Chapter 2-Lazarus

When I finally break contact with Marik's lips I find myself being pulled hurriedly towards the living room. They give no explanation, simply usher me onward with shoves and impatient kisses. I collapse onto the couch in a daze, dimly aware of Bakura's heavy breathing tickling the back of my neck.

"What…" I sound like a child.

"Shh…" The white haired demon nips at the tense cords along my neck. "Don't you know what day it is?"

I can feel his eyes upon me, bright though there is little light to fill them. "No…I don't."

"It's been a year," he whispers. "A year since our resurrection. I guess you could call it something of an anniversary."

"Anniversary?" I find myself laughing, realizing quite suddenly that Bakura is right. It has been a full year since our return. "Interesting means of celebration."

"Why?" the spirit murmurs. "What a better way to honor it than by finally consummating our 3000 year relationship?"

"What does that make me then, hmm?" Curled up at the other end of the couch, Mariku gives Bakura a malevolent stare.

The paler spirit leans over me to pull him into kiss, mocking in its tenderness. "That makes you the frosting on the cake, my dear. The added bonus."

Mariku's face is unreadable, veiled in shadows and practiced apathy. It is impossible to tell if he has been hurt by this, or even if he's reacted at all. Still, something about the carelessness of Bakura's words sends me over the edge. He hasn't changed. It's been 3000 fucking years, and he hasn't changed…but things are different now. Without his dark powers Bakura is no stronger than any mortal. In fact, with a body molded after Ryou's he could even be considered weak. In this moment, my mind clouded with lust and rage, I see something I should have realized ages ago. Nothing of Bakura's original strength remains, save his reputation. Without that he would be truly helpless.

"Touzouko! What the fuck are you…"

Before the paler spirit can finish his sentence, before even I have the chance to fully comprehend what I am doing, I am on top of him. Bakura's struggles are useless. I still have the body of an ancient thief, and physically I am stronger than not only him but Marik as well.

"Happy anniversary, Bakura." My voice slides easily, mimicking the spirit's husky baritone in a way that borders frightening. "I hope you enjoy it."

"T-Touzouko…" I hear it. A faint tremor in his words. For once it is Bakura who is powerless, Bakura who is afraid…and I who have everything…

I awaken groggy, a strange taste clinging to the back of my throat. I am on the floor, my back against the couch. Something tickles my face, and I realize it is Mariku's hair. The blonde's head is nestled against the crook of my neck. Even in sleep his face is one of great harshness. Staring at the sharp contours of his jaw and cheekbones, the night's events slowly come back to me.

Sex with Bakura was absolutely brutal. Biting, clawing, snarling, we fought each other every step of the way. I had forgotten the true exhilaration found in battle, the deep, guilty satisfaction of forcing your enemy into absolute submission. I shiver. Where is Bakura anyway? Sitting up, I look around. He is sprawled out on the couch, facing away from me. I fight the strange urge to wake him and instead turn back to Marik.

Aside from fucking Bakura, most of the night's events remain a blur. I can recall dimly the sensation of Marik's lips, of his hot, ready body begging to be claimed. I remember being surprised by his eagerness. The blonde has never struck me as someone willingly taken. Even Bakura has trouble taming him in bed.

"Touzou…" Marik opens his eyes ever so slightly. "What the hell…fuck…"

I help him sit up, allowing him to lean against my shoulder. The spirit is exhausted, and I can tell that without support he would probably collapse.

"W-where's…"

"Bakura? He's on the couch."

Nodding, Mariku closes his eyes. For a moment he looks almost frail. He exudes a deep weariness, the kind of fatigue that touches not only the body but the soul as well.

"There's no point trying to wake him. Kura's the hardest fucking sleeper I've ever met."

I nod, silently amused by his use of such a nickname. "I'll be surprised if he wakes up before noon."

Marik looks as if he might laugh but stops himself at the last minute. "That's not what he had in mind for last night. You know that, right?"

I allow my head to slump back against the sofa. "Yes…but you can't deny that he liked it."

