"I'm gonna tie you up like a baby in a carriage car
Your legs won't work cause you want me so
You just lie spread to the wall
The love you got is surely all the love

That I would ever need

I'm gonna take you by my side
And love you tall, 'til the world ends"

~Dave Mathews Band, "When the World Ends"

The next night Bakura found himself back in Ryou's soul room. Outside Necrophades raged, crashing against the walls without reprieve. Bakura stared at the ceiling. "Well, I'd say he's pretty pissed off at this point."

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah." They held hands. Bakura didn't like it, he felt like a child, but a soul room existed in the realm of symbolism and there was power in the act of them being joined together, power that they needed.

"Let me cast some buff spells first." Ryou held a staff in his other hand. He raised it and chanted.

Bakura felt a rush of adrenaline as the spells took effect. He held a dagger in his other hand, an extra tucked at his waist.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's do this." Ryou turned his head, his expression determined.

Bakura nodded. A door appeared and the room shifted to a battle arena. "I can't believe we're actually doing this. We're fucking idiots."

"Are you kidding?" Ryou smiled. "I've never been this excited before in my life. Let's fuck this bitch up." He let go of Bakura's hand and ran to the center of the arena.

Bakura grinned, realizing how bad of an influence he'd been on Ryou who used to never say anything more strict than dammit. He slipped into the shadows with both daggers in hand, sneaking behind the monster. Bakura jumped on Zorc's back, stabbing his daggers into the sable flesh and twisting the blades. Ryou acted as a distraction, dodging attacks and aiming the few attack spells he had at Zorc's eyes. The creature flailed, all anger and claws. This wasn't the true, resurrected Zorc, of course, rather a representation of the malign intelligence in the Millennium Ring, but they would still fight him. They couldn't defeat him, but they could seal him deeper in the Ring, further away from themselves.

Bakura slashed with his knives and Ryou cast spells. It was a bad party – a thief and a wizard, no tank to do heavy damage or absorb the brunt of attacks – and they didn't have enough people for a fight this difficult. But they knew the game, knew the best strategies so that they wasted no moves or spells, and they knew how to cheat. Bakura knew how to use a small amount of his heka to fully recharge Ryou's spells. It wasn't as easy as typing a console command into a keyboard, but with enough willpower, one could alter reality in the mind, and Bakura had nothing if not willpower.

However, even with them both owning a Feat of Epic Stubbornness, there was only so long they could recharge themselves to prolong the battle. As the fight progressed, Bakura noticed Ryou slowing down, missing Zorc's attacks by a narrower margin. He'd run out of buff spells again, and Bakura didn't have enough energy to recharge them.

"Watch out!" Bakura pushed Ryou out of the way of Zorc's tail.

"Sorry."

Bakura looked at him. "It's time to retreat."

"Wait." Ryou pushed himself back up to his feet. "I need to cast one last spell before we do."

"You're out of mana."

Ryou dodged another attack. "I can convert my health to mana."

"Idiot, if you die in this battle you die and you don't have a copy to resurrect yourself this time."

"I have to do this, Bakura. It's worth my life. Cover me."

"Damn idiot." Bakura cursed as he did something shameful for a thief to do – attack directly.

While distracting Zorc, he heard Ryou call out the spell's name – Change of Heart – not a Monster World spell; Ryou was also cheating. "That won't work on him!"

"Yes it will!" Ryou screamed, holding his staff out to continue the spell. Something pulled away from the dark god, a ribbon of white expanding and swelling into a shape that, upon seeing it, made Bakura drop to his knees.

Zorc keened as white separated from black, and when the two were independent of each other the dark god retreated like a common, wounded animal.

Bakura looked up, still on his knees. Diabound flew to him, wrapping himself around him just as his ka had in Egypt thousands of years ago. He reached out, his hands shaking, and stroked the smooth scales. Bakura leaned into Diabound's serpentine tail, memories of training with his ka overwhelming his mind.

