A/N: Enjoy!

It had been a miserable night, so Ryou wasn't surprised when he woke up to find that the sun hadn't yet risen. He opened his eyes to a mostly dark room and stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, silently categorizing the various aches and pains in his body. His throat and his hand were easily the biggest offenders, but it seemed like most of his muscles hurt in one way or another. It wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up, and it didn't help that his bladder was complaining. He tried to ignore it for a little while longer, because at the least bed was soft and warm and he was tucked up close against someone, but in the end he gave in and sat up.

By unspoken consent, Jou and Yuugi had taken one bed while Malik and Ryou took the other. At some point, Ryou realized, Yuugi had left his bed and slipped in with Malik and Ryou instead. Malik was firmly cushioned in the middle, flat on his back and dead to the world. Yuugi was curled up on the other side, facing the window. It was hard to tell if he was sleeping, but judging by the rhythmic way his ribs were rising and falling Ryou suspected that he was. Over in the other bed, just barely visible, Jou was splayed out like a starfish, hands and feet tossed carelessly towards the corners. Thankfully he was no longer snoring, though he did seem to be making some weird little grunting sounds every so often.

Shaking his head, unable to bite back the fond smile, Ryou eased the covers back and crossed the chilly room to the bathroom as quietly as possible. If his friends were still sleeping, he didn't want to be the one who woke them up. He used the toilet and washed his hands without turning the light on, not wanting to see how he looked in the mirror now that his bruises were going to have bruises, and turned to go back to the bed. He was planning on getting at least another few hours of sleep, as the drag of his exhausted body was telling him that the little bit of time that he'd earned definitely wasn't enough.

He was halfway across the room before it dawned on him that his spot had been filled.

Yuugi and Malik were no longer alone in the bed. Ryou stared at the four figures, his mind scrambling to take in and understand what was going on in front of him: two sets of spiky black-gold-red hair and two heads of wild blond on either side of the bed like an invisible line had been drawn straight down the middle, all covered so firmly with the blanket that he would've had to get much closer in order to accurately assess whether or not he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. He blinked and then rubbed his eyes, wondering if the new arrivals would disperse. They didn't.

The full implication of the situation didn't truly hit until he felt the hand on his shoulder, yanking him backwards into the bathroom. Before Ryou had a chance to do anything other than draw in breath to shout, that same hand was pressing firmly against his mouth to keep him silent as the door shut. The lights were switched on and Ryou winced, momentarily blinded by the brilliance after he'd gotten used to seeing in the dark. It took almost a full minute for his eyes to adjust, and when they finally did he couldn't breathe.

The thief king was standing not a foot away from him, so close that had it been anyone else Ryou would've made a nervous comment about personal space and backed off. As it was, he felt only capable of staring. The boy - man? - looking back at him had tanned skin from the sun he'd spent most of his life living under. Cool violet eyes, so pale as to border on silver, watched Ryou closely. His hair fell in wild light grey tuffs around his face, ragged with a lack of care. He was wearing the same outfit that Ryou remembered seeing him in, only his cape was drawn closer around his body instead of splayed wide in an attempt to intimidate and the Millennium Ring was conspicuously missing from around his neck.

As they stood there and stared at each other the tension grew until it became unbearable, and Ryou couldn't help dropping his gaze. He found himself looking at a pair of dirty, bare feet on the once pristine bathroom floor. His mouth twitched into a smile and without thinking he said, "The maid is going to wonder what the hell we were doing."

"What?"

He sounded so confused that Ryou laughed, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth because what had actually come out was dangerously close to a sob. "I can't believe it worked," he said against his fingers, the words barely audible. What he really meant was, I can't believe you came back.

"The Egyptian Gods have been watching over you all for some time. That's the only reason you were able to get their attention with such a ridiculous excuse for a ritual." The expression on his face was so familiar, half disgusted half sneering, that even with the difference in physical appearance Ryou could see it. Him. Bakura. His yami. The urge to break down into tears was only becoming stronger, and he clamped down against the surge of emotion desperately. If there was one thing Bakura hated, if there was one thing that would not help the situation, it was that.

"It wasn't my ritual, it was Malik's, and it was the best thing we could come up with on such short notice." Ryou was barely aware of the things he was saying. His attention was captivated by how real Bakura was, the little details that made him believe this might actually be happening. The warmth of his skin. The sourness of his breath. The way he shifted his weight and squinted because of the light.