"No," Mariku muses. "I suppose not. Still, I never thought you'd be one for rough sex. I mean…"

"Shut it, Ishtar. You don't know what you're talking about." Shaking the blonde off my shoulder, I clamber to my feet. How those two go at it every night I'll never know. My entire body is stiff, and the desire for a shower is practically overwhelming. I start making my way to the bathroom, only to pause as Marik's intense gaze rests upon me.

"What?"

The blonde simply shakes his head and gives me one of his strange, unbalanced smirks. "Never mind." He promptly turns his attention to Circe, who has come up to rub insistently against his thigh.

I roll my eyes. "In that case I'll be in the shower."

"Really?" The twitch in Marik's eyebrow is barely noticeable, but I recognize it for what it is. "Mind if I join you?"

I pause. On any other morning I would ignore this, disregard it as pointless coquetry. But why not? What shouldn't I invite Mariku along? Bakura certainly wouldn't be pleased. He's game enough when it's the three of us, but somehow I get the feeling that if excluded he wouldn't be quite as eager.

"Your boyfriend might not be too happy about that, Ishtar."

"Don't worry." He tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace. "I'm just an added bonus, remember?"

There is something acidic in his words, something that is at once comical and irate, lonesome and hopelessly mad. Everything about the blonde seems to reflect this same, transcending equivocation. A dual meaning. Universal opposites. Beautiful yet harsh. Cruel yet delicate. Mariku is an enigma even to himself, and that is, in many ways, incredibly appealing. Pushing Circe aside, I pull him into a kiss. He gasps softly, lips still tender from the previous night's events.

Before either of us have time to think we are on our feet, stumbling towards the bathroom. We choose the one in my room. It is out of the way, farther from Bakura's slumbering form.

We do not wait for the water to heat. Immediately we are under its spray. I pull Marik against me, dimly aware of how strange, how completely unanticipated this moment is. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected, would I have even dared to hope, that I could ever reach out for the darkness of Malik Ishtar. But here he is, smelling of sex and desert sunlight, wanting me as something separate, something completely distinct from Zorc or his lasting phantom Bakura.

"Touzouko…" His teeth are on my neck. Snarling, biting, they threaten to draw blood. Spikes of golden hair, weighted down with water, obscure his penetrating gaze. I admire Mariku's body. It's strange, but the body he has now varies somewhat from Malik's. The differences are subtle. Marik is bonier, not skinnier necessarily, but more angular. His figure is sharp, as if he were constructed of something other than flesh and blood.

"What are you staring at?" The blonde looks again as if he might laugh, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Instead he runs his hand almost reverently along my abdomen. "Mmm..."

"What?" I cock my head to the side. Sometimes Mariku really is bizarre.

Shaking his head, the spirit licks playfully at my navel. His tongue travels lower. It is becoming harder and harder to control my moans. He hums as he takes me in, sending pleasurable vibrations up my torso. I jerk. The water around us is hot enough to produce steam, and Marik's mouth is even hotter.

But neither of us is content to leave it at that. Releasing me, the blonde stands up. We are both hard now, both delusional with need. Once again I am glad I retained the powerful body of my ancient life. Lifting Marik to my hips is easy. He whimpers as I slide into him, his nails digging painfully into my flesh.

"Harder…" He shudders. I am already going at a fairly rapid pace. "Do me like you did Bakura."

This catches me off guard, and I take a moment to scrutinize the blonde. There is no deception in his features, no lies or taunting in his request. Mariku is simply violence, simply hatred, simply fear. He gains pleasure from torment…and no matter how magnificently stunning he is I must never forget that.

"You sure?" A part of me is still waiting, still praying that he will change his mind. "Come on Mariku. Don't be…"

"Damnit, Touzouko! Ra fucking damnit! Didn't you hear what the fu…"

Marik's words catch in his throat as I shove him to the floor of the shower. Flipping him onto his stomach, I ram in…hard.

"You like that?" I grind his face into the shower's unforgiving tiles. "You fucking like that? I hope you do, you sick shit! I hope it's the best goddamn thing you ever felt!"

