Show Me the Way from Crazy
Eleven
The Darkest Hour

(a.n. – Wahoo! I actually updated faster than I normally do. What's wrong with me? Ah well – not gonna question. Urm . . . this might be a bit odd. Dunno why – perhaps the fact that I was watching Gravitation while writing it could have something to do with it. ^_^;; What a weird show. But it's my favorite show [sorry to all you die-hard YGO fans]. Heh – if you don't know what it is – DOWNLOAD IT! Right. I'll stop being the Gravi promo girl. Onward!)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Note: This is completely AU. Nothing in the series has happened in this. Well . . . kinda. Everything up to Battle City has . . . I guess. But besides that – nothing! Heh heh – just to clear up confusion . . . Oh! And another thing, I will be switching the point of view every chapter (don't worry – only between two people) because well, it's better to get everyone's perspective, right? Heh heh – and this is shounen-ai . . . if you have a problem – why the hell are you reading it?
Key: Again, as usual.
//Yami no Malik to Malik//
/Malik to Yami no Malik/
\\Yami no Bakura to Ryou\\
\Ryou to Yami no Bakura\

Review Replies:
onlyHAUNTED: I don't think that you're bad at typing. Heehee – but after I said this, I did get a flame for my Yuu-Yuu Hakusho story. Man, that one amused me. The person couldn't type for crap. I'm still not sure what they were trying to tell me. ^_^;; Ah well. It's still there – if you need a good laugh. Thanks so much for reviewing; you do lots and I love you for that.
Kawaii Kuroi Mahotsukai: ^.^ Yay. I love all of my compliments. Thanks heaps. And my computer no longer hates me – thank the Goddess. ^_^ Thanks for your concern and the review.
Firefreak Ryuuka: Bwah hah hah! I wish I made them all up. I do have a book of "Lizzie-isms" if anyone's interested. No, I'm kidding (about the you being interested part – the book really does exist) urrrrmmm – I just got them from random quote sites. There's many good ones.
Blood Roses 1: Change of . . . penname? *Notices the 1* Ah well – prolly ff.net hating the world again. Heehee – and I haven't read many stories with Ryou's dad in it at all. O.o;; Ah well. And yes, yes the "psycho" title does fit him quite well.
Lady Shriannan Santrea: Sugoi! I love first-timers. O.o;; That makes me sound . . . hentai? Okay – urm, well: Welcome to the wonderful world of Malik/Ryou shounen-ai! ^_^ Ahh, hai, hai – quotes can be touching. I'm glad you like my story. ^_^

"In the darkest hour, the soul is replenished and given strength to continue and endure."

Malik's POV

            Ryou had gone downstairs to sort things out with his dad, and I was sitting on the bed, thinking things through. I had almost told him about everything that happened. Luckily, he seemed to believe half of the truth.

            Bakura had snuck downstairs, just outside of the kitchen, trying to hear the fight. Ryou caught him though, and the last I heard him he was stalking down the hall mumbling something about how he was "loosing his touch" and how no one should shame the "King of Thieves." Baka.

            The voices of Ryou and his dad had grown considerably louder, and I could hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Apparently his dad didn't like me. Ah well.

            I had gotten changed out of my pajamas a little while ago, and once the yelling stopped, I presumed that the fight was over, and went downstairs.

            I reached the bottom floor. No one was around. Creeping towards the kitchen, I still heard no one and saw nothing.

            Everything was silent on the ground floor. Strange. I expected some sort of talk. I walked over to the kitchen, pushed open the swinging door, and froze. Just as I had opened the door, Ryou's dad threw an empty liquor bottle at him. The sound of glass rang in my ears. Shit. He was obviously drunk. A streak of red appeared across Ryou's face where a shard of the rebounding glass bottle hit the wall and then his cheek.

            I felt the anger boiling up inside of me. Bastard. No one hurts Ryou. Before I knew it, I was loosing control of myself. I was pushed back inside . . . my yami was out.

            Before I knew it or could protest against anything, he was striding across the kitchen.

            "Malik?" I heard Ryou say in the back of my mind; he sounded very far away. He was far away.

            I knew that I probably looked recognizably different; a more evil appearance. Hopefully Ryou would figure out that this wasn't me; he had a yami, he must know how these things work.