Ryou, also on his knees, hp down to one, crawled to Bakura. "He's beautiful," Ryou whispered, "your ka's so beautiful." He turned and stared at Bakura. "You're so beautiful."

Ryou fell into Bakura's chest; Bakura caught him. Ryou raised his hand and caressed Bakura's cheek, kissing him. Ryou laid Bakura down, the coils of Diabound's tail creating a nest in which they lay. Ryou covered Bakura's body with light touches and kisses, faint as the flicker of green bottle-fly wings. They slipped out of their clothes, never speaking – no ragged, passionate wails like when they were with Marik. Ryou worked quick and silent, like a thief himself, stealing for necessity.

Bakura gasped when Ryou entered him, slick from desire and thought alone since they were more thought than form. Diabound's form faded, returning to Bakura. The arena disappeared, replaced with the Ryou's soul room filled with a dozen Monster World dioramas, their Egyptian one was there, completed in Ryou's mind though half finished in reality. They ignored the games and family pictures and instead lay on the bed, Bakura on his back with legs raised out in a V.

Ryou maneuvered his hips. As he slide back and forth, he whispered in Bakura's ear. "I know your ren's destroyed. I'm sorry I can't get it back for you."

"Ryou." Bakura's voice sounded rusty as he spoke the name. His eyes glanced to the side to try to avoid Ryou's stare, but they kept darting back to him. Bakura swallowed. "You've already returned my ka."

"But I want you whole." Ryou grunted from pleasure as he moved inside Bakura. "I can't return your original ren, but I can share mine with you. I know you've already stolen it, but I'm letting you keep it."

Bakura closed his eyes. He couldn't stand it, the image of Ryou's angelic face, earnest in his desire to heal a soul that was never meant by fate to be mended. "Ryou," Bakura whispered, his breath trembling from a combination of physical and emotional pleasure. The air seeped into his lungs, once again feeling like living breath and not the faded memory of a physical reflex. So he breathed and breathed and held onto Ryou's shoulders to keep himself grounded as their bodies moved.

Their mind-link connected them and as they moved and breathed together, their individual pleasure melded, bringing them to the brink together and pushing them over their edge together. Ryou sucked in a breath and held it while Bakura exhaled a loud moan. They stayed together for a moment, staring at each other but saying nothing since they were never good at talking to each other.

Outside, they felt Marik's presence interacting with their body. Ryou smiled. "We must have woken him up."

"You go," Bakura said.

"No. You need to go."

Bakura shook his head no. "Everything in my mind feels raw."

"I know." Ryou kissed him. "That's why you need to go."

Bakura opened his eyes, even in a physical form his breathing felt sharp and new. Marik's lips on his neck felt the same.

"Marik," he whispered in the same rusted tone that he'd used for Ryou's name. Ryou . . . Bakura realized it would never again be Host, now that they shared a ren he could no longer objectify his other self.

"You cried out the most beautiful moan I've ever heard," Marik scolded Bakura, his tone playful and teasing but also wanting. "You guys can't fool around in your sleep where I can't watch."

Bakura stared at Marik, begging Ryou to switch with him. "It wasn't planned."

"Well, I guess not every dream is a nightmare."

"You don't understand." Bakura closed his eyes, swallowed. "We fought Necrophades."

"And no doubt won, ravishing each other in victory."

"Marik, please listen to what I'm saying." Bakura sighed.

"Oh my." Marik smoothed his pointer finger over Bakura's lips. "I think he's been a bad influence on you. Just listen to the language coming out of your mouth." Marik bit into Bakura's neck again and pressed his erection, already wet with lube, against Bakura's outer thigh. "Hope he didn't tire you out, because I want to see what it takes to make you moan like that."

Bakura sat up and grabbed Marik's hand, wrapping Marik's fingers on his hard phallus (his and Ryou's experience being in the mind, their body was ready for a physical manifestation of the act). "This is how much I want you." Bakura crawled into Marik's lap.

Marik' eyes grew wide with shock as he watched Bakura's face. "B-Bakura? You look...so...fervent." Marik's voice clogged in his throat.

