Chapter 4- Promised Land

I've been searching for hours, and I can't find Bakura. He wasn't at Necropolis or any of the other clubs in the Ironhorse District. He wasn't at the park, the school, or even Domino Museum's Egyptian exhibit. I'm on my way to Ryou's right now. Perhaps he can help shine some light on this mystery.

I ring the doorbell impatiently. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, I give up and pick the lock. Ryou's car is still in the driveway, so he and Malik have to be home.

The house is unusually quiet. For once the curtains are drawn, shutting out the midday sunlight. I make my way across the carpet of the dimly lit living room. My hikari wouldn't normally sleep so late, so this is, to say the least, peculiar.

"Ryou?" I begin climbing the stairs that lead to his bedroom. "Malik?" Where the hell are they? I open the first door on the left. It leads to the guest bedroom, but…hmm…that's strange. Malik should be in there, yet the bed is undeniably vacant. That means he must be awake, unless…

Ever so slowly, I open the door to Ryou's bedroom. Though I half expect it, the site before me still generates quite a shock. The two hikaris lie together in bed, limbs entwined. Ryou is on his back, propped high up on the pillows, while Malik is positioned farther down the mattress on his stomach. His head appears to be nestled quite comfortably on my light's lower abdomen. If Bakura was disappointed in them before, he most certainly won't be now.

"Umm..hikari?"

Ryou stirs, smiles, then falls back into slumber. He appears to be having a rather pleasant dream. I am almost reluctant to wake him up.

"Hikari?"

"Mmm…" Finally, he opens his eyes. "...whadda want…oh…ello Touzou…Touzou…. TOUZOUKO!"

I flinch as Ryou's voice pierces the house's stifling calm. Malik, sleeping so peacefully before, bolts to a sitting position with a startled yelp.

"W-what are you doing here?"

I struggle desperately with the amusement in my voice. "Looking for Bakura. I thought you might…um…know where he is."

"…s-sorry…" My hikari's eyes are so wide I'm afraid they might burst. "I don't have the…the f-foggiest idea…"

Malik doesn't say anything, but the look on his face is both mortified and angry. He's pulled the sheets over himself and Ryou. However, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that their naked. I wonder…did they only sleep together? Or perhaps things went even farther.

"Well, I'll…leave you two alone. Call if you hear anything from Bakura, alright?"

Ryou nods, while Malik's eyebrow merely twitches. Then I am down the stairs and out the door, bursting into bouts of laughter the second my feet hit pavement. Perhaps more of the pale-haired spirit's humor has gotten into me than I previously thought, for I find this almost as amusing as he would. At the same time, though, I am glad. Glad because Ryou will no longer pester me about living with us, because he will no longer be so wretchedly lonely.

But I have other matters to attend to besides pondering my hikari's newfound relationship. Bakura is still at large, and I am becoming more uneasy by the minute. I'm not so much worried about him as I'm worried about Mariku. The blonde was distraught all morning. Few others would have noticed, but, like Bakura, I have learned to tell. The way his hands clench at the slightest disturbance, the loss of appetite, the anxiety disguised as anger glinting in his eyes.

I hadn't wished for things to come to this, but it seems I'm out of options. Turning the corner at Kaiba Corp, I make my way up the street towards a very familiar building. The cheery paint that adorns the Kame Game Shop seems too vivid. It makes my head hurt.

I walk in and head straight to the front counter. Yugi's grandfather stares at me with his large, almost baleful eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"I need to talk to Yugi."

For a moment Solomon Mouto gives me a hard stare. I can't really blame him. I mean, I don't exactly look friendly, and the fact that most people attribute my mental soundness with that of Marik and Bakura doesn't help much either. Yet finally, with a tired sigh, the old man turns and disappears into one of the store's back rooms.

"Yugi? Yugi! Someone's here to see you!"

"Just a second!" There is the pounding of small feet on stairs, then Yugi Mouto appears in the doorway.

"Touzouko? W-what brings you here?"

