DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Marik, or Bakura. Never have, never will.

A/N: I've taken dramatic liberties with the confines of the story arc. Deal with it.

There was a deafening crack that seemed to echo infinitely; that seemed to obliterate thought and memory and purpose. I remember whipping through a cold, dark void, filled with a freezing wind. It felt as if my life was ending, as if I was being stripped down to my bones. Inexplicably, I was filled with a kind of wild joy.

It was eternity contained in a second. And I remember thinking to myself, 'what happens, happens.' It wasn't up to me to decide, or to know.

Then came the fall.

Slowly, I woke up. I kept my eyes closed. For all I knew, I could have passed into the Afterlife. As long as I didn't open my eyes, whatever strange reality had just passed could be dismissed as mere fantasy.

Strange, there was no sound. Or rather, there was a sound. It was a dead silence that emanated from the land around me. I knew that silence intimately. Above, the empty howl of feeble winds. There was sand beneath me, in my hair, in my mouth. Without opening my eyes, I knew I was in the desert. How long I had been sleeping there, I didn't know.

Finally, I let the ugly dawn penetrate my vision. I had spent almost my entire life in the desert. Some strange mystic experience happens, then I wake up feeling like a shadow of my former self, only to find myself right back where I started. I've known people go through their entire slavish lives content, existing on the hope that when they die, their Afterlife will be filled with verdant gardens, water that runs with notes of music, date-palms, cool breezes, and all the riches and beauties of Paradise. Now am I to find that after all this, only the Sahara awaits me for eternity, chuckling like a fiend at the end of the road? Perhaps I should have expected this. After all, I was a thief. But somehow, I had hoped God would be kind.

My mind staggered with the prospect of this nightmare. I tried to get a hold on myself. It seemed I still had a body; I still had my crimson robe. I put a hand to my head and it came back red and sticky with blood. It must have been from the fall. Was it possible I was still alive? Perhaps I had not yet been judged by Osiris and condemned. Perhaps there was still time to redeem myself?

I clutched frantically at the possibility. But then, how to explain being here, in the middle of nowhere? Someone must have drugged me and left me here for dead, or perhaps to die of starvation. But someone who would expect me to just meekly die knew nothing of the King of Thieves. My whole life had been defying odds, and I would find a way out of the desert. I would survive.

The Sun was still low on the Eastern horizon, and it was already hot. I had a few hours to find some kind of shelter if I didn't want to bake alive. Tentatively, I decided to set out in a vague Northeast direction. With any luck, I wouldn't be too far from the capital city. If I kept going long enough, at any rate, I would end up at either of the two seas that bordered the land. I hoped I was still in Egypt; if I ran into some of the barbarians to the South I'd be in a fine mess.

I listened carefully to the winds, trying to make out any sounds that might have carried. Alas, only more silence. The winds themselves were confused, going every which way, the currents shifting from moment to moment. I might as well have been lost at sea.

After about an hour of walking, I could tell I would need to find water soon. The sun was rising, and the day was getting ever hotter. The desert has a way of taking all the fight and personality out of you. I tried not to think about my situation.

Suddenly, as I came over the top of a dune, I saw a form slumped in the sand ahead of me. I could just barely make it out through the haze, but I hurried towards it. My first thought was that it might be a half-buried camel, in which case it could prove useful provided it hadn't been there too long.

It turned out to be a man, sprawled with his face to the ground. He wore a simple black garment; dressed for the city, not the desert, much like I was. I drew closer. There was something familiar about the body, the light-colored hair…

When I turned him over, I staggered back in shock, letting out a string of curses. How could it be? This was none other than Marik, the Tomb-Keeper. I'd known him back in the Pharoah's city. Yet here he was, as incongruous as I. I was willing to bet he had no idea how he'd come to be here either.

I just stared down at him for a long while, trying to come to some sort of conclusion about the situation. None presented itself; however, and Marik was still unconscious. He was breathing, and didn't seem to be in any kind of immediate danger. The violet eyes were closed, peacefully it seemed, and from what I could see nothing was broken. His face was exhausted though, and his hair was plastered to his forehead as if he'd been sweating from working hard.

I passed a hand in front of his eyes. He seemed to be out like a light. Just to make sure, I started rifling around in his pockets. I can almost always tell when people are playing dead, but it never hurts to be sure.

I found a knife at his waist. A nice one too - ebony, with an inlaid handle and some strange carvings. He'd probably lifted it from some traveler. He'd miss it, for sure, if he woke. He had some coins on his person, which I promptly appropriated. I'd really been hoping he had some kind of water or food, but I was out of luck on this one. I touched his arm briefly. His skin was damp and cool. He had to have been sick. Anyone who's not baking hot after an hour under this sun has something wrong with them.

I stood up. The winds howled around my head, and I covered my nose and mouth to avoid breathing in any sand. I briefly considered waiting for him to come round. I wondered if I should somehow take him with me. It would be the noble thing to do, of course. But the thought was gone almost as soon as it occurred. Never mind that I didn't really know where I was going, he would only slow me down. I had no time to wait.

I turned and walked away. In the distance, the dunes were already changing shape. I knew that if Marik didn't wake up soon, he stood a better than even chance of being completely buried in sand within the hour. I tried not to think about this.

Marik – not quite my enemy, never my friend. I was sure I wouldn't see him again.

A/N: What did you think? As I'm sure any seasoned fanfic reader already knows, that last sentence means we'll probably be seeing a certain person again at some point. And yes, the title is taken from the Anggun song (Snow On the Sahara).

Just curious – I'm trying to get Touzoku-ou's voice to be distinct. He doesn't really have any character development (cuz in the 5th season it's Yami's spirit in his body) so I guess I took some liberties. What do you think?