A short while later, the three duelists were all sitting in the kitchen, enjoying a basic meal. Bakura had grabbed several microwavable ramen packs, and they were eating from their respective bowls (Malik insisted on a vegetarian variety, and Bakura wanted the style with extra meat).

They had just started to dig in when Ryou realized that he hadn't washed his hands first. He made his way over to the sink and lathered up some soap.

It was difficult to avoid the bandages on his right hand- they weren't supposed to get wet. But as he went to place one hand on top of the other, he felt something odd.

"Huh?" Something was raised along the back of his left hand.

Ryou looked at the oddly-marred skin. 'What is that? It looks like some sort of scar... but how-?'

The pale boy froze as he heard a sadistic laugh ringing through his head. There was a flash of red and piercing pain. Then someone spoke mockingly. "How does it feel, landlord?!"

A pair of blood-red eyes... a dark, cruel demon...

Ryou's lips moved without him knowing. "Monster."

"Ryou?" Malik stared in concern, recognizing the nervous tone, if nothing else.

The British boy began breathing heavily, and his eyes flew open in terror.

"NO!" He flew away from the sitting pair, gasping in fear. "It's not-" He turned to the kitchen counter and grabbed a massive steak knife.

"Whoa!" Malik jumped up. He tried to calm his friend, forgetting that the other couldn't understand him right now. "Ryou, hold on! What's wrong?!"

"You- You aren't human!" The pale boy screeched as he pointed at Bakura. "You're some kind of demon! You're the one who gave me this scar!" Ryou lifted his hand upwards to show the scar. "I remember!"

'Oh, crap.'

Malik saw Ryou pointing to his scar, and he could guess what the screaming was about. He slowly moved towards the panicked boy. The doctor had mentioned the possibility of his memories returning in stages or even random segments, but Malik never actually thought about how that might play out. Given everything they'd been through... gods, he just hoped his friend didn't start attacking him as well.

Bakura, on the other hand, had turned his face away. He didn't say anything.

"Well?!" Ryou was going crazy. He continued yelling in tense English. "What the hell are you?! You're not my brother or my cousin, yet you look just like me! Where did you come from?!"

The language barrier was still strong, but Ryou's tone and the repeated mentioning of names gave the tanned teen a fair idea of what was being said. Malik frowned, wondering if the truth was really the best policy in this case. He raised his bronzed hands up in a pacifying gesture and tried to calm his friend.

"Look, Ryou, if it makes you feel safer, you can keep the knife, (it's yours, anyway) but the reality is that what you're asking involves a very, very long story, and it's weirder than you can imagine."

But Ryou only eyed him nervously- once again, Malik had forgotten that he needed a translator. And right now Bakura wasn't looking at either duelist.

Trying to keep things rational, the bronzed teen quickly grabbed the laptop and jabbed at the keyboard. "Calm down- you don't even remember who Bakura is; so we should all sit down so we can explain everything."

Ryou's reply was obvious in any language. "No."

Malik blinked. "Eh?"

"I SAID 'NO!'" The boy was starting to glare at the still-silent thief. He fiercely typed out a full response. "I may not remember who he is, but I know he's done a lot of horrible things. He stabbed something right through my hand, and for some reason he also decided to cut open my arm!"

Unfortunately, Malik's habit of speaking/typing whatever idea popped into his head kicked in.

"Actually, he cut your arm to help me trick... oh, crap."

Two chocolate-colored eyes grew even wider as he felt more memories return: there was a blimp, and a red dragon... a blonde-haired psycho... and pain. Horrible, unbearable pain.

"Oh my... YOU!" Ryou screeched again, only this time he pointed at the bronzed teen. He typed furiously as he spoke. "YOU wanted him to stab me! And then you tried to make someone kill me!"

It took a lot to render Malik speechless, but Ryou's translated words managed to do just that. Both of the Egyptians remained silent, not sure how they could ever explain everything.

"I don't know what the hell is going on, but I will not have people who've abused me living in my home!" He threw his arm out towards the door. "You two need to LEAVE."

"But, Ryou, we-" Malik was cut off when he felt a cold hand grab his wrist. Bakura pulled the blonde towards the door without pausing. The tanned teen could only splutter in confusion as he found himself being dragged outside. He heard loud slam of the door shutting, followed by the sound of it quickly locking behind them.

