Chapter 10
Revelations
Bakura was confused.
He had been getting used to Marik being at his side, and that was disconcerting in itself. But more disconcerting was the fact that it wasn't happening now. Marik was avoiding him, and seemed unreasonably angry about something he could not figure out.
He sided up to the human, who walked briskly, keeping his gaze right ahead. His mouth was a thin, straight line of seriousness.
Bakura liked Marik's mouth when it twisted up, curving something most humans called a smile. Bakura had never really thought about it before Marik. But now he did, and he missed it. Ra, he missed Marik just looking at him.
"You didn't have to come," Marik said.
"You're so charming."
"Why don't you shut up."
"That's not very nice." Bakura smirked, and then found himself distracted anyway.
He looked around, for the first time really noticing people in the street, walking about and doing their ordinary things. Talking, smiling, laughing.
They made it look so easy. It was insulting really, how something mortal might be able to do that, and not even have to think about it.
Bakura envied the woman who looped her arm round the man at her side, and how she talked so easily. How her face crinkled when she laughed, and then how he laughed too. It was like some common yet secret gift within human species, and Bakura wanted in on it.
It had been the main reason for entering the Pharaoh's mind the other night. He couldn't remember much of it; it had been far too tiring for that, but he did remember how alarmingly different it had been. How easy it had been just to know that the Pharaoh possessed something that he never could.
Bakura had never thought he could be jealous. He wasn't supposed to want things like that. It was supposed to be repulsive. And yet he had been gripped by a human essence, and now he found he couldn't shake the thought of it.
He wanted it when he saw Marik's unhappy face, and knew he had to think of the right thing to say. He wanted to understand why Marik was so angry with him, and how he was supposed to fix it.
They had almost reached Domino City Hospital though. There wasn't much time left, before Marik would be with his family, and Bakura would feel out of place.
Remembering the laughing humans, it somehow spurred him on. He reached out and touched Marik's shoulder lightly.
"Yes?" Marik halted.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" Bakura asked.
"Is there really any point?"
Bakura removed his hand from the tomb keeper; "I don't understand."
Marik turned to face him. He looked like he might be trying to appear stern, but his eyes were gleaming emotions Bakura recognised in the human very well now.
"Of course you don't understand. That's exactly the problem, isn't it?" the tomb keeper said.
Bakura stared at Marik's back as he turned away again, feeling more frustrated than angry. He caught the tomb keeper's arm on an unknown instinct, whirling him back round.
"I'm not wearing the Ring, just as you requested, Marik! What else am I supposed to do?"
"For now you're not wearing it. But you will, even if I don't want you to."
"So? Why does it bother you so much?"
"It doesn't…" Marik shook his head. "What's the use? What do you care? You can't understand anyway."
"If you made more sense I might." Bakura suggested, his confusion turning into annoyance; "You're making all of this more trouble than it's worth."
Marik scowled; "It doesn't need to be any trouble. I just don't want you to go back…after my dark half. I just want you to stay here. Why can't you get that?"
Bakura tried to think of a reasonable answer, but he couldn't manage it. It was hard enough with Marik's link firmly blocked, to be able to understand the human. Ra, he could barely understand humans anyway, never mind one so difficult as Marik… "What's that?" Marik interrupted his agitated thoughts. He was pointing at Bakura's neckline.
Bakura looked down to see the streak of red there.
"Nothing," he said, remembering Dark Marik's sharp mouth and suddenly feeling very strange, like he might be sick.
"More secrets?" Marik murmured, turning away.
Bakura dithered on the spot, lost in a few seconds of uncertainty. He looked at his chest, where the Ring was supposed to be, and swallowed the nauseous feeling in his throat.
"Marik-" he started.
"We're here," Marik interrupted. He looked at the hospital entrance with a nervous face. "Are you coming in?" his voice cracked a bit, and Bakura realised he couldn't say no.
"Alright," he said.
"Thank you," said Marik, and Bakura was rewarded with a small smile. It warmed him a ridiculous amount.
8
The hospital smelt of very strong disinfectant, and though Bakura had been there before, he still hated the place.
As if it wasn't enough to be reminded of human mortality each and every day. These buildings were like the glowing neon sign that advertised it constantly.
The weaknesses of mortals was all around them; the dead or the dying, bottled medicines and pills, and strange beeping machines. It all made Bakura feel very uncomfortable.
He felt Marik grip his arm as they walked along the white corridors. Bakura didn't need a mind link to know Marik was scared and upset about his brother. Not that mind links mattered right now. Marik's was still firmly closed off to him.
Bakura tried not to care. Perhaps it was for the best; a closed off link might even be a useful protection against dark Marik. Bakura couldn't be sure, though. He only knew so far as his own experiences, and right now he was working in a whole new world of them.
He looked at his item-less chest again and cursed himself for it. He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about it. Marik was more important, for the moment.
Marik's hand squeezed his arm as they entered a closed off ward, and then he let go and rushed to Ishizu, hugging her tight.
Bakura hung awkwardly back. He didn't want to see such easy, secret, human things.
"Hello Bakura," Ishizu greeted him warmly, and her eyes were big and imploring, like he was supposed to say something important to her. She looked at his chest and then spoke rather close to him, so that Marik wouldn't hear; "where's the Ring?"
Bakura moved away from her. "it doesn't matter."
He ignored her questioning face, and watched as Marik sat next to an unconscious Odion, and then how he cried to his sister, like humans were want to do.
