Yo guys! This is SeventhDaughter speaking. Tramontana is on vacation and will not be available for the next… hic… three weeks… hic hic… gives up and breaks down in tears. Oh god, why did she have to leave me? I miss her so much!
Yeah, well. There ya go. And she didn't even have the good graces to take me to Italy with her.
So, review responses…. Here we go:

Tsuki-neko-chan: thank you very much for the offer. If I ever run out of ideas, which seems… rather unlikely… I'll think about it.

Kami anya: Kaiba is, well, Kaiba. Couldn't help but make him cute : ). And I'll be sure to let Tramontana know that everyone loves OtP. She'll be thrilled… she works sooo hard on it.

Obsessed Uber Rei: please don't go into cardiac arrest! That sounds dangerous, and we do try our best. But with finals and vacations and time-pressing last-minute emergencies that pop up all the time, not to mention the fact that our country's gone all to hell, we've had less and less time to write. So here's the next chapter for you! Hold on till the next one!

DojomistressAmbyChan: Bakura…. Screw…. Malik…. Those three words in the same sentence are just too much! But then, if I didn't feel that way, I wouldn't be writing malikXbakura fanfiction now, would I? Enjoy this next chapter! It has a bit of interaction between our two favourite bishies, but I won't tell you any more….

Yay! Everybody loooooves Misconception. Gee, can't think why…. No, don't go away, the chapter is coming right up! Thank you for your patience, peeps! Now ooooooon with the fic!

p.s.
Please excuse the minor cursing in this chappie. Sorry, we couldn't help oureselves.

Chapter Thirteen

Malik woke up unusually early that morning. This might have been brought about by the large python that had appeared at some point during the night, and was now wrapped securely around him. Then again, it might not have. Malik blinked sleepily at the triangular face in front of him. "Hi Binky," he mumbled. Binky blinked back, and yawned. He shoved his wide mouth, filled with rows of dangerous looking teeth, in Malik's face.

Malik gulped. I didn't know snakes yawned, he thought. I didn't know snakes could blink, either.

Just out of spite, Binky blinked at him again.

Malik groaned and pushed the snake off him, annoyed at being awake so early, but knowing he wouldn't be able to get any more sleep anyway. He tiptoed silently over to Ryou's room, and was unsurprised to find that his boyfriend was still sleeping. With another silent yawn, Malik lifted his shirt above his head and tossed it in the general direction of Ryou's laundry basket. He'd worn it the day before and all night too, so it was high time he put on something else. Malik looked around Ryou's room, wondering which of his clothes he should take. It didn't occur to him that some people might mind somebody rooting through their things while they were sleeping. Malik pulled open a drawer, picking through the immaculately folded shirts, only to close it and open another. Several minutes were enough for him to confirm that Ryou had absolutely NO fashion sense whatsoever. And the shirt he had cut up those weeks ago to improve it was missing, too. Oh well, there were plenty of other shirts. Malik chose another blue-striped shirt out of one of the now-messy drawers, and carried it downstairs to 'fix it up'.

Malik had been absent from Ryou's bedroom not ten minutes when the white-haired boy rolled over with a mumble and promptly fell out of bed. He hit something squishy. It hissed at him. His eyes opened with an almost audible snap and he shook his head, trying to clear the six or so snakes that danced around his head. "Oww," he moaned softly. He sat up and stared straight into the open bottom drawer of his dresser. The morning was definitely not looking up, he thought unhappily as he surveyed the mess.

The problem was, there wasn't enough time for him to actually clean it up and still get to school on time. With a sigh, Ryou resolved to leave the mess for later, and meanwhile deal with the obvious culprit. Ryou trudged downstairs, to find said culprit innocently drinking hot chocolate by the kitchen table. All thought of the mess in his room was blasted clear out of his mind when he beheld the travesty before him.

"MALIK!"

The Egyptian looked up, blinking innocently.

"Morning, Ryou. I made a cup of hot chocolate for you too," he said.

"I won't be bought by your foul schemes!" Ryou thundered. "I will make you pay for the murder of another innocent shirt!"

"Oh, piffle." Malik shifted comfortable in his chair. "Come on, we've been through this before. The shirt is still yours, and for that matter, it isn't innocent."

Ryou blinked. "What? How is it not innocent?"

Malik rolled his eyes. "Honestly. Day in day out it rubs itself all over your upper body, and you call it innocent?"

Ryou turned scarlet. "Malik!"

His boyfriend just laughed at the look on his face, with his yami joining in.

Malik got up, and in one swift, graceful motion pulled Ryou to him and kissed him, smiling slightly at the cute squeak his boyfriend let out.

"There. Does that make up for it?"

