Title: Dreaming

Summary: Set directly after the end of the fifth season. Marik becomes broody and bitter again and just needs somebody who really understands what all the magic and spirits has done to him. Unfortunately, he doesn't know this. Fortunately, Ryou does.

Characters: Marik and Ryou with appearances from the rest of the gang and the Ishtars.

Rating: T+

Pairings: Strong friendship. That's it.

Total Words: 2 874

Warnings: OCC-ness, mentions of abuse, mentions of gore and violence, a lot of author's liberty taken, more merging of original, dub and manga and more rather lameness. Also, a very bad reference to YGOTAS. Couldn't help myself.

Extra Notes: This really wouldn't leave me alone. It plagued me for weeks before I finally typed it out. It sucks really badly, I know. Nothing is properly explained or even rather probable. This also has a few hints of my very first YGO fic. I guess I liked those enough not to let them go.

Disclaimer: Only for my pleasure. I have a slightly rotten mind. Sorry, Ryou hun.

Even though there were many torches lit it still seemed dark. The walls seemed to radiate cold depression and it was because of that that he couldn't bring himself to touch the ancient stone. It took him a while to find his friend after his quiet decent into what seemed like the bowels of the earth. In fact, it was his voice that made him register the sprawled out form on the ground.

"Welcome to my lovely house."

Marik's voice was dead and flooded with sarcasm. Instead of replying, Ryou allowed himself to sink down to the floor, his back resting against the cold stone. The silence stretched for ages as he watched Marik watch the ceiling, the torches causing the little light there was to splutter erratically.

"Your sister was worried," the older teen finally said.

"So she sent you down here to check up on me and make me come up again." He was bitter and sneering.

"No. I chose to come down here. Thought maybe I could help. Or just… I dunno. Try to understand."

More silence. It was almost oppressive. Ryou busied himself by looking around. There were little signs of life everywhere being attacked and destroyed by the sand or the cobwebs. It was obvious the Ishtars had not lived inside for years. Not since Battle City.

"You really think you can understand?" Marik asked quietly.

"I don't know." Ryou's voice was just as quiet. "But I think I have the best chance at it."

Marik was suddenly upright, his body throwing grotesque shadows on the walls. His face was pulled together in sneering, furious sadness. Ryou's skin prickled but he did not inch away. He also forced himself to keep the gaze, his face calm and open.

"Nobody can understand," he spat.

"Because you're not letting any of us try." Firmly yet still gently.

"This,"-the Egyptian gestured to the room they were in-"was my prison. For almost all my life."

"Then why are you refusing to come out of it now?"

Another staring contest began, lilac eyes to dark brown. Marik seemed to be trying to death-glare the other boy away. But Ryou Bakura had withstood much more than one hurting friend's glares. It was still surprising that Marik folded first.

"Because. It's a prison but it's also… a safezone." It killed him to admit it, and Ryou could hear that. "In here I'm captive but… Nothing can take me down another notch. And I…" He let out a dark chuckle. "There's no one here for me to hurt."

"So are you going to stay down here forever?" His voice was flat. "You spent all that time and energy escaping this place and when you're finally, truly free you… lock yourself back in."

Marik could hear the half-hidden accusation in the white-haired teen's voice, and it surprised him. His expression turned confused as he tried to read Ryou's reasons. It hit him after only a few seconds of pondering. Of course Ryou would think people foolish who went back into living nightmares. He'd been trying to escape his own prison for longer than Marik had. A few beats after the realization, the self-defense was back.

"You don't understand."

"You've told me that already."

He regretted the sharp words as soon as they left his mouth. Marik's eyes grew darker, and Ryou's heart twanged in guilt. He knew the other teen knew what he was trying to force home. But Atem's departure had hit more than one hikari hard. Everything that Marik had been born for- all the pain and darkness and memories that he had put on hold for the last two years because his duty was still to his Pharaoh… All of that had come crashing back when the gates to the Afterlife closed. And with the coming of the old pain and insecurity and emotions came also the departure of reason.

"You don't have a freaking clue." The Egyptian's voice was shaking. "Do you even have an inkling of what it's like to carry scars that you don't deserve? Scars that still hurt? That remind you every time I the mirror that you were too weak, too unimportant too… Just… Just a pawn in somebody or something's freaking life plan?"

They stared at each other in the semi-darkness for another long while. Marik's shoulders were heaving slightly as he tried to gain a hold of himself.

"I got those here," he continued, jabbing at the empty air in pure loathing hatred. "Because of this place and a few men I…" He swallowed. "What if I don't want the world to be able to see that any more? You have no freaking idea what that's like," he repeated, almost accusingly. "So you don't know how hard it is or even the sense that is in what I'm saying right now."

