I walk behind them. I feel ridiculous in my red robe and dark waist wrap. Why the fuck didn't the gods have enough common sense to resurrect me in modern clothing? Idiot gods.

Ryou stopped in front of a Western-style restaurant. "Wait right here. I'll be five minutes." He disappeared through double, glass doors.

I looked away from Marik's double. I didn't want to admit it, but it hurt to look at the other half of my former partner. They weren't identical, but they had enough brother-like similarities that it hurt all the same. My eyes slipped over to his face, just enough for a side-glance. He stood with his hands in his pockets and kicked pebbles off of the curb.

"Don't kill him," I said.

"Gods, who can't I kill this time?"

"My host. I won't really stop you from killing anyone else, but he's off limits."

"His name is Ryou, you stupid bastard."

"What?"

"He's not your vessel anymore. Stop referring to him as an object. His name is Ryou."

My jaw dropped an inch. "Huh. That's the most practical thing you've ever said."

He shrugged. "It may sound weird, but I don't think I'm crazy anymore. Fucked up, sure. I definitely have issues, but . . . I don't want to kill anybody." He smirked. "Unless they give me a reason. Then it'd be my pleasure to send them to the gods that rejected me."

Ryou appeared with three paper bags. "I wish I could welcome you guys back to the world of the living with a feast, but I've been working overtime and don't have the energy. Burgers will have to do for us tonight."

I noticed how Marik's alter ego acted bashful around my former host, looking away as he took the paper sacks to carry them. I decided to let the observation slide for now, but I stored it for future sardonic commentary. It's weird to watch them though, like an alternate universe version of me and Marik; only I've never seen Marik bashful, and they're too nice to each other to really be us. Even on the phone I found myself baiting Marik if for no other reason than to hear him yell at me for a few minutes longer. Stupid, it's stupid how much I missed his demanding voice. Fuck him, bastard, fucking bastard.

We reached Ryou's apartment and sat on the living room carpet, each of us with a paper bag. Ryou had a dining room table, but he never used it. I looked in the bag; it contained a hamburger and fries. I took a bite and tried to push all my thoughts away from the foreground of my mind. Marik's image came unbidden as if he stood behind me and used the Rod to force himself into my brain. My stomach churned and I set the food down.

"Not hungry?" Ryou asked in a soft voice.

I shake my head no.

"Can I have it?" The doppelganger of my former partner asked.

I push the bag towards him. He grinned and attacked the fries. I realized it's probably the first time he'd ever tasted proper, hot, greasy, junk food. Marik was the eat to live type.

Ryou patted my hand. "It's been three years, you know, and all of a sudden Yugi calls and says you're all back. Give Marik a little time, Spirit."

Marik's other half snorted. "Spirit. Might as well call him Bakura – your idiot friends still do."

Ryou frowned. "What was your name? When you were alive?"

I shrugged. I sacrificed my name thousands of years ago for revenge.

"You don't remember, do you?"

I shrug again. As if I didn't care, as if it didn't bother me.

"Do . . . do you like the name Bakura?"

I'd never thought if I liked the name or not. It was convenient to use when people wanted to address me. I liked it well enough –

– when Marik said it.

No. Fuck him.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't call you Spirit anymore. You have a body. You're alive now."

"Call me whatever you want. I don't care."

"Bakura is as good a name as any other." Ryou tried to smile.

He's always trying to smile everything better. I really should have stabbed him, and punched Marik in his smug, prick face, and strangled the Pharaoh with Piano wire, but I wouldn't do any of it. Instead, I'd sit on the carpet and stare at the red of my cloak to avoid looking at anything else. I didn't want to be alive. I didn't want to be in a stupid, mortal, living body. I wanted to see my family. Damn the gods, fucking damn them, and fuck Zorc for not being strong enough to destroy everything. Living hurt too much, and I couldn't deal with it anymore.

Ryou looked at the other Marik. "What about you? What should we call you?"

"Mari—" The word strangled in his throat. " . . . I'm not really Marik anymore, am I? Who does that make me? I tried to think about that earlier, but the Pharaoh wouldn't shut his damn mouth." He looked lost, grasping for the name Marik never gave him.

Ryou leaned a little closer to him. "Be whoever you want."