Bakura leaned back in a chair and studied the intricate marks on the plastered wallpaper near to him. He wasn't going to pretend he was concerned for Marik's brother. He did not care about Odion at all. He only wanted him to get better so that Marik might get better again too.
It was probably selfish, although Bakura couldn't really be sure why. Right now he thought Marik himself was rather selfish, closing off links and saying things that made no sense.
Bakura frowned at the tomb robber; he was still so teary and Bakura hated it.
But Ishizu seemed to be good at cheering Marik up. She talked about how when their brother got better they would live normal lives, and not have to live under the rule of the tomb keeper anymore. Occasionally she looked at Bakura, and he was almost taken by how strong her gaze was. It was like she was expecting something monumental from him.
He was going to have to disappoint her, then.
Bakura turned his head to the window, hoping that Marik hadn't noticed his staring too much.
8
When they finally left the hospital the sun was starting to dip behind the horizon, a pinkish glow following it as dusk arrived.
"I didn't mean to stay so long," Marik said. "thank you for staying with me."
Bakura shrugged; "I don't mind if it's you," he said without thought.
Marik looked touched, and his face seemed to soften. Bakura was happy to see it; it was much better than the look he had been getting used to of late. Maybe being without the Ring, just for today, would have been worth it after all…
"Bakura," Marik said quietly.
He had stepped a little closer without Bakura even realising it, and he held out his hand at a strange angle, his fingers hardly millimetres away from Bakura's face. Bakura stared at them, watching as they fell very light on his jaw, and then crept down to his collarbone, where dark Marik's mark still was.
Marik frowned at it and then looked at Bakura; "What happened?" he asked, like he might be afraid; "what did…did he hurt you?"
Bakura swallowed. His throat was too dry and he found he couldn't give a very coherent response.
Marik's fingers were like a bewildering electricity on his skin, disabling all reason within his mind. For a tiny instant he wanted to mimic the move, he wanted to know what Marik's skin felt like too, and whether it could bring about the same nonsense sensation in the tomb keeper.
Instead he took Marik's wrist and moved the hand away. It almost hurt to do so, and he regretted it when he saw Marik's expression, somehow disappointed.
Marik stepped back; "sorry. I didn't mean to do that." he looked embarrassed.
"It's okay," Bakura didn't know what else to say. It was perfectly okay, so far as he could tell. Okay enough that he wished Marik would do it again. His skin felt far too cold now.
"Look, the arcades," Marik suddenly pointed ahead, where a large building stood out, only because of it's garish neon lit sign; flashing pink and blue at random intervals. "doesn't it look great?"
Bakura gave him an odd look; "I suppose."
Marik's mouth curved into a hopeful grin; "shall we go in? Just for a little bit?"
"I'm not especially fond of those places, Marik."
Marik didn't seem to hear, and he pulled Bakura by the arm, "c'mon, it'll be fun."
Bakura looked at the arcade doubtfully, and then Marik's bright face. He'd been working to see that much of the day; it'd be a waste to let Marik down now. And Marik was still holding onto him, rekindling strange electricity that he sort of…enjoyed.
The Ring, other problems, they could wait.
8
It was so loud and bright in the arcade, and Bakura already had the constant beat of a headache at the back of his mind. He scowled at a gang loitering just inside the arcade, and grinned when Marik pulled him away from the waiting fight.
"We're not here to cause trouble, we're here to have fun."
"Fun." Bakura repeated the word experimentally, observing people shooting at screens, slotting money into random, flashing machines and generally being very noisy. It was almost as unpleasant as the hospital. And at least hospital machines were much quieter.
"Yes, fun," Marik grinned, "I promise we won't stay long. Follow me." he kept a good hold on Bakura's wrist, and led him to a toy grabbing machine.
It flashed bright colours and an obnoxious voice sounded from it's speaker. Bakura already hated it, but Marik was beaming and searching around in his pockets for some money.
"You have to try and get the toy," he explained.
Bakura watched with some amusement as Marik tried to direct the grabber onto one of the random stupid toys, his face fixed into extreme concentration.
Bakura already knew enough about arcades. Ryou had been a few times before, and from within the Ring Bakura had been given the displeasure of observing everything that went on in them. He'd hated them back then, too.
Marik was a nice distraction this time, though. It was different when he could just watch Marik's reactions and notice how much happier he was. Bakura could almost start to appreciate arcades because of it.
"Damn. I missed it." Marik pouted. "Oh well."
"Wouldn't it be easier to try a different tactic?" Bakura suggested.
"What do you mean?" Marik asked warily.
"Like this," Bakura slipped his hand into the prize dispenser.
"That won't work-" Marik started, then looked a bit shocked when he noticed the flash of metal in Bakura's hand.
Bakura sliced his knife easily into the plastic of the machine, cutting through and finding one of the soft toys with it.
"Bakura…" Marik hissed, looking round very obviously.
Bakura pulled the knife back out, an impaled toy bunny dangling off the end of it.
"There you are," he held it out to Marik.
Marik stared between the bunny and Bakura, his face quivering oddly, almost like he might cry. Bakura hoped he wouldn't; he'd had enough of that for one day.
To his surprise, Marik burst into laughter, his face moving in a way that reminded Bakura of the woman he'd seen earlier, and how much he had envied her for it.
He smiled a bit. It was like he'd cracked a secret. Humans weren't always so difficult.
