***And here is chapter 2***

Bakura stared at his arms and grimaced at the strange, fish-belly white they turned under the harsh, store light. He missed his spiced colored arms when he thought about it. The white skin made him feel like he was still possessing Ryou.

Speaking of spiced-colored skin, Marik stood beside him and held a basket filled with kefir, grapes, smoked salmon, cream cheese, and a sort of fancy bread that Bakura didn't recognize.

"Are we done yet?" Bakura sighed.

"Coffee, then we're done." Marik wandered off to find coffee, but Bakura stayed where he was near the checkout.

He watched Marik walk away, ass swaying in his cargo pants. When Marik disappeared, his eyes wandered to the other people in the store, but they were all dull and boring compared to his former partner-now-roommate. He was almost relieved when Marik returned, if for no other reason than to have something interesting to look at. After they checked out, Marik tried handing Bakura one of the bags of groceries.

He gave the bag a suspicious look. "What?"

"Carry it for me."

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"There's two bags and two of us. Come on, be a gentleman."

"Hell no."

Marik shrugged. "I get it. It's too heavy for you. Don't worry, Bakura, I'm strong enough to carry both of them."

"Manipulating me by bringing my macho pride into question isn't going to work, Ishtar."

"Well aren't you secure, or at least indifferent."

At home, Marik threw the grapes in the freezer and started making sandwiches out of the salmon. He winked at Bakura. "Here's meal number two, and then grapes are meal number three. See? I keep my promises- three meals."

"Grapes are not a meal. Not that I care what you do."

"Shut-up and eat this sandwich." Marik shoved a plate against Bakura's stomach.

He sat down and started eating, because with Marik, it took less energy to eat the damn sandwich than it did to insist that he wasn't hungry. He saw a flash from the corner of his eye, and he turned to Marik who was swiping his finger along his phone. "What the fuck, Marik?"

"Sending Ryou a message saying I've gotten you to play cards, eat twice, and go on a walk with me."

"What? Did you just win a bet?"

"No, but it'll keep him from worrying, won't it?"

Bakura snorted. "True."

Marik took his plate into the living room. "What the hell are you doing eating at the table? Damn, Bakura, how well did Ryou train you before I came along to rescue you?"

"Goddammit." Bakura stood up and went into the living room to sit with Marik.

He felt foolish. When had that become a habit? When he and Ryou shared a body? He could never tell. He tried to remember doing simple things in Egypt, eating, sleeping, taking a crap. He couldn't. He remembered fighting the priests and the pharaoh; he remembered screaming ghosts.

Bakura sat his half eaten sandwich on the coffee table. "I've forgotten her face."

Marik glanced over. "Who's face?"

"My mother. I used to think about her face when I fell asleep, but I forgot it in the Ring and then I forgot that I forgot it."

Bakura jerked when he felt the warm weight of Marik's hand on his shoulder.

He jerked away from Marik's touch, standing up. "Don't touch me. I'm going to sleep."

"You should finish talking about it, Bakura."

"I'm not even sure why I started talking about it to begin with." Bakura left down the hallway.

He dropped into his bed, burying his face into his pillow. When his breath became too thin from breathing into the fabric he turned his head, staring at the wall. Sleep didn't come quick or easy, nor did waking. Bakura opened his eyes, feeling groggy and more tired than when he went to sleep. He wanted to stay in bed but his bladder ached, so he stumbled up and went to the toilet.

On his way back to his room, Bakura heard a strange thing- Marik giggling. He stopped and listened to the noise of the television interrupted by quick bursts of giggling. Bakura was intrigued. Marik snickered, sometimes he laughed, but this was a strange and fascinating new sound that Bakura never imaged Marik was capable of making. Bakura crept down the hallway with bare feet.

He saw Marik's face lit up by ceiling and television light. He had his hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles. Sometimes he'd lower it to grab a grape from a bowl and pop it into his mouth, but as soon as he started to laugh, he'd cover his mouth again. His eyes were brighter than usual and they made his face light up. Bakura found himself stepping into the living room to get a closer look at him.

While reaching for another grape, Marik's eyes happened to flick in Bakura's direction and the amusement on his face turned into guilt. "Dammit." Marik grabbed the remote and flicked the channel.

"Watching porn?" Bakura asked with a smirk, although it hadn't sounded like a porn flick.

A single dry snort of laughter escaped from Marik's throat, the kind of amusement Bakura was used to him expressing. "Had I been watching porn, I would have offered for you to sit in my lap and watch it with me."

