Dark Roses

Disclaimer - (Bakura) No, she doesn't own us. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, because it would definitely be more interesting (and I would win more often) is she did. Tomb Robber for President, anyone? I like that thought. OW! *rubs head and glares at Ryou*

Author's Notes - Actually, it's Bakura's notes, cause I'm at the helm. Why? Because DracOnyx is hiding out in a damn bomb shelter at the moment, behind Sephiroth and that ridiculously huge sword of his.

(Ryou) 'Kura, you know why she's doing that, so don't complain! It is your fault, after all. You're her muse.

(Bakura) Oh, Anubis take it, it's just a little Malik torture! The little blonde psycho twit deserves it. If he weren't such a pain in my ass . . .

(Ryou) *sighs* My apologies, everyone. DracOnyx-sama is hiding because she currently fears for her life. This chapter is . . . well, awful. I suggest you grab a box of tissues . . .

(Bakura) AND WEAPONS! OW! RYOU, YOU BRAT! KNOCK IT OFF!

(Ryou) As I was saying, grab a box of tissues, because you are about to find out just what poor Malik-sama has been through. And don't mind my yami . . . he simply doesn't have much a heart.

(Bakura) *snort* What's a little humiliation and pain compared to watching your entire village slaughtered before your eyes? Honestly . . . Oh, for Ra's sake Ryou, don't give me that look! Just get on with the damn story! *storms off to join in the protection of DracOnyx*

(Ryou) *shaking his head and smiling* He just won't admit that he actually likes DracOnyx-sama, because he's finally met his match. Anyway, here is the chapter. Please don't come after DracOnyx-sama . . . she just gets into moods where her and my yami get along way too well. *glides off after his yami*


Chapter 7 – Painful Memories


“My father,” he began quietly, closing his eyes, “is Ashida Ishtar.” Bakura sat bolt upright at this, magenta eyes wide with shock, almost knocking Ryou off balance with the sudden movement.

“The Egyptian Minister of Foreign Affairs!?” Malik nodded slightly, blonde bangs falling into his face, hiding his eyes.

“Yes.”

“But . . . he doesn’t have any kids,” Yami murmured. “Not according to all the news reports.” Malik chuckled slightly, one that was devoid of any amusement or true humor.

“He doesn’t acknowledge us,” he replied. “Our mother . . . died, giving birth to me before he could make her an ‘honest’ woman, if he ever would have deigned to marry her. That’s not exactly something that looks good to the public. It would have harmed his political career had it come out.”

He sighed, leaning back in the chair and letting his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure why he was telling them all of this . . . maybe, because of what they had done for him, he felt he owed them an explanation.

“My siblings and I . . . never saw the outside of the family compound before we ran away. We had private tutors, and people to care for us who were paid to keep their mouths shut about our existence. We have no birth certificates . . . we’re not even on the public record. All three of us were born in that compound, with a private doctor who my father paid to make sure none of us ever had documentation to prove we lived.” He sighed slightly . . . that detail had caused more problems during their escape then he cared to remember.

“Ishizu and Odion . . . my sister and brother . . . don’t know what father was doing to me,” he said, lavender eyes closing wearily. “They only know about the whipping . . . they have no idea what else I was being subjected to. Father . . . would hold private auctions, where I was sold off to the highest bidder for a single night, or sometimes several days. My coloring . . . is uncommon, for someone born in Egypt from pure bloodlines.” He shuddered slightly, recalling one particular evening vividly. “I remember . . . the first night it happened. I was so happy that my father was paying some sort of attention to me. I thought he was taking me to a party . . . I thought he was proud of me for doing so well in my lessons. If only I had known . . .” He shuddered again, forcing the words past his lips as they tried to clog in his throat, feeling the tears that threatened to spill down his face.

“He . . . stood me up on a raised platform. I thought he was simply going to introduce me to everyone . . . but then . . .” He choked, a sob catching in his throat as he remembered the horrifying humiliation, the sudden comprehension of that moment when his father had betrayed the innocent trust he had placed in the man. “He . . . stripped me of my clothing, in front of a room full of people, holding my arms so that I couldn’t even cover myself. Then he . . . he ran his hands over me, describing out loud how untouched I was, how soft my skin was . . . it was all like some lurid nightmare, some horrible dream.

“Then the bidding started. People shouting out these huge sums of money, like I was a piece of meat.” Lost in his pain, he didn’t hear Ryou’s choked whimper of horror, or the other’s gasps at his words. “I didn’t understand what was going on . . . not until it was all over, and a servant came to take me away.” He wrapped his arms around himself suddenly, cold chills enveloping him as he forced himself to remember that night.