"You want it?" he waved the bunny a little.
Marik took it, nodding happily, then his hand closed round Bakura's holding the knife. "You might want to put that away though. People generally aren't very sociable around sharp shiny things."
"I know," Bakura grinned, but tucked the knife away anyway.
He let Marik show him a shooting game, which mostly involved jamming buttons and waiting for the screen to tell him if he'd won or not.
"You're good at this," Marik grumbled; "are you sure this is your first time?"
Bakura nodded; "I can't imagine myself in here at any other time. Willingly, at least."
Marik grinned, waving the bunny in his face; "Shut up. The bunny demands we get a drink."
"All this losing making you thirsty?" Bakura wondered
"Hey!" Marik jabbed him in the side, then led the way to a little drinks bar in the corner of the arcade, flashing adverts all over it.
He ordered a milkshake and Bakura rested his elbows on the bar, picking at Marik's toy.
Marik smiled at him; "I meant what I said."
"What's that?"
"I am grateful you stopped at the hospital. I know you hate those places."
"I hate these places too," Bakura pointed out.
"You hate everything," Marik sighed, but looked rather content. He reached out and tapped Bakura's chest. "See. You can live without it."
Bakura looked down and remembered the Ring. He had almost forgotten about it. Marik was too good a distraction really.
"You already impaled that thing, now you're gutting it too?" Marik shook his head. "you sick bastard."
"Hm?" Bakura looked down at the bunny toy and all it's stuffing in his hand. He quickly put it back in and pushed it over to Marik.
"I think it'll make a full recovery, doctor." Marik grinned.
Bakura wanted to return it, but the dim headache that was always there suddenly came to the front of his mind. He winced and closed his eyes, hoping it might just pass.
"Are you alright?" Marik asked.
Bakura didn't really hear. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the odd feeling rising in his stomach.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Bakura said, hating that he sounded so unconvincing.
"Alright," Marik didn't seem very convinced either. He prodded his straw awkwardly in his drink for a moment or two, then said, much more softly; "So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?"
Bakura tensed, and straightened against the bar.
"Come on," Marik rolled his eyes. "you thought I wouldn't ask about you turning up unconscious on the doorstep, with the Pharaoh, of all people?"
Bakura pulled a face, keeping his eyes on the bar; "you don't have to be so dramatic about it."
"Excuse me for being concerned."
Bakura flinched inwardly. Hearing the hurt in Marik's voice was enough to make him turn and look at the tomb keeper.
Marik's gaze was intense, his face shining between the reds, blues and greens of the arcade lights that danced over him. Bakura was taken by it, and he could almost forget the headache and every tiring thought associated with it when he just watched Marik like that. Even the loud noises of the arcade seemed to fade away into the background, and it was like nobody else was there.
"Please tell me," Marik repeated, his voice touched with some imploring urgency.
But it was difficult, even though Bakura knew Marik was the only human he could properly talk to.
After all, there had been very little incite with Ryou, who had always been quiet and easy to manipulate. And brief entanglements with the Pharaoh hardly counted.
It hardly mattered; Marik was not any of those humans, anyway.
Bakura felt like he could talk to Marik about more than what he already knew. He felt like he could talk about what might be, and what he thought he remembered from so many years ago. Marik helped his dormant curiosity come alive more than anything else.
He felt like he knew Marik well enough, or as well as he could learn to know any human.
With that in mind, he gave the human a careful look; "Why do you want to know?"
"I…" Marik seemed to move closer, and his hand was light on Bakura's. "I was worried about you."
Bakura took a short breath, and he leaned forwards too, not knowing what was inclining him to do so. He wasn't sure what he intended to do, either. But he was so close he could see his own arcade-lit reflection in Marik's eyes. And then the tomb keeper's warm breath, soft on his face, so unlike his darker half. Bakura closed his eyes, imagining how much gentler he'd be, how much more different…
The headache pulled sharp at his link, like a tear through his mind, and then Bakura realised what it really was.
Sensations of last night poured into him; searing pains within his head, terrible coldness capturing his essence, the magnetic and forced pull of his Soul Room, and the darkness that was waiting there for him…
He snapped open his eyes to see Marik, whose head was tilted for some reason, his violet eyes half-closed and dark with a strange emotion.
"Bakura..." the tomb keeper said softly. He was still so close. Bakura jolted back, away from him.
He cleared his throat; "Marik, I…I have to get the Ring now."
Marik straightened, his hooded eyes hardening; "Why?"
"There's no time to explain," Bakura moved to leave, but was yanked back by his wrist with alarming speed.
"No! I'm not letting you go back to the Realm again! We've already been through this-"
"There's nothing to go through, Marik!" Bakura felt more desperate than angry, but hoped he was offering Marik a well practised glare all the same.
Even if he was, it didn't seem to be working. Marik's grip was stubborn and infuriating.
Bakura looked around quickly. The arcade was dark and loud, it would be easy to slip out using a little force. He could be subtle about it, nobody would notice. He gave Marik an imploring look anyway. Force would have to be a last resort.
"Please."
"No." said Marik. "I won't let you."
Bakura didn't know what else to do. As his headache throbbed, it reminded him of their link, and he searched for it. It should have been easy to find, but Marik was still completely closed off to him. There was nothing to latch onto, nothing to try to connect with. It was more than irritating now. It was upsetting.