I can't remember the last time I was this angry. Damn him. Damn Marik for being beautiful, for being crazy, for being cruel and fragile and wretchedly hateful and sad. I'm sick of it. All I want to do is get away, forget I ever knew him or Yami Bakura. I'll go live with Ryou. Screw the two of them. For all I care they can stay in this apartment and rot.

"…ahh…Touzo…" Marik comes, shooting his seed across the checkered expanse of tiles and yellowed grouting. A few thrusts later, and I also find my climax. The rush of passion leaves my ears, and I am left only with our heavy breathing and the sound of water as it strikes my back. This tranquil rhythm is soothing and brings me slowly back to my senses. The blonde is still slumped beneath me, his body at a rather uncomfortable looking angle. Mercifully hidden by a mass of golden hair, I cannot see his face.

"M-Marik…" My voice shakes. Whether it is from exhaustion or anger I cannot say. "We should leave before Bakura wakes up."

Nodding slowly, the blonde lurches into a sitting position. Though he feigns indifference, Mariku doesn't wish for his lover to know of this. "You're right. I…I'll go bathe in the other bathroom."

As the spirit exits the shower I notice for the first time the blood running down his legs. He notices it when I do, for this is the second time I have seen the flush of humiliation cross his cheeks. Could it be that Marik hates what he is just as much as everyone else? My anger dies out as quickly as it came.

"I'll go then."

"Right." I nod at his retreating form. I wait for him to close the door then shower again quickly. It's almost noon, and there's a good chance Bakura will wake up. Pulling on a pair of jeans to avoid yesterday's mishap, I make my way into the living room. The paler of the spirits is just where we left him, passed out on the couch. Mariku must still be in his bedroom.

I brew the coffee in silence, alone but for the unnerving stare of Circe, who has curled herself up beside the windowsill. She looks at me incredulously, an almost knowing glint tinting her pupils.

"Do you remember that night, Touzouko?"

Bakura is looming in the doorway. He looks tired and pissed off and is for once perfectly solemn.

"What night?"

The pale-haired spirit merely snorts. "Don't give me that bullshit! The night we returned of course!"

I frown. Strange that he would want to talk about it. "Yes…of course I remember." I remember the sensation of being woken from a deep yet troubled sleep, of breathing in cold water and feeling as if it were taking over and pushing all the blood from my veins. Yes, I remember. It would be impossible not to. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Do you remember the book?"

"The book? I suppose I do, yes."

Bakura cracks the faintest of grins. "The Book of Dark Alchemy. And how do you suppose Ryou came upon it?"

"I'm not sure. I never really thought to ask." Something's wrong. Why is Bakura suddenly so interested in that spell book? It was destroyed along with the seven Sennen Items.

As if reading my thoughts, the spirit shakes his head. "I don't desire its power, if that's what you're afraid of. I'm simply curious about the nature of the spell they used to destroy the Items. Do remember, they didn't bring us back because they wanted to. It was out of pure necessity."

Bakura is right. In order to forever lay to rest the evil of the Sennen Items, Yugi and his companions understood that they must be destroyed. However, to accomplish this they first had to be purified. That of course meant freeing the souls trapped within them. The Spell of Resurrection is a complicated process. It, like so many other spells found in the Book of Dark Alchemy, requires a blood sacrifice. Thankfully this sacrifice is not quite as extreme as that used to make the Items. No one has to die.

No, Ryou and Yugi simply had to spill some of their blood at the site where the Sennen Items had been buried by rubble. Then, after reciting the ancient scriptures written in the book, Bakura, Atemu, and myself appeared in physical form.

It sounds so simple when I explain it now. So clean cut, but in reality Egyptian spells are not easy to master. It isn't just a matter of deciphering and speaking them. You have to pay attention to how you speak them, when you speak them, and even your movements made while speaking them. If it hadn't been for the Ishtars' limitless knowledge of the gods and ancient religion, things most certainly would have gone terribly awry.

I almost laugh recalling the looks on their faces when we returned. They hadn't expected us to receive mortal bodies, and they most certainly weren't anticipating two 'Bakuras' emerging instead of one. However, what came next was even more unnerving.