“I thought it was over,” he whispered. “I thought I was safe, that it had all been some kind of sick joke. I was so wrong.” He shook his head slightly, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees, his head and hands dangling limply as he recalled that horrible nightmare. “A man came in . . . I didn’t even have a chance to scream before he had thrown me onto the bed, murmuring about how he had paid top dollar for a virgin and how my father better not have been lying about me being untouched. His . . . hands . . . were all over me, making my body do things it had never done before . . . I didn’t know what was happening to me, I only knew that I was scared and that I wanted it to stop.

“When he . . . took me . . .” He was beginning to shudder violently now, his arms coming up to wrap around his waist again as if he was desperately trying to hold himself together to finish the story of his downfall. He didn’t even sense Marik coming up behind him, didn’t see the tears in the eyes that watched him, didn’t see Yugi biting his knuckle and clinging to Yami desperately, nor Ryou wrapped protectively in Bakura’s arms, sobbing into his lover’s chest. He could only see that horrible night, and the nights that had followed it, in his mind. “It hurt . . . it felt like I was being torn in two. I was too young to understand what was being done to me, to know what was happening . . . I screamed, I begged him to stop, I cried for my father, my mother, my siblings, anyone to save me.

“When it was over, and I lay there bleeding and crying, unable to move . . . my father came. I thought he was rescuing me . . . but there was another with him. And another after that, and again . . . I can’t remember how many that first night. Each time, they exchanged money, each time, I cried for someone to rescue me . . . and no one did.” Crystalline droplets fell from lavender eyes, wetting the blue of his jeans a darker color with the pain of the memories he had never shared with anyone. “I was alone . . . and always have been. The nights that followed . . . I don’t remember much of them anymore. It all blurred together . . . that was my life, it was all I knew. It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t until one of the maid’s caught me in the bath, passed out from blood loss when a man had been particularly rough with me the night previous, that I realized what was being done to me was wrong.

“She . . . tried to help me escape. That was when I was whipped . . . when father caught us. He . . . he had her killed, for daring such an act against him. I watched her die . . . and every lash that landed on my back was nothing compared to the pain in my soul knowing that I had cost her life.” He sighed, one last shudder running through his body before it at last stilled. “After that . . . Ishizu knew something was horribly wrong. She found a way for us to escape . . . and we did. We’ve been on the run from my father ever since.”

He leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes as his head fell back on the chair. He felt drained . . . but for once, the aching pain in his soul didn’t feel so heavy, so unbearable. Now there were other people who knew . . . other people who understood, at least in part, why he was as he was, why he didn’t let anyone close. But it was their reaction he truly dreaded . . . what would they think of him, to know that his father had made him into some expensive whore?

He nearly bolted upright as he felt a warm body settle into his lap, slim arms wrapping around his neck gently as a face nuzzled into his neck. He felt dampness against his skin . . . tears? Lavender eyes opened, his head rising off the back of the seat to stare down at white-hair, confused. Ryou . . . was cuddling him?

“How could anyone do that to someone as beautiful as you?” the boy whispered, warm breath’s of air against the sensitive skin of his throat, making him shiver slightly. “It’s so horrible . . .” He sobbed slightly, his arms tightening around Malik as if afraid the blonde would bolt at any moment. “I’m so sorry we made you relive that.”

Malik was confused, and that confusion only grew as he looked around at the other people in the room. Yugi was sobbing quietly into Yami’s shoulder, while the older boy rubbed soothing circles in his back . . . but those crimson eyes were murderous, a dangerous glint in their garnet depths that Malik sensed wasn’t even remotely directed at him. Bakura sat on the couch, his head in his hands . . . but the most disturbing thing about the blood-spattered youth was the tears that slowly dripped down his pale face onto the floor below. Marik was standing beside him, his hands balled into fist, the violet eyes dark with anger as he shuddered in the grip of some strong emotion.
Why were they reacting so? It hadn’t been done to them . . . didn’t they hate him? Weren’t they disgusted by him? He was a tainted thing, something not even worthy of his own father’s love! What was wrong with them?

His thoughts seemed to shatter in fragments around him as he felt the brush of soft lips against his own, the light pressure scattering his mind to the winds with the gentle, loving emotion he sensed behind it. That light pressure never increased, even as it shifted and moved, lips gently caressing his own before he felt a wet touch on his bottom lip, a silent entreaty for entrance. Confused, he granted the request, a slight gasp of indrawn breath as he felt the wet muscle glide over his own, tasting him carefully.

He shuddered, his heart breaking at the simple emotion behind that kiss . . . Ryou simply offering comfort and consolation in the only way he knew how. He didn’t understand any of this, and lavender eyes closed again, tears seeping from underneath the fringe of charcoal lashes as it battered at his shields, chipping away at them until he was left open, his soul bared to the youth in his arms.

Hands came to rest on either side of his face, cupping it gently between them as warm lips pressed lightly to his forehead, even as Ryou left his lips to trail soft kisses across his jaw to his throat, pausing there to press them against the pulse fluttering just underneath the skin. With a sigh, he gave himself up to them, unwilling and unable to hold back any longer.

