Bakura finally rolled out of bed around midday, emerging from the bedroom in the clothes he'd slept in and clutching the bloodstained Millennium Ring. When Marik tried to protest, he scowled at him and pressed it close to his chest. "You have got another thing coming if you think I will let one of you two morons keep hold of this," he snapped.

"He has a point, Marik," Ryou said quietly, sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop, typing away leisurely. "He's got every right to the Ring, and every other Millennium Item, in fact."

"…Alright, but you have to keep it hidden. Keep it under your clothes if you want to wear it. We just stole that damn thing and I won't have you getting us caught out."

Bakura flashed him a grin and slipped the Ring on under his shirt. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Are you hungry?"

"Bloody ravenous."

Marik took Bakura's hand and led him through to the kitchen, sitting him down and placing the remaining ful in front of him. "I'm a bit low on food at the moment, so I need to go out soon and pick up some more stuff. You're welcome to come with me if you like."

Bakura regarded him warily as he chewed. Swallowing, he asked, "What's in it for me?"

"You do know where we are, right?"

"Luxor, Ryou said."

"That's right. Luxor stands where Thebes once stood. And just over the Nile is the Valley of the Kings. Which means?"

"Oh." Bakura's eyes widened. "We're…"

"Yes. How about a trip down memory lane?"

Bakura didn't reply, but he gazed down into his bowl with a small smile. After a few moments, he nodded slowly. "Good," Marik said. "You need clean clothes. Go and grab something out of my wardrobe, and for the love of Ra, take a shower and brush that bird's nest you call hair."

"Fuck you," Bakura growled. "You try spending two years encased in darkness. Personal grooming didn't exactly factor into my daily thought processes."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just let me know when you're ready to go."

"You know," Ryou murmured as he breezed into the kitchen, Bakura stalking off with a frustrated hiss, "you can't really complain about his appearance, considering you yourself haven't shaved your face in three days. And you had the nerve to call me fluffball! What do you call that fuzz on your lip?"

Marik rubbed his cheeks self-consciously. "I guess I should get rid of this. And put some eyeliner on."

Ryou settled himself in the chair Bakura had vacated. "Are you going to tell your brother and sister about Bakura?"

"I'm not sure. Have you told Yugi?"

"Not yet. Probably better to tell him in person."

"Will he be upset with you?"

"No doubt."

"You're not worried?"

"No. Yugi never stays mad with anyone for very long." He reached out and took Marik's hand. "I do wish you'd come back with me, you know," he said softly. "You're wasting yourself out here. Just living off the money you garnered from the Ghouls and waiting for something to change around here doesn't sound very fun. Throw into the equation the fact that Egypt isn't exactly too accepting of gay men, and you've got yourself a recipe for total isolation. Why do you stay here, Marik? You had the time of your life in Japan. You don't have to see Yugi or the others. Just…come and visit sometime. Please. Goodness knows, you'd save me a bit of money. How many times have I come out here to see you in the last two years?"

Marik let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, I've lost count now."

"Will you at least think about it?"

Gods, Ryou, I wish I could, but I'm just too scared to face anyone again.

Marik sighed and gently pulled his hand from Ryou's, knowing the softly-spoken young man was right. He didn't do anything here in Luxor. Hell, the most exciting thing he had done was stealing the Ring. He'd done much worse with the Ghouls, but they were all but disbanded now, Marik calling on a select few only very rarely, when necessity dictated. He'd swore he'd try to repent for his crimes, so the thought of seeing Yugi again, even after fulfilling his duties as Tomb-Keeper, was terrifying.

I killed my father. I tried to drown Yugi and Jonouchi. Bakura and I mutilated Ryou's body. I used Anzu as a mind-slave…though through her, that was the only way I could survive. I've done awful things, and sometimes I feel as though I'll never be clean of that horrific stain. They all forgave me, but I can't forgive myself.

Ryou knew better than to push Marik, so he settled for giving him a friendly smile, and pulled himself back up, retreating into the living room again, leaving Marik with his thoughts.

Half an hour later, Bakura returned to the kitchen, clean, dry and dressed, having thrown on baggy, faded jeans and a black hoodie, and stealing a pair of Ryou's Converse trainers. Emulating Marik, he had tied his long hair back into a ponytail, though his was far messier, loose strands framing his face and sticking out haphazardly. Marik thought he looked wonderful, if still very gaunt and rather ill. "Ready whenever you are," Bakura told him, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Okay," Marik said quietly. "I'll just sort my face out, and we'll be off."

Bakura stared at him. "Sort your face out?"

"Yup."

"What's there to sort out? You look fine."

"Oh, I didn't know you went for guys with beards, Bakura."

Bakura threw back his head and laughed. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose."

"Don't get used to it. I don't do facial hair."

"Shame. Some people like a bit of scratchiness during kisses," Bakura winked.

