***Watching the new episode of ygotas reminded me of why the anime annoys me when compared to the manga. What really ticks me off is how Ryou doesn't steal his Ring back. In the manga, Ryou very deliberately goes into Yugi's room on the blimp (pretending to look for Seto) and then "accidentally" finds the Ring instead. And he's happy to get it back! That's significantly different than him running and screaming into a church and being taken over against his will. I think a lot of the crappy Ryou-as-victim Bakura-as-abuser fics that I hate (hatehatehate) get derived from the anime because of crap like that. Okay, /end rant. Let's meet Yami Marik.***

"Kek."

Ryo tilted his head to the side. His fingers never rested as he stitched black thread into black fabric for Bakura's outfit, taking extra pains to make sure it looked nice. "Is that something you made up?"

"It was one of the old gods, before Ra."

"That's the name I'll use, then."

"Are you sure it's all right? To summon him."

"I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but we're safer with him." Ryo narrowed his eyes at Marik. "You memorized every rule, right?"

Marik nodded.

"And you're going to follow every rule, right?"

Marik's thin eyebrows arched together as he scowled at Ryo. "For the seven-hundredth time, Ryo. Yes. I'll follow the rules."

"It's not dying that frightens me, you know," Ryo muttered as his needle pierced into black. "That's why I'm using your other half. The worst thing he could do is kill me. I'd rather live, but if I had to choose between dying and being possessed again – I'd choose death."

Marik's mouth dropped open. "Was it that bad?"

"With Bakura? No, with Bakura it was . . . complicated. He acted like a filter between Zorc and myself, but this time I wouldn't have that filter, that safety net." Ryo shook his head as if to deny his own fears. "If Zorc came back then so many people would be hurt because of me. I'd rather die. This is why you have to follow every rule. I don't care if me saying it seven hundred and one times annoys you or not."

"I promise."

Ryo continued sewing. He dressed Bakura in all black with silver accessories. He made the Kek doll a little taller and used two whole bags of yellow pipe cleaner instead of yarn for hair. He'd picked dark purple beads for eyes and soft, mocha colored cloth for skin. It was a little darker than Marik's skin, but it was the closest match he could find. Not that it mattered. The game would only last an hour, but Ryo couldn't help but give the same meticulous attention to the second doll as he did the first. It didn't feel fair to do otherwise. For Kek, Ryo made a blood red shirt and replicas of Marik's tomb keeper jewelry. Ryo stared at the doll's innocent, brown back, smoothed his fingers over the material. He almost left it blank, wanted to leave it blank. He didn't know why it mattered for an hour, but it did. Only, Ryo needed to guarantee he called the correct spirit from the void. The scars were part of his soul, his origin, so Ryo couldn't spare them.

"I'm sorry, Marik, but I need to see your back. I've never seen your scars, so I don't know what to stitch."

Marik frowned at the little doll. "Do you have to? I gave those scars to him once already. Let him escape them."

"I thought the same thing, but I'm afraid to ignore something that important. I'm very sorry."

"It's not your fault," Marik whispered as his slid the white t-shirt up over his shoulders.

Ryo winced when he saw the scars. He heard they were beautiful. The designs were beautiful, but the lines were thick, much thicker than Ryo had thought they'd be. Ryo didn't have the heart to embroider the thread that thick into the doll's back, not even for a fake body. He stitched everything correctly, but only with a double line of tan thread. When finished, Ryo looked away and dressed the doll in his red shirt. "Thank you, Marik."

"That stupid asshole Bakura better not bitch at me for the entire hour for all the trouble I'm going through to see him again."

Ryo smiled and set the dolls together in a basket. "You should try to get some sleep so you're not tired tonight."

When the alarm trilled from the speaker on Marik's cell phone he sat up and rubbed sand out of his eyes. His stomach lurched at the thought of seeing Bakura. He'd tried to write a letter as Ryo suggested, but couldn't think of anything to say. What could he say? All through Battle City he never understood how he felt. It wasn't until the night after the Ceremonial Duel that Marik laid in bed and realized that he'd never see the dark spirit again, and then he'd shoved a pillow over his face so his siblings didn't hear him break down.