He looked back at Ryou, a facetious grin playing on his plump lips. "Just take a name for myself? Anyone I want?"

"Why not? I mean, who could stop you anyway?"

He nodded. "All right. Call me Kek."

Ryou tried to say the name, but kept pronouncing it Keku, his Japanese tongue demanding another vowel to soften the hard consonant ending. Kek forced him to repeat the word until Ryou said it properly.

"Why Kek?" Ryou wrinkled his nose at the word.

"He was one of the old gods of chaos and darkness."

"Oh you would pick a name like that for yourself."

I smirked. "He was also known as Dawn-Bringer, maybe you're not as dark as you think."

"Shut-up. At least I picked a real name and didn't decide to call myself Ishtar."

Ryou giggled. "That'd be funny, since Ishtar is a fertility goddess."

Kek growled and filled his mouth with a generous bite of hamburger.

"I like Kek. It's a good name," Ryou said.

Kek swallowed and grinned at his hamburger. "Marik would be really pissed off right now if he saw me eating red meat."

I smiled at the thought because I knew it was true. Even in separate bodies, Marik would be pissed, as if Kek was something that still belonged to him and, therefore, needed to follow Marik's specific set of rules.

Ryou sat on the carpet, holding his knees and rocking side to side. "So what should we play?" He looked at me. "Monster World?"

I shook my head no. It was a struggle to hold myself together at the moment and there was no way I could handle an rpg. I never could play a game casually – they always managed to consume me, and I'm like to do anything when the stakes get high. I impaled Ryou's hand into a castle spire during the heat of a game.

At that moment I felt on the verge of unraveling. All the years and all the struggles were wrapped around my throat and if I laughed in victory one moment I'd curl up in a ball and weep the next. I refused to let them see me like that.

That was why I never cared. My whole existence I built the finest walls around my heart, entombing that piece of my soul away from anyone's reach. If you let someone in – if you cared – you became vulnerable. Marik slipped past my defenses and all I could do was sit in Ryou's living room and shake my head 'no' because if I did anything else I was going to shatter.

Ryou gave me a sad smile. "Yeah, I bet you're tired. We'll play that another night. It'll give me more time to pick a good campaign, anyway." He turned his head towards Kek. "Well? Duel Monsters or something else?"

Kek looked surprised. "You – You'd actually play Duel Monsters? With me?"

"Why not? Let's see how tough you are without Shadow Magic and god cards."

"I don't need that stuff to win – it's just more fun to use them."

Ryou waved off Kek's comment and fetched his extra cards so they could both fashion decks. A sneaky smile crept on Ryou's face. "Let's use banned cards."

"Thought we weren't cheating?"

"I didn't say no cheating; I said no Shadow Magic. Besides, there's cards we both like on the banned list."

"Like what?"

"Like Monster Reborn."

"They banned that? Assholes."

Ryou nodded. "And it's not like we're practicing for a tournament, so let's just use the cards we want to make the game more fun."

I watch them play. At first they teased each other and joked. I wondered if either of them realized how badly they were flirting and then decided that the idiots didn't have a clue. Ryou wasn't even being shy about it. He kept using his bare foot to press against Kek's knee if he took too long to pick a card. Kek would swat at Ryou's foot, but I could tell it was an excuse to touch Ryou.

As the game went on, however, their faces hardened and the banter stopped. Occasionally Kek would goad Ryou with an insult, but his efforts were futile. I've seen that look in Ryou's face too many times; he was in game mode and no taunt or insult would pull his mind away from his strategy.

I forgot about Marik for a moment as I watched them play. For the first time since I found myself in Yugi's house, I felt calm enough to relax. Ryou had Dark Necrofear out and her ability won Ryou the game after Kek chose the wrong monster to attack.

Pissed off from losing, Kek grabbed the cards and tossed them into the air. They fluttered down like confetti. He grabbed the notebook they used to keep score and tore at the sheet with his teeth and nails.

Ryou sat oddly calm through the tantrum, looking bored and resting his chin in his hand. "When you're done throwing a fit you can clean my cards up off the floor."

"Fuck you!"

Ryou dropped his hand in order to sit up straight. "Quit acting like a bitch, Kek."