            While I had been panicking, my yami had taken the sharpest knife he could find out of the silverware drawer.

            //You want me to get rid of the baka's dad first?// He questioned, seemingly excited about being able to kill. He makes me sick.      

            /Don't kill anyone!/ I protested, worrying that Ryou would hate me – if he was still alive – after this.

            Ignoring my stupid pleas, he advanced on Ryou's father, who had a look of pure terror written across his face. Usually after I saw that look on people's faces through my yami's eyes, they were dead soon after.

            Oh, Ra, please don't let him kill them. Ry's dad may be a bastard, but I can't decide who dies and who lives; and no one deserves death. It's a permanent decision – whether you made it or someone else made it for you. I'm not a god; I can't decide these things for other people. However, my yami seems to think that he is God.

            Turning my attention back to what my yami was doing with my body, I noticed that Ryou's father had a couple of cuts across his arms, and a small one along his right cheek. Crimson drops were falling to the floor slowly, making a faintly audible sound of a splatter each time one fell. It was sickening. The silver knife was being held against his throat. Sadistic bastard; my yami likes to cause as much pain and fear that's in his possession to do so.

            I heard Ryou yelling in the background; he was crying. Ryou. Once Yami finished off his dad, he'd go and kill Ryou. I don't care what happens to me; I'll die for Ryou. Without him, I might as well be dead.

            I need to be back in control. But how?! He was born of my anger . . . so – maybe being happy would drive him back. But what do I have to be happy about?

            'You have Ryou,' a little voice in the back of my head said. Oh gods. There's more voices?! Brushing it aside as my long overdue, delayed reaction conscience, I directed all of my attention into thinking about Ryou.

            I can't do this without him. He's so . . . innocent and beautiful. I want to be with him forever, and I would never get bored or tired of looking at him. He captivates me like no one else has and will be able to. And if . . . and if . . . he dies, then . . . I'll be alone again. I don't want to be alone. Oh please gods, don't put that misery in my life again.

            I squeezed my eyes shut, and when they were re-opened, I saw Ryou's dad looking at me; hardened brown eyes shaking with fear. My yami was gone . . . but how? I wasn't very happy. I was sad . . . but . . . full of love. Love must have done it. I've never loved anyone like this before.

            I became vaguely aware that the knife was still to the man who screwed everything up, the one who hurt Ryou . . .

            //Kill him.//

            I shook my head. No. He wasn't coming back out. I dropped the knife; it narrowly missed Ryou's father's booted foot. I sank down on my knees and began crying the tears that I've been holding back for too many years.

            Each tear that fell down and splashed against the blue tiled floor represented every single one of my faults; my insecurities and weaknesses. It also reminded me about how much danger I was to Ryou. If I had only left before . . . it would all be okay now. But it's not okay; I don't know what to do. I can't face anyone – not after this.

            I felt someone kneel down beside me. I stiffened when they put their arm around me. I knew from the gentleness of the touch that it must be Ryou. Isn't he furious at me?

            "Ryou!" I heard his dad's voice shout, "Stay away from that – that psychopath!"     

            He should get away from me. I'm a danger to everyone; I should be an island, but instead I'm still here in society.

            "No." Came Ryou's quiet but determined voice. Doesn't he know what he's doing?!

            There was a shocked kind of silence. "Well . . . I HOPE HE KILLS YOU THEN!" And with that, the man that I had known for such a little amount of time, yet still didn't like, stalked out of the kitchen, grabbed a dishtowel on his way out, threw open the front door, and then moments later slammed it shut after him.

            Ryou's other arm wrapped around me, and for a while he just held me, on the kitchen floor – which had a mixture of tears and blood on it – while I cried endlessly.

            "Ryou . . ." I mumbled after a good while.

            "I'm here." He said reassuringly.

            "You need to get away from me."

            "No, I don't."

            "But you know now that I'm dangerous."

            "I also know that wasn't you . . . your yami, right?"

            I was a bit shocked, "How did you know?"

            "Bakura." That cleared up some stuff.

            "I'm still dangerous."

            "I don't care. I'd be more miserable if you left." He said, resting his chin on the top of my head.

            "I . . . I don't want to kill you." I muttered, probably sounding crazy.

            "You stopped him this time."

            "But what if I can't the next time?" That was my worst fear.