Bakura snarled through his teeth, and then twisted sharply against Marik's hold, pulling the tomb keeper roughly up. Marik whimpered as Bakura caught his wrists against his own, and then turned him swiftly round, so that the tomb keeper's back touched his stomach. Then he pulled the knife from his pocket.
"We're going, no arguments."
He pressed the blade against Marik's back, not so hard but hard enough that Marik might know his intention.
"You wouldn't dare." Marik said, his voice close to Bakura's ear.
Bakura slide the knife a bit harder against him, feeling the tomb keeper's shiver. He swallowed, keeping a good hold on his arm. "Don't test me, Marik."
"Fine," Marik said slowly, and complied as Bakura steered him toward the arcade exit.
Bakura could feel the tomb keeper's fear; the hard beat of a heart, even if he couldn't feel their link right now. He was always good at that; finding and relishing the essence of human helplessness. Usually it gave him a thrill, but right now his head hurt too much, and this was Marik.
"So you'd do this…all for that cursed Ring, then?" Marik said. "I thought we…I thought I was your friend."
Bakura didn't answer, he didn't think he could.
Outside, the street was empty and dark. They had stopped long enough, wasted enough time, and now Marik was in danger again. Bakura gritted his teeth as he released the tomb keeper, who jumped away from him, his face betrayed.
Bakura did his best to ignore it. His head was buzzing and it made it hard to focus on much else.
"You would have done it, wouldn't you?" Marik eyed the knife, gleaming in Bakura's hand. "if I hadn't come with you, you would have done it!"
Bakura ignored him; "We have to go now," he said, much more calmly than he felt; "I must have possession of the Ring again."
"For what? To go back to the Realm? Are the items really that important to you?"
"You don't understand." Bakura shook his head. The ache was becoming far too overwhelming.
"Stop saying that! You don't understand!" Marik stood in front of him, blocking his path. "why can't you listen to me? Why can't you understand how worried I am?"
Bakura winced. Marik's yell felt like a terrible, magnified echo bouncing about in his ears, making them ring and buzz.
"Marik, please listen-"
"No! You listen!" Marik knocked the knife from Bakura's hand.
Bakura stared as it fell to the floor, feeling distantly annoyed. He looked back at Marik, noticing the tomb keeper's trembling fists.
"Would you have done it?" the human demanded. "Would you have hurt me like that?"
Bakura turned away; "I don't have time for this. Please move out of my way."
But Marik didn't move; and Bakura knew he wouldn't. The tomb keeper was just too stubborn for his own good. At any other time Bakura could have enjoyed it, could have realised it was a reason he liked Marik so much. A human who was fearless and did not care about pressing knives, dangerous threats and promised warnings.
Bakura couldn't handle it now, though.
The ringing in his mind seemed to blur into a roar of agony. He dodged around Marik a couple of times, and then a red mist descended across his vision.
His fist connected solidly with Marik's jaw, hard enough that it made himself stagger, but that didn't deter him. The blind fear that snatched at Marik's face was almost welcoming, and Bakura was mostly satisfied when he crunched another fist into the tomb keeper's stomach, and Marik met the wall with a whimpering groan.
Bakura didn't wait for him to drop; he caught Marik and held him up, tight and rough by the collar, so that his back scratched the wall and his feet dangled off the ground.
"What…what are you doing?" Marik's voice was weak, and Bakura thought it was pathetic.
He remembered all humans were pathetic, and he wondered why he'd ever cared, as he adjusted his hands round the tomb keeper's neck. It felt good to do, like he should have done it all along.
He grinned when Marik's eyes widened, and the tomb keeper's breath started to hitch with some difficulty. His hands were clawing at the wall, and then at Bakura himself, still all weak and unbearable. Bakura ignored it.
"Maybe this'll teach you." he hissed, leaning close to the human. "Maybe then you'll learn not to test me." he squeezed Marik's neck.
"Bakura…" Marik choked, and then his hand grabbed at Bakura's chest. "You…you don't know what you're doing…"
"Shut up." Bakura squeezed Marik harder.
It still felt good, watching human emotion run into pain; but something was bothering his mind again. Something was trying to clear the red mist that had invaded it. Bakura shook his head, like that might stop it.
"You're hurting me…"
Marik's voice was faint and pitiful in the back of Bakura's mind. But it was there. It touched upon the remaining tendrils of Bakura's sanity, or more his memories and everything he had come to know and remember about Marik.
He blinked, feeling like he'd awoken from a heavy sleep, to see Marik's eyes roll. Bakura felt sick with the sight.
He released the tomb keeper at once, and Marik slid down the wall, shaking and gasping.
Bakura stared at him. He was dizzy with confusion and his mind ached with everything inside of it.
"That…that was scary." Marik breathed after a moment, rubbing his neck. Then he looked up, his gaze incredulous; "would you…were you really going to kill me?"
Bakura shook his head. He couldn't think anymore; his mind was burning, reminding him of what he needed. "This…this doesn't matter. I have to find the Ring."
He spun round, not wanting to know Marik's expression, and started to walk, fast and in the direction of the apartment. If he could get the Ring, things might be better…
A weight slammed hard across his back, and then he heard Marik's angry cry as he fell to the ground.
They rolled spectacularly into the dirt, each scrambling for the desperate upper hand. Bakura managed a couple of fierce kicks, but the burning within his mind was making it harder and harder to concentrate, and soon Marik was blurring in and out of focus.
