A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. The last few weeks have been really hectic for me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter (actually I think it's one of my crappier one), which I tried to end with something of a cliffhanger. Malik and Mariku meet in the next chapter, so I hope you'll hang on for the ride. Oh, and please review. I don't get very much feedback from readers, so it's always nice to hear that someone likes—or at least feels compelled to comment about—my work.

By Definition Evil

Part 5

Human: 1. of people: relating to, involving, or characteristic of human beings

2. made up of people: composed ofpeople 3. compassionately kind: showing kindness, compassion, or approachability 4. imperfect: having the imperfections and weaknesses of a human being 5. member of human species: a member of the species to which men and women belong. 6. person: a person, viewed especially as having imperfections and weaknesses

Rishid Ishtar sat alone in the living room, staring sightlessly out the window. Isis was still at work and Malik was in the shower, so for the moment he was left alone.

"Mariku?"

He didn't know why he was trying to contact the creature, damned himself while at the same time praying that the Darkness would reply.

"Mariku, what did you mean when you asked me if Malik loved me back?"

Nothing. Despite himself, Rishid began to feel uneasy. The sudden emergence of the voice had shocked him and almost as badly did its absence. He didn't feel lonely without it…not by any means… However, a pang in the man's gut told him that something had gone horribly wrong.

"Hey, did you call me?" Malik appeared at the head of the stairs. Clad in nothing but a towel, his body was wet as if he'd jumped out of the shower in quite a hurry. He seemed very much recovered from his earlier episode.

"Uh…oh…n-no, I didn't. Sorry." Rishid averted his eyes from the younger's earnest expression. This is stupid. Of course he loves me.

"Oh, my bad. I must be hearing things." Malik ran a hand through his soaking hair. His pleasant looking face was mildly puzzled and his chest and arms (more masculine, Rishid thought, than they once had been) had broken out in goose bumps. "Hey, do you think it would be all right if I used the phone later to call Ryou? I know it's long distance, but I want to let him know that I've arrived."

"That should be fine." Rishid couldn't help but raise a questioning eyebrow at the blush creeping into his brother's cheeks. "Maybe later we can visit Isis at the museum. She has some artifacts to show you."

"Sure. Just tell me when."

Malik disappeared up into his bedroom, leaving Rishid once again in solitude. He loved Isis. He'd loved the woman who took him as her son. He'd even, in a strange way, loved their father. However, what Rishid felt for Malik and what he felt for the rest of his family were completely different. One was devotion, the other a religion all its own.

And despite this love he couldn't help but think of Marik. Marik trapped in darkness, clawing at himself and laughing in agony and desperation. As hard as he tried, Rishid could not connect this Mariku with the one of Battle City, the beast who had so brutally attempted to destroy everything he loved.

Pity, it seemed, was Rishid's downfall.

Upstairs, he could hear Malik talking on the phone. He sounded sort of giddy, laughing nervously but laughing nonetheless. What exactly is his relationship with that Ryou boy? Rishid felt a sudden stab of jealousy. Misplaced jealousy, he knew. Malik was young. It was only natural he make…friends. But Malik was his everything, and, though he knew his somewhat crazy love was not as fanatically reciprocated, Rishid felt just a little bit betrayed.

Betrayed and aggravated because Mariku still would not respond.

"Hey Rishid, ready to go?"

Malik appeared suddenly before him in a red tee-shirt and tightly clinging denim.

"Yes. Let me go start the car."

The blonde gave the man a nervous smile and followed him out. Inwardly, this gesture made Rishid flinch. Some of his inner turmoil must have escaped into his voice.

"Malik? Hey! How are you?"

Impalpable body stretched out upon the couch, Bakura sneered as Ryou's voice drifted in from the hallway.

"Oh, I'm all right. Not much going on here. How was your flight?"

He was talking to Malik on the phone again, and, though the spirit knew Malik would never be strong enough to break his bond with Ryou, he was more than a little bit annoyed.

"That's good. And Rishid?"

Ryou's voice was cheerful, sincerely so.

"You're sure everything's all right? You sound kind of stressed."

Truthful also was his worry.

