It was morning, and Bakura had just finished with breakfast. He was headed back through the main room to spend a little more time in his quarters before the first activity of the day when he spotted Marik sitting on one of the couches. Marik had spotted him, too.

"Hey!" he grinned, motioning to the seat beside him. Bakura took it. "So?"

"...So?" the Brit asked.

"So I was wondering what you thought of this place so far," Marik said cryptically.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Just, stuff you've noticed about it," the Egyptian supplied. "Stuff they're teaching, how they're teaching it, the staff members. Things like that."

"Hm." Bakura paused for a moment. "They seem earnest enough, but they're pretty forceful about what they want you to learn," he said.

Marik frowned disapprovingly, like he was looking at a 12-year-old that had just asked him where Russia was on a world map. "Really? You've been here how long and you haven't figured it out yet?"

Bakura looked at him. "Is there something more to it?"

Marik heaved another heavy sigh, this time with more than a hint of frustration. "Yes, of course there is! What do you think the point of this place is, anyway? Besides research, I mean."

The Brit took a few moments to formulate his answer. He hadn't actually seen it yet, but he wasn't eager to incur the Wrath of Marik Ishtar. "It's supposed to rehabilitate people who lost their Hearts or Souls," he said diplomatically.

Marik rolled his eyes. "But tell me, Bakura, what do you need rehab for? You're fine, physically. And mentally you just need to adjust. You're able to cope a lot better with people now than you were a week ago, right?"

"I suppose," Bakura answered. He didn't mention that part of this was because Marik had insisted on them hanging out together fairly often.

"So? Why are you here? Why are any of us here?" Marik demanded.

Bakura merely shrugged.

Marik grimaced, gripping his pencil tightly. "Let me know when you figure it out," he said through a clenched jaw, and that was the end of the conversation.

A long silence followed, the only noises coming from Marik's occasional scribbling in his notebook—who's contents were still unknown to Bakura—and the other people in the room. The Brit took this time to try and piece together what it was about this place that would make Marik feel so strongly. He had to keep in mind that the boy was probably at least a little bit unstable, but he had also been in the institution longer than Bakura had, although he wasn't exactly sure how long. Was his sudden disapproval the result of some time of careful observation, or just a side-effect of living without a Soul?

That brought him back to a second point, which he had been observing and pondering often during the past few days. He hadn't noticed it during the first day he had spent with Marik, but the boy seemed to be very quick to switch moods. From what Bakura had seen, even the smallest things could make him light up like a firework—but then, the smallest things could upset him as well. He wasn't able to go in depth on this topic, as Marik started talking again.

"Look," he said, pointing to the unfamiliar kid who had been a part of their table during the arts and crafts projects a few days ago. "That guy's name is Yugi. Guess what his problem is."

"Ehm..." Bakura watched the kid for a few seconds, unsure of how exactly Marik expected him to know what was wrong. He decided to go with the most likely and vague answer. "He's missing something."

Marik shook his head. "Actually, no. His problem is that he has two Souls and a Heart."

"How does that happen?" Bakura asked.

"I have no idea," the boy shrugged. "I've ever actually talked to him."

Bakura looked at him. "Then how do you know he's got two Souls?"

"I've asked. And watched," he answered simply. "See how he hesitates a lot whenever he does something?" They paused to observe. 'Yugi' was playing some card game with another patient, and from the looks of it, every move he made took a lot of careful deliberation. "It's because the two Souls aren't in agreement. It makes a lot of things hard to do for him."

"You seem to know a lot about him for someone who's never talked to him," Bakura pointed out.

Marik shrugged. "He's been here a while. Almost as long as me. And I write about the different patients that come through here. I don't talk to them often, though."

"You talked to me."

The boy paused and looked at him, eventually smiling brightly. "You talked to me first. That never happens."

Before Bakura could reply, a voice on the overhead speaker alerted the appropriate patients, and all of the others, that class was about to start. He didn't mind being interrupted, because he would be able to look into what Marik had been talking about earlier, so he got p and said goodbye, leaving the boy alone with his notebook again.

