So, here I am with a new chapter, finally! So sorry it's been a while since my last, but I'm keeping updates as regular as I can. This one is rather short, though, so I apologise. ^_^ Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I'm so sorry if I haven't replied to you all. Just know that I love and treasure each and every one of your words, and I'm thrilled by how many people are reading and following this already! I've just barely begun hehe. I have LOTS planned for this story. XD

This chapter is for my dear friend CursiveBlade13, who's going through a bit of a rough patch just now. I hope it helps you, my dear! This story came from her plot idea and I am so very grateful for everything she does.

Warnings: Severe threat and violence

I hope you enjoy this chapter! – Jem

Ryou coughed when he landed heavily on the bloody floor of the bedroom, his chest wheezing and throat red raw with pain. White heat still spread across the scars along his back and the back of his head felt about ready to explode, but Ryou was still in one piece, just about. For how much longer remained to be seen.

Drawing in another slightly painful breath, Ryou gingerly placed his palms on the carpet and sat himself up. His bones and joints felt loose, like a ragdoll. Blinking and coughing, he lifted himself up a little more, manoeuvring himself around until his back met a wall, where he relaxed with a pained sigh. His every bone ached. Taking regular, deep breaths, Ryou closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall, working through the flares of pain from his back, pursing his lips as he blew each breath out from between his pursed lips.

"Having fun dealing with my little gifts, weakling?"

That dark voice was just as vibrant with danger as ever.

Ryou cracked one eye open, swallowing painfully before he attempted speech. Marik's dark form was leering over him, huge and towering over Ryou's small body, the Millennium Rod still ever present in his hand. Ryou flicked one glance of his eyes down to the Ring hanging about his neck, calling silently for its occupant, but there was still no word from Bakura. Ryou was in this alone.

"I wouldn't call these gifts," Ryou murmured, his voice raspy and raw. One pale hand went to his throat, rubbing along the red fingerprints. He winced.

Dark Marik grinned; a crooked, evil expression. He crouched down opposite Ryou, violet eyes narrowed and piercing straight into Ryou's soul as he leaned a bit closer, hands landing either side of Ryou's feet. They didn't touch, but threat was imminent. "So, little mouse. How's your other in the Ring doing? I thought he'd be less of a coward; he must know you won't stand against me for long."

Ryou snorted, the sound painful to his raw throat. "He doesn't care. He never has. As long as he has a body to return to, he won't care what you do to me."

"Oh really?" One blonde eyebrow arched, violet eyes glittering. "That is interesting."

Ryou sighed tiredly, allowing his eyes to slide shut again as the back of his head hit the wall. Bakura, where are you? He called out silently once again, searching the black depths of the soul room, but only the echoes of his own thoughts replied to him. Wherever Bakura was, it was far out of Ryou's reach. He was, once again, alone. With a pained groan, Ryou shifted his back against the wall, feeling the blood sticking his shirt to his skin. "Yes. So, you can push me to the brink of death, but Bakura will take over at the last moment to keep this body going."

"He's done that before." Dark Marik's voice suddenly changed, turning almost curious. Blond spikes swayed as his head tilted, violet eyes searing straight into Ryou.

Ryou raised a tired brow. "What?"

"In Battle City." That dark voice thrummed, leaving trickles in the air. "Marik and he were duelling. Marik placed you in danger but Bakura saved you."

Surprised, Ryou's eyes opened. He looked straight at the tanned, twisted features before him, his pale brow marring with a crease as he narrowed his eyes quizzically, white hair cascading down his shoulders. "You remember that?"

"It made Marik weak," tanned lips spat. "Gave me a chance to grow stronger."

Ryou nodded slowly, once again running his eyes down the sadistic being before him. Marik's body really looked nothing like himself; at least, not the version Bakura knew, which was the only side to Marik that Ryou ever saw. He had heard all the stories, of course, from Yugi and the others as well as what he could piece together from Bakura's memories; he knew of Marik's struggle with his darkness. He had thought it had been repressed.

Evidently, he was wrong.

"Stop staring at me like that," Marik's voice was dark and vibrant, his brows furrowed. "You're meant to be in pain."

Oh believe me, I am, Ryou hissed to himself. He shifted against the wall a little, grimacing at the stickiness of his bloody back. The room span worryingly around him before he looked back up at the tanned face before him. Marik's features seemed blurrier than before. Bakura? Are you going to wake up yet?

Silence from the Ring.

