"I'm gonna take you up to
Well, I'm gonna take you down on you
I'm gonna hold you like an angel, angel
I'm gonna love you
I'm gonna love you
When the world ends,
I'm gonna hold you
When the world is over
We'll just be beginning..."

~Dave Mathews Band, When the World Ends

***Rules for Chinchirorin: You roll three dice in a bowl until you roll a double of any number - the third dice represents your score. An example in this chapter is when Zorc rolls two 4's and a 6. His score is 6. There's some insta-losses in Chinchirorin; if you role a 1-2-3 you lose, if you roll all 1's you lose, and if you piss (your dice go out the bowl), then you lose. There are also insta-wins; if you role a 4-5-6 you win, or if you role a Storm (which is any three of a kind besides 1's) then you also win.***

Bakura looked up and saw Ryou pressed against the sand, pinned down by claws. Bakura keened. Diabound shouldered Zorc's hand away and Bakura retrieved Ryou's unconscious body. He retreated, back into Ryou's soul room. On the bed they once made love on, Bakura ripped apart the sheets in order to bandage Ryou's chest. "You asshole. You asshole! What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Protecting you." Ryou muttered, struggling to open his eyes. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. A violent, intrusive shade of red that Bakura only remembered seeing once before in the death of his village.

"Ryou, I can't stop this much bleeding. You need to cure yourself."

"I'm sorry, Bakura. I'm out of heka, and I don't have enough HP to convert my health to energy." Ryou smiled. "But, hey, free body for you if I die, right?"

Bakura's eyes darted across Ryou's face. He watched Ryou's skin change from the living white of an albatross' breast to the matted, flat color of chalk. Bakura didn't have any gods to pray to, the gods having become his enemies along with the Pharaohs, but he needed something to call out to. He prayed to his ancestors, to the spirits of Kul Elna. Not just his original village, but all those that came before them. Bakura felt something tight and sharp in his throat. Each time his breath hitched into his chest that something cut into him, tearing him inside. "Ryou." His voice sounded small, unshielded. "Marik will yell at me if you die." He laughed, teasing Ryo to prevent the sharpness in his throat from tearing through him.

Ryou laughed but the movement made him wince. His hair fell in a mess around his face. "I'm so sorry, Bakura. I'm so sorry."

Bakura cinched his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists. "Shut-up." He leaned over and kissed Ryou, hard like Ryou kissed him before the battle. He kissed him three times, but couldn't feel any of his energy shift over to Ryou. He opened his eyes. "How did you transfer your heka to me?"

"I don't know. I did it on a whim." Ryou shuddered from pain; a slight purple tint colored his lips.

The sight broke Bakura. His breath hiccuped out of his chest; his eyes burned until the world through them blurred and he felt the heat escaping down his cheeks.

"Bakura? Are you . . . crying over me?"

"No," Bakura insisted. "and if you tell anyone I'll kill you."

"Don't cry." Ryou struggled to reach his hand up and touched Bakura's cheek. He guided Bakura's face lower, wetting his lips with Bakura's tears as he kissed Bakura's face. This time, Bakura felt heka drain from his spirit and transfer to Ryou.

The tears stopped as Bakura watched Ryou after the kiss. Ryou let go and placed his hands on his hastily bandaged wounds and used a weak healing spell. The light returned to his complexion and his lips returned to the shade of wild roses. "I can't heal everything," Ryou whispered, exhausted, "but I'll live – thanks to you."

Bakura looked away, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I didn't do a damn thing. You saved me."

Ryo frowned. "While we're stuck here, Zorc can take over, can't he?"

Bakura used his scarlet robe to dry his face. His expression already recovered as if nothing happened. "Yes, but our wills are still strong enough to reclaim control as soon as you can move."

"Will Marik be okay?"

Bakura smirked. "Marik can take care of himself."

Marik ran through the tomb-halls, searching for Rishid. When they'd returned from the surface, they realized their father had rigged an alarm to the exit. In Marik's room every object had been wrecked or destroyed in some way.

"Rishid," Ishizu gasped, turning and running down the hall.

Marik followed her, calling for the person he'd been raised to see as a servant, but had always thought of as a brother. His father was angry and that meant . . . but eleven year-old Marik realized he didn't know what that meant. When he tried to think about his father being angry in the past, Marik's vision blurred and a stabbing pain pierced his temple, but his room was in tatters and he knew he needed to find his brother. Marik turned the corner and burst into another room. He tried to scream but something constricted his wind pipe.