“Why?” he whispered unconsciously, feeling Ryou snuggle back into him warmly, still sniffling slightly. “I don’t understand . . .”

“No one should ever have to go through what’s been done to you, Malik,” Yami replied from across the coffee table that lay between them. “No one deserves such horror. We won’t let you go back to that . . . I will personally die before that happens.”

“But . . . why should you care? I’m nobody . . . you don’t even know me . . .” he murmured. Yami chuckled slightly as Bakura looked up, wiping away his tears with a shaking hand.

“We know enough,” he growled. “As for why . . . does it matter? It’s what Yami said . . . no one deserves that kind of treatment. Especially not from his own father.” He shuddered violently, rising to pace restlessly. “We may all be some hard, sadistic bastards . . .”

“Speak for yourself, ‘Kura,” Yami muttered. Bakura ignored him.

“But even we know where to draw the line,” he continued. “What we knew of you before this was enough to make us like you. You’re like us . . . you can stand up for yourself, and you don’t shit from nobody. But you’re wary of trusting anyone, like us. That’s why we’re so close . . . we’ve all been through the school of hard knocks, even Yami. That breeds a special kind of person. We know you better than you think, Malik . . . and we do like you. We want you to trust us, to like us in return. We’re offering you friendship, Malik . . . friendship, and a place among people who can understand. All you have to do is accept that, and us. That’s all.”

Malik could only stare at him in shock, the barest flickering of hope beginning to stir in his heart. After having told them that . . . they still liked him, still wanted to be friends? He looked to them all . . . to the magenta eyes that were glowing with an unholy light of vengeance, to Yami who was watching him carefully; to Yugi, who’s amethyst eyes brimmed with unshed tears and a welcoming hope that he would accept their offer; to Ryou, sitting in his lap, warming his soul with his gentle, unassuming embrace. And finally, to Marik, who still stood behind him like some avenging angel, the violet eyes watching him from a face that could have been staring back at him from a mirror.

“I . . .” he whispered finally, and then paused, at a loss for words. He shook his head, blond bangs tapping his cheeks gently with the movement as he looked down at the floor. “I don’t know how to have friends,” he managed after a moment. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Just stay . . . be with us. Let us help you,” Yami replied quietly. “First things first . . . we have to make sure you’re somewhere protected, somewhere your father won’t expect. What do you say to moving in here, with me? He’s not after your brother and sister, right?”

Malik shook his head. No, his father wasn’t after Ishizu or Odion . . . they were nothing, drains on his finances, nuisances to his plans. It was him that his father wanted . . . because he was how his father funded his campaign for political power.

“Father couldn’t care less what happens to them . . . it’s me he wants back. But he knows I’m with them.” Yami nodded, his face thoughtful.

“Would you be willing to leave them?” he asked softly. Malik looked up, a slight expression of panic crossing his features before he really thought about it.

“It would keep them safe,” he said after a moment. “They’re only in danger from Father as long as I’m with them. So, yeah . . . I would be willing to leave them.” He sighed. “I will miss them . . . but it would be better for them.” He started slightly when Marik suddenly spoke from behind him.

“If they move, it lays a false trail for your father,” he murmured. “He’ll expect you to stay with them . . . I know men like him. He thinks you’re broken . . . he won’t expect you to have made friends. He won’t think that anyone would help you after what he’s made you become. But eventually, he’ll figure it out and come back looking for you.” He shook his head slightly. “But we’ll deal with that when it occurs. Give me your address, Malik . . . I’ll swing by and let your siblings know where you are. We can arrange some sort of meeting. It would be best if you don’t go to school for a few days . . . they’ll be keeping an eye out for you there.”

He had to admit, it sounded like a good plan. He was making a huge leap of faith here . . . he was giving these people an extraordinary amount of trust, especially when he didn’t know them that well. But he sensed that he could trust them . . . they knew almost everything about him now, and still wanted to be friends. Maybe it was time he took the chance.

He wrote his address down on a piece of paper that Yami handed him, handing it silently to Marik, who looked at it, nodded, and walked out the door. Malik watched him go, a wary hope in his eyes before he found himself turning his attention back to Ryou, who had snuggled closer as if trying to burrow into him. It was strange . . . he usually hated people invading his personal space like this, but Ryou made him feel oddly safe. Maybe because, from what he’d discerned of the boy, there wasn’t a bone in his body that would harm a person.

Settling back, listening absently as Bakura and Yami made plans for his future, he marveled at his sudden change of fortune . . . and hoped that, this once, the gods would be nice enough to let him keep it.

AN - (Bakura) Yeah, I came back for a moment, to remind you all to REVIEW! If you don't, I'm likely to never get DracOnyx out of that damn bomb shelter, and that would ruin all the fun she and I have been having. So just push that little fucking button and leave her something to let her know you aren't going to kill her. Besides, if you kill her, she can't make this a happy ending for you.