His companion said nothing and Marik basked in his bittersweet victory. The cynical basking didn't last very long. Slowly Ryou got to his feet, face carefully blank. Marik watched, equally as expressionless, convincing himself that he was glad the other boy was finally leaving. Ryou did not even make a move towards the exit. Instead, he hesitantly began pulling off his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marik was surprised into wide-eyes shock.

He got no reply except for Ryou lowering his arms, his shirt firmly held in both hands. He was about to demand an answer when he saw it for himself. The feeling that came with the sight was akin to being kicked in the gut. Hard. His shock intensified and although he wanted to, he could not look away. Scars littered the pale flesh of the boy standing before him. Some were faint lines, others deep rivers that seemed to flicker with the torchlight. They were different sizes and shapes, circling everywhere around his torso and upper arms. There was one that strayed so close to his throat that Marik almost flinched just looking at it.

"I don't… even know where I got most of these." Ryou was staring down at his hands, frowning. "They'd just… appear one morning when I woke up. Or one evening in some random alley. Or somewhere in a nightmare that was my 'punishment'. I do know that I gave a few like these. To strangers that I probably will never recognize on the street." His fingers lightly traced a prominent scar on his arm that Marik recognized with a sickening twist of guilt. Ryou's eyes flickered up, meeting his again. "I get it," he said quietly.

And Marik could not argue. Ryou replaced his shirt quickly, suddenly seeming embarrassed and ashamed. He returned to his earlier seated position, curling his legs up to his chin as he drew circles in the dust. The hush stretched longer than all the others as Marik struggled and Ryou patiently let him.

"How do you do it?" came the eventual, quiet question.

"What?"

"Free yourself from your prison knowing what's out there. Knowing… what you did. How do you get rid of the guilt? What's the motivation to… carry on through the aftereffects?"

"Sometimes… Sometimes you've just got to."

A surprised bark of laughter. "That's it?"

A nod. "That's it. I wish I could say something to inspire you or whatever but… I don't have anything like that. Sometimes you've just got to do it, even though there's no reason or motivation."

"That's absolute crap." He was angry again; disappointed that he hadn't been given what he was craving. "'Sometimes you've just got to'. Fat load of help that is, Bakura."

Marik was glaring at the wall, so he did not see the number of times Ryou opened his mouth in the next few minutes. He did not see how it took every inch of willpower to choke out the next sentence, how much he wanted to let the Egyptian hate him in exchange for the blessed silence.

"I had a sister."

Marik's head snapped around to him so fast his neck nearly cracked. Ryou's hands were balled into tight fists, and he stared at them resolutely. Marik waited, and Ryou struggled. It took him a full five minutes before he could literally force the rest of the story out.

"She… was younger than me. By about four minutes. We… I… We were best friends growing up. All the time, even as we got older. My father had to move for work and… I was the most worried. She… She made friends so easily. She just… attracted light and warmth as much as she gave it off." His hands scrubbed hard at his face, nails digging into the flesh unheedingly. "I made them wait in the car. When I went to buy my schoolbooks. I didn't want to be labeled immediately because I went in with my sister and my mother. I made them swear they wouldn't move an inch. Threw a tantrum, begged and pleaded and… ordered. While I was inside there was a truck and… and… My father stayed with my mother in the hospital and I got to hold my sister while she died. Every year my father either calls or sends a message or something. And every year the end is exactly the same: He knows I didn't mean for it to happen. He knows I didn't plan it. But he won't forgive me. Not ever." Slowly he looked up again, into the eyes that hadn't been able to pull their horrified gaze away. Tears were leaking freely from the brown points, but his voice was still steady. "Sometimes you've just got to."

Marik swallowed, loud and hard, staring straight back at his crying friend. Something painful was happening inside his chest and stomach. He'd known that out of all of them, Ryou was the most like him. He'd still never thought the boy would have physical scars similar to him. He'd never even imagined how deep the emotional scars would run. For the first time in what felt like forever, Marik didn't feel alone. Footsteps smashed through their haze and Ryou instantly ducked his face so whoever it was could not see his tears. Ishizu hesitated on the second last step, her eyes and concern for her brother.

Almost dreading the answer, she took a deep breath and asked, "Are you coming up, Marik?"

For a moment, he said nothing, and her shoulders seemed to sag as she foresaw yet another rejection. Then, quietly, Marik replied. "I'll be right up."

The other two in the underground tomb looked at him in surprise, their eyes questioning. Ishizu smiled softly before turning and heading up. Ryou just continued to question his friend with his gaze. But Marik refused to reply and instead he just stood and offered his hand to the other boy. Ryou allowed himself to be pulled up, and the two walked in silence up the stairs. The kiss of the sunlight on their faces was unlike any other feeling. It was scolding and promising at the same time, and both of them felt the relief the sight of the light brought.