"Master Marik . . . you mustn't come in here," Rishid begged, his hands and knees digging into the stone floor, his shift a shredded rag hanging limp from his body, his back a collage of lacerations. Looming above him, as threatening and deadly as the monster in every story ever told, stood Marik's father.

Marik's screams woke him. He screamed until he felt his throat burn but didn't stop. He couldn't erase the image of Rishid's wounds from his mind. Eyes opened or shut, Marik saw the injuries; saw his father holding the blood-covered knife. Marik sat up in bed, knees drawn into his chest and fists clenching his hair, and blinked, trying to regain control of himself.

Something felt wrong. Not simply the dream – the worst one he had in weeks – but something felt missing. Marik looked around and realized Bakura wasn't in the room. Marik wanted Bakura's arms wrapped around him and fingers brushing his scars. "Bakura?" Marik choked out the name, wondering if Bakura was in the bathroom, but instinct told him that wasn't the case. If Bakura could be there he would be.

Marik crawled out of bed, dressing in a pair of boxers and a white tank top; he felt too vulnerable and on guard to be naked. He crept down the hallway, silent and wary. Something small and black laying on the carpet caught Marik's eye. He bent over and picked up the hair tie that Ryou usually wore around his wrist. The uneasiness in Marik's stomach solidified into a heavy, oppressing dread. He tied his own hair back, feeling like he equipped armor before a battle and hoped that Ryou's optimistic views of white magic contained substance, because he knew he needed the extra protection.

When Marik entered the living room he saw Bakura sitting at the game table, as Bakura often sat, working on the Egyptian Diorama. Marik's breath caught in his throat when he saw him. He wore Ryou's face with sharper features as Bakura did; however, the expression possessed none of the confident, under-dog swagger that Bakura carried with him through every expression and nuance of body language. Marik's hands balled into fists. He charged at the creature wearing Ryou's body and knocked him onto the carpet. "Where are they?" Marik demanded, shaking the imposter by the collar of his shirt. "Give them back, right now."

"You."

Marik felt himself lifted into the air and thrown. His back slammed into the wall hard enough to make it shake. Marik dropped to the ground, unable to move. He gritted his teeth and forced his head up high enough to see the false Bakura walk towards him.

Marik struggled to stand, but the force of the Ring held him in place. Being constrained sent Marik's mind into a panic, memories of his initiation threatening to overrun his mind, but he reigned in his instinct, focusing instead on Bakura. "Zorc, I want them back."

"Don't address me, tomb-guardian. Your usefulness ended when you sent your other half to the shadows and relinquished the Rod. Now you're simply a distraction, a mistake I intend to fix." He knelt on one knee, an oak-handled awl in his hand. He pressed the tip into Marik's throat.

Marik clenched his teeth, eyes locked onto Necrophades. "Then I challenge you to a Shadow Game."

He smirked. "You no longer have the Rod. There's no point in a Shadow Game."

Marik sneered. "Well, if you don't want to play because you're afraid, then just say so."

Zorc removed some of the pressure from Marik's throat. "What type of game?"

Marik tried to shrug but the invisible weight on his body impeded the movement. "A simple game to determine ownership. You think the thief is yours, right?"

"He is."

"I beg to differ; both Bakuras are mine. Give me three days to have them pledge their souls, their complete souls, to me, and if they do – I keep them."

"And if you fail? I already have them, so that's no benefit to me."

"Then you can add me to your collection. It'd be easier, wouldn't it? To fight the Pharaoh with a tomb-keeper under your control? Isn't that why you fed my alter ego with your darkness when I had the Rod?"

Necrophades mulled over the option for a moment. His lips cut across his face in a smile. "You do realize I still hold part of the thief's soul?"

Marik smirked. "Of course, that's what makes the game a challenge. Otherwise, I'd just ask for their souls and get them – that'd be too easy."

He snorted. "Pick a game."

Marik frowned. "I just did."

"Pick a simpler game, one of chance. If you win that, then we'll play your Shadow Game."

Marik ground his teeth, holding his breath. After a moment he exhaled and said, "grab a bowl and three six-sided dice."

Zorc in Ryou's body stood up and grabbed a bowl from the kitchen and the dice from Ryo's game table. He brought the items to Marik. They sat across from each other. Marik still had limited mobility because of the Ring, but he could move his arms enough to grab the dice. "Do you know the rules to Chinchirorin?"

Necrophades nodded.

"Good, then I don't have to explain. Let's roll to see who goes first."

Necrophades rolled a five and Marik rolled a four. Marik felt sweat mat his hair to his forehead.

