A/N: It seems like there's a lot of stories revolving around that conversation Marik and Bakura must have had before the "Showdown in the Shadows" episodes in season two. This is just my interpretation of it - with a little more focus on their mind link. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

Special thanks to ChaosRocket for the beta.

Speak Your Mind

Marik had nowhere to turn. This rash plan was his only choice, yet it scared him to the tips of his body-less soul to admit how out of control and helpless he felt. Somehow, the choice was oddly instinctual.

He reached out to Bakura.

Residing in the body of Téa Gardner, Marik entered Bakura's room in the moonlit darkness. On the low-rising bed in the corner of the room, the spirit slept deeply, recovering from a duel that now felt ages ago. Marik approached hastily, feeling Téa's heart speed up with his own emotions.

"Bakura," he said, foolishly expecting his own voice to sound.

But the pale-featured boy didn't stir. Marik wasn't surprised—Bakura had been out cold since his duel with Yugi—but the lack of response terrified him. He had no one else. He had no other choice. He was stranded, hanging by a thread between the living world and the shadows.

"Bakura," he repeated.

The only sound was Bakura's even breathing and the distinct silence of Marik's bated breath. Marik's hand tightened around the Millennium Ring he grasped, rendering his knuckles taut and white. Tentatively, Marik placed his palm on Bakura's shoulder.

He heard something—the murmur of a thought. Bakura was there somewhere, concealed in his own soul room. If Marik couldn't reach him in an earthly way, then he would have to invade his dreams.

He closed his eyes, maintaining their connection by keeping his hand on Bakura's shoulder, and dove forward.

Just as before, he felt himself fall into Bakura's mind, tumbling weightlessly as though falling through silk fabric. He was only a spirit now, descending through a teal-tinted haze into an empty expanse. He felt Bakura's presence through the fog and heard the heightened whisper of his thoughts, growing louder as he approached. The very knowledge that he'd found him calmed Marik.

"What a surprise," Bakura's voice resonated. "You couldn't even wait until I recovered before turning up here again."

Marik unconsciously ran his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling his throat go dry.

"I need your help."

The haze parted as Bakura met Marik face to face. Even in his soul room, he still wore the striped, blue and white shirt and long jeans. There was an edge of fatigue in his eyes, reminiscent of the attack he'd endured during his last duel. As he drew near, Marik felt the distinct hammer of his own heart.

"I thought as much," Bakura replied, crossing his arms. "You only show up when you've fucked something up."

Marik glanced away, taking the bite.

"Look, I'm not here to argue."

Bakura raised an eyebrow and Marik heard the thought clearly—when was the last time Marik hadn't been looking for an argument?—but kept his arms crossed.

"Then what are you here for?"

"I lost control of my body," Marik revealed. "My darker half took over and I'm using the body of one of Yugi's friends to contact you. I can't exactly rely on anyone else to help me out; Odion is still unconscious, and my sister can't defeat my darker half alone. So, I need your help."

Bakura said nothing, but the astonishment was stark in his thoughts. He hadn't witnessed Marik's transformation to his darker self, so he couldn't have known that Marik had a dark side. The wheels were turning rapidly in his head, tumbling around like a developing cyclone, trying to wrap his mind around the concept.

"I'll give you something in return," Marik continued before Bakura could reply. "I know the stakes are high, so I'm willing to bargain."

"What did you have in mind?" Bakura finally asked, looking guarded.

"The Millennium Rod."

At that, Bakura chuckled quietly.

"And I was actually hoping for something new. You already owe me the Millennium Rod, Marik, or maybe you've forgotten our old bargain."

Marik frowned. "You didn't uphold our old bargain, so I don't see why I should hand it over. You were to follow my orders and win the duel with Yugi. And you didn't."

Bakura's eyes darkened.

"I don't think you remember what lead up to that loss, Marik, so I'll remind you: Your shitty dueling scheme put Ryou in danger, so I had to intervene. You counted on Yugi not attacking, but I couldn't exactly take that risk, now could I? If you valued my help that much, you shouldn't have put us in danger."

"The bottom line is you failed." Marik's eyes narrowed. "You didn't win the duel so you still owe me."

