Hello everyone :) I must say, those comments really did perk me up, even with the wonderful revalation that he now has a new girlfriend (ha.. ha..) so apologies for the lateness in updating, everything seems to be going a tad down.. except my school work, which is odd!

Annnyway, I must note that...

{1} This fic isn't going to be about necrophilia, Flacks- that did make me laugh :P

{2} I must torture you a chapter longer about Ryou's little plannings (how did you know it was him btw?? ;) I joke, I joke..)

{3} Sexy Marik is appearing!

{4} I've just realised this fic will probably be over 20 chapters long '^_^

{5} I'm actually pretty partial to dabbling in a bit of angst

{6} I love all of your kind, thoughtful reviews :)

Warnings: erm... Marik with no top on?

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Out of the Ashes – Chapter 4

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Malik felt completely comfortable. At ease with his thought free head, his body lying on softness, the perfect temperature. As his mind flickered more actively, he remembered his last act.

So this must be heaven… or the place where you go when you die.

Thoughts and possibilities started to flow freely though his head, until his body attempted the uncomfortable choice of pushing him back to consciousness.

The painless feeling left him as soon as the realisation hit like a punch in the face. The white walls and ceiling informed him he was not dead, as he had intended, but still very much alive. A mixture of emotions surged though him like a fire: anger, emotional pain, sickness, hopelessness.

Closer inspection revealed he was lying in a crisp, clean bed, in a side room of a hospital, the various medical machines lined up neatly on one side of his bed and two drips – blood, and another clear bag - feeding an intravenous needle embedded in his arm. Malik frowned. He did not want to be here. He made an attempt to get out of bed, just as a person walked through the door.

"Ah, good to see you're awake." The doctor was dressed in a smart suit, with a folder of notes in his arms. Malik was silent and unresponsive to his bright smile, though couldn't help noticing quite how attractive he was.

"I am Mr. Ishtar, vascular surgeon, How are you feeling, Mr Isharii?" the other flipped the notes over in his hands, not looking inside, as he had perused the documents before.

Malik looked into the dark violet eyes and scowled. A look of realisation passed over the other's face and he stepped backwards to close the door softly, moving around the other side of the bed to place himself gracefully on the seat there.

"Why did you help me?" Malik suddenly asked quietly.

Mr Ishtar looked deep into his eyes.

"Mr Isharii, although there are events in life that may make us feel-"

"Cut the crap please. Talk to me like a human, not a specimen." Malik interjected. He was not in the mood.

A broad smile flickered over the other's face. He shook his sandy blonde hair slightly and raised a tanned hand to Malik.

"Let's start again then. I'm Marik. How are you doing?"

Malik smiled weakly. He needed some direct conversation, someone to talk to at least. He reached out his hand over to take the other, glancing at the bandages wrapped securely around his wrists briefly.

"Malik. Not very well. I feel like shit. And I'm not dead." Malik said, smirking grimly. There was something soothing about the other's presence.

"I'm afraid I'm trained to save lives, Malik. So when your friend from the club you work at found you and called the ambulance at 3 in the morning, I had to get out of my nice warm bed and fix up your arms." Marik smiled at him, calming the other further.

"From the club?"

"Yeah, he said he danced with you. Came round to see where you were hiding, because you hadn't turned up for work for a month and you weren't answering your phone."

Malik nodded in understanding; of course one of his fellow performers would come and find out what was wrong, after one of their shifts it seemed, judging by the hour in the morning.

"I must say," Marik continued, "I had a bit of a hard time in theatre, your veins look a little…"

"Wrecked?" Malik enquired, he felt as though he could tell Marik more, after all there was patient confidentiality. "That's what an H habit does to you. I'm clean now though."

"I must say I did guess that," Marik smiled, "getting that drip in was a nightmare for the anaesthetists."

Malik laughed weakly.

"I'm sorry for giving you trouble, Marik." He said quietly.

"It's what I get paid for. People should start trying to cut up their blood vessels more often… But then I would be over worked and never have any time to go to the gym – this sort of body needs work."

Malik felt something move in him that disappeared when he came home on that fateful night. A slight happiness flickered within him like a fragile candle flame. Perhaps if he told Marik what it was that hurt him, he could speed up the mental healing process.

"Mr Ishtar?" A nurse had popped her head into the room.

"Yes Anita?" Marik said, dragging his eyes away from Malik.

"There's an emergency aortic aneurysm in theatre 5. He's on the table." She said in a rush. Marik sighed.

