"I'll talk to him."

Marik took a deep breath and shuffled from foot to foot; he was clearly uncomfortable and put on the spot. His head bobbed left and right and his lips moved slightly as if he were talking to himself. Clearly, he was. Bakura could tell he didn't often switch on command like this, and especially not for an audience. Bakura held his breath involuntarily as the Egyptian suddenly stumbled backward, his hands cradling his head as if he were in pain.

When he stood upright again, it really did seem like a different person. He stretched his arms over his head and twisted his neck back and forth a few times as if he were unaccustomed to a human form and was testing its mobility. He cracked his knuckles and let his hands drop to his sides, going completely still. His eyes moved as if he were having a relatively involved conversation that had nothing to do with the person in front of him but otherwise was frozen solid. Bakura assumed it was harder for this personality to control the body, as Marik could move like normal when he was talking to his alter; except for just now, Bakura couldn't even tell when he was doing it. His hair was obviously not immediately spiking into large points to seemingly escape its own body as he had last seen this personality - he must have spent some time to style his hair that way during Battle City. His posture was much more relaxed than Marik's, his neutral expression no longer held Marik's usual dramatic demand for respect and attention; it was softer now, something Bakura didn't expect, more genuine and less guarded. His eyes were naturally set in a glare but malice was not otherwise being conveyed. His stance was wider and there was something in the aura about him, like he was a force to be reckoned with. Bakura found himself looking back to his face after studying him for some time and met intelligent, aware eyes staring back at him with undivided attention.

It was hard to describe looking into the eyes of a monster who stole his friend's body.

"Long time no see," Bakura flinched instinctively at Marik's voice, cursing himself inwardly for allowing fear to cross his features for even a second. He paused, no, it wasn't Marik's voice. It was an octave or two deeper, it didn't hold the sarcastic charm it usually had; this voice belonged to a stranger, it was blunt and held a dark humor Marik could only wish to achieve. This voice sent chills up Bakura's spine. This was the voice of a dangerous animal.

Marik, no Marik's head tilted in thought, a wide grin spread across his face, "What is the matter, Bakura? Cat got your tongue?"

Bakura finally snapped out of his thoughts. He hardened his glare and clenched his fists, "Why are you still here?" his voice dripped venom.

Marik seemed to take no offense to Bakura's tone, his expression unchanging. It was as if a robot had been trained to act human but wasn't quite in the realm of believability yet, the way this creature held poses and expressions for too long without moving. "Why would I not be here? You lost the duel and Marik needs me."

Torn between which parts of that sentence irritated Bakura more, he set his jaw and growled, "Marik does not need you."

A laugh that could most certainly not be considered human sent shivers down Bakura's spine, everything about this encounter was triggering Bakura's fight or flight response and god damn did he want to attack this monster. "You could not be more wrong, 'Kura. Marik created me. I am everything Marik wishes he could be." The beast abusing Marik's vocal cords gestured broadly at himself as if to make his point, "I am strong. I am reliable. I am protective. I am able to execute difficult decisions for us. If it was not for me, we would still be in that gods-forsaken tomb!"

Bakura saw red and took two steps towards the animal disguised in human flesh, "You tried to kill him."

Marik waved a hand dismissively, "I knew he could not die in that battle, Bakura, do not be foolish. I even knew you would not be killed, so take no further offense. I have no desire to be the only personality, or even the dominant one. Everyday life is so…boring."

"Somehow, I don't believe a damn word you're saying," the pale boy glared up at the creature in front of him.

"Why is it my problem that you are dense and distrustful?" Bakura hated that unapologetic grin.

Marik took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender and bowing his head slightly. It was far too similar to how the other Marik did, not even ten minutes before. Bakura was almost too distracted by the shocking juxtaposition to listen to what he was saying "-no desire to hurt you or Marik, no matter how much you insist I do. What do I have to gain from that? Nothing." Marik paused, his face lost all of its humor and turned stoic. "I have nothing to gain from hurting Marik, but I have everything to lose. If Marik takes that damned medicine, I can never have any influence over him or this body again. It will not kill me, but it will torture me. Compare it to your imprisonment in the Ring, for context."

Bakura's anger flared again, his tone venomous, "Do not compare me to you."

"But are we not similar?" Marik stepped towards him, his hands held up, palms facing his opponent in submission to not incite violence, "Demons possessing vessels that do not belong to us, bodies that we are forced to help keep alive as our own or lose what little view and influence of the world we have been given. And, even now, we share a goal – to keep Marik alive and well."

Bakura resisted every urge he has in his body to punch him square in the jaw. That wouldn't just hurt this Marik, but the other one as well. He paused. On second thought, they both deserved it. He still refrained and managed to calm his raging temper, "…I will admit you make a fair point."

"You see now why Marik is not threatened by me any longer?" His eyes sparkled in a way that was disturbing when combined with his other features; it was almost like a childish hopefulness. Bakura was taken aback, forced to remember that this version of Marik was only eleven years old despite how educated he was.

"No." Bakura was blunt and took small amusement in watching Marik's face fall into an annoyed frown, "You said it yourself, you're a demon."

"As are you."

"I was a demon, my soul was merged with a creature of great darkness. In my current state, I gained my humanity again," Bakura stood tall, a smirk playing across his lips, "You were created from darkness and will never be the same as me."

"Does Marik know of that?" Marik asked suddenly, an intelligent grin growing on his face and Bakura felt as if he walked straight into a trap.

"Surely he must, he was a Tomb keeper of the Pharaoh."