I allow myself the briefest smile. Despite the still keen hatred I feel for the Pharaoh and the general distaste for his friends, I cannot help being in a strange way fond of the third and shortest light. Yugi is kind, but that is not the reason I respect him. It is his honesty that compels me, how the goodness of his heart is genuine…he feels no need for a ruse.

"Actually, I'm looking for Bakura. Have you seen him?"

"No." The boy pushes past his grandfather. "I haven't. Is he missing?"

I shrug. "He just isn't at any of his usual hideouts. That's all."

"I see." Yugi chews his lip nervously, uncertain of how to confront me. "I could get Atemu to look for him. I mean, he's at the arcade with Jounouchi right now, but I'm sure…"

"That's probably not the best idea." I repress the urge to scowl. Yugi's assistance is acceptable, but I draw the line when it comes to Yami. "I'll just go back to the apartment and wait. He'll show up eventually."

"Oh, alright." He gives me an unsure wave as I turn to go. "Hey Touzouko?"

"Yes?"

"He came in the other day…Bakura I mean. He wanted to know about the book."

"He what?!" The hairs on my neck prickle and stand on end. There's only one book Bakura would be interested in. "I thought it was destroyed with the Sennen Items."

Yugi swallows. "That's what Yami told him. You don't think…"

"No." I try to sound reassuring…for both our sakes. "Of course not. Bakura's behind that. We all are."

The boy smiles. Have I actually managed to reassure him? "You're right. I'm just reading too much into it."

Yugi. Naive, innocent, foolish Yugi. How can he have faith in my words? I am no more trustworthy than Bakura, no saintlier than Marik. I was once in league with the shadows, with Zorc, with everyone who would wish to do him harm…yet Yugi trusts me. Why? Because I've changed?Because I've somehow redeemed myself? I was allowed out of the stigma of distrust that still surrounds my two companions…and for the life of me I can't see why.

The fact that I was being controlled by Zorc is no excuse. It was my own stupidity that caused this in the first place. Had I not been blinded by the past, by the death of my village, by the deep, childish need to find someone…anyone…to blame for its destruction, Memory World would have never happened. Bakura would not exist. Even the Ishtars, doomed to three millennia without the sun, wouldn't have suffered the burden of the Unknown Pharaoh's memories.

Yet somehow they accept me, forgive me, even trust me…but not Bakura…not Marik. This doesn't make sense to me. After all, my sin was the greatest. I let myself be controlled. I allowed my soul to be taken by the Shadows' darkness. I had a choice…something that neither Mariku nor Bakura have ever been blessed with. They couldn't help the content of their hearts, for hatred and pain were all they knew…but I was different. I was born free. I knew right from wrong. I failed everyone…even myself.

"I'll be going then. Call if you find him, alright?"

Yugi nods. "Not a problem. Tell…tell Ryou and Malik I said hello, will you?"

"Sure thing."

I do not return home immediately. Instead, I wander, pondering what Yugi Mouto has told me. I can see why Bakura would be interested in that spell book. Without it, we would never have been resurrected, and without it, the people of Kuru Eruna need not have died. I highly doubt, however, that this is the sole reason the spirit is interested in The Book of Dark Alchemy. There is powerful magic to be found between those pages, and Bakura, diminished though he is, has always been a great lover of power.

Looking up, I am startled to find myself standing in front of Domino Arcade. Jounouchi is staring at me from one of the pinball machines, and Yami, over by the duel tables, seems just to have noticed my presence. What is it with me and walking in on awkward situations? I should probably leave, but at the same time I want to prove something.

"Hello, Jounouchi. Atemu."

My greeting seems to have the dual effect of both confusing and unnerving them. Katsuya is the first to speak.

"What do you want, Bak…Touzouko?"

"Yes." Yami is a bit more civil. "What brings you to this side of town?"

I lie. "Just looking for a change of scenery I suppose. I dropped in to say hello to your hikari on the way."