"I'll be there soon, thank you." Marik said, and Anita nodded her head and left the room. Marik turned back to Malik and placed a hand on his thin shoulder.

"You see the tiresomeness of being on call for emergencies? I have to leave places I'd much rather be." Marik said, smiling at Malik, who returned it weakly. "Can you do me a favour, and not try and rip these out?" Marik gestured to the IV tubes connected to Malik's arm. "If you feel up to it, try and have a bit to eat tonight, the tomato soup is really good. There are nutrients in here-" Marik pointed at the bag of clear fluid attached to the drip –"so don't worry if you can't. They're also the reason you're not starved to death right now. Watch some TV and try and get a good night's sleep, if you don't mind me saying, it looks like you need one. If you have any trouble, I'm on my mobile, just ask one of the nurses, providing I'm not patching anyone up. I'll be back to see you in the morning, do you think you can hold out till then?"

Malik strengthened his smile, it was nice to hear someone that cared for him, be it in a professional way only – thought Malik knew that the way he spoke was not completely in line with the strict hospital rules. The flame in his chest burned a little brighter, fanned by Marik.

"I'll try my hardest."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Thank you, Marik. It was great to meet you." Malik said, looking into the violet eyes sincerely.

"This relationship has only just started…" Marik said with a wink, before he was out of the door, heading in the direction of the theatres.

When supper arrived, Malik did try and eat. As Marik had said, the soup was indeed good, but he only managed a little. The time spent in his apartment was still raw in his mind, but it seemed hazy, the pain was still startlingly strong, should he think back to the one he loved for too long.

His numb mind hadn't registered not eating, so starting again wasn't presenting too much of a problem, the nurse that collected his supper things certainly thought it would have been, from the look of surprise she gave him.

The arrival of Marik and his friendly conversation had seemed to remind Malik that maybe he should give life another go. The surgeon made him not so angry for being saved.

The TV was dull, and the sky outside his personal window grew dark. Malik lay back in his darkened room, the peaceful hums and hospital sounds aiding his sleep. His last thoughts were painful, of loss of a part of him, though he fell into unconsciousness with the comforting knowledge that Marik would be back in the morning.

Malik was awake about half an hour before Marik showed up, in theatre blues and clutching a cup of coffee. He had woken to a fresh feeling of loss as he instinctively reached out for the body heat of another, and only found cold air. He had been gazing out of the window reflecting about his lost other, as Marik walked in, closing the door behind him and settling in the same seat as yesterday while throwing Malik a smile.

"Good morning, Malik, how's it going? Sorry if I seem a little "awake," I've had about 10 people's worth of caffeine fixes this morning."

Malik couldn't help but smile slightly at Marik's happy mood.

"Not too bad… Just thinking about Him." He replied.

Marik nodded understandably.

"I know it must be hard to lose someone. I also know this sounds like I've been spending my precious time analysing chick-flicks, but time is a great healer. From what I've read in your notes about you from personal statements from other dancers at the club, you sound like a great guy. I'm here to talk to you, and so are loads of other not-nearly as good looking people."

Malik felt the fire burn inside him. He felt drawn to Marik. His whole personality made him want to sacrifice his life story, all his worries, fears, dreams, like a moth wishes to be close to a bright light. Deep down, he knew this would make him feel better. Though there was always that hint of doubt.

"Hey, Marik?" he asked after a moment of comfortable quiet between the two.

"Yeah?"

Marik turned his trusting violet gaze to Malik's.

"I-I wanted to die because… because Bakura left. He was my life, I love him. But I can't live without him…" Malik looked away from the purple depths, feeling his eyes prickle and his throat tighten.

Marik rested a hand consolingly on the other's shoulder. The sheer pain emanating from Malik made his stomach twinge, and his medical mind desperately looked for solutions to the emotional problems laid bare. He was slightly shocked that Malik had opened up to him so quickly – he could have been with a psychiatrist for weeks before mentioning his motives. He was also in disbelief that Malik had used His name. The name that was scribbled in the statements in Malik's medical notes over and over. Bakura definitely meant a lot to him.

"Shh, it's Ok. You can live. I'll make sure of it." Marik soothed, his voice calming and sincere.

Malik turned his watery eyes on him and felt a rush of affection for the surgeon. He didn't care if Marik was just doing his job, he was still emotionally wounded, and Marik also seemed to be able to heal that slightly too. Suddenly he had thrown his arms around the doctor's neck.