"Who says I'm going to kiss you?"

"I never said you were going to. You're definitely thinking it though."

"W-What?" Marik scrambled up, scowling. "You're such an ass."

"And you're so easy to read you might as well be a book." Bakura crossed the room and grabbed the kettle to fill it with water. "Go and sort your face out then. I'll sit and drink tea with Ryou till you're done."

The look on Bakura's face as they wandered the streets of Luxor was nothing short of spectacular. Every few seconds he would stop to observe or admire, picking up random objects here and there, sometimes lost for words and other times dropping down into a crouch to speak with the many children that tore up and down, their little voices shrill, excited squeaks. Marik couldn't quite believe his eyes. He'd never seen Bakura so much as approach anyone, at least not without the intent to murder them, yet here he was, grinning at a scrappy little girl with mud on her face and hair in messy pigtails, chatting away to her in spirited Arabic. "I didn't know you spoke my tongue," Marik said after the girl ran away.

"I'm not fluent," Bakura replied, sticking his hands in his pockets and resuming their walk. "I couldn't hold a full conversation with you, but I understand well enough."

"Hmmm…interesting, ya amar."

"Ayreh feek!"

Marik laughed, giving Bakura a soft punch on the arm. "You wish. Do you speak any other languages?"

"Middle Egyptian, Japanese and English."

"Tell me something in Middle Egyptian."

Bakura pondered for a moment. Then he spoke, short, clipped and glottal. "Hor ka nakht mery Ra, nebty wer shefyt mek Kemet, nub Hor user renput, aa nehktu, nesu bity user Maat Ra, setep en Ra, sa Ra, Ra mesi su mery Amun."

Marik smiled. "That's the royal titulary of Ramesses II."

"Indeed. You speak it too?"

"Mm. I had to learn it as a child."

Bakura looked impressed. "Tell me something. Another pharaoh. Let's hear how your pronunciation is."

"Okay. It's been a few years since I spoke it, but I think I can remember something…Useret kau, wadjet renput, netjeret khau, Maat ka Ra, khnemet Amun Hat shepsut."

Bakura nodded. "It's a little off, but I guess I'm the only native speaker in this world, so I can't hope for too much."

Marik decided to take that as a compliment.

They had reached the sprawling market now, and Bakura stopped in his tracks again. A look of deep satisfaction passed over his face as he lifted his head up and inhaled deeply. "It reminds me of home," he murmured. "It was never this busy, but the sounds and the smells…it's like being a child again."

Marik took his arm, squeezing gently. "Not long now. We'll go after I'm done picking up groceries."

Bakura's wonderment never ceased the whole time they roamed the market. Marik lost him on several occasions, but after a time he just let him look around, knowing he'd be able to spot his bright silver hair amongst the sea of black locks from the other market-goers, and occasionally he saw the unmistakeable flash as he weaved his way through the crowds. Marik had given some money to Bakura and told him to buy whatever he wanted, so no doubt he was perusing the stalls with a keen eye, and probably stealing a few bits here and there too. Some habits die hard, and Bakura's were no exception.

Two hours later, Marik sat on a low wall overlooking the rushing Nile river, swinging a leg, the other drawn up underneath him. He had dropped off his shopping at his apartment and found a note from Ryou to say he'd gone out on his own for the day, and that he'd be back quite late. So, Marik had made his way down to the river, where the usual ferries were stationed to take tourists over the other side towards the Valley of the Kings, and organised passage for himself and Bakura.

"Ah, there you are." Bakura hopped up onto the wall beside Marik, flicking his ponytail over his shoulder. "Was starting to think I'd never find you. Normally I'd just follow the stench of that cologne you wear, but it seems everyone likes to anoint themselves in some heady perfume here."

"Pretty much," Marik laughed. "Did you find anything worthwhile?"

"A few odds and ends. I got food as well. Here." He held out a small wrapped parcel to Marik, who opened it with a confused expression. A burst of steam hit him in the face from the bundle of tameya, mahshi and torshi nestled inside.

"Holy crap, you bought me food?" he asked, shocked. "You barely fed Ryou when you had control of his body."

"Oh, be quiet. Anyway, I checked you could eat everything before I got it. Ryou says you're really fucking fussy with your food."

"I'm vegan, not fussy. Big difference."

"So that means no meat or milk at your place then?"

"You're welcome to buy it, so long as you're not giving it to me or expecting me to touch it."

Bakura shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twinkling amulet, shaped like a scarab beetle. "This caught my eye," he said, showing it to Marik. "It's completely useless, but it looked pretty."

"It is," Marik agreed, taking a bite of his food and smiling. "You should give it to Ryou. He likes collecting little things whenever he comes here."

"…Yeah, maybe. I'd probably lose it anyway if I kept hold of it." He tucked it back into his pocket and reclined slightly with a sigh. "I'm going to be sunburnt to hell when I get back."