Bakura's eyes blazed.

"I don't owe you anything."

Being stubborn was doing nothing for Marik in this situation. He knew that he'd wronged Bakura. He'd taken a risk during the duel and it had backfired, letting Slifer's blitzkrieg strike Bakura unconscious for hours. But Marik depended on him; he needed Bakura's strength and shrewdness. He needed Bakura more than he could admit.

Marik took a deep breath, and then continued with renewed urgency. He had to reign in his pride to avoid a standstill.

"Look, I'm not here to argue or to blame you for that duel. But consider this: I've lost my body, I have no way of communicating with anyone short of possessing a teenage girl, and my psychotic, dark half is prowling the blimp in my own body."

That should have been enough reason, but Marik continued. It was more than desperation that drove him at this point.

"Aside from all that, there's another reason I'm fighting to get my body back. After possessing Yugi's friend, I heard my sister tell the story of my childhood, when my dark half was born. The day my father died—the day I vowed to get revenge on the Pharaoh for the misery he caused my family—that was the day my dark side first took control. It was the day I killed my own father and I don't even remember it."

Bakura held Marik's level gaze.

"I can't let him live, knowing what he did. I have to destroy him," Marik finished. "But I need your help."

Bakura said nothing at first, surprised at Marik's openness. It took a lot of self-control on Marik's part not to lash out and to hide, cloaking his fear and desperation, but he needed to win Bakura over. He had to be vulnerable to win.

"Well? Can I rely on your help?" Marik asked impatiently.

For a moment, Marik wondered how long he'd been there already, having what seemed like a fruitless argument. He shuddered to think what his dark side might have done since he took over. But then Marik recalled that time slowed in soul rooms and only seconds had passed in the real world since he'd entered Bakura's mind, so there was time still.

Finally, Bakura answered him.

"The Millennium Rod isn't that much of a bargain, since you don't even own it at the moment. You'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Marik had to bite back an enormous retort. Of course the Millennium Rod wouldn't be enough, he thought sarcastically. This was Bakura he was bargaining with.

"Fine, then take the Millennium Ring too. It's sitting at the foot of your bed, so you can be assured I already own it. The Millennium Ring and Rod for you help, then. Do we have a deal?"

Bakura looked only mildly impressed.

Marik tried to gauge his chances that Bakura would accept the deal—when suddenly, faintly, he heard these words.

That brat. Thinking he can break our deal, time after time, and that I would accept his whimsical bargains, just like that. The conceited little—

"It's not whimsical," Marik interrupted, forgetting that Bakura hadn't spoken out loud, and that he was answering his stream of thoughts. "I thought about this thoroughly before coming to you. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't—if I had someone else to turn to."

The quiet resignation didn't sway Bakura one bit.

"Get the hell out of my thoughts," he snapped.

Marik said nothing, but now that he'd heard Bakura once, he listened closely again. Normally, he only got flashes of emotions and brief words from Bakura, not entire thoughts, but this seemed different somehow. They were both wired. They were both on edge. And while in the past that hadn't been enough reason for transmitting such clear thoughts, it could now also be the distance. They were standing only two feet apart, allowing for a stronger mind link. Whatever the reason, Marik managed to pick up on one surprising thing: that Bakura was agitated by Marik's words. That he was shocked. That he was concerned.

… of course, the only time he'd ever come to me for help is when he's desperate, when he needs me to step in and save his skin, again and again. Why do I even bother—

Marik's fists clenched and suddenly, he opened his heart to the anger.

"Shut up! I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. If I hadn't lost my body, I wouldn't need your help," he snapped. "I could kill the Pharaoh on my own. I could banish my dark side alone. But this is the one time that I can't do anything at all—"

If his spirit was housed in a body, he would feel the blood rush through his veins. He would feel pounding in his head. He would feel the crashing world.

Instead, his thoughts continued unhindered.

This is the one time that I really need your help—and you're just standing there without any sympathy at all and you're just—gods, you're so cruel. At a time that you can't be. For my sake. For the sake of everything that ever mattered to me. Do this for me. I swear to you that this is the most helpless I've ever felt in my life, and I hate it more than you do, but—

I need you right now.