Bakura trembled and hated himself for it. "Marik, I can't fuck you and pretend it doesn't mean anything. Not anymore. We won my ka from Zorc, and Ryou gifted me with his ren. I'm more than I used to be. If we do this—" he turned away, "—it will not be fucking."

Marik stared at him, silence ringing across the room until Marik smiled and said, "flushed is a good look on you." He touched Bakura's lips and pulled Bakura's face so they were looking at each other. "So, that's how he got you to moan like that." Marik drew close; he moved as if to kiss Bakura, but backed away, as if he'd forgotten how. "Bakura," Marik whispered the name into Bakura's mouth. He closed his eyes. "Bakura I . . . I'm not going to leave, not in the morning, and not two weeks from now, and maybe not ever."

The words spoken out loud pulled all the air from Bakura's lungs. He felt as if the gods had stolen his Ib and replaced it with the wings of a giant humming bird. "Marik." Bakura slid his fingers into Marik's hair, adjusting himself in Marik's lap so that he was sitting with his legs crossed behind Marik's back.

Marik tucked a pillow below Bakura's ass. They sat a moment, arms around each other, foreheads pressed together, and even that much made it hard for either man to breath. Bakura noticed Marik shook as much as he did. He raised he head up and brushed his lips against Marik's. They both kept their eyes shut and their mouths close together.

Marik guided himself inside Bakura. Bakura cooed and rocked his body in slow, small circles. They breathed into each other's faces, their joined hips and mouths creating a circle made from their bodies. Lost to all cognitive thinking, Bakura acted on instinct, leaning into Marik and wrapping his arms tight around Marik's back in a proper embrace.

It wasn't until he realized Marik wasn't breathing that he understood what he'd done. He tried to let go, but Marik grabbed Bakura's waist and pulled their bodies closer together. "Don't let go," Marik said, but his breathing rasped in his throat as if in pain.

Bakura squeezed him tighter, running his fingers along Marik's back, rubbing and smoothing his palms against the skin just as he would if Marik's back were free from the markings of Isfet. Gentle sobs of breath hiccuped out of Marik's throat, but he wasn't crying, merely overwhelmed. Bakura kept his hips moving in tight circles, kept his hands soothing over Marik's scars.

They didn't speak, the only sound in the room was the creaking mattress and their breathing. Bakura's loins shuddered, Marik's tip angled into his prostate and with each swivel of his hips, Bakura controlled the depth and pace of stimulation. He felt energy circulating between their bodies, true heka, the magic that existed before the creation of duality.

Marik sighed against Bakura's cheek, arching his back against Bakura's touch. Bakura's pelvic floor muscle hitched around Marik's girth. Marik reached down and caressed his fingers along Bakura's shaft and tip. Bakura mewled into Marik's ear, delirious in the moment. The mental link Marik had with Ryou's, and by extension Bakura's, subconscious tingled, fed by the rotating energy flowing freely along the circle of their bodies. The connection between them bloomed, like a lotus in a swamp extending its petals above the mire to reach for the light. Just as in Ryou's soul room, Marik and Bakura used the thread of mental connection to pull themselves into orgasm together. Their breaths quickened to high pitched notes. Their movement became a song, their voices singing out, the rocking of their bodies set the beat, accentuated by their heartbeats. The music lifted up in a crescendo, reaching its climax, the last note ringing in the air. They watched one another in the dark, hands reaching out to faces, lips sealing together.

Marik fell asleep, a deep, needed sleep that night terrors had denied him. It lasted until morning, but as the room grayed with dawn he found himself back in the tomb. Hands tied, bit in mouth, mind breaking in two as the initiation replayed itself in his mind over, and over, and over again. The loop of memory always ended with Rishid, blood dripping from his face. Marik knew there was something he was missing, something about his father's death one year later, but those memories still clung black and veiled behind his mind.