"Sorry. I should have thought to ask you if you needed sun lotion."

"I'll live," he replied. His eyes roved over the Nile almost wistfully, and Marik supposed his heart must have felt heavy, being so close to his hometown, just on the other side of the river. He glanced around briefly, seeing the streets being deserted for the moment, and slid his free hand over, resting his fingers over the back of Bakura's pale hand. Bakura blinked at him. "Marik?"

"Bakura…how do you feel?" he asked softly. "You seem to have adjusted well, but surely you must still be scared, or confused. I don't want to feel bad for bringing you back if it was against your will."

"Don't be stupid," Bakura snorted. "I'm fine. Sure, I was confused at first, but now, I think it's fucking brilliant that I'm here." He pulled his hand away from Marik to run it through his hair, pushing the messy strands behind his ears. "There's just one thing that's bothering me."

"Oh?"

"I don't know, it just feels like my soul is lighter somehow. I can't describe it properly, but it's like I don't have to be a total dickhead anymore. I don't feel the need to go out and fuck people up."

"That's probably because Zorc isn't a part of you anymore," Marik explained. "We thought about that before we attempted to bring you back. We knew Zorc had been destroyed, and with him, you, but we were willing to take the risk and hope that we didn't bring both of you back at once. Seems we did okay."

"You sure did." A faint smile played around Bakura's lips. "I want to make the most of this. But not here. Too many fucked up memories. I just want to see my home and then I'll be hightailing it out of here."

"What do you mean?" Marik popped two tameya into his mouth. Wow, these are amazing. I wonder which stall he found these at.

"I mean I'm not staying in Kemet – ah, Egypt. No, first chance I get, I'm heading back to Japan. I'll need time to get a passport or something, otherwise I'd head back with Ryou when he leaves tomorrow morning. Domino always did strike me as the best place to be, and in the 3,000 years I'd been possessing people's bodies, that's saying a lot of good about it."

Marik's heart sank a little, but secretly he harboured an inkling that Bakura wouldn't want to remain here, so close to Kul Elna and the source of his horrific past. So he just nodded and continued eating, not able to trust himself to speak. Bakura turned his gaze back to the Nile, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his head on them. He began to sing a soft, lilting melody, one that Marik didn't recognise, but he heard the lamentations in his voice, understood the grief, the hope in his heart for those long gone.

"That was beautiful," he whispered when Bakura finished. "Where did you learn that?"

Bakura looked a little embarrassed, his pale cheeks flushing. "My people…we would sing this when someone died. After the slaughter, I remember trying to sing it, but my throat was too choked up from crying, and I could barely get the words out. After that, I couldn't bring myself to try ever again."

"Till now."

"Mm." Bakura sighed and dropped his head down further, pressing his forehead into his knees so Marik wouldn't see just how lost he felt, knowing what was close by. "I have to do this," he said in a muffled voice, "but then I don't want to come here ever again. I'm done. I'm done wallowing in the tragedy of my past."

"Bakura."

He lifted his head at Marik's gentle tone. The young man gazed at him in reverence, wishing he could just lean in and embrace him, take away his pain. Instead he just offered him some of his food. "You need to fatten up," he told Bakura sternly. "The least I can do before you abandon me is feed you."

"Marik, I…" Bakura stammered, his cheeks flushing again. Then he smirked. "Thanks." He popped a mahshi in his mouth, and Marik placed the parcel down on the wall between them, scooting closer. Taking a gamble, he rested his head on Bakura's shoulder, and to his surprise, he didn't pull away or glare at him, or even spit insults. Rather, Bakura nestled his own head against Marik's with another sigh. "I like this," he whispered after a period of silence.

"Me too," Marik replied softly.

"Tell Ryou, or anyone else, and I will gut you."

"After I took you into my home, fed and clothed you? Wow, thanks, Bakura."

Bakura chuckled. "You know I'm joking."

"Yeah. But just…be quiet, okay? Let's enjoy the moment."

"Mm. Okay."

A.N. -

Rough translation of the words spoken in Arabic and Middle Egyptian, in order of appearance -

"Ya amar" - my moon/my most beautiful

"Ayreh feek" - fuck you (quite literally "my penis in you" which I find rather amusing)

"Hor ka nakht mery Ra, nebty wer shefyt mek Kemet, nub Hor user renput, aa nehktu, nesu bity user Maat Ra, setep en Ra, sa Ra, Ra mesi su mery Amun" - The strong bull, beloved of Ra, protector of Egypt who curbs foreign lands, rich in years, great in victories, the justice of Ra is powerful, chosen of Ra, Ra has fashioned him, beloved of Amun

"Useret kau, wadjet renput, netjeret khau, Maat ka Ra, khnemet Amun Hat shepsut" - Mighty of Ka's, flourishing of years, divine of appearance, the true one of the ka of Ra, united with Amun, foremost of noble ladies