Rock Bottom: Season Zero

Rest

Seto dreamed again that night, but, thankfully it wasn't a nightmare, although he'd half expected to relive his time with Gozaburo. That had been more violent and painful than anything he'd experienced previously, which made it hard to get out of his mind. His dream was the same as the one he'd had when he first received the Millennium Rod and passed out. Warm arms wrapped around him in a comforting darkness, and he struggled against the stranger just as he had last time.

Hush, my child. Let me heal you.

"I'm not your child," he protested, although his words sounded more sleepy than sour.

You are more precious to me than if you were my child.

"Why?" Seto asked, confused, finally relaxing against the arms that were too strong for him to resist. "Who are you?"

You will know soon enough, my son.

"I'm not your son." He meant to snap at the disembodied, paternal voice, but he just sounded like a drowsy, moody child. He tried to force his eyes open, but the warm energy flowing through him from those strong arms was acting like a sedative, gently forcing him into a state of total relaxation whether he wanted it or not.

Close enough, little one. Close enough.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Seto opened his eyes the next morning, he felt oddly comfortable. His mattress wasn't this nice. He opened his eyes, and jerked awake immediately. It was too bright in here. He was late. He needed to get to school. He tried to sit up, but let out a groan of pain and sank back onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he braced himself to try again.

"Good morning, my pharaoh."

The voice startled Seto, and he forced himself up despite the pain to see who had spoken. There sat Marik, cross-legged on the floor just inside the doorway.

"How long have you been watching me sleep?" he asked, feeling like his privacy had been violated.

"Less than an hour," Marik answered after a moment's thought. He was still adjusting to the modern measure of time.

"Where's Mokuba?" he asked suddenly, becoming aware of his little brother's absence.

"School," the Egyptian answered, watching Seto carefully with those unnerving lavender eyes of his. Seto let out a sigh of relief and sat up slowly, testing the state of his body after last night's abuse. He ached all over, but he could still force himself to move, and he didn't feel like any of the wounds had reopened, which was another good sign.

"Why did you call me pharaoh?" he asked, unable to deny his suspicious nature as he questioned the stranger. Marik grinned, looking pleased with himself.

"You don't ask why you understood an ancient language?" he returned looking cheeky, making Seto freeze in the process of stretching his arms. He realized now that, yes, while he'd clearly understood Marik's words as if they were spoken in his native tongue, the language itself wasn't anything he'd ever heard before. Marik smiled with a look of satisfaction. He stood and slipped out of the room, and Seto relaxed a little. He couldn't focus when those unnatural eyes were watching him so carefully.

"Knock knock," Mrs. Bakura said softly as she rapped on the door with her knuckles, opening it slightly as she pushed the door open a bit. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Thank you for letting me stay the night," he said politely. His expression of gratitude sounded inadequate even to his own ears, but he didn't know how to phrase it any better.

"Well, I wasn't about to let you go home in the state you were in," she said gently, her eyes filled with sadness and pity. Seto had grown to resent all pity; pity was something you expressed in response to someone who was weak. He wasn't weak, and he didn't want to be seen as weak. "I called a friend of mine, a pediatrician. He said he could see you today."