Disclaimers: This is actually chapter ten, because the previous chapter was not a chapter. I don't own Yugioh?

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Yami Malik lifted up Bakura by the neck of his shirt. The tomb robber was rather limp, and drenched in blood. Malik's darker half drew the blade of his Millennium item out of Bakura's mouth. He streaked the blood up across Bakura's cheek and into his hair. Bakura moaned faintly. Yami Malik grinned sadistically, switching the direction of his Millennium Rod so that the head rested in Bakura's hair.

Y. Malik: Now…take me to the Subconscious of your host.

Bakura blinked slowly at his attacker. He was just barely aware that Malik's yami had said something to do with Ryou. It's somehow ironic that Bakura was far more aware of the paradox contained within the prospect of losing consciousness in a Subconscious.

Y. Malik: Your host. I've been meaning to pay him a visit.

Bakura suddenly caught his meaning. Despite the mass of blood in his mouth, Bakura managed to spit out a retort.

Bakura: Go fuck yourself.

Ah, yes. Beautiful.

Y. Malik: *presses the head of the Millennium Rod to Bakura's skull* I don't wish to dispose of you entirely…*the Millennium Rod flashed as Yami Malik issued his command with the power of his item*

Bakura coughed up more blood in an attempt to protest, but the yami of Malik cut his own efforts short.

Y. Malik: It looks as though your hikari has already made it home. *smiles*

Bakura felt chills go down his spine. Hikari…if you have any wits, get out of here…

In the realm of the living, Ryou entered his house to find his guest soaked in blood. Malik smiled up at him, almost apologetically.

Ryou: Malik-kun! Can you get up?

Ryou ran over to Malik and tried to assess the damage. He was about to run to get something to clean up the blood with, but Malik's hand caught his wrist. His grip was firm in a threatening way.

Ryou looked back at Malik, stunned. Malik's eyes had gotten colder and his appearance altogether was more disheveled. He stood up, a purely amazing feat considering all the blood surrounding him was his own. At full height, Ryou could see that this Malik was far taller and more imposing. He grinned down broadly at the terrified hikari, wrenching him back by his wrist alone.

Ryou cried out in horror as this Malik drew out a bloody, golden blade. The vile creature spoke in horrible, lilting words that dripped and twisted out of his mouth.

Y. Malik: Your yami lays trapped in the spirit's world…he wished to save you, but sadly the blade covered in his life blood is about to murder you.

Ryou tried frantically to escape the grip of the ungodly beast, but stopped abruptly upon seeing his yami, in spirit form, between a tangible blade and Ryou. The wielder of the blade cackled. To demonstrate the source of his amusement, he stabbed the spirit in the head with the knife. The knife, predictably, made no contact.

Y. Malik: A fruitless effort, I'm afraid. Your hikari dared to hold me back through his mortal trust. Now your vessel will have to die.

Yami Malik aimed directly for Ryou's head. Bakura blinked, and the knife made contact with flesh. Ryou screamed in pain, but the severed flesh was not that of his head. The Millennium Rod had plunged into his arm.

Bakura: You're losing your touch, grave keeper.

Yami Malik's eyes flashed with mixtures of his two conflicting personalities. He at first dug the knife deeper into Ryou's arm, then drew it out quickly. He couldn't decide on which way to turn. His mind was reeling with his own thoughts, opposites to each other as light is to dark. At that moment he both loved and hated everyone in the room; and that was the reason, at that moment, he dearly wished to die.

Ryou sank to the floor and lay there, relief reaching him before concern. His yami dripped intangible blood on the floor and watched Malik in his state of chaos, who was now taking the conflict out upon himself, bodily. The knife was marking its owner everywhere fresh blood could be drawn. Ryou gazed weakly at his friend in torment.

Ryou: Malik…if you still want to kill me, I can't move.

Malik (it was not discernable which Malik was in control anymore) turned around bewildered and looked down at Ryou.

Y. Malik: You wish to die?

Ryou: I don't think you wish to kill me.

Y. Malik: A poor invitation, but I gladly accept. Abayo (so long).

With no hesitation at all, the blade was thrust into the floor. Malik, with no trace of a yami on his face, was standing over his bloodied friend. For all of the life in him, he could not look Ryou in the eye.

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"I'm leaving," Malik announced the next morning. He had refused to let Ryou clean his face of blood, and seemed to be sickened by the sight of him. "I can't stand to stay here a day longer."

"Malik…I…

"I need to go to bed. Dearly!" said the author. This was true.

