Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yu-Gi-Oh!

Wow, more stories/chapters hot off the press! I'm on a roll right now!

Anyway, this piece is dedicated to and inspired by my friend and collaborator, linkyiwakura (deviantart), who is a tremendously talented artist! I feel so fortunate to have completed a great project with her, "A Taste of Apple", six-chapter (plus epilogue) Revolutionshipping story, which you can find on my profile. I wrote the story and she brought it to life with her beautiful illustrations. If you haven't checked it out yet, please do so!

So this story was inspired by one of my absolute favorites of linkyiwakura's sketches, "Fallen Hero", which you can find on her deviantart profile. Please go check it out and give her some love! She is busy at work organizing an art exhibit featuring her works along with other artists, and she's been through the mill with the stress of it all. So this is my gift to her, and I hope I was able to do it justice and capture the emotions she so beautifully illustrated in her piece.

Thanks again for your talent, linkyiwakura!

Enjoy,

ALG

I'm Here
by Atemusluckygal
The ALG Series

Téa couldn't think of what she could possibly do, and she was tired of feeling so helpless. It wasn't fair. He was already hurt so much; from the aches on his body to the pain in his heart, he was in terrible condition. While the fire cannon blast from the Winged Dragon of Ra left no visible marks on his jacket, the sheer velocity and blistering heat from the attack was enough to knock him unconscious for about fifteen minutes—and that was with the Millennium Puzzle protecting him.

Above all, he was exhausted. Truly, utterly exhausted. He had had seldom opportunities for sufficient rest during the tournament, as there was either too much to worry about to sleep the night through, or the action carried on around the clock. Since the pharaoh was the ultimate target Marik was centered on, he had to be the most alert, conscientious of his surroundings, and on his guard. To make matters worse, every battle he fought staked his life—the evil spirit Bakura was out to get vengeance on him as well as his equally-bloodthirsty conspirator, and didn't hesitate to smack him around in their duel whenever he had the chance. Though Yami eventually came out the victor, it wasn't without Bakura getting a few good hits in.

Yami lied on Yugi's bed with a hardened expression on his face, emphasizing the stress lines already etched in his skin. He was still strikingly handsome, but the creases seemed to humanize him, to show the burdening effects of having to be the hero all the time, and that even his—or Yugi's—own body had to insist on its own limitations. And there he slept, having no choice but to succumb to its demands for respite, while his ever-reeling mind struggled to cope with the trauma of seeing so many friends fall victim to Marik, and the guilt of failure to protect them that inevitably came with it.

Téa saw exactly what she needed to see to rationalize the pain the pharaoh was in. She saw Yami shut his eyes tightly in concentration as he absorbed the attack meant for Mai, believing in earnest that his righteous act of defiance would appease Marik's taste for sadistic pleasure and spare her the cruel fate she was, unfortunately, dealt regardless. Téa, who had stayed by his side while he was unconscious, watched as his expression changed after awakening—from groggy and dazed, to horrified and furious—as he rose to his feet and stared at the lifeless body of the woman who was never meant to be involved in this madness anyway. She saw his pained violet eyes avert in agony as he listened to Marik taunt the empty, soulless shell on the floor that was once a fierce and resolute Mai Valentine. Joey's broken, pleading sobs falling on Mai's deaf ears were the cherry on top.

Téa's heart was heavy with both the devastation from the disturbing events that had taken place earlier that evening, and its ferocious ache for the man who shouldered everything from tears of the despaired to the weight of the world. It was all too much for one soul to bear, that much was clear. But it didn't stop him from bearing the brunt of it—it never did. It frustrated her to no end.

Yami was, apparently, too tired to even close Yugi's door by the end of the night. Téa had come to check on him (with the excuse to wish him goodnight) after everyone else had already gone to bed. Upon seeing his limp body lying haphazardly on the bed through the door left ajar, she rushed to his side and immediately checked his vitals. Her tired eyes were dry from all her crying today, but imagining the worst possible explanation for the sight in front of her was enough to bring fresh tears waiting on her lashes. She sighed heavily in relief when she realized that he was only in a deep, albeit troubled sleep.

Téa turned her back to him to leave, feeling the effects of the day's emotional rollercoaster taking its toll on her as well. But something tugged at her heart, stopping her dead in the doorframe. The dancer looked back at the normally-majestic king's sleeping form: half-curled, half-sprawled as if he had either been tossed there or he had collapsed without warning in a narcoleptic episode. Her sad gaze lingered on him for a while, alternating between deciding to simply close his door for him and let him sleep, or…

Téa frowned and shook her head, feeling shame added to the pile of emotions she already had to wrestle with. It was ludicrous that she'd even think that was appropriate. It was unlikely he'd take well to it if he woke up and found her there. She was, however, genuinely worried about him. She herself wasn't aware of how, and to what extent, KaibaCorp's Solid Vision technology or the mystic powers of a Shadow Game affected the physical realm, and in her naïveté she was afraid that he had actually been injured from the winged god's assault. She was also fairly confident that she could trust him to neglect those injuries for the sake of pretense of invincibility, had that been the case. So, perhaps…

After a long minute of deliberation, Téa closed the door, and locked it from the inside.

Yami didn't stir at the sound of the door closing, the latch locking, or even Téa's weight sinking into the mattress next to him. His lips were slightly parted, letting faint sounds of shallow, uneven breaths hiss between his teeth.

