Disclaimer: YuGiOh! And all its characters belong to Kazuke Takahashi. The story has earned me no moolah what so ever, and it's just another excuse for me not to pay attention in classes.
A/N: Yet another story written from a dream I had; well, it's loosely based, anyway. Thought I'd take Malik out for some good ol' torture and angst.
PROLOGUE:
Malik's icy violet eyes watered as his stomach clenched and, painfully, sour bile spilled out from his mouth, plastering his white shirt to his chest.
His body shivered until his head ached from the force of it. The smell of his vomit made him retch again, but there as so little left in his system that it never even made it past his throat. It burned his esophagus and made him feel impossibly worse when he was forced to swallow it.
Dr. Newton stood just inside Malik's room, watching with a look of fascination and disgust on his round face. Malik hadn't noticed him, or if he had, he was pretending not to.
The Egyptian sank to the ground. He had only gotten up in an effort to rush to his small bathroom, but now that there was no point, he didn't feel like making the 'trek' back to his bed. Despite the trembling of his body, he was comfortably warm; the floor would do fine for now.
"Hungry, anyone?" a jovial voice rang in Malik's ears. "Come on, get changed, Malik." Dr. Newton came into his line of sight. "I'll even hook up a TV for you."
"Shut up!" Malik screamed, lashing out at Newton but hitting only air.
Newton sighed. "Now you've lost free time privileges. These bouts of violence disturb me, Malik; have you always felt the need to solve your problems this way?" Malik shivered and glared warningly at the man, but otherwise stayed still. Newton continued, softer, "Are you going to let me check your blood pressure, or do I need to call a nurse?"
"Where...is I-Is-sis?"
"If you behave, I'll tell you." Shivering more uncontrollably by the second, Malik nodded. "Good."
Newton wrapped the cuff tightly around Malik's biceps, tightened it; waited, released the air pressure slightly and pressed his stethoscope against Malik's arm. "80 over 50. Very good.**"
"M-my sis-ster."
Newton rose to his feet. "She's here. But I think that you're too violent for visitors. Now get changed" the doctor tossed a clean shirt at him "and I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and the door opened for him.
"No! No! Isis, Isis please! Isis!" Malik screamed, scrambling for the door.
Newton kicked him back and pulled the door shut, leaving the Egyptian along in a sound proof room calling for a woman Newton had, in fact, never met. Though he hoped very much that he would...
~~
Malik lay on his bed, tears soaking his stiff hospital pillow. How long he'd been trapped here, he could only guess. He thought it must have been about a month, maybe a few weeks more than that. It had been years since he'd bothered to keep count of time at all. But soon, he knew, someone would be coming.
The locks to his door clicked open and light spilled over his trembling frame. "Come along, Mister Ishtar." Two burly orderlies walked in.
"I lost my free time privilege," Malik said hoarsely.
"We know. You're not getting free time."
He was taken to a large, white room, nearly identical to the free time room, except that this one lacked the "Game Room"'s expensive pool table and television/DVD set. Malik was pushed down onto a battered orange sofa. 5 other people, each with guards of their own, were sitting around the room in nearly the same shaking, sick state Malik was in.
Above them, they heard sobbing and screaming. Malik, who was well-versed in torture, could make accurate guesses as to what was going on up there.
In the Game Room, he had mostly laid around while the other patients conversed or played pool, or cards. While lying about and ignoring his surroundings, he had become aware that during 'free time', screams could be heard from the rooms overhead.
So far, there had only been rapes; no hot knives, no flaying, no beatings. A different patient every night (or day), as well, so he figured his number was coming up. But it wouldn't be Malik who would scream when that night came. That would be the hour in which he escaped...after he killed the esteemed Dr. Newton, of course.
The other patients had paled several shades; some of them even cried. Malik watched them, feeling numbed and disjointed. The nausea had passed for the time being, and he was beginning to sweat, despite the chill that had settled over his body. 'Yami...' he thought, his mind calling out to the- No. Calling to his own darker half. Not to the Pharaoh.
No matter what he had said at the end of their duel ('We will meet as friends' or some crap), he had only meant that he no longer considered the Pharaoh his immortal enemy. Weakness like this would never be seen by anyone but Rishid or Isis.
The screaming had stopped. Someone had exited that room and was probably coming downstairs.
Malik realized with a start that Newton (he had no doubt that the 'good doctor' was the one causing the pain for those unfortunate patients upstairs) was probably going to choose his next victim from those who were trapped in this room. Those who he was punishing.
Malik glared at the only door. He didn't have long to wait before the pudgy Doctor entered, his standard white lab coat slung over one shoulder.
"Well. I hope you are all aware, at least somewhat, of the penalties for breaking too many rules. Consider this your warning; you will have two. For one of you, this is already your second." He pointed to a girl near Malik. "Katherine. Your punishment will commence tomorrow evening. In the meantime, you will be given your meds and sent back to your rooms."
Malik stared as the orderlies produced various bottles of pills or fluids. His hands shook a little more furiously, despite his efforts to stop them. The younger of his guards walked over and held out a single red and yellow pill.
Malik nearly crushed it between his fingers in his hasty grab at it, but quickly tossed it to the back of his throat and swallowed. A small paper cup was held out to him, and he downed the little mouthful of water in one gulp.
Afterwards, he was hauled to his feet and led back down the corridor. He could feel the medicine working, though slowly; it began as a tingling in his feel and hands, then worked its way up to relieve his blinding headache. He felt as if he were floating, though his senses were all heightened somewhat; the fear he had felt earlier was gone.
All he had to do now was make sure he broke another rule.
Business was high for the Turtle Gameshop. Yugi had been busy all week, running around giving advice to customers and trying desperately to keep everything well stocked. He knew that more than a few things had been stolen in the crowd, but knew also that there was no use worrying about that now.
His feet ached by the end of the day. After the last person had left and he'd been able to turn the 'Open!' sign around ('Please Come Again!'), it was well into the night.
Yugi groaned as he sat down and pulled off his shoes. "It's been a busy day, hasn't it?" the teen said aloud, knowing that he would be heard.
"Hm. A busy month, in fact. I've been quite impressed with your ability to handle it all, Yugi." A ghostly form appeared beside him.
Yugi smiled. "Thanks. Grandpa's better at it, but sometimes he scares off customers." His large purple eyes gazed out at the half moon. "Wow. I think this is the latest we've been open in a long time."
Yami walked over to the window, knowing that his opaque form wouldn't block Yugi's view. "I'm glad I could help your business grow."
Yugi laughed. "Well, you did do that." He frowned slightly. "You have your memories back now, don't you?"
Slightly darker eyes turned to him briefly. "Most of them."
"Why don't you ever talk about them? I know they were very important to you; it all makes me...curious."
"Unless you have a profound interest in history, I don't think you'll want to hear it."
"But I do," Yugi protested, standing up. "It's your past, Yami. I want to know about it." But the spirit remained silent.
Yami's vision blurred with unnatural tears, which he was able to will away before Yugi ever saw them. He knew the boy cared for him; the feeling was mutual, of course. But that was why he couldn't tell him...Yami himself could barely stand the majority of the images that were flooding back into his mind. He had been called a "courageous Pharaoh"; he would wait until his memories confirmed that, even a little, before he would tell Yugi anything.
Telling him what he'd seen so far was foolish and premature; it wouldn't help anything. In fact, it would probably make Yugi's life that much harder. The spirit knew these were flimsy excuses, and if he really were courageous, he'd just come right out and tell Yugi of the barbaric things that went on in ancient Egypt. Yet...Yami couldn't do it.
Because Yami couldn't bear the thought of losing Yugi's trust...not now...