            "You can . . ." He kissed the top of my head. "I have faith in you."

            Sometimes faith may not be enough. But I don't want to go away. I'd be miserable too, if I was away from Ryou for longer then what was absolutely necessary. But . . . maybe – maybe if I believe – it'll all turn out right. I love Ryou, and I have no plans to change that anytime soon. I can win against Yami if I just use love. My love. For Ryou.

            "I – I . . . I suppose you're right." I finally admitted to him, and attempted to make myself believe t.

            "If you can't believe in that," Ryou whispered in my ear, "Believe in me."

            That was something I could definitely do.

            I stood up, Ryou following suit. "I'm . . . gonna talk to Bakura." I said, thinking that maybe he'd know something about this.

            "All right," He said, smiling at me. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." He kissed me on the cheek quickly and then bounded up the stairs.

            Staring after him for a few moments, a small smiled played on my lips. Eventually I went walking around the house, searching for Bakura. It was amazing how much of a mood changer Ryou was.

            I located Bakura in the living room, watching TV, seemingly uninterested.

            "Bakura," I began meekly, worried that he was going to be mad at me or want to kick me out.

            "You know, they don't put the camera on drunks who run out onto the ball fields to discourage copycats, and yet they televise police chases. I don't understand it." He said, flicking off the TV. He then turned to me. "I'm not mad at you. I know that you don't have lots of control over him and that you somehow stopped him."

            I blinked. He could be the most random person at times, and sometimes he could be so philosophical and understanding. "I – uh – so you saw everything?"

            He nodded. "So how did you do it? How did you manage to get him back in your control?"

            I sighed. "Truthfully, I have no idea. I guess it was just my love for Ry and my will to not let my yami hurt him."

            Bakura smiled a bit. "That's good."

            "But," I started – something else was bothering me, "What about Ryou's dad? Does he really hate him – and me – that much?

            Bakura looked thoughtful for a bit. "I know he only yelled and hurt Ryou because he was drunk. I'm pissed off about it, yes, but he didn't mean what he said. I'm not so sure about you though. Especially after what your yami pulled."

            "That's a given." I mumbled.

            "Your yami," He started, pausing a bit to think, "He . . . he came about from your anger?"

            "Yeah . . ." I said slowly, wondering what he was getting at.

            "Well, as you know, I'm from Egypt. And well, I used to rob tombs and stuff back then; I was known as the 'King of Thieves,'" At this point, he smiled a bit, seemingly proud of his title, "And . . . in one certain pyramid, there was a 'prophecy' written on the wall, but I didn't take much note of it, because I was never one to believe in prophecies."           

            "So what did it say?" I inquired, growing impatient at his pensive, and probably recollecting, pause.

            "Hold on," He sighed, "It was about a boy . . . from the desert of the sun. He – he would have some force going against him, keeping him from loving something pure. And the whole thing is supposed to end in suicide. I don't know why anyone would make a prophecy about something so trivial; I think it was depicting how all love is illicit, or maybe they were just telling their own story. I don't know, but it said that – down the very bottom, where the wall was faded – that the course of this struggle would change a world in some way." He finished, still looking a bit disbelieving about the whole thing.

            I laughed a bit.

            "What?" He questioned.

            I stood up. "I was never one to believe in prophecies."

            "Good," I could just feel him smiling at the back of my head, "That way the future's fate can truly unfold. It has always been my strong belief that you make your own tomorrow by what you do today."

            "It makes more sense that way." I replied.

            "Eh, then go make your tomorrow better." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. I turned to look at him quizzically. "Go tell Ryou that you love him." He smiled.

            Not everything is perfect, and I'm beginning to accept that. I can't do anything to fix some things that don't involve me, but I can and will change what I can. The future isn't set in stone. What would be the fun, and inspiration, of living if it were?

"Sometimes, we must get hurt in order to grow; we must fail in order to know; sometimes our vision clears only after our eyes are washed with tears."

(a.n. – Yay. This chapter is done. And so soon after the next one. Oh, be proud of me – I'm actually doing good at updating! It won't be finished before school starts again though. I go back the 7th. Yay for that; I actually start late. It's one of the perks of going to a private school: start late, get out early. -.- The ONLY perk of private school. Damn forcing parents. Okay . . . well, I'll attempt to update real soon again. Please review!)