruiser. Marik's heart sank as they pulled up to a familiar alley and saw a body lying on the cement. "Dammit," the second officer groaned, reaching for the radio. "'Fought back', my ass. I don't need to ask if that's one of the men who tried to rob you, do I?"
Marik slowly shook his head. "If you're going to take me to the station, I need you to call my case worker."
"Yeah, because a guy that lives in your head did this, right?" The first officer huffed, shaking his head.
Marik's fingers dug into his knees. "You don't need to believe me," he said sharply. "Call my case worker."
They waited until more officers and medical examiners arrived and briefed them on everything before taking him to the police station and setting him up in an observation room. Marik rested his head on the table, ready to fall asleep right there before the door opened and his case worker, Zahida Al-Amin, walked in, followed by his family's lawyer, Nizar Tawfiq. "Are you alright?" Zahida asked immediately, sitting down and resting her hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry for the late hour," Marik said, looking between her and Nizar. "Is this going to be bad?"
Nizar sighed, crossing his arms. "One case of murder in self-defense is understandable. The second time it happens… it's not a good look."
"It was my fault," Marik started, shaking his head. "I went out -"
"Not another word, Marik. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best."
Thankfully, the police let him go after not even half an hour of questioning, thanks to Nizar and Zahida. Rishid came by to drive him home and decided to stay the night just in case, making himself as comfortable as he could on the sofa while Marik stripped, cleaned himself off, and passed out in his bed. It had taken a long time for Marik to feel comfortable enough to live alone; years to save up money from his job at a local mechanic's shop, and years of therapy for him to feel safe enough to trust Saif. All things considered, they'd been adjusting well.
The next morning, one of the officers came by to let him know they'd managed to get security footage from a nearby business. "It caught everything. The men who tried to rob you definitely attacked first," he said gruffly. "We already talked to your layer. We'll let you know the trial date, but with that footage, it'll be a quick case. We're still looking for the other men that attacked you."
"Thank you. I'm sorry about this mess."
"Just try to stay out of trouble from here on out."
Marik closed the door with a sigh, resting his forehead against the wood. "He was trying to protect you," Rishid said as he made them both some coffee. "But I wish he'd find way to do it that don't involve bloodshed."
"Me too. Remind me to send Ishizu flowers for keeping Nizar as our lawyer." Marik pulled back from the door, his stomach growling almost painfully. After the night's events, he'd forgotten that he hadn't eaten since lunchtime the previous day. "…I'm going to order some koshary. Want any?"
"Sure," Rishid said with a little smile. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."
Nizar called as they finished eating. "Your record's still sealed, but it's best if you both lay low for a while," he explained. "It's best if we get a statement from Saif just to be careful."
"I'll let him know. Thank you for everything, Nizar."
"Just try not to get in trouble at two in the morning again. Take care, kid."
Marik bristled slightly. He may have only been eleven when he'd first met Nizar, but he was twenty-two now - definitely not a kid anymore. Rishid stayed to help clean up the apartment before heading off to work, and Zahida called shortly afterward to check in on him. "I know this must be difficult to go through again," she said apologetically. "I can contact your therapist if you need to talk about it."
"I can do it myself. Thank you, Zahida." He hung up the phone and stared down at it before retreating to his room to journal out his thoughts. He couldn't help but be a little frustrated. Just when he thought that things were going well and he could try to live a normal life, something happened to throw their lives into complete chaos. He couldn't blame Saif for it, though; Marik had made him as a protector and, as Rishid had pointed out, he had only been doing his job. If Marik was going to count his blessings, he could be thankful that Saif had only killed one of the robbers.
Once his hand started to cramp up, he set down his pen and checked the time. It was still early enough that he could go to the grocery store before night fell. He got dressed somewhat casually and headed to the bathroom, but as he washed his hands, he looked into the mirror and noticed something: a giant, hand-shaped bruise on his throat. He gingerly touched it, and something flashed through his head - images of black and shiny scales, words written in hieratic that he couldn't quite make out, and two burning red eyes staring into him.
He gasped, leaning over his sink. What the hell was that? His head spun slightly, Saif stirring to the surface in concern. "It's fine," Marik said out loud, turning on the faucet to splash some water on his face. "But you'll need to tell us what happened."
Saif went quiet inside of his head, and Marik sighed before departing the bathroom and grabbing a high-necked shirt. All he could do now was wait.