"Okay, well tell me if there's anything I can do."

So much honesty left Bakura a little bit disgusted.

"Nice to talk to you too. Hey…umm…when you get back, how about we…err…meet up for lunch…or something?"

Disgusted and jealous.

"Really? Okay, sounds great! Bye!"

Ryou hung up, pale face flushed for once with something besides a sunburn. However, upon meeting the yami's gaze, his blush retreated, replaced by the pallor of anger and repulsion.

"How's your boyfriend?"

"Don't talk to me, Bakura." Ryou walked past him into the bathroom. However, he didn't bother to close the door, knowing full well that the spirit would simply walk through it.

"So you really are angry, then?" Setting himself as Ryou's reflection in the mirror, Bakura watched shamelessly as the boy turned on the shower faucet and began to undress himself. "I can tell you now that Malik would not have disapproved."

"But I do." Tossing his clothes uselessly at his tainted reflection, Ryou tested the water with his fingers before jumping beneath its tepid torrent. "No one deserves to be raped."

Bakura laughed at the hikari's ignorance. "That, Ryou, is where you are wretchedly mistaken."

"No." Finally, Ryou looked at him with something other than anger lingering in his eyes. "No one does, not even someone like you."

"Am I such a monster?"

"Yes."

"And you hate me?"

"Of course not."

In Ryou's words was all the sincerity Bakura had sensed when he talked to Malik. He doesn't hate me. He should, but he doesn't. For this the spirit was immeasurably grateful.

"I don't hate you, but if you ever interfere with Malik's yami again, I will cast you out."

At this, Bakura laughed, raucous, terrified, crazy laughter. Ryou cast him out? Ryou successfully defy him in any way at all? No. The boy was too good, too inclined towards pity, too squeamish. "You wouldn't."

"…no." Ryou's countenance was one of regretful resignation. "No. You're probably right."

"This is what I wanted to show you. It's certainly something, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Something…"

Shivering because of the cold temperatures of the preservation room, Marik gazed ornately carved and painted slab of granite. The stone had been carved in the shape of a pentagon, each corner surrounding the text bearing a carving of one of Hinduism's five forms of God: Vishnu, maintainer of existence, governor of the present, past and future. Devi, goddess of the feminine without which man would be impotent. Surya, supreme light, embodiment of the sun. Ganesha, the elephant-headed Remover of Obstacles. And at the topmost corner, Shiva. Shiva, destroyer of worlds.

"This is it?" Malik stared in wonder at the deity's apathetic countenance. A chill coursed through him. "This is the Gospel of Shiva? It can't be! It's too well-preserved. I mean look at the paint! They're mostly plant-based. By now they should have…"

"I know. It seems improbable, but this tablet fits exactly the description we have of the tablet!" Isis laid a hand upon his shoulder. She was smiling.

"Yeah." Malik gave the stone an incredulous look. It really was unbearably beautiful. Smooth, flawless carving. Vivid colors that defied the confines of spectrum. Even if this Gospel proved to be fake, the blonde would be unable to help wondering at the mystery of far eastern gods and flowing Sanskrit. "Maybe it is…"

For the first time in six years, Malik Ishtar allowed himself to think of magic.

Once again, Rishid wandered through darkness. He was not afraid this time; he knew where he was going.

Following the malignance of the shadows, the discord of something fragile ripped suddenly asunder, he found Marik unconscious at his feet. As they had once before, the shadows swarmed around him. However, this time the Darkness did not thrash. He did not cry out. The silence was not pierced by the disharmony of his anguished laughter. Instead, Mariku lay as one stiller than a corpse.

Panic seized hold of Rishid's brain. This creature, this creature who was not Malik and whom he did not love. How was it that his weakness could drive the man so easily to the edge of terror?

"Marik?"

He grasped the blonde's hand. However, unlike before, Marik did not gasp at his touch and regain consciousness. Instead, he remained immobile, his fingers stiff as though in death and vaguely translucent as would be a ghost's. Rishid gazed despairingly at the Darkness' near transparent hands and realized that this un-solidness had crept into his wrists and forearms.

"Marik, answer me."