Bakura couldn't help the smile on his face. He still felt hollow inside, and he was still bothered by the realization that he couldn't remember most of his first life, but Marik had given him a mystery to ponder instead of his own exhausted thoughts. He sat back on his half of the couch. "That brings up a rather interesting question. What were you watching?"

Marik shoved two grapes into his mouth and shrugged.

Bakura shook his head. "Talk with your mouth full. I don't mind."

Marik rolled his eyes, swallowing. "Finish your sandwich. Then I'll show you."

Bakura combed his fingers through his bat wings. "You really are just babysitting me to give Ryou a break, aren't you?"

"No, not to give Ryou a break. I just wanted you over for snorts and giggles."

"Speaking of giggles." Bakura grabbed the cursed sandwich and took a bite. "What exactly were you watching?"

Marik looked sheepish. "Okay, but first you need to realize that it's not my fault I'm watching it. Rishid's the one that likes these awful movies, and I just watch them to have something to talk with him about. It's not my fault?"

Bakura set his empty plate back on the table. "What movies?"

"You want a grape? They're not completely frozen anymore, but they're still good."

"Marik."

"Fine." Marik brushed a ribbon of gold hair behind his ear and turned the channel again.

Bakura frowned at the screen. "What language is this?"

"Doesn't matter. Just watch."

Bakura sat for a moment. The lines on his face creased as his frown deepened. "He's chasing a car . . . and catching up to it."

Marik snickered, trying to repress it. "Yeah."

"Did he just knock that fucker into a lamp post by hitting him with another lamp post?"

"Yes!" Marik held his stomach and doubled over laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever . . ." Bakura stopped talking and watched Marik. A smile stole across Bakura's face as he watched Marik instead of the movie. He'd never seen Marik in a fit of laughter before that evening. It was oddly intoxicating to watch.

"Okay, okay, but watch this. See the car flips, but here . . . boom! Bitch slap! It's so stupid, I know." Marik wiped at his eye.

The worst thing of it was that Marik's laughter was contagious. It made the movie less ridiculous and more entertaining, and by the end, they were both leaning against each other's shoulders laughing, and trying to shove grapes into each other's mouths to get each other to choke as they laughed. At some point Bakura realized the movie was over, and he was staring at Marik's lips instead of the T.V. as Marik ate grapes.

Marik seemed to notice Bakura's gaze. He stopped eating, leaning a little closer.

Bakura jerked away. Marik blinked for moment and shoved a final grape into his mouth. "Want to watch another one?"

Bakura shrugged. "I guess."

Bakura woke up when Marik lay next to him. "Don't you ever knock?"

"No, so you should probably lock the door if you ever decide to jerk off or I'll walk right in."

Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Or don't lock the door if you're into being watched."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Marik?"

Marik handed him a bottle of kefir.

Bakura took it and sat up. "Ah yes, prison feeding."

Marik turned on his side, propping his head up with his elbow. "I'm not exactly treating you like foie gras."

"Good to know you're not planning on eating my liver."

"I'm sure you'd taste far too bitter."

"I'd taste like despair," Bakura said without thinking. He threw his bottle into the waste basket and returned to his favorite hobby of staring at the ceiling.

Marik glided his fingertips across Bakura's temples, tucking stray hairs away from his face.

"Don't touch me, Marik."

"Why? Afraid?"

"You're not known for treating your toys gently."

Marik snorted. "Funny, I thought you were tough enough to take a little rough handling."

Marik's words caused shivers to knot up Bakura's belly. He closed his eyes, trying to process the feeling. It was queasy, and terrifying, and delightful, more addicting that the powers of darkness that he used to weave like threads in a loom.

He had the horrible suspicion that it was a specifically human feeling, and he wasn't sure what to do with it.

Marik ran his finger over Bakura's shoulder. "Hey Bakura?"

"That's your manipulating tone of voice."

Marik chuckled. "Is it?"

"What do you want?"

"Do you still know how to summon your ka?"

Bakura opened his eyes, sitting up. ". . . Maybe. I wouldn't though. Not now with cellphones and satellite cameras."

"What about magic? Do you know how to use heka?"

"Some, not like Ryou."

Marik stretched out on the mattress, his body long and lean. "No one can use magic like Ryou. He brought you back in your own body."

Bakura frowned. "It almost killed him. He passed out. I had to call Yugi, pretend I was him, ask for help, and then hide when they showed up with the ambulance."