I have said before that in order to destroy the Items, they first had to be purified, and after clearing our souls from the Ring and Puzzle, everyone thought it was time to perform the final incantation. Unfortunately, something went wrong. I remember screaming as a horrible pain wracked my entire body. The scent of burning flesh, of Bakura and Atemu's own agonized gasps. Only after this attempt failed did we realize something. There was still a wayward soul trapped within one of the Items.

The hardest part was convincing Malik. Understandably, he was not keen on resurrecting his yami. No one was. There is a sort of stigma about Mariku that even Bakura has escaped. It's not just his madness, for we are all in our own ways mad. It is that in this madness, this madness that he wears so readily on his sleeve, he is also amazingly intelligent. Bakura is similar, but for one difference. He can hide his insanity. He can tuck it away and feign mental soundness in almost any situation. Marik cannot. Even without his desire for world destruction, he remains as crazy as ever.

Yet somehow in his madness, Mariku was smart enough to figure out a way to seal himself within the Sennen Rod. If it hadn't been for this insight, he most surely would have faded from existence after Battle City. True, the blonde was weak, but when Malik's reluctant blood was finally spilled, he too was granted a physical form.

Bakura's laughter jolts me from my thoughts. "I see you do remember." His smirk widens. "How could you forget?"

"Why?" The question is unexpected, even to myself. "Why does it matter? We're back. What more could you possibly want?"

Bakura's smile fades, and he is left looking almost reflective. "What more could I want? Don't be stupid, Touzouko. Do you really have to ask?"

These words are not meant to be harsh. He says them quietly, with reverence…almost. For the first time I sense a great desperation in Bakura. He is unhappy, unhappy, perhaps, in the same way that Marik is unhappy. One would think they would find solace in each other…but perhaps not. They are both too stubborn, too proud, to admit their despondence. They simply do not know how to seek out or receive any form of consolation.

"Where's Ishtar?"

I silently pray he cannot read the guilt written on my face. "Shower, I think."

"Right." Bakura nods. "You don't think…"

"Think what?"

"Never mind." The pale-haired spirit turns and begins making his way down the hall. He bypasses his bedroom and heads out onto the balcony. I know better than to disturb him.

Several hours later I get a call from Ryou. He's inviting us to dinner.

"You guys should show up around six. I'm making this incredible vegetarian stir fry."

"All of us?" This is the third time I've asked that question. Needless to say I'm a little bit on edge.

Laughter from the other end. "Of course all of you! It would be rude to invite just one."

"What about…"

"I already talked to Malik about Mariku. He said it would be okay."

"Seriously?" Last time both blondes were in Domino they couldn't even be in the same room together.

"Yup."

I'm still a bit uneasy, but I suppose there's not much I can do. Once Ryou gets an idea formulating in his brain, there is very little that can dissuade him. In many ways he's even more obstinate than Bakura.

"Alright, we'll see you in an hour." Hanging up the phone, I go to look for the two yamis. I find them lounging in their bed, watching television. I enter, and Bakura looks up. Mariku's eyes, however, remain adverted, and I wonder if it has something to do with our morning excursion.

"What is it?"

"Ryou called." I frown at the TV screen. Do they always have to watch porn? "He wants us to go to his house for dinner."

Bakura grunts. "Yeah, sure. We'll go."

"I can't." Marik still won't meet my gaze.

The other spirit looks at him sharply. "Why the fuck not?"

"I…" Worlds fail him, and the blonde turns his attention back to the TV. "I just…"

"Oh for the love of Ra! He's your hikari. Who cares whether he wants you there or not?"

I glare at Bakura, mentally cursing his insensitive nature. However, my rage is clouded by my sympathy for Marik. I never realized before how badly Malik's hatred affects him. I've always thought him neutral on the matter, but if he reacts like this…

"Fine," the blonde answers stiffly. "When do we leave?"

"About half an hour, and try to dress nicely. Ryou won't let you in the house looking like that."

Marik grunts in reply, while Bakura merely sneers. "What's wrong with what we're wearing?"