I blinked my eyes at his statement. I felt like he somehow stole my line; the snarky reply was more my style. I looked at my former host. Three years was a long time and I wondered what happened to harden him enough to watch Marik's former alter ego go on a rampage without so much as flinching. The answer cramped my stomach. Nothing. Nothing in the last three years changed him. It was all the shit I put him through. He died twice because of me (well, also because of Kek the second time). Now he's too desensitized to fear either of us.

Kek pushed his face an inch from Ryou. He growled and snarled like a dog, the old, violent, angry instincts overriding his logic.

Ryou poked Kek's nose. "You look like a Sunflora."

It was like Ryou found an off switch. One moment Kek looked like he was going to eat Ryou's face and the next he was blushing and scooping the cards up off of the floor.

"Shuffle your deck because I'm going to kick your ass this time."

Ryou smiled again. "That's more like it."

Well damn, had I known that a cheeseburger, a little flirting, and a Pokemon reference was all it took to chill Marik's alter ego the fuck out, then Battle City would have been a lot easier.

I didn't realize I fell asleep until the door slammed shut. I blinked, groggy.

"We bought you some clothes," Ryou said.

I nodded. I didn't like it. I couldn't pay him for the clothing, but at the time there was nothing I could do except curse the gods for being assholes. I pointed to Kek. "You actually took that bastard to the mall? How'd you manage to keep him from ripping someone's head off?"

Kek bristled at my comment. "I can't just kill people in public, dumb ass. Without Shadow Magic I'd get caught and sent to prison."

"I know, but I didn't think you gave a damn."

Kek frowned at his bags. "Go fuck yourself."

Ryou set his bags down. "Are you up for a card game? I need to cook dinner, but you can play Kek in my place."

Kek laughed. "He's not dumb enough to play against me. Not after our last game."

"I don't know, if Ryou beat you I'm sure I can manage."

"I won the two games after that."

"Yeah, but I won the last game, so we're tied," Ryou said.

I grabbed Ryou's deck. "Let's go, Sunflora."

Kek dropped the bags near the sofa and sat across from me with a snarl curling the corner of his mouth. Apparently, the nickname wasn't as cute when I used it.

Kek gave me the bird. "You go first, jackass."

The last time we dueled we stood on top of a blimp, darkness all around us, wind cutting into our faces, cold slipping through our clothing and numbing everything – including the throbbing stab wound I made in my arm for Marik. In Ryou's apartment light reflected off of our cards, the carpet felt soft and warm. The scar from the knife-wound marred Ryou's arm and not mine. I should have told the gods to fix that – transfer that scar to my body – it was mine not his. He could keep the one on his hand, though. Dirty, cheating, bastard – I won that game by all rights; he just fudged the numbers.

My mind refused to focus on the game. I needed to think, to shore the ruins of my mind with thoughts until I had some semblance of shelter within my own head, but my thoughts turned copper and amethyst as I ignored subscripts on cards. Kek used the special ability on one of his cards to fuck me over and I lost before I could get re-acquainted with my deck. I stared at the zero on my side of the score sheet, and it blurred with all the other games I'd lost, and the best emotional response I could muster was an oh fucking well. Just another game lost, I couldn't remember the last time I won a game.

"Hey." Kek snapped his fingers an inch from my face. I lifted my eyes up to his face and he frowned. "It's no fun trash talking if all you do is stare at the carpet. Say something, you bastard."

"Fuck off," I muttered, staring at the carpet again.

"Dammit, don't say it like that. That sounded pathetic."

I shrugged. I noticed that Kek had a different smell than Marik. Marik wore a smoky cologne with accents of oak. Kek didn't have cologne to wear, but he had a pleasant scent, musky not smoky, and that difference was the only kindness the gods ever gave me.

"Fuck it. That win didn't count. You're not taking me seriously and it's pissing me off."

Ryou walked into the room, balancing plates on his arm. "Everything pisses you off, Kek. Maybe you should try yoga."

"I can't pick a fight with you either. You'd just smile at me."

Ryou answered by smiling. Kek growled in return, but it sounded like pillow-play more than anger.

I took my plate. I wasn't hungry, but I knew if I didn't eat Ryou would fuss and I didn't want to deal with him. I made my best effort against the the plate of noodles, vegetables, and tofu.

"Well at least you're eating." Kek snorted. "I thought you were going to starve yourself like a love-sick bitch."