"Forget that stupid spirit," Ryou muttered angrily to himself, attempting to move and wincing as his back cracked. The two deep cuts were bleeding profusely if the red staining the wall was anything to go by, and the violet shining of Marik's eyes told Ryou that his trials were not over.

Sure enough, Marik leaned forwards, his tongue poking eagerly out of mouth. "Is the bastard still ignoring you?"

"He's too busy messing around with your lighter half to pay any attention to me," Ryou grumbled, his eyes squeezing shut as he hissed in pain. His hands trembled as he laid them on his knees.

"Kekekekek!" Dark cruel laughter rang out from Marik's lips as his brown features twisted in sadistic amusement. "Those fools. They think they can be together in the Ring? I can drag them out of there whenever I wish."

Ryou blinked up through the haze of pain. "What?"

"Kekeke." Marik's hands suddenly landed on Ryou's knees as the dark being leaned forwards, his blond spikes shooting around Ryou's face. Brown lips curved up into a smirk, violet eyes glinting with sadistic amusement as tanned hands dug into pale wrists; Ryou's skin burned wherever it touched Marik's. "Marik is mine. I can drag him out of there at any moment."

Ryou drew in a shuddering breath. "But why would you want to?"

"He can't be happy," the dark one spat, breath hot on Ryou's face. He was far too close. "He doesn't deserve it."

Ryou blinked. He swallowed when dark Marik leaned forwards yet again, the wall hard against his back as he tried to shuffle away. His back screeched with pain at every move, but Ryou knew there was no escape. He swallowed. "Why doesn't he deserve it?"

"Because this body should be mine!" Marik's voice thrummed with malice, his eyes glittering with shadows through the haze of pain clouding Ryou's gaze. Ryou's mouth instantly dried, his hands trembling under Marik's, chest rising and falling rapidly. Marik's features leered at him. "Marik created me and then banished me. He is a weakling and he needs to be destroyed."

Ryou drew in a harsh breath. "You'd destroy him for fighting for his body?"

"Wouldn't you destroy Bakura if you could?" The dark voice countered with perfect precision. Violet eyes pricked as they watched Ryou, dancing just out of reach; Ryou lifted one heavy hand from under Marik's, but it trembled in the air, splitting in his double vision.

Ryou blinked. "I..." He stopped, coughed harshly, swallowed with a grimace, and continued. "I would fight for my body."

"As would I." Marik's dark form sat back on his heels, palms still warm against Ryou's knees. Their gazes met. "As am I."

Ryou nodded once, slowly. His voice, when he spoke, no longer trembled with fear. It was clear and cool, perfectly calm. "Then perhaps we are not so different after all."

...

"I'm going to kill him."

"You know that's impossible."

"I don't care. I'm still going to do it."

"Marik, he's you. You'd be killing yourself."

"And I don't fucking care!" Marik seethed, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. He paced around the inner darkness of the Ring, the walls of Bakura's soul room sizzling with fury around them as he stomped along the insubstantial shadows. "I am not just going to let him do whatever the hell he wants with my body!"

"So don't." Bakura's voice was calm, gaze cool as he watched Marik pace.

Marik seethed. "If only it were that fucking easy." He stopped moving abruptly, tears pricking behind his eyelids as he bit his lip, refusing to look over at Bakura. Marik's head dropped into his hands. "I'd rather die than let him live in my body..."

"Well, I wouldn't." Bakura was up and by Marik's side in an instant. Pale hands fell onto dark arms as Bakura firmly met Marik's gaze, giving him a small shake. "Stop being so melodramatic."

Marik looked back at Bakura, expression hopeless. His violet eyes looked almost dead, blond hair lifeless as it fell over his face, features drooped and despairing. Bakura sighed and pulled him close, wrapping long arms around Marik's back. "We'll get you back in your body, Marik."

"Will we?" Marik's voice was barely a whisper. His fingers tightened in the front of Bakura's jacket.

Bakura's eyes fluttered closed as he released a low sigh. Marik felt small and fragile in his arms, as light as air, as if he could float away or disappear at any moment. This was not a long term solution, Bakura knew, but in the Ring Marik's soul felt pure and light, untainted by the dark being currently inhabiting his body. In the Ring, Marik felt like Marik again. Bakura wasn't ready to give that up.

Carefully guiding them down to the floor, Bakura cradled Marik in his lap, much as a mother would their child. He rested Marik's head against his shoulder, fingers dancing down his tanned arm. Marik curled up gratefully, his eyes sliding shut as he pressed himself into Bakura's chest, wanting to feel something real, something tangible. His soul felt lost without a body, like a ship without anchor. He was afloat on a deep dark sea.