"Idiot. Why didn't you take him to the hospital?"

"I was confused and in shock. I hadn't quite processed the fact that I was alive yet, so I did what came to mind."

Marik snickered. "Your first instinct was to ask Yugi for help?"

"Marik, I swear to the fuckings gods I will end you in a way that no magic can restore. Asking Yugi for help was what I thought Ryou would do first."

"Sure. Sure." Marik waved off Bakura's explanation and sat up. "Nevertheless- you know what would be fun?"

"Jumping off a cliff?"

"Facetiousness only makes you look adorable, Bakura. You should really stop trying to act like you're indifferent at this point in the game."

Bakura crawled out of bed. "I'm taking a shower."

Marik stood up as well. "Okay, but I'm not done talking, so I'm just going to follow you into the bathroom."

Bakura glared at Marik, crossing his arms over his chest.

Marik grinned. "What? I'm trying to have a conversation."

A sigh huffed out of Bakura's mouth. "Fine. What would be fun, Marik?"

"If you taught me how to use heka. I'm bored."

"Learn to knit."

"Not as impressive at dinner parties as wielding the elements, Bakura."

Bakura smirked. "You miss the Rod, don't you? Little Marik, all that power at your finger tips and now it's all gone, leaving you mortal and wanting."

"Bitch, don't project on me. I doubt you have enough magic left in you to teach me anything good anyway."

Bakura snorted. "If you're even talented enough to learn." He walked out the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you, to take a damn shower. I feel greasy."

"Where are your clothes?"

"In my bag."

"Take them with you, stupid."

"Fuck you, I live here now."

Marik snorted, going into the living room. "Fine, whatever, but if you walk past me naked, I'm staring."

Bakura started to laugh, bringing up his hands in a shaky, ghost-like gesture. "Ooooo, you might look at me naked, so scared."

"Hurry up and shower so I can learn some damn magic already."

They sat crossed legged on the floor of Bakura's room. A tall, white pillar candle sat on a paper plate between them. Marik rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin with his hands. "So . . ."

"Light the candle."

"I don't have a lighter."

"Use heka."

Marik snorted. "See, Bakura, the point is for you to show me what to do. If I could do it on own, I wouldn't need your help."

"You were a tomb-keeper all those years and they didn't teach you anything?"

"I was the keeper of the Pharaoh's memories." Marik flung his hands up into the air in a dramatic gesture. "We didn't have time to dilly dally with the priests."

Bakura raised his frost-colored eyebrows. "Dilly dally?"

"Not my term. I was paraphrasing." Marik frowned.

"What? A kid's show?"

Marik gestured to the candle. "Bakura, focus."

Bakura snapped and the wick ignited. Then he spread out his fingers and the flame extinguished.

"Fucking show off. I still don't know how you did it."

Bakura smirked, but after a moment he held both hands on each side of the candle. "The hand gestures are for flare more than anything. Using heka is simply activating your ka- not summoning it, just awakening it within you. Energy flows through us, and everything else in the world, like blood. If you concentrate that power . . ."

The flame lit again, and then extinguished a moment later. Bakura raised his maroon eyes up at Marik. "I can't explain any better than that- you have to feel it out on your own."

Marik leaned forward, glaring at the candle.

Bakura chuckled. "Straining your forehead muscles isn't going to make it any easier."

"Shut-up. I'm trying to concentrate."

"You're trying to copy the idiots you've seen on T.V. It doesn't work like that. Here-" Bakura snatched both of Marik's hands into his own. "Forget the candle. Just try to sense your ka."

"You're hands are warm now. In Battle City they were always like ice."

"Marik."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm trying to pay attention, but you have no idea how weird this is." Marik laughed. The smile on his face complemented his features. "It's like you're human now. It's sort of creepy."

"Idiot, I am human now."

"I know that, logically, asshole, but that's still not the same as feeling it with my own hands."

"This lesson is about to be over."

"But Bakura." Marik winked at him. "Don't you like holding hands with me?"

"We're done."

"Don't be like that."

"You're not taking this seriously."

"Yes I am. Activate your ka. I want to see if I can sense it with our hands linked."

Bakura sighed and did as Marik asked. Marik's breath hitched, and Bakura frowned as he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Marik said, although he sounded a little breathless. "Is . . . is it supposed to tingle like that?"

Bakura didn't know what Marik was talking about, so he shrugged. "I don't know. I taught myself."