Ryou ducked his head, hiding his blush. Much as he loved having Malik for a boyfriend, sometimes the other's obvious knowledge and experience was intimidating, and he sure as heck didn't want it to show.

Malik returned to his hot chocolate as if nothing at all had happened.

Ryou stared at him, then suddenly remembered the mess in his room. "MALIK! YOU KILLED MY ROOM! MY POOR, INNOCENT ROOM! DIE, FIEND!"

On the way back from school, Ryou seemed preoccupied. Malik didn't notice it too much, being how he was hurrying them both home at a much faster speed than usual, trying to shake the people he just knew were shadowing them. (That knowledge might have had something to do with the crowd following them, while laughing loudly and cracking jokes, and the car inching alongside them where the driver was sharing popcorn with the passengers. They had offered Malik and Ryou some, but the two had declined.)

When they finally locked the door on Ryou's apartment, Malik breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes, willing away the feelings of desperation that being cornered caused, then followed Ryou into the kitchen. Ryou, shifting through the fridge, pulled out a pan of carrot quishe and set it on the table. He glanced at Malik, and decided he was brave enough to take the next step. "Malik."

"Hmm?" Malik, busy setting the kitchen table for two, didn't look up.

Ryou gulped, and then continued. "Listen, I know that we haven't known each other for very long at all..."

At this, Malik looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"But, I think that it's the best thing to do... I know that I'm still technically a minor, but I really feel like I can make this decision for myself, you know?" Ryou was a little nervous about what he wanted to ask.

"Uh, sure...?" Malik wasn't quite sure what Ryou was getting at. But he thought he might be able to hazard a guess. "Ryou..." he began, looking hopeful. "You'd really let me?"

"Well, yes, if you want to..." Ryou said, hardly believing it.

Malik jumped up, grasping both of Ryou's hands. "Of course I want to! I'd love to!"

Ryou smiled shyly. "I guess we'd better go and get your things from your old house, then?"

"There's not that much to bring, I lived in a pretty dinky place... I'm so glad I'll be living with you permanently!" Malik enthused.

"Can I still come with you to help get your stuff?"

"Uh..." Malik didn't want Ryou to see his old house, not to mention neighborhood, but after all Ryou had done for him...how could he refuse? "Sure, you can come."

Ryou tried not to stare and give away his shock, but still threw wide-eyed glances every which way as he trotted behind Malik on their way to Malik's house. The neighborhood was... well, he supposed dingy was a nice way to put it.

Malik hurried through the filthy narrow streets at a fast pace,

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" he asked

Malik sighed. "YES, Ryou. I TOLD you it was a nasty neighborhood, remember? What were my words, again?"

"Uh, the Supreme Hellhole at the Bottom of the Sewer at the End of the Universe?"

"Exactly. And that's where we are."

Ryou stepped forward and grabbed Malik's hand. "I don't like it here," he said softly. Who knew what lurked in the deep shadows of the alleys? He glanced down one alley as they passed, shuddering. Shadows danced all along its length, elongating and shortening in a macabre dance of fear and darkness. Bakura snorted at the eloquency of his mental description. Ryou mentally smacked his alter-ego. Ryou tried to ignore the shadows, and the amused derision he could feel emanating from Bakura. When you thought about it, the shadows were pretty bad dancers. Very bad, he thought, as one shadow disconnected itself from the wall and attached itself to the opposite wall. They couldnt even keep together.

Wait a minute. That wasnt a shadow!

"Malik! The shadow dancers! They're not shadows!" Ryou yelped, latching on to his boyfriend.

Malik stared at him. "What?"

Ryou flushed, and organized his thoughts. "We're being followed!"

"I know," Malik answered. "I was trying to keep them from finding out we knew."

"Why didn't you tell me!" Ryou hissed.

"Because I - too late," he muttered as an arm swung out of the darkness toward his head. He dodged to the side with graceful ease that bespoke much practice, dragging Ryou down with him.

Ryou gasped as he hit his knees painfully on the sidewalk, but Malik tucked and rolled, springing up in front of Ryou, automatically crouched protectively over his friend. (A/N: ehm. coughcough. boyfriend).

Five people stepped out of the shadows, and it was immediately obvious they were of a different breed than Malik and Ryou's daytime stalkers. They were big, their faces were cold, and they carried swords. Malik didn't like the odds at all.

Malik decided to take the offensive; maybe he could confuse them enough to nail them with some of his throwing knives. He sincerely hoped they were not well-trained individuals.

The first skirmish was a flurry of sparks and movement until Malik jumped away from them, panting. He had a small gash on one arm, but their attackers had backed away warily, and one was down with a knife in his throat. Malik felt a chill wash over him. The man was definitely dead. What if Ryou had seen?