I need you more than you'll ever know.

Bakura stood silently, taking in each word. Marik's eyes widened as he realized that he must have heard it all. All the thoughts running rampant through his head must have been brilliantly clear to him.

Bakura opened his mouth, but Marik was already stepping back.

He hadn't meant to say that. The words and thoughts had come unbidden. But now flashes of his memories surfaced, lightning-quick emotions that he'd buried so far in his mind that he'd almost forgotten them.

The feelings drowned him again like drenching, turbulent waves, leaving him gasping.

Searing, boiling-hot metal on his skin, slicing smoothly and delicately under the guise of morbid perfection. Time that had slipped as surely and slowly as the blood down his missing back. For Marik had been certain that it was missing. Not a single nerve registered that the flesh was even there. Just a gaping hole that violently filled with darkness, letting him writhe and scream as all the hatred in the world settled in his tissue and blood vessels.

After that, everything else had tumbled out of place.

Having lost any semblance of a childhood, he'd donned the cryptic, dark cloak of the Rare Hunters and led the group down a winding, criminal path. Now, he realized that had been nothing more than an attempt to forget what had gotten him running in the first place.

"I see," Bakura said suddenly, and Marik snapped back to reality.

The realization crashed in on him quickly. Bakura had heard everything. He'd seen everything. The memories and thoughts whirring inside Marik were an open book to him.

Marik stared at Bakura, his jaw clenching. He hadn't meant to think that. It was a lot more personal than anything he'd ever shared with another human being; the fact that Bakura had heard those intimate thoughts was terrifying, debilitating almost.

Marik stepped back through the fog.

Stop listening! I didn't mean to show you that.

Bakura merely raised an eyebrow.

"They're your thoughts; of course you didn't."

But Marik was caught up in his mishap. He should have never pressed forward to read Bakura's thoughts. He hated being vulnerable. He hated being on display, undressed of his shields and lacking control. He thrived on anonymity and power. He was the one who pulled the strings and uncovered everyone else's secrets.

Fine, then read my mind, Bakura snapped. Look at my memories if you're so concerned about feeling exposed. You'll find that we're no different.

Marik stopped in his tracks, surprised. Bakura walked forward, shortening the distance between them. As the distance lessened, his thoughts became clearer. Marik felt them whirring quickly, overlapping like tumultuous waves, engulfing him as Bakura drew near and near.

Bakura grabbed Marik's arm and—

He saw a burning village.

Flames licked the dark skies, charring the huts, augmenting the screams that sliced through the smoke. He was in Bakura's mind, trembling as he observed a cold massacre flood the cobblestones. He shuddered at the sight, yet he couldn't tear his eyes from the vision.

I was seven. After that night, I had no one. I hated them—the soldiers, the palace, the fucking gods who did nothing—and for a long time, that hatred was all I had for company.

Marik saw the aging world through Bakura's eyes. Millennia passed before he had the chance to seek revenge again.

I'm still on this earth for one thing. Vengeance. I fight and breathe for the chance to be there again, three thousand years ago, and undo it all.

Marik couldn't think for a moment, overwhelmed by Bakura's memories. He had no idea that this was the depth of Bakura's determination. He and Marik had been wronged in the same ways. Wounded at a vulnerable age when the only comfort was revenge.

We're the same, Marik thought in wonder.

It was hard to believe that in mere minutes, Marik had discovered the very essence of Bakura's willpower, and Bakura his. But this shocking speed came with a price—vulnerability. Marik had been completely exposed, stripped of his defenses before someone that until now, he'd hardly considered a friend.

Suddenly, Marik became aware that Bakura was still holding his arm, reminding him how close they stood together. That's what allowed their shared vision of Bakura's past, after all, the short distance.

So it's the distance causing all this… That's useful to know.

Marik heard Bakura's voice as clearly as though he'd spoken out loud. Bakura made to move away when Marik protested internally.

Wait.

The word was unintended, meant only for the crevices of Marik's mind, but their distance was so short that Bakura heard it anyway.

Wait? He raised an eyebrow.