"I will get you back," Bakura murmured into Marik's hair.

A rustle of clothing. A tear wiped off a brown cheek. Violet eyes staring. "You will?"

"Trust me, Marik." Bakura gathered the man into his arms, rocking him against his chest, enclosing him completely. "I will get you back."

...

Ryou's head snapped back into the wall as the Rod whipped towards him. Marik's body was suddenly standing again, leering over him with a towering, overpowering presence, and Ryou gulped, knowing he might have pushed too far this time. Marik's voice came out twisted and dark, almost a roar. "I am nothing like you, weakling!"

"I didn't mean..." Ryou squeaked. "I never said..."

The Rod pushed closer to his throat and Ryou squirmed, wriggling back against the wall in an effort to avoid that coldly sharp metal. His back still screamed with pain at the slightest motion. Flicking brown eyes up at the terrifying darkness above him, Ryou squeaked when one dark hand descended, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and holding him at eye-level with Marik's taller body. Ryou's legs kicked uselessly, pain rushing along his back. He could feel blood trickling down his skin and it made him shiver, skin crawling. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at me!" Dark Marik's voice roared as he slammed Ryou back into the wall. With a pained gasp brown eyes opened again, clouded with fear and weakness, pale hands trembling with bloodstained white hair dripping down past thin shoulders. Ryou panted weakly, a pathetic being.

Brown hands slammed him against the wall again as Marik's body leaned closer. Hot breath blew forcefully across Ryou's cheek, much too close once again, the hot hate-filled body of his aggressor pressed up close to him. They were at perfect eye level, Ryou's feet kicking at the floor as he was held tightly. "Always look at me. I want to see the light die from your eyes."

"You can't kill me," Ryou whispered painfully.

A wide, wide grin took over Marik's face. "Keke. I will break every bone in your body and leave you to die in pain."

Ryou flinched, then winced from the pain. His blood boiled in his veins. "Bakura will – "

"Fuck Bakura!" The name was spat from between Marik's lips. "Fuck him and my light half!" Ryou's body was pushed further up against the wall, bleeding wounds scraping against the soft upholstery. He sucked in a sharp breath, watching with wide eyes as the Rod advanced towards his throat one more, the metal cool and slick against his skin. Ryou swallowed, feeling the sharp blade dig in.

Ryou breathed shallowly.

"See? He isn't coming out to save you now." The tone of that dark voice was almost crooning. "He doesn't care about you."

Ryou held back a snort, almost cross-eyed as he watched the blade against his throat. "I know that."

"I could leave scars over every inch of your body," the dark voice breathed, lowly, seductively. "Blood dripping all over that pretty pale skin."

Ryou held still.

"Such a blank canvas." The Rod tip moved slowly against Ryou's neck, deep enough to draw just the tiniest pinprick of blood. It wept down his fluttering chest, sticking to the top of his simple shirt. "So many possibilities."

Ryou blinked once. His hands curled inwards, every muscle locked in a tense standoff as he gazed up into Marik's eyes, almost flinching at the darkness that bored back out of them. He shivered as the cold metal traced the veins in his throat. "So easy, to cause you immeasurable pain."

"I can cope with pain." Ryou's voice was small but strong, unwavering. It surprised him almost as much as it surprised Marik's dark half.

The Rod paused momentarily, violet eyes boring into Ryou's. "Not like the sort I can inflict."

"I've dealt with enough." Ryou grew more defiant as the Rod hesitated again. "I live my whole life locked in a small dark room, usually chained to wall. A spectator in my own body."

The Rod stopped altogether.

Ryou stared straight into those dark violet eyes. "I think you know how painful that is."

The dark being looked out through Marik's eyes, using Marik's face as it twisted into confusion. The Rod was poised at Ryou's throat, dangerously close to his translucent pale skin, the blade covered in rusty dried blood, the same stickiness that coated Ryou's back. Ryou watched with fascination as those violet eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed into dark slits. He pinned Ryou with a firm glare, pursing his lips. "You know that pain, too."

"I do." Ryou didn't blink as he looked at the dark being, pursing his lips slightly. He moved carefully against the wall, wincing. "You know it, too. You know no pain you can give me in the mortal realm will ever equal that."

Abruptly, Ryou was dropped. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, gasping as air whooshed out of his pained lungs, blood pooling against the ground and staining the wall a dark rusty colour. Ryou didn't have time to catch his breath before Marik's hands were in his hair, tugging his head up as the dark being leaned forwards almost desperately to meet Ryou's gaze. "How do you stand it?"