The remaining four began to circle around him and Ryou. Malik grasped his last knife in a loose fist, shifting into another combat position. Then there was a familiar presence at his back, and that low, sexy growl of Bakura's that both excited and frightened him, "let's kick some arrogant ass." Malik felt the old feelings wash over him, relief mixed with a feral kind of joy.

"You take the left two," he answered flippantly, and lunged.

Bakura floored his first with a neat kick that shattered the goon's kneecap, followed by a downward chop on the neck as the goon headed for the floor. The second took slightly longer, but he finished them as fast as he could so he could watch Malik fight. He loved the way Malik's blonde hair flew crazily, like a halo in the dark, as Malik's body moved in a lethal dance of death, a wild look on his face. Three minutes, and they were the only two left standing. Malik straightened up, a slightly blood-crazed look on his face, and turned toward Bakura's moonlit form. Something was missing, he mused, something that would make Bakura look perfect. He stepped forward, and ran one bloody finger down Bakura's pale cheek, leaving a vivid trail against the milky white skin. Perfect. "Blood looks good on you."

Bakura tried to disguise the rapid beating of his heart by looking away, and gave a small snort. "Honestly. And you say you've changed."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Malik jerked back, reason suddenly returning, as he realized what he had done.

His first reaction was to lash out, landing a stinging slap on Bakura's cheek.

His second reaction was to run. He had to get away. Before he realized what a completely disgusting person he was. Before he thought about the fact that he had just murdered a person. Before he thought about how it didn't matter what he did, because there could be no salvation for someone as low as him.

Bakura stood frozen, uncomprehending, a red hand-shaped mark discoloring the fair skin of his cheek, until he registered that Malik was running. Bakura cursed and tore after the Egyptian. Malik was running again, running away, and he wasn't sure there was anything he could say to fix things up but he'd be damned if he'd let Malik get away again. A cold knot of fear formed in his stomach as he remembered the night Malik had tried to get run over.

Malik headlong rush was finally stopped when he tripped over something and fell, and at that point he no longer had any energy left to get up and keep running.

He stayed there, on his knees, as he sensed Bakura come close, and finally stop next to him.

"Malik! Are you...?"

"You're right," Malik cut in. "I'm such an idiot. Of course I haven't changed. I'm the same fucking dirty criminal I was before."

"That's not true," Bakura retorted.

"Yes, it is. I should have known, dammit, I should have known that changing was impossible! I was never worth anything before, and I'm not worth anything now."

"You're talking nonsense!" Bakura snapped. Malik looked up at him, and Bakura did not like the look in his eyes at all.

"It's nice of you to say that, even if it's not true. Because, if you knew...if you could see into my head...you'd know that I'm worthless! I almost wish you could, just so you would know that I'm right! But I'm selfishly glad you can't, because this way you don't completely hate me, don't know how bad I really am..."

He actually believes this shit, Bakura thought with horror. He knelt and grabbed Malik's shoulders. "Stop talking nonsense, ok? It's fine. I don't hate you, and I don't plan on it. We're gonna go home now, ok?" He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make Malik see truth and act like the normal Malik. Heck, even the tight-assed way Malik had been treating him just a short while ago was better than this. Malik sounded so miserable, and with the way he was speaking so seriously, he would have sounded completely rational if not for the crazy things he was saying.

Malik didn't resist as Bakura pulled him upright, but his smile was sad and sardonic, because he knew that Bakura couldn't see into his mind after all. At least Bakura didn't know about the awful things he was, right? That was something.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Malik, and he grabbed Bakura's shoulders. "Ryou! Does Ryou know? Did he see!"

Bakura shook his head, and Malik dropped his arms, sighing with relief. "He doesn't know... good... God, I'm such a liar!" He should tell Ryou, tell him and get it all over with. Because he knew Ryou would hate him if he knew.

Bakura took a deep breath. "Malik, I don't think you should be looking at if you have or haven't changed. You should look at who you are now, and what you have now. You've got friends, and you've got Ryou, and me, and you've got your family out there somewhere, and we all care about you, no matter what you think about yourself. And I wouldn't lie to you about that. " He felt like throwing up from all the mush he was spouting, but if it made Malik go back to normal... well, then it was worth it.

Besides, he reflected, every inch of what he'd said was true.

Without looking at him, Malik raised his head with a deep breath. His eyes caught on the stars, tiny pinpoints of light twinkling so high above them. He closed his eyes and grasped Bakura's shoulder, pulling himself to his feet.

"Let's go." He walked away in the direction of his building without looking to see if Bakura followed, his steps as heavy as the weight in his chest.