Marik sat up in bed keening. Bakura pulled Marik into his chest, one hand petting Marik's hair and the other rubbing his back. Marik shivered at the sensation of being caressed on his scars. He wasn't used to the feeling of his back being touched; however, he liked how Bakura never tried to trace the glyphs or images, only focused on the curves of muscle or the trail of Marik's spine.

"Would you like to see it?" Bakura's voice was contemplative.

"What?" Marik asked, trying to cleanse his mind of his memories.

"Diabound."

"You can summon it?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

Bakura grinned and nodded. Marik blinked and when his eyes opened an instant later, the room was filled with majestic white. Marik's jaw hung loose on his face. "He's beautiful." He reached out a hand to pet the pearl-white scales. Marik looked, and realized that the creature expanded past the room, disappearing into the walls. "He's huge."

"If I'd had access to him during Battle City . . . things may have been different."

"Yeah, we would have beat my alter ego and that means I'd be dead."

Bakura frowned. "I didn't mean it like that."

Marik tossed a pillow at Bakura's face. "I know," he said, standing up and heading for the shower.

They spent the day working on Bakura and Ryou's Monster World campaign. Marik used Bakura's sketchbook to make character cards showing stats for battles. After finishing a card for a character named Shada, he turned the page and felt his eye twitch as he saw a female priestess named Isis. "Is this my sister?"

Bakura glanced up at the picture. "In a way."

"Why did you put her in the game?"

Bakura sat a moment in silence before answering. "This campaign is based on what happened three thousand years ago."

Marik thought about it while staring at the picture. He remembered, when they were children, that his sister would tell him odd stories about a palace and a Pharaoh, trying to get him to understand why it was so important that he upheld the traditions of the tomb-guardians. She told the stories like memories more than fables. Marik sighed at the picture, setting the sketchbook down and picking up a regular notebook with lined paper.

He jotted down a quick letter. "I need to go to the post office."

"Have fun," Bakura muttered, attention still focused on his current task.

"I don't know where the post office is. You have to show me." Marik stood up and looked for an envelope.

"You're capable, I'm sure you'll find it if you ask around."

"You're going with me. Where's an envelope?"

"How would I know?"

"Ask Ryou."

"Sorry, can't quite seem to hear him right now."

"Whatever, I'll look for it myself." Marik inspected the hallway closet. Bakura tapped his shoulder from behind; his usual smirk lit up his continence as he held a box of envelopes just out of Marik's reach. Marik grabbed the rope supporting the ring and pulled Bakura close to his face. "Asshole. I thought you regained half your soul. Shouldn't you be nicer now?"

"I was never nice."

Marik nodded at Bakura's statement. "No surprise there. So are you going to give me the envelopes?"

"What's in it for me if I do?"

Marik let go of Bakura and set his hands into his hips. He shrugged. "I'll trade the Millennium Rod for the envelopes."

"I wouldn't fall for that line again even if you still had the Rod." A single snort of laughter escaped Bakura's throat as he dropped the box of envelopes onto Marik's head and walked away. Marik caught the box before it tumbled to the ground, pulling two envelopes out and stuffing the box in the closet where it didn't belong. Marik walked back to the table. He wrote his sister's address on the first envelope and stuffed the letter inside. He placed the letter and first envelope into the second envelope and wrote a different address on the front.

Bakura leaned over to stare at Marik's handwriting. "Why two envelopes?"

"I'm sending this to one of the businesses I used as a front for cash flow when I ran the Rare Hunters. They'll send it to her. This is how I used to inform Ishizu that Rishid and I were still alive while I organized my revenge."

"Isn't that a lot of work to send one letter?"

"If I send it directly she'll be on the first flight out of Egypt. So unless you want to be formally introduced to my siblings, I suggest this method."

Bakura gestured with his hand. "Oh no, by all means, let them fly out and stay for a week. I mean, we've had all this fun with one Ishtar in the house; I'm sure three would be even more delightful."

"Are you ready to go to the post office?"

"Who said I was going?"

Marik smiled. "Maybe I just want an excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

"To get you out into the sunlight again."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just go."