Nothing. Desperately, Rishid did a visual examination of the other's body. Something was wrong with his shoulder. The man could see this clearly. Everything else, though, was obscured by the shadows that clung to him, that had not vanished this time, not even when he touched him.

"Get off!"

Rishid's normally stoic voice rose angrily, and the shadows cringed, held on for a second, and finally fled with what Rishid perceived to be an almost insect-like rustling. They hesitated. Are they becoming bolder?

With the shadow's gone, Marik looked less ghastly. However, his body still would not respond. Rishid pulled him like a child into his lap. The blonde hung, a dead weight, in his arms. His shoulder twisted at an alarming angle.

It was only now that the shadows had dissipated that Rishid noticed the blood. Thick and red, there were speckles of it on his lower abdomen, dried rivulets on his thigh, on his… Until now, Rishid had avoided the reality of Mariku's nakedness, of the blonde's apparent lack of concern for it. However, he could not repress the horrified thoughts now entering his psyche. Someone else had access to the Darkness, and whoever it was had done to him something terrible.

Rape? Rape Marik? Rape the man who had killed the elder Ishtar, who had tortured the Pharaoh and his companions, who had battled six long years for control of Malik's mortal body? This indomitable, flaming, maddened force broken so easily? With such baseness and lack of cunning?

"With your love of control, I wouldn't have expected to see you on the receiving end." Rishid was struck by the cruelty and truth of his own words. Mariku did love control. Anyone who knew of his duels could understand this. Physical torment was not enough. He had dominated his victims minds as well, made them feel as helpless as…as helpless as he must have felt, shut away in darkness.

So rape seemed right up the blonde's alley. So, too, did suicide, which in essence seemed to have been his plan from the beginning. To die and drag the world down with him. Take away Marik's hatred and the basic wrongness of the act and one was left with something akin to bravery.

Not that Rishid would ever utter this aloud.

"Answer me, Marik." In an earnest attempt to warm the blonde's frigid body, he pressed his palms gently against his forehead. This was rewarded with a small sigh from the invalid, a slight twitch of a delicate and severely-angled eyebrow.

"Answer me."

How many times had he uttered these words, this insistent, almost arrogant command? Rishid was not a man attracted to authority, yet Mariku always did bring out the worst in him.

Again, the spirit stirred. His jaw flexed and snapped shut with a sudden, dental click. To encourage him, Rishid grabbed his arm and shook it. At last, Mariku's eyelids opened, and he let loose a hideous wail of agony.

"…l-let go…oh god…Rishid…RISHID MY ARM!"

In his excitement, Rishid had pulled on the other's injured shoulder. He released with a sudden, sharp hiss, allowing Mariku to roll off of him and onto his side, cradling the abused appendage.

"You idiot! You bastard, why did you do that?"

Marik's countenance was as vicious as ever it had been during Battle City. His face was twisted, his pupils now pinpricks in eyes of unfathomable wideness. Even the veins in neck and forearms bulged slightly as they used to.

"I…" All Rishid could do was shake his head, cower in the presence of such desperate anger. "I…I didn't…"

"SHUT UP!" Marik turned away from him. "Leave me alone Rishid! I…I-I…" His anger seemed to crack, replaced with something akin to panic or regret. "Why did I…he…I didn't think that I…that I would ever…what is this? What am I feeling?" Clenching his trembling hands tightly in his hair, the blonde moaned, helpless in his inability to escape emotion. In this moment Rishid understood what Marik was. The pitiable side of his existence that did not rise above or amend his cruelty but lurked quietly somewhere beneath it.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Marik. Let me fix your arm?"

"…fix it?"

The Darkness' words were a disbelieving whisper. He looked incredulous, skeptical to the supposition that anything broken could ever be mended.

"Yes. Come here."

And Marik obeyed. Unable to fully control his shaking legs, he crawled to Rishid's open hand, a sort of three-legged, bleeding dog. Carefully, with as little hesitation as he could muster, he helped the creature once more onto his lap. Placing one arm on Marik upper arm and another on his tattooed shoulder blade, Rishid prepared himself.

"I'm sorry. This will hurt."

