(How long does it take to write a chapter? This long, if I start not knowing exactly what I want to happen next...

Characters (c) Kazuki Takahashi)


Takeover
Chapter Eleven


He wakes to a throbbing headache and the feel of a hand slowly running through his hair.

"Muh… Marik," Bakura groans, pulling his knees to his chest before unsuccessfully trying to sit up. "Marik…?"

The hand on his hair slowly grabs, then hoists him halfway off the floor.

"Look who finally decided to wake up," Yami Marik croons, leaning in close. "Did you have a good rest?"

"You — what did you do to Marik?!" Bakura snarls, recoiling before he tries to reach for Yami Marik's throat — and finds his hands bound tightly behind his back. "Untie me. Now!"

"No… no, I don't think so," the dark-skinned man grins, eyes glittering as he watches the white-haired man struggle against his binds. "I think I like you better like this."

Bakura growls, but settles in into a sitting position, eyes narrowed, trying to force the room to stop spinning around him.

"Your precious Marik is fine, by the way," Yami Marik drawls, slowly pulling Bakura's head back and tracing a finger over his pale neck. "He's quite safe, where he is. I might even let you see him for a little while… if you agree to help me."

Bakura says nothing, trying to ignore the feel of Yami Marik caressing him.

"I assure you, it's nothing too difficult," the Egyptian smirks, his hand sliding to fully rest on the side of Bakura's neck. "All I need is for you to help me get a body of my own."

"Like you're not enough of a hassle just borrowing Marik's body!" the white-haired man snarls, writhing his body away from Yami Marik's touch. "I'm not going to help you, and stop touching me!"

Yami Marik clicks his tongue, the light smirk on his face falling to a scowl.

"Is that how you're going to be?" he asks, eyes narrowed as he starts to withdraw his hand.

"I'm not helping you get a body of your own!" Bakura repeats, his searing glare fixed on Yami Marik's "blurry" face. "And you're not going to get me to change my mind!"

For a moment, he hears nothing but silence, and feels only the one hand wrapped up in his hair.

The moment ends with a soft touch to his chin.

"Well, if that's how you're going to be," Yami Marik purrs, lightly holding Bakura's chin, "then I'll just let you tell Marik yourself that you don't want me out."

He shudders violently, then slumps forward, his whole body going slack against Bakura's.

"Ma-Marik?" the white-haired man asks, something resembling fear in his voice as he struggles against his binds again. "Marik, is that you? Wake up. Marik!"

With a low, much softer groan, the blond man against his chest slowly pushes away.

Even with his vision still spinning, Bakura makes out Marik's frightened features.

"Ba — Bakura," Marik croaks, head still bowed as he weakly grabs at Bakura's shirt. "Bakura, he… he's here. It's him."

Bakura leans forward, gently pressing his forehead against Marik's.

"I know," he murmurs.

"What… What do we do?" the Egyptian asks, his voice only barely stronger than his hold on the white-haired man. "Wh-what do I do? I can hear him, now, and it's—"

"Marik. Look at me."

After a long pause, Marik looks up.

"It's going to be alright," Bakura assures, his voice softer than he remembers it being in a very long time. "I promise. Everything is going to be fine."

Marik nods slowly, still looking unconvinced.

Bakura can't blame him, when he knows those words are all he has to offer.


(Someday I'm gonna know exactly what I want to write before I start writing it. Please review!)