"You wha…" The former Pharaoh clears his throat. "I-I mean, what business did you have with Yugi?"

"If you care so much, ask him."

I smirk, if possible making them even more uncomfortable. After all his hard work to ensure that we would at least be tolerated by Yami and his companions, Ryou would no doubt be disappointed by my actions. But hell! It's the most fun I've had all day. I risk sounding like Bakura, but it's the truth. I won't play nice for Atemu no matter what century we live in.

"Well," I smirk. "I suppose I'll leave you to your own devices. Have a good one, Pharaoh."

Yami furrows his brows but remains mute. We are not friends. We may not try to kill each other. We may even be capable of bearing each other's presence…but we are not friends. Everyone accepts it. Truce will never equal comradery.

I can hear them yelling before I reach the landing. I should be used to it. I should have accepted by now that Mariku and Bakura will always fight…but something about their voices… I sense an urgency that was never there before. This is worse than last night. Worse than the blonde's prayer or the paler spirit storming out. Balances have shifted, lines crossed. I know before I open the door that I don't want to see what lies beyond it.

"…damn it Ishtar…GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! Shut up! This is your fault! You hear me? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

The reply is muffled, somewhere between an angry shout and a scream. I feel my feet propel me forward. I'm not breathing. I can't. My lungs are too choked with dread. 'Don't,' I find myself praying. 'Please, Bakura. Just don't…'

The scene I find upon reaching the spirits' bedroom is impossible. So impossible in fact, that I freeze for a minute, my brain struggling to understand what's going on. How can Marik be shivering half naked on the bed? How can he be gagged? How can it be Bakura holding him there, pinning his limbs against the cotton sheets? For an instant these images swirl in front of me. Then, quite suddenly, everything is brutally clear.

"Bakura…"

He doesn't turn. Perhaps he doesn't even know I'm there, but when I grab him by the back of the collar, the spirit lets out a terrifying scream. He lunges at me, raking his nails at my face and throat like some sort of wild thing. His eyes are bright, not with alertness or anger, but with tears. Bakura is crying. It is this sight more than anything that makes my stomach churn.

"Bakura, stop it! What did you do to him? Bakura!" I shake him, but the spirit remains limp, head lolling brokenly like that of a doll. "COME ON, BAKURA!" I slap him. No response. He merely stares at me, cheeks gleaming with salty wetness in the dreary light of the apartment. I turn my attention to Mariku.

"What did he do? What the hell's wrong with him?"

The blonde sits up slowly, pulling the gag from his mouth as he does so. However, Marik doesn't speak. His eyes are as wide as Bakura's, wide yet blessedly tearless. They reflect anger, terror, and of course that permanent, unbearable self-loathing that dwells deep, deep inside. I find myself shivering. At least Bakura didn't rape him. I can tell that much by the cleanliness of the bed sheets…but a tie that once bound them has been broken. Somehow, through their own separate insanities, they understand this. It is why Bakura cries…why Mariku remains strangely silent.

"Get away!" Bakura is suddenly alive again. Pretending tears are not still pouring down his face, he glares at me with his usual, infuriating arrogance. "Take your hands off me, Touzouko! Why do you always find it necessary to meddle with my affairs?"

I laugh. "Your affairs? Your affairs! Since when has there ever been a difference between your business and my own? We're connected, Kura. Remember? For three thousand years until the day we die!"

The spirit gasps harshly. It's as if I've hit him, as if he's just touched something very hot. I've never, not since the first day he set foot in my soul, been able to read Bakura's gaze as I can now. He's afraid, afraid of himself, afraid of me. He's afraid of this crowded, modern world into which he's been thrust, and he's afraid of how much Marik's refusal to have sex with him truly hurts. I actually feel bad for him. Until now, I'm not sure Bakura understood just how hard being human can really be.