Ryou did not go to the small, huddled group that was Yugi and his friends. Instead he stared out at the rolling, heat-covered dunes. His face told that he was far away, locked up in the maze of his own thoughts. Unnoticed, Marik watched him, seemingly understanding the encoded message in his eyes. After a long, long while the brown eyes closed, squeezing shut as though he was praying for strength or relief or forgiveness. Then, running a hand tiredly through his hair, he finally turned himself towards his group of friends. They did not notice him coming until he was right there. They were all too downcast, too preoccupied with their own sorrow.

"Yugi?" Four pairs of eyes zoned in on him. "Your grandfather has a part of his shop that sells second-hand cards, right?"

The small teen nodded, confused. "For all those who can't afford the new ones. Why?"

Ryou pulled his deck of cards from his pocket. For a second he let himself feel their weight, running a thumb down the side of each one. Then he slapped the whole pile in front of the small group. "Consider it as a friendly donation."

Yugi's eyes grew large. "What? No, Bakura, I couldn't take them. They're yours-"

"No, Yugi. They're not." A beat of silence, before the younger boy began to protest again. Ryou cut across him. "Look, either they go to your grandfather or I'm burning them." His tone was final. "I'm done, Yugi. Never again."

With only one more second's hesitation, he turned and walked away. The first smidge of shade he found was where he slid to the ground, allowing the sand to cushion him as he watched the lazy clouds. He didn't know what he was feeling. Footsteps vibrated against his head, and Marik plopped to the ground beside him.

"How melodramatic." The white-haired teen smiled slightly, but did not reply. "You know he's going to try and give them back at least once more."

"I'm glad to be rid of all of them," Ryou replied firmly.

"All but one."

Confusion pulled at his brow and he turned to ask what Marik was talking about. He froze when his gaze was met with the sight of Marik twirling a card in his fingers.

"Give that back to Yugi."

"No," Marik replied simply. "You have to keep this one."

"Why?" His voice was weary. "What is it?"

Marik shook his head. "Not going to tell you. Not till I'm sure you won't throw it away."

"I'm never going to want to keep it," he promised quietly. "You're wasting your time."

"Maybe. Or maybe I know some things so you should just shut up and trust me." Silence. "And if you try to get rid of it I'll just keep bringing it back to you. I'll carve your name into it so nobody will ever forget it's yours."

"Now who's being melodramatic?"

The Egyptian flicked the card between his fingers, causing a snapping noise to appear every few seconds. "Speaking of names… Why do you want to be called only by your surname?"

Ryou jerked in surprise, his mouth hanging open slightly, Marik stared at him patiently, waiting for the answer. The white-haired teen shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes before he mumbled his reply.

"My mom named me. Ryou is… Ryou is her name. Hers and my sister's and my old father's. I wanted to have my own name, one that wasn't haunted by anybody. So I made them all call me Bakura. It was easier. It was mine."

"And then he came and stole it."

A slightly bitter laugh. "And then he came and stole it."

"Well." Marik's voice was over-bright. "I guess well just have to get you another name now. How about Steve?"

Brown eyes stared at him in dumbfounded surprise. "Steve?"

A shrug. "I like that name."

Ryou had to laugh. Both teens watched the shifting clouds for a while before Marik suddenly and without warning handed the card over to its owner. With a thudding heart Ryou took it and turned it over. The Change Of Heart stared back at him, her warm smile innocent and hiding so many memories. He wanted to scream and throw it far away. Burn it. Tear it up. Smash it to a million pieces. Instead he swallowed, shut his eyes, and put it gently in his pocket. Marik didn't say a word; didn't even look smug. He just continued to watch the skies.

"Do you know why I know you need that card?" Ryou shook his head. "Because… Because you're the only one I can tell the revelation I've had to without being considered insane." A pause. "I… I hate my darker half. So much. I hate how he was created, I hate what he's like and, most of all, I hate what he did. And I'm so, so glad he was thrown to the Shadows. And I hope he suffers and screams and… and…" He took a deep breath. "But even so… I know that if he were to come back I'd let him share my body again. I hate him and I'm quite honestly scared of him but… I'd also welcome him back. I'd choose him even though I'd wish the whole time that he would be thrown to the darkest part of hell. And you'd do the same, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." The admission was no more than a breath.

Marik slowly nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought." Two pairs of hands clenched into fists before Marik started laughing. "We are so screwed up, aren't we? The nightmare's finally fully over and we're already sure… We are so terribly, terribly screwed up." His laughter had a touch of hysteria.

"I'm worried." Ryou's confession was blurted out, his entire body tense. "I… I've been in the nightmare so long I… I don't know if I know if I can dream anymore."

"So don't." Simple. Gentle. "Keep your eyes wide open and embrace the night."

A soft smile and a shared look of deep understanding. Then both hikaris continued to watch the clouds, eyes wide open to the sun.