Caught completely off guard, Marik held Malik off slightly, quickly standing up and leaning over the bed to pull the drip stand closer – the needles were in jeopardy of being ripped out of Malik's arm. Malik felt the muscles in Marik's chest shift under the thin blue material, but held on. Marik didn't know what to do. On one hand, he had an extremely good looking emotional wreck in his arms, but on the other, he was a doctor, and this was his patient.

He sat down on the side of the bed after glancing over to make sure the door was shut. Then he placed an arm carefully around the other. Malik sighed into the warm body and felt his pain numb slightly. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open and he seemed to realise quite what he'd done.

"Sorry," Malik exclaimed, ripping himself out of Marik's embrace, again tugging the tubes in his arm.

Marik smiled at him gently.

"No worries, I'm not complaining." Malik blushed slightly, "Just be careful of those IVs Ok?"

Malik nodded, now feeling rather stupid.

"So… what are you doing for the rest of the day?" He asked hopefully.

"Well I'm on call, but apart from that, nothing." Marik replied, as if nothing had ever happened. "Do you want to do anything specific?"

"I'd like a shower?" Malik asked, smiling. He realised this morning that he hadn't washed for quite a while, and he really needed it.

"That can be arranged," Marik said, still sitting on Malik's bed, "do you want one now?"

"If a nurse isn't busy?" He replied, he knew they would probably have someone in the room with him, just to make sure he didn't try to kill himself again.

"I won't bother a nurse if I'm free." Marik said, not a hint of innuendo in his voice, which Malik liked. He was so used to people at the club making comments to him, it got rather old.

Malik smiled.

"Come on then, Mr Isharii, let's get you cleaned up."

-

Malik stood under the hot stream of water in satisfaction. The pain in his chest was still as prominent as ever, but Marik was blocking it out somewhat. His presence was addictive. Now he sat on a stool in the corner, a shower curtain covering Malik's figure as he washed away the dirt, grime and perhaps the ingrained unhappiness.

"So what other things are you into apart from dancing?" Marik asked conversationally,

"Well… I actually used to play rugby for the region, but stopped a while ago." Malik said, running his hands through his sopping hair.

"A guy as small as you playing a game like that?"

Malik could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, I was fly half." Malik said proudly. His rugby days had been before his addiction, and he had loved the sport immensely. Dancing was something he also cherished, but the two were polar opposites that he simply could not do at the same time. "Had to give it up though… People don't pay to see a battered and bruised body grinding on a pole."

Marik laughed softly.

"You should get back into it." He said thoughtfully. It would get Malik's mind off Bakura for a bit, he thought. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was also a keen player.

"I might…" Malik said, he was actually quite eager about the idea.

Throwing a few sporting punches would probably be good for him.

"Hey Marik?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you grab me a towel?"

-

-

Malik let himself into the apartment in a flurry of dirty clothes and blonde hair. On Marik's suggestion, he had tidied the entire place, painfully putting Bakura's main belongings into a box which now lay at the back of the closet. The silver framed photo from their bedside now stood on the mantelpiece like another picture of a deceased relative, never studied for too long. Malik had felt so much better after he had cleaned everything, though the dull ache never seemed to quite leave him.

He went into the kitchen and placed his muddy boots in the sink, before traipsing into his immaculate bathroom and tugging off his dirty clothes. It had taken a couple of months, an eating plan, and training sessions three times a week, but Malik now felt fully accepted into the local rugby team. When he had first made his appearance, his size and form meant he wasn't taken seriously, even by the two members of the team who remembered Malik from when he used to play there before, but he had soon established a place, and was well respected for his surprising strength and agility.

Stepping into the shower, Malik felt the water wash away the dirt and dull aches from his body. Looking down, he traced his fingers over the various bruises and cuts in differing shades of purple; he did not feel pain, but satisfaction. He was in control again, or that was how it felt.

When he had been discharged from the hospital, he was quite sorry to leave Marik. The two had become very good friends over the five day period he had been staying there, as he was dangerously malnourished; with Marik coming to see him any time he was able. Malik liked Marik immensely, and asked if he would see him again, to which Marik replied cryptically, it would probably be sooner than he thought.

Now his apartment did not feel empty, but his own. It was a place where he relaxed after his training, or after working at the restaurant job he had started, not to pay the bills – he had enough money for that – but to keep him busy. The club had understood when he had announced he wouldn't be working there again, he couldn't stand the memories.