Marik tried to screen his thoughts, but it couldn't be helped.

There's something I've wanted to do…

Bakura stared at Marik piercingly, recognizing his intentions at once. The yearning was plain in his eyes and the insistence clear in his movements.

You've been— Bakura began.

Wanting you for a while now.

Marik quickly realized that the mind link took all the surprise from his actions. Bakura simply closed his eyes as Marik diminished the distance.

It was so open. Marik felt the barriers crumble, the walls shatter and the shields splinter, until he couldn't tell his own thoughts apart from Bakura's. He entered a realm completely familiar to him, filled with murderous, desolate thoughts and unwavering purpose. There was no thought that didn't match his in some fundamental way and that, surprisingly, comforted Marik.

At this realization, Marik tightened his grip on Bakura, pressing into the spirit's body and kissing him hard. Bakura opened his mouth, allowing Marik to run his tongue along Bakura's bottom lip. Seized by this connection, Marik chose to explore it. He grasped Bakura's white hair, pushing him forward, driving their mouths and bodies closer until there was no distance, no thought left unheard.

Closer, Marik thought mindlessly.

Bakura obliged him. He ran his fingers through Marik's belt hoops, pulling his hips closer and drawing a gasp from Marik when their bodies collided. The friction caused Bakura to break their kiss and breathe heavily, looking uncertain.

Where is this going?

Marik pressed a kiss to the crook of Bakura's shoulder. He opened his mouth to bite the expanse of skin, softly at first, then harder when he felt Bakura shudder. It made things much simpler when Marik didn't need to hear Bakura's desires to know them.

Nowhere. For now.

Marik pulled back and gave Bakura a serious look.

You still haven't told me what you've decided. Are you helping me destroy my dark side or not?

He didn't need to ask, because he already knew the answer. It was laced through Bakura's every word and touch. Though Bakura hadn't thought it directly, the vulnerability excited him too. Standing bare before someone was mortifying and rousing all at the same time. He loved the feeling as much as he hated it, and the fact that it was Marik who inspired him to feel this—

"I'll help you," Bakura said simply.

Marik had no desire to leave the soul room, but it was time. He'd secured Bakura's help and now had a chance to destroy the hatred that had plagued him since childhood. Whether or not that would be enough, he didn't know.

Are you doubting me already?

Marik glanced at Bakura's vibrant brown eyes.

Well, you haven't exactly proved yourself. That duel against Yugi didn't impress me much.

Bakura rolled his eyes.

If a certain brat hadn't interfered, you'd think otherwise.

Marik smiled, closing his eyes.

We should leave. I've been gone long enough.

Marik felt his own hesitation in Bakura's thoughts. Why should they leave now, when they'd discovered a connection so unique?

You're right. I've been out of touch with the real world for too long.

Marik was unusually calm now, compared to the wreck he'd been upon first entering Bakura's dreams. He concentrated on returning to the real world, thinking of the moonlit room where Bakura's body resided.

A moment later, he surfaced from the dream, but he was no longer in Téa's body. He was merely a spirit, as he'd been in Bakura's soul room, standing translucently beside Bakura's bed. Téa was draped over the bed sheets, asleep.

The bedsprings creaked as Marik turned to see Bakura stand from the bed.

"I see you'll only be joining me in spirit," Bakura said, looking directly at Marik.

Until I get a body of my own.

Bakura merely smiled. He stepped toward Marik's spirit, placing his hand on Marik's arm. They stood in silence for a moment, appreciating the whir of one another's thoughts, heightened by the simple touch.

"Leave that to me."

Marik had no choice, really, but he did so gladly.

It overwhelmed him when Bakura stepped forward to face his dark side. When he stopped that appalling half of him from killing Odion, Marik felt such strong gratitude that he knew Bakura must have felt it. Their connection was breathtaking. It was overpowering. It was so incredible that Marik longed to never be far enough to miss it.

As the flames overtook them, Marik smiled.

He knew it wasn't the end quite yet. Even as Ra wrapped its claws around Marik's spirit, he knew it wasn't over.

Between the two of them, there was still far too much left to explore.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think.