Zorc held all three dice in his hand. He dropped them into the bowl – two fours and a six – the highest regular score possible. The darkness in front of Marik chuckled as he scooped the dice into Ryo's pale hand. "Too bad, tomb-guardian."

He winked and handed the dice to Marik. Marik ground his teeth, jaw hurting. He stared at the three dice in his palm, forcing his hands not to shake.

He held his breath, exhaled, and threw the dice, three . . . three . . . three. Marik leaned back, closed his eyes, and sighed with relief, feeling drained. "A storm. I win."

Zorc furrowed Ryo's white eyebrows together in a scowl. He stared at the dice for a moment, as if he didn't believe the numbers he saw sitting in the bowl. After a minute he looked up at the wall clock to their left. "It's 10:53 in the morning. You have until the same time seventy-two hours from now." The awl dropped from his hand as he collapsed to the floor. At the same time, Marik felt the hold of the Ring lift from his body.

He reached forward, scooping Bakura into his arms and petting his face. "Bakura? Wake up, you idiot."

Scarlet highlighted Bakura's cheeks and Marik realized he had a fever. His eyes stayed closed no matter how many times Marik called out his name and his breath struggled in and out of his chest. Marik carried him back to bed and tucked him underneath a sheet. He soaked a wash cloth in the bathroom sink and used it to bathe Bakura's hot face. "Dammit."

Marik stayed beside him throughout the day, rinsing the wash cloth with fresh water and reapplying it on Bakura's forehead, and talking to him just to hear a voice in the room. Marik spoke mostly in Japanese, but occasionally swapped to Arabic if he said something he didn't want Bakura or Ryou to accidentally hear if they woke up.

He lifted the blinds and opened the window to allow as much light and air into the room as possible. Marik wanted to go outside. He felt trapped in the apartment, but refused to leave the bed. It wasn't until after six p.m. that Marik realized how dirty and hungry he felt. He sighed, trying one last time to shake Bakura awake, before finding a change of clothes and going to the bathroom to take a shower.

Ryou's eyes fluttered opened and he realized he was lying in his bed. He could tell by the low light in the room that the day was almost over. Ryou tried to sit up but felt weak, as if his arms were two long cakes of taro jelly. He managed to shift himself higher against the headboard and then rested, a little winded. Despite the weakness in his limbs, Ryou felt good. He could tell he'd slept and the majority of his heka had been restored as a result.

"You're awake." Marik walked into the room, holding a steaming bowl in both of his hands. "I made you some miso soup."

Ryou's eyes grew wide when he saw Marik. "Are you okay, Marik?"

"Am I okay? Stupid, you were the one who wouldn't wake up all day long." Marik set the soup down on the nightstand and pressed the back of his hand against Ryou's forehead. "Your fever finally broke."

"Did I have a fever?" Ryou asked, touching his cool cheeks. "I'm okay now. I promise. That last battle . . . was really difficult." He made the corners of his mouth shift up in a smile. "But we almost got his ba back last night. I'm sure next time we'll do it."

"Where's Bakura?"

Ryou touched the Ring. "He's still asleep. Should I wake him?"

"No." Marik shook his head.

"Marik?" Ryou frowned. "Did I, did—"

"Yes." Marik sat down on the edge of the bed. "But you're back now, so it doesn't matter."

Ryou tried to read more from Marik's expression, but Marik's face was a mask. "What happened, Marik?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Saying that makes me worry."

"Don't." Marik unbound his hair and returned Ryou's tie back to his wrist. "You really need to be more careful with this, since it's so important to you."

Ryou looked down at his wrist and smiled. "He took it off, didn't he? Too strong for him."

Marik leaned forward. Ryou would have used the opportunity to steal a kiss, but there was something grave in Marik's expression that made him hold back.

"Hey, Ryou?" Marik asked.

"Yes, Marik?"

"You're fond of me, right?"

"Um." Ryou felt himself blush. He turned away although he knew it wouldn't help, that he was exposing more of his colored cheek by turning sideways.

Marik brushed his cool fingertips across the arch of Ryou's cheekbone.

Ryou glanced back at him, trying – failing – to be bold. "Maybe a little more than fond."

Marik smiled, his fingertips still tracing across Ryou's face. "Then give me your soul."

Ryou gave a small grunt of acquiescence, wanting at that moment to give Marik anything he wanted to keep the smile on his lips, but then he realized what Marik asked of him. "Wait, what?"

Marik lowered his eyelids, his voice seductive. "Give me your soul. All of it, ib, sheut, ren, ka, and ba."