He felt dizzy and sat down hard on the edge of the bathtub.

Something that might have been concern flickered across Bakura's face. "Ryou?"

"You're really here," Ryou said, and then he leaned over and put his head between his knees in a valiant effort to keep from either bursting into tears or passing out.

RMA

Yuugi was aware of when Ryou left the bed, though he didn't bother to bring any attention to it. The bed was comfortable enough and he could still feel the warmth of Malik against his spine, so he saw no reason to get up. Sharing a bed with Jou was not easy by any stretch of the word: not only was Jou a blanket hog, he had the tendency to crowd you against the edge until it was fall off or move. It had only taken about an hour after the lights went out before Yuugi decided he didn't need any new bruises and picked the latter.

He sighed, keeping his eyes shut, as feet padded across the floor. Malik's body shifted further across the bed and someone slipped in beside Yuugi instead of one the other side. He wondered why Ryou had changed his mind and got in on a different side for about two seconds before he realized that the person who had climbed into bed with him was not Ryou. The smell of myrrh and dates was fragrant and musky, coating back of his tongue when he unconsciously licked his lips.

The man lying beside him - and it was a man, make no mistake about that - let out a soft sound. It was deep and in any other situation would've been a chuckle, but in this case there was nothing amusing to be found. Yuugi froze, his heart suddenly beating twice as fast as before, breath catching in his throat. He wanted to open his eyes and see whether or not it was really true, but doing so meant putting his faith in the hope that this was not a dream and his companion would not evaporate.

Cautiously he freed an arm from the blanket and reached out, curious fingers making impact with hot, grimy flesh. A shoulder, Yuugi realized, hard and unforgiving beneath his fingertips. When he moved to the right he found exquisite cloth, to the left cool gold that never seemed to warm to body temperature no matter how long it was worn for. He trailed his hand down across the gold, around an elbow and forearm, down to another hand. It remained lax under his exploration for several long seconds before it unexpectedly twisted, trapping his fingers.

"Aibou." That one word made Yuugi seize up as his eyes opened of their own accord, locking onto a face that he had not seen in months. Pharaoh Atemu's smile was surprisingly timid, his dark eyes watchful, head resting on the mattress since there was not enough room on the pillow.

Yuugi stared at him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked.

"No, Aibou. I am really here."

Air was important, Yuugi remembered belatedly when his lungs started to burn, and he took a deep breath without thinking about it. He exhaled slowly through gritted teeth, torn between gazing at Atemu's face or looking down at the interlocked fingers. "How did this happen?"

"You participated in a ritual to make it so," said Atemu gently, like he understood how much this was tearing Yuugi apart inside. The pressure of his fingers tightened just a little. "The Egyptian gods were listening to your prayers."

It was strange to think that someone had finally been listening after all this time. "Why now?" Yuugi asked wearily. "They never listened before."

"Maybe you weren't asking in the right way," Atemu said with that familiar quirk of his lips that was so familiar it hurt. "And you were never in enough danger to warrant the strength it would take to grant such a wish. Yuugi, this world now stinks of repressed magic and the shadows are not at all pleased. Someone has been hunting you. Please, will you not tell me what happened?"

For the first, and possibly last, time Yuugi thought it fortunate that their mind link had not returned, because he suspected Atemu would find the fact that Yuugi would have done or said anything as long as he stayed somewhat distressing. In lieu of a verbal response he leaned forward, shifting across those last few inches until he could press his face into the warm spot beneath Atemu's chin. The hand entangled with his did not let go but Atemu's free arm came up to rest across his waist and back, holding him tight.

"The world's gone crazy," Yuugi said at last, closing his eyes. Against his best efforts he was trembling. "No one except for me, Ryou and Malik remember you guys or the Millennium Items. Even Jou and Seto have mostly forgotten except for some dreams that they don't think are real, and I- something was possessing me, it made me do awful things and then they locked me away!" His voice broke, embarrassingly enough, and he was left frantically swallowing back several days' worth of frustration and pain.

Atemu was silent for a couple of minutes, the only sign he was still aware the hand he was now lazily moving up and down Yuugi's back. "I understand now why you resorted to the measures you did," he said quietly. "Shh, little one, don't cry. It's alright. I'm here now, and we will figure out the answer together."

"You won't leave again?" Yuugi whispered, clenching his free hand into the soft fabric of Atemu's pharaoh outfit. It felt like spun silk beneath his fingers.