"How are you today, Bakura?" the teacher asked with a smile.

"Fine," Bakura answered. He had learned to answer positively to these questions despite the fact that giving an honest answer was impossible.

"That's good! Now, do you have any questions for me today? You always seem to want to know about interesting topics."

"I want to know why I have to be in rehab," he said, wasting no time. He had other questions, but this was the most important.

The teacher seemed caught off-guard. "Why? Didn't they tell you that before you came here?"

"They did, but I forgot," he lied.

The teacher smiled sympathetically. "I see. You're here so that you can learn how to live in the outside world again. Unfortunately, now that you don't have a heart, you think differently than the general population, so you have to relearn how to behave and get along," she said. It sounded rehearsed. "It might not be fair, but that's how it is."

"Why do we have to relearn it? Why didn't we just remember?" Bakura prodded. He wanted a real answer.

"Well... That's actually a very good question," she said, pausing to think it over. "For a lot of patients, their lives before they had the operation is sort of like a display behind the glass at a museum. They could see it all, but it didn't really affect their lives afterward. Some patients even view their emotional selves as illogical, and try to distance themselves even more from what they were. We try to prevent that, if we can. Does that answer your question?"

"Sort of." Bakura made a mental note of what she had said so he could come back to it later. Now that he had more information he needed to change the subject to keep her from getting suspicious. "Can I ask you another question?" he asked.

She smiled, looking relieved. "Of course," she said.

"I talked to Marik Ishtar a few days ago, like you said."

The teacher looked very surprised, but also very pleased. "Oh, did you? That's wonderful!"

Bakura simply shrugged. "I was wondering if you knew anything about his behavior. I've noticed that he seems to switch moods very quickly. Is that normal?"

"Yes, it is," she told him. "I think it has something to do with not having rational thought to govern his emotions, but I don't work with him often, so that could be wrong."

That explained a lot. "Alright. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she told him with a satisfied smile. "If you ever have any more questions, let me know!"

"I will."

While he was gone, Marik had disappeared off to who-knew-where, which didn't bother Bakura too much. It gave him time to think. He sat down in the almost-empty common room on one of the couches with a book entitled Introductory Philosophy. He had chosen it by a staff-member's suggestion, hoping it would give him some of the answers he sought. Obviously it wouldn't be able to tell him why he could only see the color purple and whatever colors Marik Ishtar happened to be wearing, but it might be able to give him a better idea of what a Soul was, and what an emotion was, for that matter. The thought struck him that apparently curiosity wasn't an emotion, or he wouldn't care enough to do any of this. But now he was curious enough to seek answers about two people. Maybe he should start a list.

He skipped quite a few chapters before coming across one that looked interesting. It was titled 'Consciousness', and in it he found a definition of a Heart. Part of it read: "...capacity for sympathy." He stared at it Did this have anything to do with what Marik was talking about earlier?

After a moment of thought, he grabbed a pen sitting on a side table, flipped to the back of the book where there were some blank pages, and scribbled the quote down. Then he wrote down the vague clue that the Soulless boy had given him, that he didn't technically need any rehab. The thought that he probably shouldn't have been writing in a book didn't occur; he decided that whenever he came across something that seemed relevant he would write it down, to keep everything organized.

He didn't have time to look for any more clues; he glanced up and saw Marik in a doorway on the other side of the room talking to a woman Bakura had never seen before with dark hair. He closed the book and put the pen back. Once the Egyptian was finished talking he skipped over to where Bakura was sitting and plopped down next to him.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

"Where were you?" Bakura asked. He had never seen that door used before.

Marik's expression turned into one of annoyance. "Getting examined," he he sighed. "Although it's less of an examination now and more of a 'What would you do?' Q&A. So annoying."

This was the first Bakura had heard of any sort of examination for patients, so he decided to ask about that, too. Marik didn't seem to mind his near constant questions, so he might as well ask them. "Why were they examining you?"

Marik shrugged, suddenly passive. "I don't know. To see if I've magically acquired some good judgment since last week, I guess."

