Disclaimer: You already know, Malik's beautiful midriff belongs to Kazuki Takashi, along with the rest of Yu-Gi-Oh!

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers and all the people who added this to their watch list! It means a lot.

Malik heedfully opened the door as quietly as he could, the irritating screeching breaking the hum of white noise that was a constant in the underground hide out or secret layer or what have it. It was hard to breathe down there, where ever it was. Clumsily fumbling with the brown crosshatch bag he'd slung over his sturdy shoulder, Malik inched his way into the cell that held Cahill's captive. Although, it seemed he was more Bakura's captive. Cahill didn't really interact with any of the "clients"—a terrible nickname given by a fellow accomplice- directly, as he felt it would 'ruin his plans' or whatever. Cahill was the serial killer; he was the one calling the shots, the one with the money, and the one with the metaphorical rope snugly tied around the necks of his mischief makers. How lovely. Malik scoffed internally. He lazily shut the door behind him and set the bag down on the stool that sat a few feet away from the door.

He finally laid his eyes on the cadaverous man chained to the wall.

"Gods, Bakura. You couldn't have gone easier on him?" Malik asked out loud, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. Bakura would probably snidely go on about how he did make it easy on Ryou, which would instantly result in a small bicker back and forth, both trying to haughtily trample on each other's pride. Malik rolled his eyes at the thought.

Ryou's thighs were the first thing Malik noticed, as they looked as they'd bled profusely in the small time frame since Bakura had requested Malik aid Ryou. The top parts of his trousers were soaked with blood and sweat from the effort. Even in Ryou's unconscious state, Malik could see the argent-haired man in front of him was in a serious amount of pain by the way his chest heaved and his fingers shook. He was losing way too much blood. Couldn't Bakura make his job a little easier? How typical.

Lacerations etched into the flesh of his chest and his arms. Those had stopped bleeding before Malik had arrived. Most of Ryou's face was hidden by his ridiculously knotted hair as he slouched. Malik turned his gaze from Ryou and retrieved his bag now that he had briefly surveyed. Sometimes being the son of a batty doctor came in handy. Even though basic First Aid wasn't that impressive. He grabbed solution, cotton swabs, hospital bandages and a few small packets of sanitizing cloths and hurried over to Ryou's side. He gently checked Ryou's pulse. Slower than normal, but Malik could remedy that. Just as gingerly, the lavender-eyed youth pulled out the wipes and began taking care of the wounds on Ryou's arms and chest. Ryou flinched and airily hissed but his eye lids remained closed. Once the blood on the upper body had been cleaned, Malik moved onto solution and bandaging. Ryou managed to open his eyes as Malik was working on one of the last chest wounds, pressing medical tape over the gauze pads held there by nimble tan fingers.

Burning was still evident to Ryou. He had no idea how much time had passed since Bakura left and this stranger arrived. He had barely heard him come in, as Ryou slipped in and out of consciousness all the while. He began regaining control of his senses as the smell of antiseptics and the familiar healing burn sizzled onto his now incredibly tender skin. Ryou forced his eyes open, only to be greeting by a full head of sandy blonde hair, neatly arranged. A curious set of lilac irises concentrated on the task at hand, and that was patching Ryou up. Ryou said nothing to the individual treating him, although Ryou knew that the man knew he was conscious again. Chocolate brown eyes carefully watched the tanned male scuffle off the floor to grab his bag again. Ryou dropped his gaze as soon as the stranger turned back around and sat next to him on his knees.

"This is kind of awkward, but I'm Malik. I'm obviously here to fix you up, don't mind me," Malik said.

Ryou made a noncommittal noise and blinked slowly. He tried to clear his throat to speak, but he was too exhausted.

"I'm going to have to slide your trousers off. I need to stitch those stab wounds up, " Malik stated almost shyly.

Ryou's face set into a worried expression. He'd already been exposed well out of his comfort zone today, and he wasn't in the mood for any more. Although, given the situation, Ryou knew morals weren't of value right now.

"Don't worry, I'm not a prick like Bakura. It won't take too long. Can't say it won't be painful, though," the tall stranger said in a more casual tone.

Bakura . . .

Ryou shivered. He was not looking forward to seeing that bastard's face again.

Ryou nodded as an 'OK' to continue.

Malik nodded back, carefully undoing the buttons and pulling down the zipper on the ruined article of clothing. Ryou inhaled sharply, the garment sticking to his skin as it was peeled off of his legs. A bit more blood trickled down his thigh, but Ryou was relieved of the uncomfortable cling the blood had brought on. He took the chance to glance down at his naked legs and almost instantly regretted it. It wasn't the worst he'd seen, of course. But it was on his body. Blood spilling out of his legs. Ryou tasted bile, but swallowed down the resolve to vomit.