Of course, when he had found out about the large amount of money that had been withdrawn conveniently before Bakura's departure, he had felt angry and betrayed.

How could Bakura have done that to him?

In a way, it made living his life solo a whole lot easier. It gave him a reason.

-

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The coach blew his whistle to call all of the players in from the warm up. Malik jogged beside his teammates, all of which were lining up in an impenetrable muscular wall around the tiny coach. He may have been small, but he certainly whipped them into shape. He took his place by one of his good friends within the team, Haero, and gasped in surprise.

Standing by the coach, in an immaculate team kit, was Marik. His bronzed arms and legs were on show, and his wild blonde hair shone in the weak sunlight. He winked at Malik.

"Alright, men, listen up." Coach started firmly.

Malik shifted from one foot to the other, a feeling of excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"We have a new player. Not to be mistaken for Isharii's cousin, this is Marik. He's a doctor, so if you guys batter each other up too bad, he's the one to call."

"But coach," A short, very well built man asked, "why is our new doctor playing on the pitch? He might get hurt or something… then we'd all be screwed."

Malik caught Marik's tell-tale smirk and rolled his eyes.

"I'm willing to take that risk," Marik said, in his captivatingly friendly voice, "that is, if you'll have me?"

"I want the Doc, he looks tough." Haero said gruffly from his place beside Malik, "tougher than his cousin." He added jokingly, looking down on Malik from his six-foot-four height.

Malik growled and punched the solid arm beside him.

"He's not my cousin," He said, before adding louder, "I agree with Haero."

There was a murmuring of approval about the team's new acquisition, and the coach looked pleased with himself for being able to secure a popular player before he'd even started.

"Right then you lazy lot!" He suddenly shouted, "Lets give the doctor a taster of what this team can actually do!" a blast on the whistle later and the team ran out onto the field.

Malik waited for Marik.

"What are you doing here?" Malik asked, crossing his arms and letting a broad smirk spread over his lips.

"I'm seeing if you took my advice," Marik replied, "and if you're as good as you say you are." He said deviously.

Malik smirked and shook his head, suddenly turning on his heel and nodding his head over to the team.

"If you say so… I'm being a good boy. So let's see how you fare against me then." Malik called, suddenly sprinting away, Marik close behind him.

-

"Well played, Doc!" Haero said, clapping a hand on Marik's shoulder as the team piled into the changing rooms. Marik pulled off his shirt, throwing it into his bag.

It was just after they had played their first match since Marik had joined the team.

He had certainly pulled his weight, helping score tries which eventually led to a triumphant victory over their rivals. All of them were now talking and shouting in excited voices about the game, reliving the best bits and describing the various injuries they had inflicted on the opposition.

There was a sudden cheer from the assembled men as Malik walked in. He had scored the drop goal that had won them the match, and so was officially the hero. He beamed as most of the team ran over, whacking him on the back with gratitude and giving him hugs, ruffling his tangled and muddy hair. After they had given his their congratulations, the males all went off to their respective lockers, still talking avidly about the game. Malik made his way over to his locker, right next to Marik's.

"Hey, well done, you were great!" Marik exclaimed, reaching out and tugging Malik into a hug.

Malik smiled widely. He never got tired of Marik's hugs, they were warm and secure, and even under the mud and sweat, the tanned one still smelt good. The toplessness was a bonus.

"Thanks," he said bashfully, as Marik drew away and smiled at him, "you were really great too. This team is finally getting places, eh?"

Marik laughed and hugged him briefly again, before pulling on a sweatshirt over his head. Malik quickly did the same, fishing out his gold earrings and threading them through his ears, watching Marik do the same. The adrenalin of the game was wearing off slightly, leaving him with a feeling of complete satisfaction. Even the dull ache could not spoil his mood.

At that moment, Marik's phone started buzzing. He grabbed it out of his bag and pressed the green button.

"Hey… Yeah, I've just finished, we won! … Thanks… Yeah, you too, I'll be back in a bit... Oh! Don't be stupid!" He clicked the phone shut, turning to Malik, who had just pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

"Boyfriends!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes, "He just won't let me out of his sight for more than 5 minutes... Paranoid much!"

Marik let out a careless laugh and turned away from the other.

Malik felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

-

Well... There we have it... I apologise for another cliffhanger! I know this chapter wasn't all that exciting, but hey, all reveiws would be greatly appreciated :)