She reached for him, dreading what evidence of damage she might find on him. The flat of her hand slid beneath his jacket and tank top, entering through the loose fit of his jacket collar, and glided softly over the warm, smooth skin of his back. She felt no signs of burn or blister, much to her relief, though his muscles were awfully tense. She applied pressure on the most affected areas with her fingertips, doing her best to relieve his stress without removing his clothes or waking him. It took a minute, but his breathing seemed to stabilize and his muscles relaxed some.

That minute stretched into two minutes, then three. As long as Téa stayed there, sitting by his side and kneading his tension away, Yami gradually found a calmer sleep. Every so often an airy sigh would escape his lips, a nice change from the ragged breathing or the small grunts of pain or terror. As satisfied as she was with this fact, Téa surmised that it was unwise to stay much longer, despite wanting to stay and ease more of his suffering if she could. But the clock did not stop for them, and it was getting late. And the longer she was there, the more likely her presence would be discovered.

Téa yawned as quietly as she could, and withdrew her hand from his back. She opened her mouth to whisper goodnight, but decided against it at the last second. Instead, she placed her hand on his shoulder as one last gesture of comfort, thinking her goodnight wishes instead.

As if her silent sentiment offended him, the sleeping pharaoh's breath hitched suddenly, causing Téa to freeze. Her startled heart thumped frantically against her chest. Yami gasped loudly and tossed his head to the side, his facial features contorting and his body trembling. It was as if a nightmare was plaguing him, clawing at his mind. A hand came to life and grabbed the wrist of the hand on his shoulder, and she yelped in surprise.

"No…" Yami's voice whimpered softly, "No, please don't go…"

Téa's eyes widened. He was awake… or she thought he was. It was hard to tell; his eyes remained tightly shut, but his hand shook over his grasp of her. His breathing became labored and unstable again. Of all the time she had known him, Téa had never seen him in such a state of desperation and helplessness. He was unguarded, completely at her mercy should her intentions be malevolent, supposedly unaware of his surroundings, and yet he pled for her company. His voice held no weight or strength, his dignified air surrendered to fear. It was a rare thing to see, as she would've never been permitted to see this shade of his character had he been conscious.

"It's alright, Pharaoh," Téa answered him in a soft murmur, "I'm here."

But it did little to pacify him. His hand drew tighter on her. "Please don't go," he repeated, his voice noticeably shakier this time, even breaking in places. "Don't let him take you away!"

So it was Marik he was dreaming of, claiming yet another victim and ripping Yami's control of the situation right out of his hands. Téa's heart sank; the hurt tone in every syllable he uttered was painfully clear.

The hand in his vice grip was losing feeling from lack of circulation, and Téa was almost certain her fair skin would bruise later, but she made no move to retrieve it. "I'm here," she whispered. She placed her other hand over the taut white knuckles of his fist clenched over her wrist, rubbing the dry skin between them. "I'm not going anywhere."

Yami's breathing hardly relaxed, though his grip on her softened. She gently wriggled her wrist out of his grasp and climbed fully onto the mattress, wedging her hands beneath the underarms of his jacket and slowly pulled him upright. She repositioned her legs so that she was sitting on her parted legs stretching the hem of her silk nightgown, anchored securely by her knees. She brought Yami's sleeping form towards her, letting his weight rest against her for support. When he was finally balanced properly, she slipped her arms beneath his and held his lower torso in a loose, comfortable embrace.

After some fidgeting, the pharaoh's limbs and neck fell completely limp over time, and he rested in the solace of her arms with slow, deep breaths. It was impossible to tell if he had found a truly peaceful rest, but her continuing presence and contact seemed to offer him some needed comfort and security, if only just a little. In truth, Téa was more than pleased that she was able to make a meaningful contribution to him and his cause, no matter how small it appeared to be. If she couldn't duel on his behalf, the least she could do was find another way to help.

Téa's closeted developing feelings for him continued to grow even more as she watched him sleep, with his left temple supported by her shoulder. His buckled choker and Millennium Puzzle were off, exposing the white slope of his slender neck. Even in the dark, his fair skin glowed softly in the little moonlight gathered in the room. Contrasting dark pockets of shadow outlined his hard jawline, high cheekbones and angular chin, framed by his lightning-bolt blonde fringe. A sculpted masterpiece to behold on most occasions, but Téa noticed with dismay how pale his skin looked, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out more—all traits of which were absent on Yugi.

She had never seen the dark spirit so up close before, and wondered if he had always been this stressed before she had even met him and she simply didn't notice, or if the physical manifestation of stress was a recent result of the devastation and high-stakes pressure he constantly endured since the start of Kaiba's citywide manhunt and circus freak show of a tournament. It did little to mar his riveting beauty, but it concerned her greatly nonetheless.

He was a beautiful boy, with a noble heart, a brilliant mind and a tormented soul, searching for truth, identity, and purpose in a foreign place and time. It was the perfect literary cliché, almost laughably so—a calculated, tried-and-true recipe for the man Téa came to admire so deeply.

But no, it was time to tame that lovestruck beast once more. There were more pressing matters to concern herself with. Téa needed to make sure Yami knew she was always there for him and that he could count on her… whether or not he actually reciprocated her affection. One day, simply telling him so would not be enough. She had this chance to prove, by her actions, exactly how far she'd go to keep her promise. He might not even remember it come morning, which admittedly disappointed her a bit, but she nevertheless found great relief in knowing that Yami could finally get through a night of sleep.

"I'm here," Téa whispered in his ear, resting her cheek against his blonde bangs. "Just like I told you. I will always be right by your side."

The pharaoh's silent, steady breathing was her only response, and she took it with gratitude.

END