Bakura quirked an eyebrow. "Good judgment?"

The Egyptian's demeanor was back to that of an irritated child. "Figure it out yourself." That was the end of that conversation.

The two of them were silent for a few minutes, both of them following their own thought trains in peace, until Bakura thought of something.

"Do I get to ask you another question about yourself now?"

"Huh?" Marik looked at him, confused.

"You asked me about the institution and I answered your question."

"You gave me a lame answer, though," Marik smirked. "You'll have to do better than that. Ask something else."

"Fine," Bakura sighed. Wracking his brains for something that would be appropriate, he suddenly came up with something he hadn't thought of before."What's the point of living if you don't have any feelings?" he asked carefully.

Marik became deadly serious, and took a long time before answering, staring straight. Finally he spoke. "Is this a hypothetical question or one directly relating to you?"

"Either one."

The Egyptian sighed and gave him a sidelong glare. "Hold on," he grumbled, and began flipping through his notebook. Bakura risked a glance at the contents as they flew by. He couldn't read much of it, save random words, until Marik flipped by a page with two words written in what looked like red crayon spanning the whole page. The letters spelled 'MALIK ISHTAR'. He wondered if he had read it wrong, but didn't have time to ponder further.

"Okay, here it is," Marik said, stopping on a particular page and lifting the notebook so that Bakura could no longer see the words. "'Yes, the program is controversial. For some it wouldn't be better than death, and others think it's worth a try. After the procedure we try to the best of our ability to help patients adjust, but ultimately it's the their job to decide what they're going to do with their life.' That's a direct quote from one of the scientists that started this whole program," he said, closing the notebook and looking at Bakura. "People come in here for lots of different reasons. Some of them don't feel like they have a purpose afterward. They'll never tell you this, but the suicide rate here is pretty high."

At that he looked down, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Bakura waited for him to continue speaking; it paid off in a few moments. "I don't know why you're here, Bakura. I don't really know anything about you. But you obviously thought this life would be worth something."

Again it was silent, the two of them just looking at each other as Bakura thought about Marik's words. He apparently thought Bakura was going through some sort of existential crisis, so his words would mean that...what? He cared about Bakura? He was worried? The thought seemed almost unfathomable, but coming from Marik it was less so. Either way, he had to agree. He must have thought this life would be worth something. He wasn't sure he completely remembered what those reasons were, but he found that he didn't really care, either.

The Egyptian snapped him out of his thoughts again. "I'm going to bed," he announced, then paused. "Hold on." He whipped through his notebook again and pulled out a few pieces of paper stapled together and handed them to Bakura. "You can look at that, but I need it back later." Bakura nodded obediently, they said their goodnights, and Marik left.

Before the Brit followed suit, he looked down at the papers. The title was, "WHAT IS A BUCKET LIST?" in big, blue letters.

...Blue. The letters were blue.

Well. He wouldn't have a shortage of things to think about for quite a while, it seemed.

...Um. I sat on this chapter entirely too long, and for that I apologize. I was scared to edit it. It's funny how after trying to write a chapter of something for more than three months, and then you go back to read the previous chapters, how cringe-inducing your writing suddenly is.

That being said, I am very very very sorry I made you all wait for months and months for this. I really don't have an excuse. Some big things did happen these past few months, but I still had plenty of free time, which I spent slacking off. I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise! D:

Some things that've happened in the past few months:

1) Got into Homestuck
2) Moved
3) Grandma died :(
4) Power struggle at church sort of it was weird
5) Trying to start using Livejournal?

It's been sort of crazy. :'D Anyway, Livejournal. I really want to start using it and make some friends, so if you have an LJ, please add me and tell me who you are? My username is quasiroyale. Or you could just drop your username off in a review if you're going to do that anyway, and I'll friend you! C:

And lastly I'd like to say, I cannot even tell you how much I appreciate your reviews. Seriously. You are all so sweet and amazing with your compliments and you've brought tears to my eyes more than once. I really can't thank you enough. C':