"Hmph." Ryou snorted. "Why don't you just take it? You take everything else, body . . . mind . . . why should I hand you my soul?"

"It's sweeter if I can talk you into offering it freely. Besides, you said you like possessive boys, and here I am, wanting to possess your soul."

Ryou raised an eyebrow, more than a little lost in Marik's half-lidded gaze. "Go into the living-room. On my shelf above the game table is a glass case with Monster World figures. Bring it to me."

Marik sighed but followed directions, leaving the room and returning with the glass case. He admired the carved and painted figures inside. "It's you and Yugi and the group."

Ryou nodded. "Yes. It's because of Yugi's puzzle that I was able to start talking to Bakura, although it didn't go well at first. We ended up playing a Shadow Game against Bakura."

"I need that story one day."

Ryou rubbed the scar on his left hand, thinking about after the game. He knew he should have locked the Ring somewhere safe, but instead kept it beside him, not wearing it; he knew better back then, but never letting it get further than hand's reach of him. He held his hand up to Marik to show the scar. "He's right, you know. I did win that game."

"Did you cheat?"

"It's not cheating if everyone is cheating, and everyone else was cheating." Ryou lifted the glass away from the maple base. He picked the white wizard up and pulled him away from his companions. "Sorry, Yugi, White Wizard Bakura has left your party. I was only an NPC in that game, anyway." He restored the lid to the case and set it aside. Ryou took Marik's hand and settled the figure in Marik's palm, curling Marik's hand over the figure and kissing his fingers. "It's yours."

Marik looked at the tiny White Wizard. "A doll?"

"It once harbored my soul." Ryou leaned close to Marik's ear, whispering as if he spoke something forbidden. "Want to know a secret about magic?"

"What?"

"It's all bullshit. You can make it up as you go along. As long as you have a ceremony of some sort, and a symbol, and if you believe in those then you can do anything. For example, the Millennium Items: take a ritual, the death of a village, add a symbol, seven gold artifacts, and you have Shadow Magic. Or I can take a symbol, like a doll, perform a ritual, placing it in your hand, and now you own me completely." Ryou winked. "Or at least symbolically."

Bakura didn't wake until the next morning. He'd slept longer because of losing so much heka in order to save Ryou. Ryou told him about Marik's strange request.

What do you think he's up to, Bakura? He was very specific that it had to be all five parts.

Bakura nodded. He looked down at Marik's sleeping face. Soon, morning would invade through their bedroom window, and Marik would wake up screaming from memories, and Bakura would be there to hold him, because it was all he could do.

Did he say if Zorc used your body or not?

He said yes, but wouldn't talk about it.

Bakura frowned. Then he's probably on a scavenger hunt; one that he's bet his life on.

Marik whimpered, calling out his brother's name. He thrashed below the sheets and then froze, clenching his teeth, balling his hands into fists, and curling his knees into his chest. Bakura pulled the sheets away from Marik's body so he didn't get caught when he woke.

"No. No. No." Marik pushed the words out between his tight-shut jaw. He jerked up gasping. Bakura placed a hand on Marik's back, but Marik shook his head no and crawled off the bed, running to the bathroom. Usually he only choked over the bowl, but this time Marik did vomit. When he stopped, he sobbed; an arm rested on the lip of the toilet seat and his forehead rested on his arm.

Bakura didn't speak, but he didn't stand at the doorway like he once would have. He knelt down behind Marik and held Marik's waist in a tentative embrace, leaning his forehead against Marik's shoulder blades.

Marik continued to cry into his forearm. "I just wanted to go outside." He gave the sink beside him a weak punch. "Just once. Just one time. I—" He paused until his tears stopped. "So we made a plan, all of us. I pretended to have a fever so I didn't have to attend lessons. Ishizu and I were going to visit the closest village for two hours while Rishid pretended to look over me and make sure my father didn't realize what we'd done, but there was an alarm at the entrance and we didn't notice until we returned."

Marik lifted his head above his arm, determined to complete his narrative, and Bakura sat back and watched him speak. Marik wiped his mouth and turned his head so he could see Bakura out of the corner of his eye. "When we got back, my room was destroyed and we couldn't find Rishid. We looked all over the tomb. He was in the back." Marik stopped, fresh tears choking his words. "My father was angry because I went outside, angry at Rishid for helping me, so he hurt him. Cut him so bad we thought he was dead." Marik spun around and crashed into Bakura's arms. "And I can't remember after that, but it's my fault, Bakura. It's my fault, because I wanted to go outside."