"There's not enough of it." Neither of them can deny this. Marik's clad in nothing but a pair of underwear, and as for the paler spirit…well I'm not sure he's wearing anything at all under that bed sheet. "I'll meet you at the car."

"I'm driving."

Both Marik and I snort at Bakura's demand. "You are not driving."

"So, um…how's Egypt?"

"Fine. Isis likes her new job."

"Really? That's lovely."

"Yeah, Ry. It's great. Touzouko, would you pass me the pepper?"

"Sure."

"Thanks…so how are things in Domino?"

We've been at my hikari's for almost an hour, and this is as far as the conversation has gotten. Ryou, the always gracious host, does most of the talking. Malik plays along to be polite but refuses to so much glance at his blond look-a-like, and I divide my time between passing food and making sure Bakura doesn't do anything dreadful. Normally I'd be keeping an eye on Marik too, but seeing as all he's done so far is erect broccoli mountains with his chopsticks…

"Hey Bakura," Ryou's carefully pleasant expression is now directed at the Ring's former inhabitant. "How long have you and Mariku been together?"

"You what?" Malik seems to have forgotten that he is not on speaking terms with his yami. "Since when were you…"

"About six months." Marik's head is down, and he appears to be addressing his dinner plate. "After you left for Egypt."

"Oh."

Dead quiet. The only noise in the entire room is that of Ryou's fingers drumming nervously on the kitchen table. An expression of disbelief and something else clouds Malik's face. Things are looking bad when finally Bakura breaks the silence.

"So…are you sleeping in the guest bedroom, or have you and Ryou decided to share?"

Both hikaris gape at him in disbelief. "What?!"

"I mean I figured you guys would be fucking by now. I just…"

"Bakura!" Ryou's cheeks are flush with embarrassment, and I must bite my lip to keep from laughing. "That isn't funny! How dare you talk to Malik like that! He's our guest!"

Bakura's voice is so filled with innocence it would give Yugi's a run for its money. "I can't believe it. You mean you really haven't had sex?"

"No, actually. WE HAVEN'T!"

"That's a pity, but you know…we could give you some lessons. I'm sure Ishtar wouldn't mind. Right, dear?"

"Oh, of course!" The blonde's sarcasm could rust iron. "I'll bet Malik absolutely loves that idea."

Malik doesn't reply but suddenly finds the ice in his lemonade very interesting. This is the first time in ages the boy's even been willing to be near his yami, and now it's as if Mariku is trying to fuck it up. Ryou, too, seems to sense this, for he quite suddenly stands up.

"Mariku, would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a minute?" The fact that Ryou has no intention of checking anything in the kitchen is painfully clear.

The blonde pauses. Then, with a reluctant nod, he follows my hikari out of the room. That leaves Malik, Bakura, and myself alone at the table. The pale-haired darkness is the first to speak.

"Tell me, Malik. I'm rather curious. When did you decide to stop running and finally face Mariku?"

The boy gives Bakura a tired glare. "I wasn't running. I'm just…not as strong as Ryou. I can't…"

"Face him?" I ask this with no hint of derision. It is an honest dilemma, one I have often been forced to face myself. "You find your yami's madness unnerving."

Malik shudders. "What did you expect me to do? Welcome him with open arms? I-I couldn't do that. I don't want to hate him. I don't want to hate anyone, but…"

"He doesn't hate you." Bakura's voice is terrifyingly in its rationality. "He hates a lot of things, but not you."

"But he is hate"

"He is many things." This time it is I who speak. Marik is by no means a good person, but certainly he is a complex one. I remember the shame I glimpsed in him after our shower. His madness isn't caused by a lack of emotions. Rather, it is the product of too many of them. He simply has trouble comprehending what exactly he feels.

Malik opens his mouth to say something else but closes it again as Ryou and Mariku emerge from the kitchen. Mariku looks slightly abashed, Ryou determinedly cheerful.

"What do you say we clear this up and watch a movie? Or did you want dessert?"

"Dessert?" Bakura eyes his look-a-like skeptically. "What kind of dessert?"

Ryou shakes his head but smiles despite himself. "Nothing special. I'll get some ice cream out of the freezer, okay?"