Malik snagged a fresh wash cloth out of his seemingly never-ending bag and scooted back to the bucket that Bakura had forgotten, scraping his jean-clad knees over the rough floor. Malik tipped the bucket to pour some of the water out to see how clean it was. Quite clean, it would do. He dipped the cloth in, and turned back to face Ryou, whom had been watching from the corner of his eye warily. Malik brought himself to his feet, but still crouched so he could have a good reach on Ryou's legs.

"This'll probably sting. Brace yourself," Malik warned.

And sting it did. Ryou tried again to hide his pain, but it wasn't working out that well as a few breathless whimpers escaped the confines of his throat. Malik tried his best to be delicate, but these wounds weren't going to scrub themselves, and he was growing impatient. Soon enough, the gaping holes were cleaned as much as they could be. Malik, without warning, speedily pulled the needle he had prepared much earlier through the skin, bringing the two sides of flesh together, stitch by stitch. Ryou flinched upon feeling the thread sliding underneath his skin. The irritation of the wounds themselves brought upon enough ache as it was. He could feel himself starting to break out into a cold sweat and gulped as he tried to take the pain as best he could.

"We normally don't tend to our . . . captives like this. Actually, they normally don't live this long. You're pretty lucky, if you ask me. " Malik tried making small talk to try to get Ryou's focus somewhere else. Ryou only returned with a watery-eyed glance, trying to find his voice to ask a question.

"We?" Ryou repeated weakly.

"Oh, I let that slip? Whoopsie. I suppose you would figure it out anyway, it's your job. Personally, I don't care what happens to anyone here, too. They're all a bunch of fools. Either way, yes. You thought Bakura was the only one?" Malik rambled a little bit, making sure to keep his focus on the stitches. They were nearly done on his right leg.

"Well, to be honest, no. I'm assuming there's a few more than Bakura, right?" Ryou cleared his throat to try to make the words come out clearer, but his voice was still subdued and cracking.

"You assume correctly. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but frig it, I don't care. Mixing things up are entertaining to say the least." Malik finished sewing the gouge with ease, and wrapped gauze around Ryou's thigh as he continued. "There are quite a few people working under that killer your group was trying to catch. Bakura and I are just accomplices. I mainly help with the clean up, though."

Ryou considered this information for a moment while Malik switched sides and started on Ryou's left thigh. That would make a lot of sense for someone in the killer's position. Having pawns. It was a good idea, but Ryou thought it would eventually catch up with the sociopath. Malik was crossing the line right now by helping him, which made Ryou think the other assistants might have broken code here and there. And Malik knew of the team trying to catch them, so information must pass pretty quickly within the group, which also suggested there weren't too many underlings. Ryou estimated around seven or so, give or take. There were probably some that had briefly helped, maybe got some extra cash, while the other main groupies stuck with the killer. This also raised another question in Ryou's mind; why were they working with him at all? Malik seemed a little younger than him and Bakura. He was still in the prime of his youth, why would he be here? And Bakura. If Bakura was some sort of criminal, what would he gain? What does Malik gain? What would any of them gain by working under such delicate circumstances? Malik said he was just the 'clean up'. Ryou assumed that was referring to Malik having some medical experience, and possibly hiding evidence. Yes, that would suit him. He seemed like he could be careless, but based on Ryou's observation of the stitching Malik was doing then, he wasn't so careless. He was attentive, and could be articulate when needed. He took the medical field seriously, even if he knew just the basics. Though Malik did seem idealistic, and Ryou would like to have debates with him if that weren't the predicament. Still, digressing, they must have some sort of tag on people like Malik. He needed his space, and if anything, could take a lot of control from what was observed. Ryou figured Bakura was just doing it for kicks, but there was also something that made Ryou think maybe the killer had something on Bakura. Ryou couldn't imagine what. Maybe he had something Bakura needed. But what exactly? So many factors were missing for him to be able to complete the tricky equation.

Malik finished up the stitches and wrapped Ryou's pale thigh. His legs still throbbed, but the brunt of the pain was under control.

"Honestly, I wish I could get you out of here but I don't have a key to the shackles, " Malik said as he gathered up his supplies, "since we're not going to kill you and all. I think." He shrugged as he straightened up, giving Ryou a small smirk. Ryou's eyes widened.

"Haha! Don't worry. I'm only kidding. Well, sort of. Anyway, I'm going to get you some new clothes. I don't think you'll want these back." Malik snagged the bloody trousers off the floor with an awkward kind of grin. "I have a blanket that can work to keep you warm I'll bring, and if I'm not mistaken," Malik peeked at Ryou's pant size, "you and Bakura are similar in jean size. He's a bit taller, though. I'll find something of his. He always leaves his crap here." Malik mumbled a few things to himself, Ryou could not decipher what was said. He was already dozing off again when the door clicked shut once more.