He gasped as Marik's leg connected sharply with his torso, winding him and leaving him momentarily stunned. He felt Marik's hands grabbing his wrists and pushing them down into the ground, and then Marik's torso pressing heavily over his own. There was panting breath very close to his face.
A cool metal touched his neck, and Bakura opened his eyes to see Marik's shaking hand holding the knife against him. The tomb keeper's face was furious and upset all at once, his lip bleeding and his eyes vivid with a charged emotion.
"Is that all you can think of?" he screamed. "Even after you nearly kill me! What's so important! What's so important about that stupid Ring, and that stupid Realm? Why can't you tell me?"
"Marik…" Bakura struggled beneath him, but his strength was all out, and his body was becoming numb. His essence was beginning to fade away from it, he knew.
"Answer me!" Marik jolted him, the knife cutting a thin line on his throat.
Bakura didn't really feel it though. Instead he felt the tomb keeper's link opening up to him again, invading his own mind, and searching it frantically for answers.
It was a giddying sensation, combined with the spreading ache already within his head, pulling him back into it's waiting darkness. He couldn't stop it anymore; it was too late now.
He could have laughed at Marik's furious face. So much for trying to please a human. Bakura didn't think he'd ever get the hang of it.
"Marik, I need the Ring-" he tried to explain anyway.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't care about the items!" Marik's link broke apart like a crackling phone line, and then he cried; "I…I just care about you!"
He sounded so angry and desperate, but it was all Bakura needed to hear, as the familiar essence of dark Marik finally got a proper and inescapable hold of him. He blinked through the darkness that was cutting off his vision, and grasped Marik's knife-wielding hand for a moment, revelling in it's warmth and keeping Marik's words locked within his memory.
Then he slipped away from his conscious body, and fell into his Soul Room, ready for dark Marik's next attack.
88
"You're kidding, right?" Joey said, giving Yugi a sceptical look.
Yugi shook his head. He was sitting in the middle of a bewildered audience, like he'd just performed some impossible magic trick that everyone else was trying to figure out with no success at all.
Ryou was understanding things a bit better, and his hand twitched toward the Ring that sat cool and dormant in his pocket.
He hadn't been doing it too much, but occasionally he poked at his link with Bakura. He didn't feel so afraid anymore, and curiosity was naturally starting to take over. Besides, Bakura himself had said he was getting good at all this link stuff. It made Ryou feel more confident, and rather pleased for some reason.
Bakura didn't seem to notice their link much anyway. Ryou could feel the fluctuating emotions there, that mingled into his own mind, telling him that the Spirit was confused, or curious, and then maybe nervous. Ryou doubted he'd read that emotion correctly. Bakura didn't strike him as the nervous type.
"Let me get this straight," Joey said, eyes still on Yugi. "You're saying that the weirdo crazy version of Marik is still about, somewhere in the Shadow Realm. And then we got that weirdo crazy version of Ryou somehow stopping him from getting to us?"
"Actually, he just happened to share my body. I'm not a weirdo or a crazy, so far as I know." Ryou said.
"Aw, don't feel left out," said Duke. "I think you're a little bit weird if that's any consolation."
"Thanks," Ryou smiled weakly.
"Whatever," Joey waved his hand, "but is this true about crazy Marik? Cos I'm real confused here."
Yugi nodded; "It's some sort of shield, from what myself and the Pharaoh can gather. Basically Marik's dark half has to go through Bakura's link before he can reach Marik himself, and the rest of us." he looked around rather morbidly.
"But we're safe then, aren't we?" Tristan said, sounding a little worried all the same. "I mean, the Spirit's a cocky ass, but that's got to be in our favour now, right? If he's so confident he can defeat Marik's dark half-"
"Well, maybe he can," Yugi considered, and seemed uneasy. "We can't know. This Dark Marik seems really powerful. But…so long as Bakura has the Ring-"
"Oh great." Joey snorted, and rolled his eyes.
"I knew it was a bad idea," Tea folded her arms.
Yugi looked between them, confused; "What do you mean?"
"Well." Duke leaned back in his chair, smiling sarcastically in Tristan's direction; "that piece of information would have been entirely more comforting if Bakura still actually had the Ring."
"You mean he doesn't?" Yugi looked alarmed.
Ryou pulled the item out of his pocket. "it's here."
At the same moment a flash of panic crossed Ryou's mind, so strong that it made him yelp and drop the Ring on the floor.
"Ryou, what's wrong?" Serenity asked with concern.
"Urgh. I don't know. Something weird just happened, in my head."
"See, I knew he was a tiny bit weird, at least." Duke said sagely.
"No...not in my head," Ryou realised. "it's my link, the link with Bakura…I think he's in some kind of trouble…"
"Guys, look at the Ring," Tea pointed at the item on the floor. It was glowing and it's points were wriggling about hectically.
Yugi scooped it up at once; "he is in trouble." a brief light haloed the boy, and then the Pharaoh took possession of his body; his expression serious.
"I'll find him. The Ring will show me, just as it did before." Yami glanced at Ryou. "can you still feel his link?"
Ryou concentrated as hard as he could; it was a strange thing, trying to get through to a link he'd always done his best to block in the past. Now, when he really wanted it, he could find nothing at all.
"I…I can't feel anything anymore. It's like it disappeared." he swallowed. "Is that a good thing?"
Yami didn't sat anything. He held the Ring out, following it's points to the apartment door.