"Ice cream? What kind?"

"Mint chocolate, I think."

The former Lord of Darkness pulls a face. "Mint? That's disgusting."

"Then don't eat it."

"Maybe I won't."

For all of his evil, for of all his heartlessness, cruelty, and vicious cunning, Bakura's behavior is often rather ridiculous. It doesn't matter if it has to do with world destruction or ice cream preference. His opinions are always outspoken, often deadly, and sometimes quite hilarious.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Said yami glares at me darkly.

"Nothing…Kura." I breeze past him easily, smirking in a way that reminds us both of the previous night's events. Bakura doesn't reply, but the glint in his eyes deepens from annoyance to true anger. It doesn't matter though. I win again. Remember, it's all about control.

In the living room Ryou is picking out a DVD from the storage cabinet beneath the TV. Malik is busying himself with bowls of ice cream, and, to my surprise, Marik is helping him. They don't say a word. They don't even make an attempt to look at each other, but whatever my hikari said to Marik must have worked.

"I'll have them on speaking terms in no time." Ryou, movie clutched in his fists, winks and leans over to whisper more into my ear. "And you thought Bakura was the clever one!"

It's nearly three o'clock in the morning, and I wish now more than ever that our car's heater wasn't broken. Mariku peers out the window as he drives, barely able to see the road through the blizzard of snow assaulting it. We left Ryou's house about twenty minutes ago. Bakura is in the back, seemingly asleep, and I am up front with Marik.

"It's fucking freezing."

The blonde nods. "Yeah."

"Weather in Japan sure is a bitch."

Mariku answers with a grunt that I assume means he agrees. What's with him? If I didn't know the spirit I'd say he was simply tired, but no. He's too tense. I can see the veins in his arms, in his neck, bulging and spidering outward. Even his pupils seem smaller than normal.

"What's wrong, Mariku?"

"Huh? Oh, n-nothing…"

He avoids my gaze, nails digging painfully into the steering wheel. Perhaps it would be best if I left him alone. Instead, I stare out the window. The warmth of our breathing has caused it to become clouded with steam, so everything beyond it seems distorted.

"Touzouko?"

I turn to the blonde. "Yes?"

"I…uh…I'm sorry…"

Sorry?! Is he on something?

"I didn't mean to…"

"To what?"

"This morning, I…" Mariku's gaze shifts suddenly to Bakura's reflection in the rearview mirror. "…forget it…it doesn't matter."

Looking at him now, I am suddenly struck with guilt. What happened in the shower, it was reprehensible. As I've said before, Marik can't help what he is. I shouldn't have treated him so harshly.

"Marik, I…"

Just then Bakura opens his eyes and yawns. "We there yet?"

"Yeah. We just pulled in." With practiced ease the blonde slides into a parking space. I watch as the two spirits exit the car. So graceful, fluid, catlike. The storm has begun to clear away, and moonlight falls from the darkness, illuminating Domino's jungle of towering skyscrapers. If only they could see themselves.

Bakura is all white. In this strange, unearthly glow he seems an apparition. Born from perhaps a billion tiny snow flakes, it is impossible to think of him as a creature meant for hell. No, he is a god. A god of moonlight, of stars, of cold midwinter and crystals hidden deep within the earth.

Then there is Marik. The moon shines brilliantly off his hair, causing it to turn a shade more radiant than any gold. I can't explain this color. I only know that its beauty is matched only by his eyes. If angels wept, his eyes would be the color of their tears. Luminous. Startling. A shade of lilac so rich you can almost smell them blooming.

I wonder what I resemble, caught like this in the depths of a winter's night. Not nearly as ethereal as them. They are beautiful. They are terrible. They are…staring at me. No. Of course not. Don't be stupid. I've lasted 3000 years, and now is not the time to go insane.

-TOT (This chapter was hard to write. I had writer's block and finals and so much choral stuff going on I thought I would die. Not to mention that I find writing in first person INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT!!! Oh well. It's good for me as an author to try something different. And now that things have settled down I'll be able to update more often.)