Malik peered down the hall cautiously as he closed the door behind him. It was a short hallway, but the echoes were enough to make someone tense. The hall was similar to the four holding cells that were spread along the corridor, with moist stones and a lingering musty, rotting stench. There wasn't anyone else in the other chambers. They were mainly used for weapons and the like. Only once did they have two captives in the same time frame. Of course, it didn't end well. Ryou was incredibly lucky that Cahill was gone, or the white-haired anthropologist would be dead right now. His remains scattered about the city of Domino like petals to a rose, and Malik would probably help scatter those very remains.

Malik made his way down the hall to the exit door that would lead to the upstairs. This was only the lowest level. Still quite a dank place, either way. He'd only arrived two years ago, but they hadn't done much to improve their living conditions of the broken down building and several misleading tunnels. He had lived with his father and sister for some time, and even though he complained then about their small apartment being too uncomfortable and cramped, that was pretty nice compared to this. Malik never thought it was a good idea for him to be living at the killer's base, considering it would be much easier to find them that way. He was told there were other bases, but they were mainly used for back-up. Malik would often feel lonely here, as the other workers were always out and about. He didn't really have friends to keep him company besides the ones that resided here. His friends were his accomplices. His dear sister, Ishizu, had tried to seek him out before, despite her being the reason he was here (unbeknownst to her) only to be disappointed to what her baby brother had been up to. The last time she had contacted Malik was around four months ago for his 19th birthday, which seemed silly to him. His father, according to Ishizu, was still working at the little hospital on the outskirts of town. That was where Malik had met Bakura.

As Malik ascended the second flight of stairs after the basement steps, he attempted to refocus his thoughts onto his current occupations. He jogged his way to the medical supply room, unloading his bag onto the untidy counter top as soon as he arrived. He chuckled to himself as he did so, remembering once when Bakura referred to Malik as "Mary Poppins for all the junk he carried in that bag of his". Earning a nice slap across the face to the thief, followed by a quick playful scuffle.

While in his daydream, Malik failed to notice the shadow peeking around the door, eying the youth quizzically.

"What are you so giggly about?" the shadow inquired.

Malik let out a quiet gasp and whipped around. His posture only relaxed slightly at the man who intruded on his musing.

"Duke," Malik let out the air he had been holding in, "don't sneak up on me like that. If I was Valon, you would have gotten socked in the face."

Duke smirked, "But you're not, so I'm safe, right?"

Malik's face sunk into a scowl but ignored the backhanded jab and went back to re-organizing supplies, pitching any used materials.

"Is someone on base hurt?" Duke asked with casual interest, twirling a strand of his onyx hair between two rough fingers. "There's blood all over."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I took care of it, though," Malik steadily replied. Only he, Bakura, and another of Cahill's more temporary underlings knew of Bakura's attempt to escape the ever-binding clutches. Duke didn't know Ryou was going to live. Although Malik, knowing why Bakura was here in the first place, was ever so curious as to why Bakura would leave without getting his information . . . unless Cahill had given it to him. Bakura wasn't like Malik. He wasn't here to protect anyone. However, the information that Cahill supposedly had was important enough to bind Bakura here. For Bakura to leave . . .

"Hey, what's up with that captive? Wasn't Bakura supposed to kill it off?" Duke questioned. He had stepped further into the poorly lit room, his forest green eyes watching Malik curiously, searching for a smudge of deceit. Everyone was too careful.

"I don't know, I don't keep tabs on Bakura," Malik stated flatly.

"Really now? You two are so close, going way back and all. I would think," Duke stood mere inches away from Malik now, viridian eyes dimly fierce with a fighting courage to outdo the other. "He tells you everything." A certain kind of languid pace that, while controlled, sparked with the anticipation of a rumble slid past Duke's still smirking lips.

"Not really. He tells me next to nothing." Malik answered. His insides were being sparked by Duke's words. To other ears, it may appear harmless. Between those four walls, everything had an ulterior motive. Every sliver of personal information seeped was a challenge for dominance and control of one another. Bakura had a talent for pricking everyone's nerves in particular next to Duke.

Duke searched Malik's lavender eyes once more, looking for a way in. After a chilling quiet, he let it go and broke the truculent glare.

"Whatever you say, kiddo. I'm off, gotta go pick up the girl from the airport. Might be gone for a couple days. Lemme' know what goes down when I get back, okay?" Duke started his exit before any more words could be spoken.

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