Marik tisked condescendingly, "So, you never told him." At Bakura's sharp glare, he continued, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, 'Kura, but I have any potentially negative memories not on a need-to-know basis from his birth to his tenth birthday. He never did like the story of Kul Elna as a child - too sad – he willingly gave that away when I was born. He knows not of the legends surrounding the origin of the Sennen Items, the Great Thief King Bakura, or the Final Battle that took place when the tragic hero Tozokou Bakura with his awesome Ka, Diabound was slain by the almighty Pharaoh."

Bakura's eyes widened in shock, it had never occurred to him that Marik wouldn't know his past in detail, he was the heir to the Tomb Keepers; he had to have known the history. But he didn't. So many pieces connected now. Marik knew almost nothing about him, while this evil creation knew it all.

Marik didn't know why he left five years ago. Marik didn't know he failed his only mission in life. Would he think differently of him if he knew? Would Marik pity him? The mere thought made him seethe.

"I did not even mention the best part; our dear Marik never even knew he was teamed up with the spirit vessel of the Great Evil God Zorc Necrophades," the demon declared loudly, his expression filled with intelligence and spiteful amusement, his arms raised to his sides for dramatic effect. "Oh, how our ancestors must have turned in their graves! He is naturally drawn to the darkness, Thief King, I already told you how he created me of his own free will, a version of himself that he viewed as a hero. A savior. And now you return to him as well, possibly the only human soul who has seen the darkest depths of calamity and evil."

Several long, silent moments passed as Bakura processed the information he'd been given. "What's your point?" his voice was stern but devoid of any real bite.

Marik laughed maniacally, "My point, Thief King, is that I am the least of Marik's concerns. You have always been a far greater threat to his life. Even without Zorc's presence, you are a menace to him. If you want me to leave him, then you must leave him as well."

Never had the great Thief King lost in a duel of words, and especially never to an occupant of the body in front of him. Marik led him straight into a trap of knowledge. He was far more intelligent, manipulative, and cunning than he had ever given him credit for. He really was everything Marik ever had aspired to be. But, he no longer was, Marik no longer lived a life of crime, he wanted to experience the world he'd been locked away from. He's changed, but this person is still, regretfully, a part of him.

"You have no intention of taking Marik's life from him and locking him away?" Marik smiled in a way that could almost be described as warm if only his eyes didn't betray his spiteful soul.

"Of course not, I'd be a failure as a guardian if I allowed that to happen to him," the thief king could not pick up even the slightest trace of a lie in that statement. He sighed, "All right. I will not encourage him to be rid of you under two conditions."

"Your wish is my command, Great Thief King," Marik bowed deeply, the sarcasm impossible to overlook.

"…Three conditions," Bakura amended with a look of gross irritation, "The first is that you cannot hurt Marik in any way, shape, or form, even if you know he will not die." Marik nodded, suddenly genuine. "Two – if you are listening to Marik and I talking or are otherwise present you need to give me some kind of sign to let me know when you arrive and when you leave so I know who I'm talking to. Are you able to, I don't know, control his hand for a short period and snap three times?"

The Egyptian snorted in laughter at the request, "I can briefly control a part of the body if Marik allows it; however, Marik can snap, I cannot." He proved half of that statement with a pathetic attempt at snapping his fingers. Bakura briefly wondered what other talents the two did not share. "I can wave a hand, is that obvious enough? I assume you would not want me to speak." He displayed a basic, wide-arching wave with his left hand.

Bakura resisted the urge to grimace at the idea of suddenly hearing this voice in the midst of a conversation with the other Marik, "No, I certainly do not want you to speak." This statement earned a grin, "The wave is probably fine, we can change it later if we need to." After another nod of understanding, he continued.

"The third condition is that you need a different name." Marik's eyes widened in surprise, "It's too confusing to call you both Marik. He was born first, so he gets to keep the name."

"But he already chose a different name," the Egyptian's tone was almost whining, causing Bakura to roll his eyes in irritation.

"That's a different matter. My condition is you go by a different name than Marik."

"How about Malik?"

"Too similar, no."

The now nameless male tilted his head and his eyes rolled to the ceiling in thought. "Melvin?" Bakura offered with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from the other male, "No, I hate it. I would never be taken seriously."

Bakura fell silent as he allowed the nameless creature to ponder. When he made up his mind, he met the thief's eyes with a pleased grin. "Ata."

"Ata?"

"Yeah, it is Arabic for 'gift' but I heard in another language it translates to 'twin'. We met an Ata in Egypt, once. He was not Arabic; he was from some other African country, Ghana, perhaps? He was not a twin, though, so it was not a good name. Marik killed him, but he was a decent guy when he was alive."

Bakura chuckled, taken a bit off guard how Ata could transition so quickly from a terrifying, inhuman opponent to a rambling child, "Those are my conditions."

"I accept your conditions under the condition you do not try to kill or suppress my personality," Ata grinned and offered his hand. Bakura shook his hand and announced the deal was closed. A small smile crossed his features for a moment, feeling he might actually like this psychotic bastard if for no other reason than as a great verbal opponent.

"Now that that is decided and you are no longer angry at my charge, I am going to sleep. You might want to catch him," Ata winked at Bakura seconds before completely collapsing to the floor as if every bone in his body suddenly turned to jelly. The thief king moved swiftly and sloppily caught the lifeless body centimeters before hitting the ground. The bastard could have sat down first; he obviously knew this would happen. Bakura was midway between cradling the limp body and propping his arm around his shoulder to move him to a chair when Marik's eyes blinked open several times before finally realizing he was being held up by his pale friend and quickly shot to his feet. "-I..so," he cleared his throat to clear the embarrassed stutter, "…What happened?"