"Marik, children belong outside." Bakura gritted his teeth as he held Marik. He exhaled. "Marik, I know it's a bad time, but I need to know what happened the other day."

"Three days to get your souls or I lose mine. This is day two."

Bakura winced. "You know I can't give you my soul."

"I know." A bitter chuckle stopped Marik's tears. "Back at the beginning, aren't we? Fighting a Shadow Game together we can't possibly win."

Bakura smirked. "I've always favored the challenge of impossible odds." He reached out and brushed hair away from Marik's face. "Marik?"

He looked at Bakura with eyes searing-bright from tears. "Yeah?"

"Let's pretend the world's ending in two days. That's probably not far from the truth, and just do whatever we want."

"Just say fuck it and go wild, eh?"

"Why not? You got a strategy on getting my soul? Ryou and I won't be able to fight Zorc anymore. We were too close last time; he'll stay hidden now."

"I'll think of something." Marik ran his fingers through one of the wings of hair sticking out of Bakura's head. "But until then. Sure. Let's pretend it's our last two days on earth."

They showered and dressed and ate cereal before they went outside. They didn't have a plan. Their plans always failed them and they didn't have the time to waste, so they walked without a goal and let the wind blow through their hair as they spoke of so many nothings. Bakura wasn't sure when his and Marik's hands reached out and intertwined as they strolled past stores and indifferent pedestrians, but when he realized his fingers were locked together with Marik's, he grinned.

"Heh, look. We ended up here." Marik gestured to the pier in front of them.

Bakura blinked at the glittering water and the side view of the city from the old, concrete dock. "Haven't been here since that day."

The tide lapped high against the pier. Marik took off his shoes and sat down, dipping his feet into the water. Bakura copied him. Marik stared at the water around his feet. "Wasn't completely myself back then."

Bakura snorted. "Me neither." He looked up, staring at the point where the blue of the water and the blue of the sky merged into a thin line. "I suppose I should give you the four parts I have, shouldn't I?"

"I only need your ka."

"Oh?"

"Stupid, I already have the other three parts. You started giving them to me here."

Bakura leaned back, shifting his gaze to Marik. "How do you figure?"

"I asked for your ren, and you told me Bakura. It was stolen, back then, but since Ryou's given it to you, it counts." Marik lifted up the sleeve to Bakura's shirt, revealing the scar and rubbing it with his thumb. "You gave me your sheut when you did this." Marik circled his finger around Bakura's chest. "And you gave me your ib when you battled my alter ego with me."

Bakura smiled. "I just wanted the secret on your back."

"You really think so?"

Bakura, still smirking, shook his head no. He closed his eyes and waited for Marik to kiss him. Marik's lips felt warm against his own. He knew they should be forming a strategy, fighting until the last moment and trying to win; however, for the first time in thousands of years, time became too precious for Bakura to waste on battling. He didn't need a plan; he needed the morning-cold concrete below him, numbing his ass as he sat; he needed the water lapping at his feet; he needed Marik's breath sighing over his face in between their kisses.

They stayed at the pier for two hours, sometimes sitting over the edge, sometimes walking and staring at the water. They wandered away from the pier and back into the city proper, stopping and eating lunch at a small stand so they could stay outside. That morning Marik mentioned 'going wild,' but all they did was walk and kill time with idle conversation, and Bakura really didn't want to do anything else. As long as Marik stood beside him and held his hand and spoke into his ear, Bakura was content. They tried going to their park, but had to hide behind a cluster of trees when they saw Yugi and a large group of his friends.

Bakura grinned, teeth exposed. "We should walk up to them, holding hands, and say hi."

Marik covered his mouth with his hand to mute his laughter. "Yeah, we could tell them we're on a date. The look on their faces, oh shit, it'd be hilarious. Too bad you're a chicken and won't do it."

"Me? You're not walking out there, either."

"You go and I'll go."

"You go and I'll go." Bakura repeated.

Marik shrugged. "Okay, let's go."

"All right, let's go." They stood and stared at each other for a moment before breaking down into another round of laughter, leaning against each other. Bakura shook his head. "But seriously, let's get the fuck out of here before one of those idiots really does see us."

"Yeah, let's go back to the apartment."

"I think we just gave Ryou a mild heart attack."

"Well," Marik said, "that's what he gets for telling me he was saving himself for marriage."

They snuck away from the park and headed home.

***AN: I feel bad for the late update, but I'm also amused that I feel bad since it's only a few hours late. Most of the time when people apologize for being late on this website it's because they haven't posted in six months.***