"I'm thinking not a good thing." Duke put in.
"Can't we help at all?" Tea asked.
"No. Not for the moment. It could be dangerous." Yami faced everyone. "Just stay put. I'll be back before too long."
"What happens?" Tristan asked. "What happens if he doesn't get the Ring in time?"
Yami walked out the door, his expression grim. "I guess we'll be expecting another visit from our old friend dark Marik."
88
Marik dropped the knife as Bakura's hand fell away from his own, lifeless and cold.
He sat and stared at the Spirit for what felt like a confusing age, waiting for him to open his eyes and sneer, tell him he was alright and he was just being nasty.
But Bakura's face was pained, and Marik had never seen that before, just like he'd never thought Bakura could feel things like that.
"This isn't funny! Now wake up!" he shook the Spirit roughly; "you think it's funny? Cos it's not!"
He didn't notice Yami reach him, and didn't have time to resist as he was pulled back, away from Bakura. He watched, somewhat stunned, as Yami knelt down and pulled the Millennium Ring from his pocket.
"No!" Marik flew at him, and the Ring went spinning across the ground.
"Marik!" Yami yelled; "You don't understand!"
"Not you too! Stop saying that!" Marik screamed. "He's not going back to the Realm! I won't let him!"
He wasn't sure what he planned to do as he ran at Yami, more upset than anything else.
"Listen!" Yami shoved him back with surprising force, and Marik fell to the ground, feeling like he'd been winded.
Yami hurried to pick up the Ring, placing it round Bakura's neck and hoisting him up a bit. The item glowed a little brighter but nothing else seemed to happen.
"Come on, Bakura."
Marik stared. He had never seen Yami so determined before, and it was confusing. "What are you doing?"
"He needs to wake up," Yami spoke with a growing urgency. "Bakura! You've got the Ring. Now use it!" he shook the Spirit again, and Marik found he couldn't stand it anymore. He snatched Yami's wrist;
"What are you talking about? He's trying to get back to the Realm! He's trying to get the Rod back-"
"-He's trying to protect you!"
Yami's words hung in the air, as though they wanted to stay there forever. Then Marik released Yami's wrist, like he'd been stung.
"What?" he shuffled backwards. "what are you saying?"
"He's trying to protect you, from your dark half," Yami repeated, more gently. "that's why he needs the Ring."
Marik quivered and shook his head. He suddenly felt strange and cold, like maybe none of this was real. Yami's words seemed reluctant to make any sense at all.
"No," he said. "that wouldn't…why would he-"
"He needs to Ring to keep your dark half at bay," Yami explained. "somehow…he's stopping Dark Marik's attack with it."
Marik stared blankly. "but why-"
He was interrupted by Bakura's heaving breath, and then the Spirit jerked into life, coughing and gasping like he'd just emerged from water.
"Bakura!-" Marik started to grab him, but the Spirit knocked the hand away, looking very agitated;
"I'm alright," he said, tipping his head at the Ring. Then he started to get up, staggering a bit.
"Are you sure?" Yami said anxiously.
"Fine."
"Bakura-" Marik said.
"I'm alright!"
The Spirit's fists found Marik's stomach and punched him down without any warning. Marik choked and cowered as Bakura prepared for another strike, but Yami flew at him, tackling the Spirit to the ground.
"Stop it, you idiot!" Yami yelled, barely managing to pin him. "it's over now, so stop it!"
Bakura struggled and growled like some wild animal, and a few times he almost flung Yami off him. Eventually his strength ebbed away though, and he slackened beneath Yami, glaring like he might kill, and taking fast, ragged breaths.
"Get off me." he said dangerously.
Yami didn't move for a few long seconds, the suspicion clear on his face.
"Have you calmed down?" he asked.
Bakura cracked a sardonic and hateful grin; "Just let me alone."
Yami looked uncertain, but he slowly removed himself from the Spirit.
Bakura got up with some effort, his limbs were shaking and his face was white and illuminated by the arcade's distantly flickering lights. He started to walk away, though he was unsteady and wavering, like some blind puppet.
Marik stared after him. He'd never felt so helpless and guilty. "Bakura, please…"
Yami's hand rested across his chest, telling him to stay put. Marik didn't want to, he wanted to make sure Bakura was alright, but his legs felt weak and his mind was dazed with such sudden revelations.
Bakura walked a few more uneven steps, and then stopped. Another figure stepped out of the dark and in front of him, his face neutral. It was Tristan.
"I thought I should come by," he said.
Bakura smiled at him in a sick sort of way.
"Just in time," he murmured, then promptly collapsed against him.
"How did you..?" Yami said.
"I just followed you." Tristan adjusted the Spirit's weight carefully onto his back. "…I guess it's the least I could do."
Yami seemed to understand; "Thanks, Tristan," he moved an arm round Marik; "Are you okay?"
It was a stupid question, so Marik thought. But he nodded anyway, and leaned heavily against Yami. His vision was blurred, then he realised he was crying.
"I told him not to use the Ring. I tried to stop him."
"It's okay." Yami said, and looked kind and like he understood. "it doesn't matter now."
Maybe it didn't matter, but it was all Marik could think about, as they sloped back to the apartment. The arcade music was dying into the background, and he could only stare at the pavement.