"Oh." The syllable was half sighed and half spoken.

"Marik?"

". . . Hold on. I'm getting used to this. I think I can . . ."

Bakura was about to ask if Marik was okay- he looked fevered- but then his entire body started to hum. Bakura gasped, trying to cope with the odd sensation.

"Look. I did it."

The grin on Marik's flushed face made it hard for Bakura to look away, but he managed to sink his gaze down to the candle. "Mmmm . . . good job," Bakura muttered, not meaning to compliment Marik, but too distracted by the static feeling flowing up and down his arms to say something facetious.

"That was too easy. I need something harder. Let's try a real spell."

"I don't exactly have any ancient scrolls lying around for us to use."

Marik jumped up. Bakura blinked as soon as their hands separated, missing the feeling of currents running through him.

"I do. Wait here."

Marik came back with a binder full of papyrus paper.

"Where did you get that?" Bakura asked with a grin.

Marik shrugged. "I stole these from the tomb before I moved to Domino."

"Nice."

"Yeah, well I figured I should get some sort of compensation for my childhood being completely fucked." Marik thumbed through the pages, grinning and pulling out a single sheet. "And with this spell, that compensation can take the form of a brand new, customized to my liking, Ducati. They don't come in plum from the factory, but I figure if I conjure one using magic, I could probably make it happen."

"Are you fucking kidding me? This was all a set-up for you to get a motorcycle created just for you because the factory ones don't come in your signature color?"

"What? You wouldn't have a problem if we went and stole one."

"No. I wouldn't really care."

"Well what's the difference?"

Bakura leaned back, rolling his eyes. "What's the spell?"

Marik read over the hieratic. "It's suppose to grant a wish. I can read the spell, and I know the proper diction-"

"Then why do you even need my help?"

Marik gave him a guilty look. "I could never figure out how to activate my ka before."

"Well, you can now."

Marik stared at the candle. "I don't think I can do it without you."

"You did it three seconds ago- you're the one that said it was too easy!"

"Well, it was easy when I was holding your hands." Marik grabbed for Bakura's hands, but he jerked away.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Experimenting. Give me your hands." Marik reached for Bakura again.

Bakura hesitated before allowing Marik to grab his hands once again. He activated his ka, allowing heka to flow through him. Marik did the same, and once again Bakura felt the strange current coursing through him. Bakura had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning as Marik toyed with the candle flame, lighting and extinguishing it.

The fire flared up, taking the shape of a Phoenix before fading into smoke. "See? I need your help."

"No." Bakura jerked his hands away. "You need to practice until you're good enough to do it on your own."

"Yes," Marik agreed, a little too easily. "And I will. I promise."

Bakura chuckled, knowing exactly what Marik would say next. "After you get your bike?"

Marik grinned. "What can I say? You know me really well."

Bakura smirked. "What do I get out of it?"

"Free rent."

"You never said I had to pay rent, or groceries, or utilities."

"Free rides on a Ducati."

"Horses are better."

"Do you want a horse? I'll buy you one."

"And stable it in the living room?"

"We'd have to keep it at a professional stable, which would probably be a town or two out of Domino, but it'd still be your horse, and I could drive you on the Ducati to go and ride it whenever you wanted."

Bakura ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "You'd spend all that money on me, but you won't buy your own damn motorcycle?"

"I want it customized, Bakura."

Bakura grabbed the spell and glared at it. "You have to do two things before I help you with this."

"Those two things are?"

"Continue to practice activating your ka until you can light the candle on your own, and teach me how to read this crazy tomb-keeper scratch your people call writing so I can go through these spells on my own."

"Deal."

"And reading lessons start right now."

"Let's just do the spell and I promise to work on both those things starting tomorrow," Marik said.

"No. You have a way of getting out of our deals."

"Hey, you didn't get the Rod, but I didn't get all the god cards- nor did I beat my dark half with you- so don't get so righteous."

"I'm still not dumb enough to give you a new toy before I try to get you to do something."

"Okay c'mon, Bakura." Marik crawled past the candle and stopped just short of Bakura's lap. He leaned close, his lips breaths away from Bakura's lips and hands resting on Bakura's shoulders. "Don't you want to cast this spell with me?"

Bakura had to swallow. It took him a moment to snap out of Marik's manipulation. "No, I want to learn how to read the scrolls so I can cast spells on my own."

Marik dropped into Bakura's lap, exhaling. "Fine. Let's get some lunch and then I'll teach you to read."