"That's all right."

A sickening pop and a half-muffled shriek later and Marik had collapsed in a cold sweat against Rishid's chest. He buried his face deeply into the dark green cotton of the man's shirt, apparently finding the hue somewhat soothing.

"You should get off m..."

"Is that your favorite color?"

Despite the lunacy of their situation, despite the disconcerting fact that Mariku had refused to even acknowledge his cautionary words, Rishid laughed. "You mean green?"

"Yes." By his clipped tone, the man judged that Marik did not find in this question anything amusing.

"Um…I suppose. How about yourself?"

The blonde frowned. "I don't know. White?"

"W-white?" Rishid nearly choked on his perplexity. "Why white?"

"Because white is the absence of all other color. Nothing can hide in it."

"I see. Kind of boring, though, isn't it?"

"Maybe." Mariku peered up at him, looking for a moment unwittingly young. "I suppose black is the most interesting, being made up of all colors, but I like white. It's…"

"It's what?"

"Never mind."

Understandable?

Pure?

Safe?

Mariku crawled off of him again and gazed out into the darkness. "You saved me for a second time, Rishid. That must mean you like me more than you used to."

"Why should it matter whether or not I like you?"

"Because I at least want to be liked by someone." Marik barely managed to keep a sly grin from slipping onto his face. This lie, of course, was exactly what Rishid wanted…needed to hear.

"I guess…" Something flickered in the man's green irises. "I guess I don't dislike you, not…not now."

Despite himself, Marik felt a twitch of excitement. Still rubbing his aching shoulder, he waiting to see what else the other had to say.

"Marik, may I ask you something?"

"Hmm…that depends on what you ask."

"Who did that to you?"

The blonde arched an uncomprehending eyebrow "Did wha…oh." He stared sickly at the blood on his legs, the blood he knew originated at his abused entrance. Feeling a sudden flush of shame at his bleeding nakedness, he attempted to cover himself with his hand. "Don't worry. There's nothing you can do abou…"

"Marik."

The authority in Rishid's voice was startling. So was the sudden coldness in his eyes. What did I do? Panic seized in Mariku's chest. Somehow he had angered Rishid. What if he leaves and does not come back? What if I'm trapped here forever? What if…

"I didn't mean to."

Mariku waited, eyes averted, listening with mounting despair to the other's silence. Then…

"You think I'm angry with you?"

Marik had trouble replying. His throat was dry with fear. "W-who else?"

"Marik, I…I…" With a sigh, Rishid reached out and tilted Marik's chin so that their eyes were level. "Marik, what do you think this is? What this…this person…has done to you?"

"I don't know." The blonde fumed at his own ignorance, grew annoyed at Rishid for asking such a difficult question. "This…he said that it was love."

"…it isn't." Rishid grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him up so they were nose to nose. "This is not love, Marik. He was lying to you. How can you possibly believe those words!"

"Why not?" Mariku tried to subdue the helpless rage building up inside him. "It's not as if I have anything to compare it to! I mean, look at me! I'm not…not…"

"Not what?"

"…not human…"

The words sent a chill down his spine. No matter how he hardened himself, Marik could not escape the truth of them. Even if he succeeded, even if he took control of Malik's body and lived in light, would he ever be anything less than Nothing cursed with awareness of itself?

"That's not…"

"True? Of course it is. You said so yourself." Mariku remembered now. He remembered perfectly. "We are not human because we hope. We hope because we're human."

"…I said that?"

"At the end of Battle City, yes. You said it to Ma…to the other me."

Rishid shook his head. "Discount it, Marik. I don't even know what those words mean anymore."

"It's simple. They mean I can hope as much as I want, and I still will not be human. I still will not escape the shadows. I still will not understand one thing about what it is to love."

Mariku said this without emotion, without even a hint at the regret and anger building deep inside him, but Rishid was touched by these words. He placed his calloused palm tenderly on the blonde's cheek.

"You're a lot of things, Marik, but inhuman isn't one of them."

"Liar."

Mariku leaned forward and placed a kiss on the man's dishonest lips.

To be continued…

-UsuakariTOT

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