"Baku…"

"SHHH!" He exhales sharply, once more struggling to escape my grasp. "Don't touch me! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME, TOUZOUKO!" Then he rips himself from me and stands alone, forlorn and glowering, in the doorway. Eventually, the heaving of his chest slows. The smoldering hatred that clouds his features dissipates, becomes sadder…more thoughtful.

"You never answered my question."

"What?!" I blink, trying to comprehend what he's saying to me. "Bakura, I don't get what you…"

"The other morning! In Necropolis!" Bakura's momentary calm is once more giving way to hysteria. "The question I asked you. Answer it!"

"I'm telling you! I can't…"

…'What is it that you want…more than anything in the world?'…

I shake my head. "I'm sorry. I-I still can't answer that."

For a moment the sorrow in Bakura's features overwhelms me. His face, the face tainted by residue of Zorc's evil, does not hold sadness well. Nothing can contain it. The grief flows from him as water from a spring. It tints the air around it, saturates the very light that filters through this room. The pale-haired, wicked spirit lets out a muted sob. In his misery, Bakura is profoundly beautiful. I can't explain it, but then I never can when it has to do with those two.

However, this instant of ethereal loveliness wasn't meant to last. Almost as if he's realized what he's done, Bakura's scowl returns with a vengeance. "Damn it!" he snarls. "Why? Why is this so fucking hard?"

I open my mouth to reply, but he is already gone. The patter of feet down the hallway. The front door flung open, then shut with an ominous slam. That's it. No more Bakura. It's just Mariku and me, alone in the house but for Circe, who stares at us apathetically from the top of the bureau.

"So," I murmur, eyes still locked on that wretched cat. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing." The blonde's voice is so harsh it sounds practically painful. "It doesn't concern you! S-stay away from me!"

"But I…fine." What's the point? If Marik doesn't want to talk nothing I say will convince him otherwise. Besides, as upset as he is it would be best not to provoke him. A repeat of the previous night is the last thing I want right now. Instead, I go back to my own room, leaving him secluded to his darkly maddened thoughts.

Not even bothering to strip, I collapse, exhausted, into the welcoming softness of my mattress. Almost immediately I feel myself drifting into sleep. As exhaustion threatens to overtake me, my thoughts become more obtuse, taking on the vague, nonsensical quality found only at the edge of wakefulness and dreaming. It is because of this that, when I see Mariku silhouetted in the doorway, I am not sure if he is really there at all.

However, the creaking of springs assures me this is no illusion. This is not some drowsy-minded fancy. Marik is here beside me, and I am once again brutally awake.

As is now custom between us, I do not speak. I simply lie there, pretending not to notice his eyes boring into the back of my neck. For the thousandth time I find myself wondering why he is here. Why does Mariku insist on haunting me? What does he want? Over and over he has come to me at night, his beautiful, unreachable body mocking the lust I've worked so hard to restrain. I don't understand. It can't merely be because he's attracted to me. I mean…that could be part of it, but compared to Bakura I'm actually rather plain. So what is it? Is he bored? Does he like toying with me? Maybe Marik just wants to see how far he can push me before I too go crazy.

"What do you want from me?"

My words are too soft to echo. I can barely hear them myself. Still, they must be audible enough for the blonde to understand, for, after a moment of maddening hesitation, he places his hand lightly on the small of my back.

This gesture says more than any speech ever could. The second those tentative fingers touch my skin, I know. I know with a sense of utter relief and compassion exactly what Marik wants, and, to my infinite satisfaction, I know too that it is something I can give him.

"Mariku…"

Heeding his tacit request, I pull the spirit against me. He doesn't resist. On the contrary, he moans as I drag myself on top of him and begins to lap playfully at my neck.

"Please…" In the safety of darkness Marik whispers things that I would have never thought him capable of. "Please, Touzouko…d-don't…don't…"

"Don't what?"

…leave me…

He doesn't speak. He can't. What the blonde longs to say, what I long to hear…it can't be verbalized. At least not yet. Not now. Marik's heart isn't ready for it.