I frowned. "I will fucking stab you."

"You know," Ryou interrupted, "both of you need to find ways to solve your problems that don't involve games or stabbing people. You'll find there's a lot more to life that those two options."

"But I like both those things." Kek scooped noodles into his mouth, a little awkward with the chopsticks but capable.

It was almost unbearable to watch him act so human. He ate self-consciously, making sure sauce didn't dribble down his face. It reminded me of a habit Marik would have, but I never had a chance to see Marik in a casual environment, one without enemies.

I didn't have to feel much when my soul was bound to the Ring, but as I watched Kek eat, and as I thought of Marik, 3,000 years worth of shit hit me like a post traumatic nightmare. I missed my family. Gods, I wanted to see them again. It was over. The Items returned to the Shadows, the souls of my village freed at last to be judged, and I, too, was judged, and my ib held its own against Ma'at's feather. I should have been in Aaru with my clan, yet the Pharaoh stole my chance to rest . . . but I'll always be known as the thief.

I jumped when Ryou took the plate from my hands, half of the food still on it. "I'll just wrap this up and put it in the fridge for later, okay?"

I nodded without looking at him, staring at the carpet. He grabbed me, pulling me into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Bakura. I'm so sorry they made you come back."

I trembled as the last vestiges of my emotional barriers prepared to crumble to dust. 3,000 years was too long to be strong, even for me. I pushed Ryou away.

"Don't," I choked on the single word, unable to say more.

Ryou released me and disappeared with my plate. When he returned, he held blankets and pillows.

"It's early, but maybe we should turn in. I imagine reincarnation is an exhausting experience."

"It kinda is." Kek's voice was thoughtful. "It's like . . . you can still feel your ib ripped out and waiting to be weighed."

I looked at him because that's exactly how I felt. Like Anubis ripped open my ribcage and weighed my heart, but forgot to close the hole in my chest before sending me back to life.

Ryou tossed a coin to Kek. "Flip it to see who gets the couch, okay? I'll see you both in the morning." He snatched one last, brief hug from me, then he attacked Kek with an embrace.

Kek gasped, shocked. Eyes wide, horrified circles of enameled purple. He'd probably never really been touched before today. It wasn't like Rishid or Ishizu would have hugged him. Ryou seemed to sense it. He allowed the embrace to last a little too long before pulling away. "Goodnight, Kek."

He made a noise instead of a reply, fingers twitching as if they wanted to hold Ryou in return but didn't quite dare to move on their own. Ryou vanished into the hallway and we were left staring at each other. For a long time we said nothing.

Kek's lips finally twitched in a pained smile. "Little bastard sure is crazy."

"You have no idea," I answered dryly.

"It must be nice . . . having an other half like that. Marik's a real asshole, right?"

I stared at the carpet.

"For what it's worth – which I know is nothing – I think it's bullshit that the gods forced you to come back with us. You should have gotten to pass on."

"Oh, but we can't have the thief going to Aaru and not their precious avatar."

"No shit. That's why I picked one of the Ogdoad for my namesake. The new gods are so pretentious."

He fiddled with his deck of Duel Monster cards, shuffling them to keep his hands busy. "I really don't understand why Marik didn't want to see you. I mean I'm one thing, but . . ." He grew quiet. When he spoke again, his cheeks darkened and he whispered as if he didn't want to hear his own words. "Everything he repressed got shoved into my head, so . . . I, um, I know how he felt . . ."

I could neither cope with his words nor endure the gentleness in his tone – a gentleness Marik never used when he spoke. My heart hurt. A soft, stabbing pain shot from my chest to my limbs. My breathing sounded loud and shallow in my ears. I began to hyperventilate. I missed my family, and after hearing Kek's words I missed Marik even more. The memories of my family had faded over time, but Domino City was a fresh and bleeding wound in my chest. The words flew out of my mouth despite my efforts to hold them in. "I—I don't understand . . . I knew he used people and threw them away, but I didn't think he'd ever do that to me."

Kek scooted closer until our faces almost touched. "He relied on you, but he wasn't using you, not like the others."

I clenched my hands into fists. "I can't do this. 3,000 years is too long. Ma'at lied. She lied. She said he'd come back, but he's not. The gods need to take me home. I don't . . . I can't . . ."