"What?" Ryou blinked, disorientated.

"How do you stand it?" Ryou's thin frame was shaken with every word, the dark voice almost a low screech as it rumbled into Ryou's ears.

Ryou's heart thumped painfully in his chest. Those words were spoken with uncharacteristic desperation, an edge of urgency to them that Ryou recognised from his own nightmares. It spoke of eons of darkness, seconds stretching into minutes stretching into hours and months and years of unbearable torment, locked away in a corner of your mind, forced to watch as your body moves against your will. Endless chains, too strong to fight against. Bound and tossed away, forgotten by everyone as someone else moves on with your life, taking what is rightfully yours.

Ryou understood.

"We'll take back control," Ryou spoke quietly, almost fearing what Bakura would think if he heard these words. "We have as much of a right to life as they do."

"Don't talk about fucking rights." Marik's voice was still tinged with almost panic. "Just get Marik the fuck out!"

Ryou watched the dark one with trepidation pooling in his gut. If Bakura heard him now ... but Bakura was gone, hidden in the depths of the Ring, and the Rod was still present in Marik's possessed hand. Ryou made a quick decision and leaned forwards, his hands bravely landing on Marik's knees. Marik's body flinched at the touch, the dark one almost pulling back before a challenge appeared in his darkened violet eyes. Shadows swirled around the pupils as he leaned forwards to meet Ryou, tanned hands landing on pained pale shoulders. "Get him out of me."

Ryou's breathing calmed. He looked deeply into dark Marik's eyes and nodded once, leaning forwards, his fingers tightening on Marik's knees to remind him that this was real; they were in reality, in their bodies, where they belonged.

"Alright," Ryou murmured. "I'll help get Marik out."

...

Bakura cradled Marik close, holding his shaking form in his lap. Brown eyes, usually hard, were softened in the dim shadows as he stroked through Marik's blond hair, a pale brow creased. It was unusual for Marik to appear like this. Usually, the two would not display emotion to each other; Bakura could only recall a handful of occasions when he had comforted Marik like now, and all were late at night, soon after Marik suffered through a particularly traumatic nightmare.

This time, the nightmare was real.

Marik sniffed silently against Bakura's neck. Bakura sighed and pulled him closer, arms tight around him as he cradled him against his chest, Marik's head on Bakura's shoulder. Time seemed endless in the darkness of the Ring and Bakura grimaced, craving the light. Strange; he had spent centuries in here without complaint, but now that he had Marik, Bakura found himself craving the touch of an actual body. A physical form.

Marik's form buckled again and Bakura tightened his grip around his back. Marik was a wisp in hair, nothing like his tall, proud form in the outside world. He seemed thin and broken, as if he had already given up. Bakura wouldn't let him stop fighting so easily.

"Where is your dark form now?" Bakura's dark tones hissed through the air, swirling into Marik's ears.

Marik shifted tiredly, not removing his head from the crook of Bakura's neck. His voice hummed against insubstantial skin. "Check with Ryou."

"I can't be bothered with him," Bakura responded immediately. "Find where your dark half is. We need to get him out of your body."

Those words seemed to reach Marik and he stirred a little, violet eyes going blank. A shudder rippled through his body and he curled up closer again, dipping his head into Bakura's neck. "Urgh, I hate him so much..."

"I know," Bakura murmured in his ear. "But we just need to know where he is."

Marik grimaced. "Find him your fucking self." He waved Bakura away though, screwing up his face as he closed his eyes once more. Bakura cradled him again, watching with interest.

Marik finally resurfaced with a shudder. "He's taunting your host."

"Let him," Bakura snorted.

Marik shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips before it fell back into a saddened scowl. His eyes still glittered. "He's got Ryou against a wall with the Rod at his throat. That Item is mine."

"And you'll get it back." Bakura paused, biting his lip as he thought quickly.

Marik shook his head, collapsing back against Bakura with a pained sigh. "How in the hell are we going to do that? Do you think we just have to ask nicely and he'll disappear into the shadows again?"

"Well, you never know." Bakura deadpanned. Marik just burrowed further into him, though, so he sighed and wrapped his arms tighter. He lifted Marik's thin, fragile body, so different to the dark one threatening Ryou at the same moment, and hugged him tighter than he ever had before. "We're going to get you back," Bakura promised fiercely. "He'll never beat us.

Marik looked up, blinking. "He already has."