"Shh…you shouldn't worry so much." I kiss him deeply, hoping to get my point across. "I'm not like Bakura. I won't…"

With a funny, little groan, Mariku bites down hard against my collar bone. I can sense it like a fever, the violence that ravages his soul, tainting everything. Love, passion, joy…all things fall prey to it. I remember clearly the rough sex we had in the shower. That's not what I want this time. In fact, I desire the opposite. I'm going to give Marik what he's always wanted, what Bakura could never provide. A pleasure without pain. An emotion that isn't tainted with what he loathes most about himself.

Grasping his jaw, I pull the blonde into another kiss. I continue to hold his head still as my lips travel along his throat. I go slowly, enjoying how his astonished gasp causes the skin I am kissing to quiver slightly. Where normally he would be urging me to be less gentle, Marik seems strangely responsive to the softness of my touch. I suck heavily on the junction of his neck, releasing his jaw so I can use my hands to explore his body. Allowing my fingers to trace the bony contours of his hips, I slip a leg between his thighs.

Mariku throws his head back and moans. His eyes are wide with confusion and lust, and I can't help gaping at how beautifully their cool lilac color clashes with the tawny gold of his mane-like hair. There is still a shadow of sadism in his gaze, but it is finally beginning to fade. He seems to want this as much as I do.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, the blonde begins unbuttoning my shirt. He smirks and spends a long moment staring at my chest.

"…god, you're hot…"

"Huh?" I blink. Did he just…

Without a trace of the smile once written on his face, Marik starts working on my jeans. A flush that has as much to do with his words as with the rough fabric around my erection suddenly being loosened sweeps across my face. I'll never get used to it. The blonde's alarming beauty and backwards sense of etiquette will always get me. He is as shockingly alluring now as he's ever been.

I don't allow Marik to remain sitting for long. The second our clothes are off I ease him back onto the mattress. To my astonishment, he allows this, though not without a slight hint of confusion. However, his uncertainty melts away as I slide my hands beneath the small of his back. Lifting his hips to my face, I nip at the blonde's inner thigh.

"How you doin', baby?"

Marik replies with a sound somewhere between a growl and a muffled moan. He bucks his hips, and, taking this as a good sign, I slide a hand between his legs and begin to stroke him.

"Uhhh…" Eyes slipping shut, the blonde rocks hopefully into my hand. I continue to pleasure him, loving the strange, guttural mewls that issue from his throat. He seems almost nymph-like. The delicate arching of his neck. The way the room's shadows paint his graceful torso an inky blue. Even Marik's erratic breathing gives rise to thoughts of some otherworldly rapture.

As I am thinking this, my free hand dips lower. He winces a bit as I begin to stretch him, but not much. Marik has no fear of pain. Besides, he's too distracted. He's concentrating so hard on what I'm doing to his erection that, when I pull away, the blonde looks extremely put out.

"Touzouko, wha…"

"Shh…" Pulling Mariku into my lap, I guide my arousal to his entrance. "Be patient. It'll only take a second."

The instant I ease into him I know this will be like no time before. Marik's demeanor changes almost immediately. A silent gasp ghosts past his lips, and I am forced in even deeper as he pulls himself tight against my chest. We are so close that I can even feel his heartbeat. Fast and irregular, its palpitations could belong to no one else.

"You okay?"

The blonde's actions are words enough. Wrapping his legs around my waist, Marik buries his head into the crook of my neck and moans. I give several tentative thrusts. He's shivering, shivering so badly I can hardly bear it. Am I hurting him? No. That isn't it. The other times we've had sex were much more violent, and he certainly had no problem with it then. Still, I must be doing something wrong. Why else would he be acting like this?

"Mariku…"

He meets my gaze from beneath a shock of golden bangs. He does not speak, but I am immediately alarmed by the degree of disquiet in his amethyst pupils.

"Marik, what is it?"

For a moment he says nothing. Lips trembling too badly to form words, the spirit merely stares at me helplessly. Then, with what appears to be a tremendous amount of difficulty, he manages to speak.