88
His neck still stung with Bakura's hands, and his stomach still ached with Bakura's fist, but it didn't stop Marik from feeling sick and terrible when he looked over at the Spirit. He had been still and asleep in the bedroom since they'd gotten back to the apartment.
Now it was just past two in the morning, and still Marik couldn't stop watching him.
"You want some more?"
Ryou held his infamous chocolate cake out to Marik, his face kind and inviting as ever, even if he did look like he badly wanted some sleep.
Ryou was nice and sweet enough to stay up and talk quietly about how everything would be okay, and how it wasn't really Marik's fault at all. Marik didn't believe it, but it was still nice to hear.
"I'm okay." he declined the cake, keeping his eyes set on Bakura.
Nobody had asked many questions when they'd got back-it seemed like everybody else already knew what had happened. It just make Marik feel worse.
"You're not psychic." Ryou said, like he'd read his mind. "you didn't know what he was doing."
"I could have known. I just never bothered." Marik rubbed his head. "I have this stupid link, and I didn't even bother with it. Not till it was too late, anyway."
"Well he never told you what he was doing, so he couldn't have wanted you to know." Ryou pointed out.
Marik sank down into his sleeping bag. "But why couldn't he just tell me?"
Ryou shrugged; "No idea. I don't know how five thousand year old Spirit minds work, to be honest. And I don't think you should be expected to know, either." he said. "You shouldn't worry so much, Marik. I don't think he wants you to."
Marik blinked at Ryou, remembering the boy's obvious fear of Bakura, before any of this. "Do you really think that? Do you really think he's not so bad?"
"Maybe." Ryou seemed to consider. "What do I know? Marik, you know the Spirit better than me. Better than anyone."
"Do I?" Marik wasn't sure about that. He hadn't known Bakura wanted to help him, after all. He had been the last to know that.
"It's obvious isn't it?" Ryou rolled his eyes. Marik waited for him to elaborate, but Ryou just yawned and turned onto his back; "Night," he said.
Marik tossed onto his side, so that he was facing Bakura again. "Night." he mumbled.
He closed his eyes, with Bakura's sleeping form occupying his mind, and eventually fell into a very light sleep.
8
When he awoke a little while later he found Bakura was not there anymore.
He crawled out of his sleeping bag at once, his stomach clenching, and almost fell through the doorway into the lounge.
Bakura was curled on the couch, and Marik could see his blinking reflection in the muted television set.
"What's wrong with the bedroom?" Marik asked, and walked slowly over. He sat on the floor, near to Bakura.
"Does it matter where I sleep?" Bakura said, not looking at him.
"I guess not."
Marik had thought it might be easier. When Bakura was awake they could talk, and perhaps everything that had happened wouldn't seem so terrible anymore. That was rubbish of course; when he looked at Bakura he wanted to cry.
"You idiot," he heard himself say.
"Hm?" Bakura gave him an odd look.
"Why'd you do that?" Marik found the Spirit's hand, and gripped it tighter than he knew he should. "Why didn't you tell me? About why you needed the Ring?"
Bakura stared at the whitening hand on his own. "It hardly mattered."
"Mattered?" Marik raised his voice a bit. "of course it mattered! What else could matter so much?"
Bakura gave him another odd look, like Marik might be rather slow; "You were angry."
"I was…what?"
Bakura shrugged, like it was nothing; "I thought you might be happier if I did as you told me. For once," he smirked a bit.
Marik's mind raced with the realisation; "that's why you took the Ring off? So I wouldn't be angry anymore?"
"Well. Yes." Bakura nodded.
"You're an even bigger idiot then."
Bakura didn't seem to take offence; "I think I prefer when you're not like that." "When I'm not angry?"
"I think so." Bakura looked amazingly pleased with himself. "It worked out okay, for the most part," he tapped the Ring. "I got this back in one piece, anyway."
Marik stared at him; "Explain how it worked out okay, please? I think I missed that part amongst all the fighting and fainting and knives."
"Well," Bakura rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as though trying to work out a difficult equation; "I think you were happy…or something similar at least, if I remember correctly. Yes…in the arcade. Isn't that what you humans like to be?"
"…humans?" Marik wanted to be incredulous; to remind Bakura how stupid and insane he was, but then he remembered Bakura in the arcade, only a few hours ago.
Coloured lights glowing all around them, shadows moving past the Spirit's pale face, making Marik want to lean in. And for a few seconds he had felt something overwhelming, as Bakura's face had begun to blur, close to his own…
"Were you happy?" Bakura asked.
Marik blinked, all the memories falling away and bringing him back to the expectant present and Bakura's rather impatient face.
"I…yeah." Marik almost laughed, but found himself wanting to cry instead. He couldn't help it. "Well, mostly now I am," he wiped his eyes, they felt wet. "Cos you're all okay and everything."
Bakura frowned; "are you sure? You don't look especially happy."
Marik laughed unsteadily; "I'm sure."
"What's wrong?" Bakura looked very confused.
"Nothing," Marik shook his head, and rubbed his eyes again. "it's nothing."
He leaned forwards without a thought.
It was awkward in the dark, putting his arms round Bakura, pulling him into a clumsy but tight hug. Bakura felt cold, and he didn't move at all, his hands staying stiff at his sides.
But Marik closed his eyes anyway, and felt Bakura's soft exhalation against his shoulder, the jut of torso that pressed on his own, even though it didn't have to.
"Sorry," he murmured, near to Bakura's ear; "It was either this or a punch. I couldn't decide which."