"Why the hell did you do that, Bakura?!" Malik's hands were balled into fists and he glared heavily at his quiet companion. "Now Ryou won't understand anything!"

"..." The paler man sat down on the sidewalk, resting his back against the neighbor's fence. His head was hung towards the ground, and messy white bangs covered his face.

Malik put one hand on his hip and glared. "Well? What are we supposed to do now?"

"...wait."

"Eh?" The other Egyptian's jaw opened as he stared in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean, 'wait?!' Ryou thinks we're monsters!"

Bakura mumbled something further. "...lie."

Malik folded his arms huffily and frowned at the pale Egyptian. "I don't think lying is going to help us very much here. Especially since Ryou's going to remember more stuff sooner or later, right?"

There was a frustrated growl from underneath the white hair. "I said, was anything he said actually a 'lie?'"

Malik blanched.

"I impaled his hand, and you watched me stab him in the arm... we both used him. He wasn't wrong. At all... about anything."

The thief grew silent again.

Malik blinked in disbelief. "So... what do we do?"

"Wait. That's what we can do. Hopefully he'll start to remember more, and hopefully he'll feel the same way again."

Two purple eyes narrowed in misgiving. "What do you mean, 'feel the same way?'"

The past tomb robber didn't lift his head. "...Ryou's human. And as we just saw, he can obviously still make his own decisions on how to examine and react to the past. If his memories start to come back in strange segments, he may end up feeling differently about what's happened. He might re-live everything through a different perspective... and in the end he may not see us in the same light. Hell, he might be afraid of us, or hate us. Ra only knows. Either way, if he's angry at us right now, constantly pressuring him isn't going to make him trust us." Bakura finally lifted his head, leaning it against the fence and looking up at the sky. "...so, we wait... and hope that he doesn't tell us to f*** off in the end."

Malik's jaw dropped. "Well, sh*t."

There were several minutes of silence as both foreigners waded through their separate thoughts.

Eventually Malik gave a loud sigh. "Well, this sucks. Guess there's only one option..." He pulled out his cell phone and began searching through his contacts.

"What do you think you're doing?! I just told you, we can't contact him!" Bakura snarled and made to grab the phone, but Malik gracefully avoided him.

"Silence! I'm not a fool, you know!" Before Bakura could retort, Malik heard the other end pick up.

"Moshi-moshi!"

"Yugi, it's Malik- I'm afraid something's happened...can you make some calls for me?" After a short explanation, Malik hung up. "Well, hopefully they can help Ryou... he should be ok with them, even if he doesn't remember much."

Bakura snorted. "I can 't believe you called the Pharaoh's cheerleaders."

The fashionable Egyptian shrugged. "Hey, we tried to take over the world; they didn't. Simple."

"Hmph." Bakura turned and started walking towards the downtown area.

"Bakura? What are you doing?"

"Heading downtown."

There was a sound of footsteps running towards him, and this time it was the paler boy whose wrist was dragged along.

"Oh, no you don't! It may be warm outside, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to sleep in some crappy cardboard box! You're coming to my house!"

The former spirit tugged the other way. "What the devil do you mean, 'not allowed?!' You're not my master!"

"Well, when Ryou isn't around, I am!"

A faint tinge of red crossed the alabaster cheekbones. "Wha- j-just what the hell are you implying?! And let go of my wrist, you bloody idiot!"

Malik snickered. "Aww, what's wrong Baka-kura? You afraid Ryou will think you're cheating on him?" He pulled the thief closer and grinned mockingly. "But we'd look so good together, don't you think?"

The paler Egyptian was fuming as he wrenched his arm away from the deranged tomb keeper.

"Keep your damned hands to yourself, you bloody lunatic! I'm not your psychotic arsehole boyfriend!"

"Hey, don't you dare diss my Marik-hottie! He's sexier than you, and you know it!"

Malik then started humming some annoying, modern song Bakura didn't recognize. Three blocks later, and the damned tomb keeper hadn't let up. The thief groaned to himself in frustration.

'How is this an improvement over a cardboard box?!'