Bakura shook his head determinedly, jaw set. "This time's different. This time, I'm not holding back." Brown eyes gleamed with determination, a pale face settling. Bakura's face looked hollow in the depths of the Ring, his form wilder than when he was contained in Ryou's body. White hair spiked wildly about his head, shadows filling all the pale spots in his features, filling his face with cavernous darkness. Brown eyes glinted almost crimson in the darkness.

Marik shivered.

Bakura moved, carefully setting Marik down on the shadowy floor before he made to stand up. Marik frowned and grabbed hold of Bakura's sleeve, pulling him back down momentarily as he met his eyes. "Wait, where are you going? You aren't leaving me?!" Marik's voice took on a hysterical tinge at the end as he gazed desperately up into Bakura's eyes.

Bakura sighed and crouched again, supporting Marik by the elbows. "No, I'm not leaving you. I have a plan."

"Is this plan going to work?" Marik's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Because your track record isn't great."

Bakura smirked, flicking Marik on the forehead. His eyes gleamed crimson again. "Like I said, this time, I'm not holding back."

Marik merely watched, a frown drawing his brows together. He still clutched Bakura's sleeve when he made to stand up again. "No, wait. Is this dangerous?"

"For him, maybe," Bakura chuckled darkly.

Marik glared.

Bakura rolled his eyes, sitting on the shadowy ground again so he could fully meet Marik's eyes. Lifting one ghostly pale hand, Bakura wiped Marik's hair back from his shoulders, brushing it tenderly out of his eyes , his palm remaining against Marik's cheek. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Marik watched with pain violet eyes. "I hope you know what you're doing. He's getting stronger..."

"I know," Bakura growled, watching as Marik's form seemed to flicker before his eyes. "That's why I'm going to do this now. If you'll ever let me leave."

Marik frowned harder, releasing Bakura's sleeve and allowing him to stand. Violet eyes bored into him the whole time he walked away, raising the hairs on the back of Bakura's neck. Marik watched with saddened eyes, wilting more the further Bakura walked away, darkness flicking at his heels as his black coat flickered around him. Shadows engulfed him, footsteps echoing in Marik's ears long after Bakura was gone.

Marik bit his lip, attempting to force his insubstantial form to stay within the confines of the Ring. It was harder without Bakura's presence; the spirit acted as a sort of anchor, his touch reminding Marik that he was still real, that he still existed. He swallowed, fighting against the pounding ache in his head that was his dark half battling to keep his control. Marik was fighting, oh how he was fighting, but he wasn't strong enough to regain control on his own.

"Bakura," Marik whispered. "You're my only hope. Don't mess it up this time."

The white spirit heard Marik's small words, echoing around the Ring as they did. He swallowed, stopping in his movements for half a second before he forced his feet to move onwards, his head swimming with shadows. This was the only way out. Bakura hated it, hated feeling so useless and helpless; it was a feeling he remembered from his earliest days, a lost child in the desert, abandoned and alone. Then, he had run to the darkness, and he was doing the same now. It was amazing, how so little could change in three thousand years.

Only, now, Bakura was not running merely for himself.

Coat swirling around him, reminiscent of his old red cloak, Bakura strode through the shadows into the deepest darkest depths of the Ring. His skin crawled with every step. The darkness back here was very alive and very threatening, breathing down his neck, stalking his every movement, and Bakura knew all too well that this could be a huge mistake.

But there was no other way to help Marik.

The darkness rumbled around him, growing more and more threatening until Bakura's steps slowed and slowed, eventually drawing to a halt. He stopped in the middle of the darkness, his lips drawing into a thin, white line, eyes flaring crimson through the deep shadows. It was utterly black. Not even Bakura's tainted eyes could pierce this darkness; it was as absolute as soil, the texture of cloth as it swirled around his face, smothering him, encroaching him. Bakura could already feel himself slipping away.

Licking his lips with one swipe of his tongue, Bakura looked into the opaque blackness surrounding him. His voice, when he spoke, was like glass slicing through skin.

"Zorc."

Sorry to leave that on a bit of a cliffhanger. XD I'll update as soon as I can!

So now you are all keen for thief and deathshipping heheh, you should go and read 'Bring Me the Stars' by DatkarKatass. It's a thrilling fanfic set in a different world and it is absolutely incredible. It really is one of my absolute favourite thiefshipping stories ever, and it's still being written! I'm so excited for it, and you all should be too, so go along and read it if you haven't already! Here's a link: s/9590911/1/Bring-Me-The-Stars Anyway, enough from me for now hehe. I shall be back with an update as soon as I can. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem