This is the last time, I swear. This is the last time I will ever do anything seriously bad. Okay, now…breathe…keep calm…I can do this.

"I can't do this," an urgent voice whispered from somewhere near the thinker's elbow. "Let's go back, please?"

"Like hell! After all your pestering and begging, you're going to turn back now?"

"Marik – "

"We're doing this, Ryou. Now be quiet, okay?" Marik pulled his hood down lower over his face, shadowing his distinctive features, and glanced quickly round the corner. "The guard has moved. Let's go."

"Why do I keep getting myself into trouble?" Ryou moaned, but he followed Marik down the dark corridor nonetheless.

The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities wasn't open to the public at this time, and especially not at 3 o'clock in the morning, but having a sibling working within the field had its advantages. Ishizu's stolen keycard rested in Marik's hand, ready and waiting to open any restricted areas. Ryou carried a laptop bag, on standby in case any locks needed hacking into. This whole idea had been Ryou's, but in typical fashion, he was getting cold feet now and panicking. Marik grabbed his arm and gave him an impatient tug to get him to speed up. "I think that's the right door ahead of us. I don't know if Ishizu's card will get us in there, so wire your laptop up to the alarm, okay?"

Ryou nodded grimly, imitating Marik and pulling his hood lower to conceal his brilliant white hair. Marik looked around warily, then slid over to a nearby door and ran his gloved fingers over it thoughtfully. "Yep, this is the one."

Ryou settled down and opened his bag, pulling out a battered old silver laptop and a length of cables. With deft fingers, he hooked the laptop up to the security trigger on the door and waited, hands poised over the keyboard and glancing around occasionally, listening out for guards.

Marik swiped Ishizu's keycard down the slot at the side of the door. There was a click, but nothing happened when he pushed on the door. "Crap," Ryou cursed, fingers suddenly flying over the keyboard, "Ishizu isn't authorised to enter this area. You've tripped an alarm…so I'm trying to disable it now."

"I don't hear anything," Marik whispered.

"It'll be a silent one, to fool burglars, you know, like us." Ryou bit his lip and groaned. "Ah, dammit, this is hard to crack!"

"Quickly!"

"I'm going as fast as I can…okay, done." He typed a few more complex formulae and then sat back, sighing. "Try the card again. It should work now."

Marik swiped the card again and pushed on the door, pleased to find it now swung wide open. "Come on," he urged, gesturing. Ryou quickly slid his laptop back into the bag and followed him through, closing the door and locking it securely.

Here they are!

Seven cases. Seven glittering gold and glass pedestals. There were several that Marik could have paid a little more attention to, but he and Ryou had eyes for only one.

The Millennium Items had been recovered from the collapsed shrine in Kul Elna several months ago, and had been the subject of much media attention. For the time being, they had been stored away in this room to keep them safe while it was decided where to exhibit them. The very thought of these items being shoved on display for parades of people to ogle at had filled Marik with an unreasonable rage that he just couldn't shake off. It wasn't until he spoke with Ryou about it that he realised they were one and the same; they wanted the same thing.

So here they were. About to steal the Millennium Ring from under the nose of the Egyptian government.

"When I overrode the door, it should have disabled any alarms on the cases," Ryou said quietly. "Be quick though. I think I might pass out from nerves if we stay here any longer."

"I'm on it."

Marik stepped towards the case he desired, slipping a hand underneath his coat. Ryou carefully lifted the glass casing, and Marik pulled out a near perfect replica of the Ring from his coat, quickly switching it with the real one.

The cool metal felt familiar and comforting against his fingers, the soft chiming of the tines as they clinked together stirring up long-repressed memories, memories he had had to push away so they didn't hurt him anymore. He held it out towards Ryou. "You should take it."

"Nuh-uh." Ryou shook his head. "I'll be happy if I never have to wear that thing again. I still have the scars."

"Well, if you insist." Marik slipped the worn cord around his neck and tucked it beneath his coat. A strange tingle shot up his spine. It's been too long since I felt close to you.

"Come on, Marik, let's get out of here before we're caught."

The 8-hour drive back to Luxor was largely uneventful. Ryou fell asleep in the passenger seat, head lolling to the side and soft snores fluffing up the hair falling over his pale face. Marik, driving with one hand, felt the urge to rest also, but dared not in case they were being pursued. They had parked the car a good distance away from the museum when they broke in, so it couldn't be spotted and recognised on any nearby CCTV, but he was taking no chances, and in any case, this wasn't even his car; he'd borrowed it from Rishid and if it ended up in the compound as police evidence, Marik would be disowned for sure.

He still couldn't believe when Ryou had turned up at his door a few nights ago, ruffled and jet-lagged, but bouncing with excitement at the prospect of a little late-night thievery. Clearly the mild-mannered Japanese-Brit had picked up more from his rebellious Egyptian spirit than he cared to admit. Their planning had been immensely fun, and Marik couldn't help but think that it had felt so good, to laugh and scheme and simply feel like he had a friend again. Ryou was special, a shining gem in his life of fruitless redemption, the one person he felt he could open up to, because there was nobody else who could relate to him the way Ryou could.

When they reached Marik's apartment, they tumbled inside, yawning, too exhausted to even discuss their success. Marik just collapsed on the sofa and waved Ryou off towards his bedroom, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost immediately.

It was well into the evening by the time Marik woke up, pushing himself groggily off the sofa. "Ryou?" he called out. "You still here?"

Ryou popped his head round the kitchen door. "Oh, you're awake," he smiled. "Well, there's been no police battering down your door, so I think we're safe. I made food if you want some."

Marik grinned. "You're taking over my place already and you've only been here three days. If you clean as well as you cook, you can totally move in with me."

"Sorry, I prefer Japan," Ryou smiled back, "though the offer is tempting. It's been so lovely to see you again, I do wish I could stick around for longer. My plane ticket's only good for another few days and then I really do have to go back home." Ryou disappeared for a moment, then came back with two large bowls of vegetable and bean chilli, one of which he handed to Marik. "Maybe once we bring him back, you could come and visit?" Ryou asked, sitting down next to Marik with wide, deceptively innocent eyes. He was only three months or so older than Marik, but those huge brown eyes made him look a lot younger than their twenty years. "I'm sure Yugi and the rest would love to see you again."

Marik grimaced, shaking his head. "I'll be honest with you, Ryou, as far away as possible isn't enough for me. After everything we've been through, I need the distance and more. Don't get me wrong, I like Yugi, but it's just…it's just too much."

Ryou nodded sadly. "I understand."

"Does Yugi know you're here?"

"He does, but not why. I thought he might get upset, so I just…didn't say much else after that."

Marik dug into his food as an excuse to not have to speak any further. The last twenty-four hours had left him ravenous, too nervous to eat a thing. Ryou just picked at his own bowl, content to knock back endless mugs of tea.

They spoke again once they had finished eating. "So…" Marik said, putting his bowl aside, "should we begin?"

Ryou nodded. "Yes, we shouldn't waste time. You remember what to do?"

Marik remembered. He and Ryou had gone over it extensively the last few days. The Ring responded to the holder's deepest desires and pointed towards them; Ryou had dabbled enough in occult realms to have gained a working knowledge of worlds beyond their own. He said he could pull whatever he liked from wherever he liked if he concentrated hard enough and had faith in himself. That was why he was here, not because he was beautiful and a good cook, but because he wanted Marik to take what his heart longed for.

"Okay…so…"

Marik slid the Ring out from underneath his coat, gripping it tightly in both hands. He closed his deep lavender eyes and thought of arrogance, an annoying, bratty laugh, shaggy white hair, orbs the colour of mahogany. He knew Ryou was watching him intently, and could feel the self-conscious flush spreading across his cheeks.

The Ring responded, its tines giving a soft clink before rising up, pointing towards Marik's bedroom. He gave a dark chuckle, Ryou raising an eyebrow. "How apt," Marik murmured, "that the closest way of getting to him is in the room where I'd have been dragging him, had I got my own way."

Ryou blushed violently. "Um, you know…he was in my body, so…"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Oh, it's fine. Let's go and check out where it's pointing." Ryou jumped to his feet and hurried into the bedroom, Marik close behind. His eyes never left the Ring, watching it carefully for any signs its direction was changing. The tines swung to the right as soon as he had a foot in the dimly lit bedroom, then when he moved that way, they dropped back down, dead and still. Ryou clapped his hands gleefully. "We've found it! Okay, place the Ring where your feet are…yeah, just there. Step back, and I'll start."

It always perturbed Marik that Ryou had such a grasp on dark magics, something he didn't think would even exist now, with no power within the Millennium Items to command the Shadow Realm. But if anyone could figure it out, it was Ryou. He'd spent enough years with his spirit to never forget the instincts for darkness.

The room seemed to grow dimmer, and Marik shivered, tugging on his long sandy-coloured hair nervously. Ryou had his eyes closed, hands clasped in what looked like prayer, but the soft, clipped dialect that rolled off his tongue certainly spoke no reverence for any deity they knew. It was Middle Egyptian, a language long-dead to all but the Tomb-Keepers, but Ryou had taught it to himself over the years, and now he spoke to the shadows, speaking of what he remembered, how the darkness had to let go of the shadow they desired within.

It was working. Deep violet and black swirls of darkness began to coalesce over the Ring. Ryou never ceased his chanting, but he unclasped his hands to reach into his pocket and draw out a small switchblade. He flicked it open and held it in his right hand, pressing the blade to the index finger of his left. A small flicker of pain crossed his face as he flicked his wrist, cutting into the delicate skin of his finger, but he continued to chant, opening his eyes now and kneeling down to press the bleeding digit to the centre of the Ring. The Eye of Horus in the centre welled up with Ryou's blood, and Marik had to look away, feeling bile rise up in his throat. It had to be done, but he still couldn't stand the sight.

One final, firm word, and the magic ceased. Ryou stepped back and stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the bleeding. Marik grabbed his arm and leaned in close, visibly trembling. "Ryou?" he whispered. "Have you done it?"

"I think so," he replied softly, patting Marik's hand. "Look…can you see? The shadows are becoming corporeal."

And indeed they were, twisting and turning into something that began to resemble a human body. The shadows seemed reluctant to give up their prize, but at last the fruits of their labour came free, and Bakura, Spirit of the Ring, tumbled onto the carpet, naked, emaciated and panting heavily.