Ryo appeared from the hallway. "It's time."

Marik nodded. He forced himself to his feet. They walked to the bathroom, a doll waiting for each of them. Ryo held the brown and yellow doll. "Your name is Kek."

Marik looked at his own doll. "Your name is Bakura."

"Ryo is the first to be it. Ryo is the first to be it. Ryo is the first to be it."

"Does it have to be three times?"

Ryo glared at Marik, and Marik sighed and looked at the doll. "Marik is the first to be it. Marik is the first to be it. Marik is the first to be it."

They drowned the little dolls side by side. Ryo went and hid in the closet, and Marik went into the kitchen. One of the rules Ryo gave him was to stay in the kitchen.

"One."

Marik had to stay in the kitchen because Ryo planned on leading the newly named Kek through the apartment in a dangerous game of hide and seek as Marik said goodbye to Bakura.

"Two."

Marik kept insisting he just wanted to say goodbye although something low and hidden deep in the pit of his belly suspected there wasn't as much truth in the notion as Marik believed.

"Three."

But he couldn't keep playing forever. Marik understood the dangers of the game.

"Four."

And the added risk Ryo took upon himself distracting Marik's own former alter ego.

"Five."

Marik didn't even know how to thank Ryo for that.

"Six."

All the shit he and Bakura put Ryo through during Battle City, and here he was doing everything he could so Marik could see Bakura again.

"Seven."

Although it killed Marik to have to be silent the whole time.

"Eight."

He and Bakura were all words.

"Nine."

The thought of being silent near Bakura terrified Marik more than the darkness in the kitchen, but he wasn't sure why.

"Ten."

Back in the bathroom they pulled the dolls out of the tub, cold and soaked through. Marik stabbed his doll with his switch blade, seven times as Ryo told him to do. "I found you, Bakura."

Marik noticed Ryo only stabbed his doll once, in the chest. "I found you, Kek."

"You're it, Bakura. You're it, Bakura. You're it, Bakura."

"You're it, Kek. You're it, Kek. You're it, Kek."

They separated again. Marik's heart rioted in his chest as he walked back to the kitchen. He filled his mouth with salt water, wincing at the taste of it in his mouth. He gagged on reflex, and he had to brace himself against the table in order to compose himself enough not to spit the water onto the tiled floor. On top of it all, he tried to ignore how dark it was in the kitchen. He'd never been able to shake the old fear. Only the hope of seeing Bakura again kept him stable enough to endure it.

"Marik?"

Marik jerked up at the sound of his name.

Bakura stood in the shadows of the dark kitchen, lit up only by the distant light of the snowy t.v. in the living room, His skin glowed white as a ghost's skin; his hair tossed about his head like a shred of rags. He blinked at Marik with wide eyes the color of cinnamon, a warm, warm, spiced brown almost red in tone.

Marik choked back a sob. He managed to keep the water in his mouth, but that was the only thing he could control about his body. He couldn't stop his legs from running to Bakura. He couldn't prevent his arms from wrapping around the spirit until his biceps strained. He couldn't keep his face from burying itself in Bakura's storm of white hair, or stop his eyes from spilling the aching, hot tears. This was why Marik didn't want silence, without their sarcastic, verbal fencing, Marik's raw emotions bled through, screaming louder than any argument they ever had.

Bakura held Marik. His fingers dug into the wings carved into Marik's shoulders, and his chest heaved as Bakura struggled to breathe.

"Marik," he said again and that time it wasn't a question. "Dammit Ryo."

Marik shook his head in order to defend Ryo. It'd be the perfect time to call Bakura an idiot and blame him for not contacting Marik on his own, but all Marik could do was type on his phone. "He tried his best, but you know I don't take no for an answer."

Bakura snorted, but a soft smile kept toying with the corners of his mouth. He touched Marik's cheek with two finger tips. "Yeah, I know."