"Malik, I'm not asking you to leave," Ryou whispered.

"Idiot…do you think he'll just lie dormant? He's just waiting again. He despises you, and now I think his feelings are crossing over somewhat." Ryou had nothing to say to this. His eyes met with the floor.

"You ass. My hikari was the only thing between you and your blood on the floor last night," Bakura interjected. Malik turned on him, his piercing eyes gleaming.

"In the end, neither of you could help me!"

"Just because you're kicking yourself doesn't mean you can take it out on my hikari," Bakura spat. Malik paused, then let his eyes meet the floor like Ryou's. Then he glanced at Ryou with the closest look he could have to an apology.

"Ryou…I…I thank you for…the help that you have given me…over the past few weeks. For your hospitality."

Ryou looked up at Malik. "You can still stay, Malik-kun."

Malik considered the words for several moments. He looked to Ryou, Bakura, then his Millennium Rod, still in his hand. He smiled warmly at Ryou. Without another word, he left. The motorcycle was heard outside, driving into the distance.

As he rode into the early morning, Malik wondered to himself if he would ever be rid of his other self. Perhaps he would have to master himself, with no help at all…

Epilogue

Ryou awoke that morning and got out of bed. He picked up his Millennium Ring, the home of his yami, and went down to breakfast. As he ate, he and his yami chatted inwardly through Ryou's Subconscious.

Ryou: After I eat, do you still get hungry?

Bakura: We share a vessel. That would be rather impossible.

Ryou: I was wondering…why did Malik call you "tomb robber?"

Bakura: Ah, that…that would be a long story for another time. The main idea, though, is because that's what I am.

Ryou tried to imagine someone in ancient Egypt who looked just like him stealing from pyramids and buried tombs. It caused him to shiver a little. Wasn't that…at the very least, somewhat unholy?

There came a knock on the door.

Bakura: ARRGH! *He had been taking his "turn" in corporeal state because Ryou insisted he eat some, and now food was spilt all over himself and the coffee table.* Hikari, why invite the carpet cleaners at eight in the morning?

Ryou took over again, and went to answer the door. Standing before him was none other than Malik.

Ryou, at first, just grinned at him. Malik grinned back.

Malik: You know, I wasn't lying when I said I don't have a place in Japan.

Ryou: You can stay as long as you want, Malik.

The two went into the living room where Ryou had been eating his breakfast.

Malik: You know how to cook? Why didn't you tell me before I made onigiri every morning?

Bakura: It was funny.

Malik: ACK! Warn me before you switch places!

Bakura: What made you decide to stay?

Ryou floated peacefully beside his yami in spirit form. Malik looked at him, and decided to respond as though Ryou had asked the question instead.

Malik: I…well, I slept last night. It was the first time in months I haven't had a single nightmare. I think it's because he's gone.

Bakura: You really don't think he's coming back?

Ryou: I don't think so. Because you got "collected," right Malik?

Malik smiled.

Malik: Yeah. Now let's go out today. I challenge your cement-faced yami to have fun.

Ryou: Then let's go! Yami, you've been insulted.

Bakura: Likening my face to cement! I'll have "fun" pulling all your pretty hair out, you purple-eyed weasel…

The three continued as they walked out the door and drove off on Malik's motorcycle, laughing and teasing, all facing the prospect of a new day.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The End - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I think my "paradox" deal was a little confusing, so, here you go—

Paradox: You cannot lose consciousness in a Subconscious, because that would mean you were already technically "unconscious." Of course, Bakura is in someone else's Subconscious, but…ah, well. The beauty of the paradox!

Sigh. And me, in my ultra-logical mind, end this fic simply wondering how on earth Ryou will clean his living room of blood. That kind of destroys the magic drama of it all. Why can't I take myself seriously?

Thank you all, dear readers. *The Author finally shuts up* (Sorta.)

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE PRESENT: The Author can never shut up, ever. How ya'll doin? I'd be curious to know what anyone thought of this, if you have thoughts on this, or if the fiction in its entirety just melted a searing hole in your brain and when you try to remember what you were reading this whole time you just sort of stutter and mumble and sparks fly out of your ears. That is kind of my reaction to it, I think.

That said, MahaVailo Sis, this is my present to you. MY DIGNITY. It is non-refundable, so I hope you have a nice glass frame for it so you can look at it and fondly remember how your sister is and was a terrible writer and a hypocrite and once did terrible things to Yugioh characters. I do this because I care.

Til next time, card cowboys.