"This is okay." Bakura said, and Marik felt him swallow. "it's…warm like this."
"Yeah?" Marik gripped him a bit tighter. "better than a punch, then?"
"Of course."
Marik sighed into the Spirit's neck, even though it was so unnaturally cold, it was Bakura so it hardly mattered. And he didn't want to let go just yet. He liked the movement of the chest close to his own, and the idea that his own warmth somehow reached the Spirit.
Marik opened his eyes in small surprise when a weight rested light on his back, barely there, but enough for him to know what it was.
The Spirit's fingers drew across his shoulder blades in an impossibly careful way. It was soothing and yet very slight. Strange that hands which had hurt him so much only hours ago could feel so gentle now. Marik hardly dared breath, for fear that it would end too soon.
He felt Bakura's breathing; uneven and short against him. He realised the Spirit was shaking just a bit.
"Bakura? Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes," Bakura said faintly.
Marik didn't really believe him.
"I don't want you to get hurt," he said into the Spirit's shoulder. "I don't want you to protect me like that."
"I want to," Bakura's hands tightened for a tiny moment around Marik's back.
At the same time, a rush of warmth reached Marik's head, flickering all about like a dizzying flame for a few seconds. The sensation made him gasp, and he felt Bakura shiver.
"I found your link again," the Spirit said. He sounded relieved.
Marik felt the relief too; their link was comforting and safe, and it made him wonder how he'd done without it.
"Sorry," he pulled away from Bakura with some regret.
The Spirit moved his hands awkwardly to the sides, and gave Marik a curious look; "Sorry for what?"
"I should never have closed my link. It was my fault."
Bakura didn't seem to hear the words, his attention was fixed on Marik's neck. "I hurt you." he said tonelessly.
"It was my fault," Marik repeated. He didn't want to think about it.
"It seems like it should be my fault." Bakura said, looking confused.
"It's not," Marik shook his head.
He was starting to understand, as he watched how the Spirit's eyes widen, and the way they searched Marik's own, as though trying to guess the emotion that might be there. Then how he seemed to smile as he understood it himself. Or at least that was what Marik gathered through their lulling, calm link.
"I liked that," Bakura was looking at Marik's loose arms, "it was warm."
"Oh?" Marik recalled the tentative hands on his back. He noticed the way Bakura still stared at his arms with some strange sort of fascination. "You really were trying to help me, weren't you?" Marik realised.
"What?"
"Back in your Soul Room, when I first came to see you. You sensed my dark half. And…you thought it might help me, didn't you?"
Bakura shrugged. "I thought that was what you wanted."
"Maybe I did want it," the thought made Marik feel sick. "For a while I must have done. I mean…it's a part of me. How else could I have created such a terrible thing in my own mind?"
"Whether you wanted it or not, it hardly matters anymore," Bakura said indifferently. "It's here now."
"I know that," Marik frowned, but knew he was foolish to expect that sort of reassurance from the Spirit. Even if he might do stupid things like make shields and risk himself.
He would still defy human expectation at every turn. Marik knew it now.
"Thank you for trying to help me," he said.
Bakura blinked back up at him, scowling a bit. "I don't want your gratitude."
"Then what do you want?"
"I trust you." Bakura spoke slowly, and looked unsure. "Aren't you supposed to do the same?"
"Of course." Marik nodded. "I do trust you, Bakura." he didn't need to think about it. "Look, I'll prove I do."
He pulled his top off in one smooth motion.
"What are you-" Bakura looked mortified.
"See," Marik turned away from him quickly, revealing his bare back.
"Oh." Bakura said with realisation.
"These are the three God cards. The er...the things I told Yugi about before. They're supposed to help us somehow."
Bakura shifted on the couch. Then Marik felt cool fingers rest on his back for a few seconds, tracing the familiar lines of his markings. He couldn't help but flinch against the touch, and Bakura seemed to see it. He retracted his hand quickly.
"I'm sorry." he muttered.
"No, it's fine," Marik turned round, to see Bakura was looking away. Feeling a bit strange, Marik quickly put his top back on, and cleared his throat. "Erm, so there you are. No more secrets. From me, anyway."
Bakura turned back, though it seemed pointless since his eyes stayed set on his own hands.
"You need all three God cards together then?" he said.
Marik nodded; "Yes. Well, the Pharaoh does, in order to unlock his mind. Along with the rest of the items, of course."
"The cards might be the easier option for the moment," Bakura said thoughtfully. "Doesn't our old friend Seto Kaiba possess the last one?"
"That's right. I think Yami plans to duel him for it."
"Of course," Bakura rolled his eyes, "The dear perfect Pharaoh doesn't seem capable of losing, does he?"
Marik smirked; "You might cut him a break for once."
Bakura raised his brows, but was smirking a bit too; "you expect far too much of me."
"Not really." Marik said.
All he really wanted was for things to be okay.
He watched Bakura lean back on the couch and close his eyes. He was tired, it wasn't hard to see, and little wonder why. Marik wanted to stay with him, and tell him he really was grateful.
Instead he settled for sitting on the nearby chair, and liking the way the link stayed open, and told him Bakura could trust him. That was okay enough.
888
Notes: Sorry this chapter was so loooong. I think this could have done with being broken in half, but I really wanted to mention the God cards here. Need to get some semblance of plot amongst all this angst/drama.
Thank you so much for all your reviews. I appreciate them always.