Struggling to breathe, I never noticed Kek bridge the gap between us. My eyes burned with tears that I would not shed, but I felt his warm hands on each side of my face. Then his lips were wet against my mouth. His kiss was sloppy, and his mouth over extended mine a little. By the time he pulled back I could breathe again, but I felt dizzy and confused. The look on his face was more shocked than I imagined mine to be.

"Why the fuck did I just do that?" He tugged at the spikes of his hair, distressed. "I fucking hate you. You're an asshole. Why? Why did I?" He scrambled back a few feet. "It's probably some stupid, suppressed echo from when I shared a head with Marik. Fuck him. Gods, I hate him."

I laughed. That was all there was to do. "Can you imagine how pissed Marik would be if he'd seen that? He's thrown us both to the wolves, but he's the type of jealous, possessive asshole that would fume at the thought of us getting cozy."

Kek looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It'd almost be worth fooling around to piss him off. Y'know, to show the prick what he's missing out on."

I could only think about how much I hurt and how much I wanted to do something, anything, to make it stop. At least Kek's hands were warm and at that moment I was desperate for warmth. "Okay."

He shook his head. "Okay what?"

"Let's do it."

"Do what?" He stared at me, confused. He was still too puzzled over the kiss to catch my meaning.

I pulled off my crimson robe and crawled towards Kek. Revenge was all I really knew about living and I'd already proven that there was no limit to what I'd do to balance the scales.

Kek's throat clicked as he swallowed, his eyes bright as stars. "I . . . but . . . don't we hate each other?"

"Who do you hate more? Me or Marik?"

He snorted. "Marik."

"Well then let's go. Unless you're holding out for Ryou?"

"What?" he gasped, blushing.

Ha, actually blushing. Hilarious.

He shook his head as if to hide it. "No. Of course not. Fuck it." A sigh petered out from his lips and he looked at me. He shrugged and pulled the black tank top up over his disarray of yellow spikes, dropping the shirt to the floor. "Let's do this."

I finished crawling to him as he shifted out of his khakis. He pulled the wrap away from my waist and it slipped to the carpet. We knelt in front of each other. I stared at our knees. Kek's skin looked like garam marsala; my skin looked like the crust of fresh-baked, brown bread. Our hands each rested on our knees. We both stared at our fingers instead of each other. It was my stupid idea, but I wasn't really sure what to do.

Kek took initiative, shifting his hands from his knees to the top of my hands. The touch, the feel of skin against my skin, snapped me out of my trance. I looked up at him and I realized that his eyes were a shade darker than Marik's and he looked sick with terror. If Ammit appeared, her jaws the gate of oblivion, and lunged towards us – I had no doubt that Kek would meet her charge head on, laughing like a maniac and rejoicing in the strife of battle. But this human connection was too unknown to him – to either of us – so we sat without moving for a long time.

Being strong meant your defenses were good enough not to be touched; therefore, neither one of us knew what to do. I was a coward, at least Kek had to nerve to grab my hand. It was my stupid idea, I needed to implement it. With my free hand, I traced up his thigh. His breath hitched and a strange sense of excitement eddied through me at the sound. I'm used to my plans for revenge failing, and couldn't help but wonder if I would regret my actions in the morning. As my hand explored an experimental path up his brown, taut belly and chest, I vowed that – just like all my other failed plans – I would regret nothing.

His fingers brushed over my hands in a timid attempt to return my caresses. I leaned forward and he jerked back in reflex. My eyes looked up at him. His jaw set in a determined expression and he moved in for another soft, awkward kiss.

This wasn't what I expected. One would think two assholes like us would know how to go at it – growls and teeth and fingernails carving new scars into our backs. Fucking Marik's alter ego out of spite should have been a wild ride, but we were still learning how to kiss. We broke apart and wiped the spit from our mouths. When we pushed back together our lips lined up a little better. Gaining momentum, our hands wandered over each other's bodies. At first I avoided his back. It didn't seem like I should touch his scars, but Kek traced his fingers along my spine and after a while my fingers slipped across his shoulder blades. He didn't pull away, but a little moan snuck out of his mouth. The longer we kissed the bolder I felt until I was grabbing at his scars and sucking his lips like my existence depended on the ferocity of my actions.