"I-I…I don't…shit…Touzouko, what's wrong with me?"

Of all the unpredictable responses I was expecting, this is definitely not one of them. What's wrong with him? What's wrong with him! Hell, what isn't wrong with him? He's violent. He's cruel. He's depressed. He's insane. He's hateful. He's sad. He's all of these things, but that's why I love him. That's why Bakura loves him. The fact that something so tarnished, so completely ruined, can manage to retain such awe inspiringly beauty is an enigma of this world that we would all love to unravel.

Of course I can't tell Marik any of this. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't believe me. Instead, I must reassure him in other ways. Easing him backwards onto the blankets, I nibble playfully at his lower lip.

"Shh…you think to hard."

He opens his mouth to retort, but I stifle it with my tongue. The deeper the kiss becomes the more aware I am of the untended burning between my legs. I'm sick of talking. Instead I concentrate on pleasing the body beneath me. I set a slow but deep rhythm, one that Marik seems find at once enjoyable and unfamiliar. He expresses this through murmured exclamations, spoken quietly in Egyptian.

It's strange, but something about this ancient tongue, this tongue that has belonged to our homeland for generations, awakens in me a sort of indefinable sadness. That was my home. That was my way of life, and as hard and unmerciful as things were back then, I do miss it. I miss it for the same reasons I am drawn to Marik and Bakura. They have taken the place of the cruel, terrible magnificence of my blowing sandstorms and cursed gold hidden deep beneath the earth. They are what make life hard, but they are also what make it worth living.

Through the pandemonium of bucking hips and sweat drenched bodies, Marik looks at me and smiles. It is a weak, flighty, quavering little thing, but it illuminates his entire face. He sees what I see, feels what I feel. Like me, he understands the pangs of loss and solitude. He comprehends the allure of the desert sands and of the deep, star-rich nights that stretch on into eternity. It is at this moment, this sublime moment of understanding, that I realize I have never seen Mariku look so happy.

Long after we have reached our completion I stay awake to watch the blonde sleeping. He looks relaxed for once…or at least as mentally stable as I've ever seen him. The tension has left his shoulders, and his face, usually distorted by some violent shift of emotion, remains blissfully tranquil.

Yet despite Marik's beauty, despite the fact that I was finally able to give him something fully untainted by hatred…despite these things, there is a hollowness in my stomach that will not leave me. The sensation only grows as the hours stretch onward. It is a sort of vacancy. Something…something that should fit there…just isn't.

And as I sit, running my hands through Marik's hair in the dark, I realize that this emptiness is nothing new. It has been with me since the beginning…as far back as I can remember. It's not so much an emptiness really as it is a disturbance. Like the Pharaoh's cursed puzzle, it is as if something needs to be put together…a riddle I have yet to comprehend.

But I am too tired to think of this right now. What I need is sleep. I need to release my weary mind to dreaming, to the forgetfulness that comes with true and peaceful slumber. I have forever to examine this aching, but now, beneath the bed sheets, in the presence of an enthralling creature neither human nor demonic, I don't want to think. All I want is…is to…

I grin despite myself. What is it that I want? That's the question Bakura twice has asked me, the question I twice have been unable to answer. Oh well. Another time, another day. Maybe tomorrow. I know eventually that I must give an answer, but for now I will lie down and sleep. Mariku shifts restlessly in my arms. He is unused to being held, but, after a few more tosses, he too falls silent. His hair smells nice, like sex and salt and cheap shampoo all mixed together. It cuts through my confusion, through my uncertainty and anxiousness and lust, and, wrapped in this strangely compelling scent, I am finally able to sleep.

-TOT (Sorry I took so long. I've recently been swept into the madness of Harry Potter and have spent the majority of my free time rereading the series so that I can fully appreciate the nuance and cleverness of J.K. Rowling's final installment. I mean, wow. She is so good. Anyway, thank you for the lovely reviews. They are very helpful, not to mention encouraging.)