"You have my word I will be here when you wake up."

That wasn't really what Yuugi was asking, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that any time with Atemu – however brief – was better than none at all. It still took him a long time to fall back asleep.

RMA

Even before he opened his eyes, Malik knew exactly who was lying in bed with him. After spending months, years, fearing and loathing the man, it was impossible not to know. What confused him was that he felt no desire to move away. At one time he would've had a very real panic attack at the realization that his yami was anywhere nearby, much less in the same bed with so little space between them that he could feel breath against his cheek with every exhale. Now, he just felt numb.

He took his time looking, surveying the tanned skin hidden beneath a plain black muscle shirt before he let his gaze move up. The tussled, light blond hair falling across the pillow gave him pause, but he forced himself to keep going until he was staring at a face that was as familiar to the one he saw in the mirror every morning. His yami looked back at him steadily, eyes so dark that they resembled pools of ink in the dim light. He could see himself reflected in those eyes, the conflicting emotion that was so clearly represented in his expression.

"My father's alive again," he said, the words tasting thick on his tongue.

An eyebrow rose. "You want me to take care of him?"

The voice was somehow deeper than Malik was expected, rough and husky with a hint of an accent he didn't recognize. He shivered. "No. I don't know. I just… I guess I thought it would be prudent to let you know. Since you're here and he's probably coming after me again, considering that I stole his credit card and used it to fly halfway across the room… and to fund a hotel room for me and my friends." Really, now that he thought about it, he would be amazed if Hafiz didn't try to kill him.

"You've been busy," his yami observed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe I was a better influence on you than I thought."

For some reason that Malik did not want to examine too closely, the denial never made it out of his mouth. He turned his head away instead, realizing that the rest of the room was empty. There was no sign of Yuugi, Ryou or Jou. He hoped that was a good sign. "You haven't been an influence at all," he said finally, and it was such a blatant lie that he was almost embarrassed. "Where are the others?"

"The tomb robber and the pharaoh agreed to accompany them downstairs for food."

So Yami and Bakura had returned as well, then. Malik sighed, relieved at the confirmation. He wasn't sure what he would have done if only his yami had come back, and with the ways things had been going for them lately he wouldn't have been surprised if that's exactly what happened. He pushed himself up, surprised to find that he was actually hungry. Food had taken a backseat to everything else that was going on, but right now his stomach was growling pointedly. He tried not to think about why that have changed so suddenly.

"I'm going to join them," he said. It wasn't phrased as a question, but it was apparently taken that way. His yami's hand pinned him down appallingly easily, a heavy warmth flat against his chest that left him feeling breathless and sprawled like a stunned turtle.

"You expressed desire for me to return. I heard your prayers," he told Malik. "Why?"

Oh hell, really? Malik stared up at him, wondering what he was supposed to say when he didn't even understand it himself. It was just… there wasn't anyone he could depend on here. Yuugi and Ryou were still his friends, that was true, but Malik had always been uncomfortably aware of the things he'd done to them. He was certain that continued to cast a shadow over their friendship, regardless of what the two of them might say otherwise. His sister and Rishid were of no help, and while he could've explained it would've only ended up leading them both into danger.

The simplest truth of the matter was, he didn't know how to do this without help. Someone had always been there and now no one was, and even if his yami was a psychopath who killed people on a regular basis he was better than nothing. And – being honest, here – there was a tiny part of him that wished he could look at and think about his yami the way Yuugi and Ryou thought about theirs. He closed his eyes, resigned. "I didn't know who else to turn to," he admitted in a whisper.

There was such a long silence from above him that he might've thought his yami had left were it not for the fact that a hand was still pinning him to the bed. Finally, the man said, "My name is Mariku."

"You – what?" Malik gawked, because this was a first. His yami had never tried to separate himself from Malik like that, had taken a perverse enjoyment out of screwing with people by making them believe that he was Malik before turning on them. He hadn't been expecting this. He didn't know what it meant.

"Mariku," he repeated, sitting back with a strange smile on his face. His hand was slower to leave Malik's chest, lingering, and even when the pressure was gone the heat remained. Malik remained where he was, speechless, and watched dumbly as Mariku got up and strolled over to the door. When it became clear Malik wasn't going to follow, he turned with an arched eyebrow. "Coming?"

Malik blinked slowly. "Um. I guess."

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