He sighed, bringing his and Marik's bodies back together. "You're my only regret," Bakura whispered, and the unfamiliar tenderness in his tone made Marik shiver, and Marik didn't know if it was terror or emotion that made him tremble.

Bakura combed Marik's hair, still whispering. "I regret not saving you. I regret not having more time . . ." his voice broke, and another tear slipped down Marik's cheek because he knew what Bakura would say next. "But you can't, we can't, Marik, we can't."

Marik shook his head, denying Bakura's words.

"You have to end the game."

Marik shook his head again, clutching Bakura tighter in his arms.

A pained, haunted moan escaped Bakura's mouth as Marik pulled him tighter to his chest. Marik felt a give in Bakura's muscles as he sank deeper into the embrace. They didn't speak; they'd only argue about the game if they spoke. Instead, they stood in the dark kitchen and breathed into each other's hair as they held each other.

Marik kept telling himself to say goodbye and end the game – say goodbye and end the game. The rest of the apartment stood silent which was a good sign, it meant Ryo was still hiding, but he couldn't hide forever and Marik needed to stop being selfish and say goodbye and end the game.

But he couldn't move his arms. He knew he only held a doll, but it was still Bakura and Marik didn't want to let go.

"Marik."

Marik exhaled through his nostrils. He stepped back so he could stare at Bakura's face. Bakura touched Marik's cheek again, lifting both of his hands up to trace Marik's lips.

"It's time, Ishtar."

This time Marik nodded yes, but still, he didn't move.

Bakura's hands shook. He pulled away and hoisted the black shirt up over his shoulders, dropping the cloth to the floor. "Look at me." He grabbed Marik's hand and made Marik trace down the length of the red thread sowing his stomach together. "I'm a doll. No, I'm not even that. I'm dead. I died three thousand years ago in Egypt. The me you think you know was just an angry spirit possessing Ryo for revenge. It was his body you liked-"

Marik ripped his hand away and shook his head, angry. He didn't like what Bakura implied. Besides, it wasn't the body, pretty and white though it was. It was the ebb and flow of their conversations, the give and take of their personalities, the attraction and repulsion of their minds. It was a dance only they could do – a rhythm only they understood, close and fierce and perhaps a little lurid but also with a fluid and forgiving grace that made it beautiful.

But even if Marik's mouth wasn't sealed with salt and tap water, how could he ever explain something that real and that true with a mouth experienced in only bitter words and manipulation?

Bakura tangled his fingers in the red knot of thread near his throat. Marik saw that his hand shook as he spoke. "Marik if you don't end this game I will. One tug and all the rice will spill out and I'll be back in the Shadows."

Marik clenched his hands into fists. It'd be goodbye after all. He knew so from the beginning, but that didn't make it hurt less. Marik walked up to Bakura, spitting the water on his shoes and staring at them as he muttered, "I win."

"Marik."

"I win."

Bakura touched Marik's hair a final time. Marik looked up into Bakura's eyes. He meant to say goodbye and end the game, but what came out of his mouth was, "I love you."

He grabbed Bakura and smashed their mouths together. Bakura groaned as if wounded, but returned the kiss. Marik pushed him onto the table and crawled on top of him, devouring Bakura's mouth with hard, brokenhearted kisses until he tasted blood. Marik pulled away. He hadn't been biting so the blood confused him. Bakura panted, his lips fairy-tale red against his pallid skin. Bakura held his chest and stomach, wincing from pain as small threads of red drifted down his sides, only they weren't threads.

Marik touched Bakura's chest. "You're bleeding."

Bakura studied the line down his center, probing the wounds. Both shock and confusion registered on his face as he tried to stand and examine himself. "Marik, what have you done?"

"I don't know." Marik shook his head, as confused as Bakura.

Bakura sucked in a breath and held it, closing his eyes and then exhaling again before raising his lids. He touched his face. Bakura glanced at Marik, his expression unreadable. "I'm not a doll anymore."

Ryo didn't stay in the closet; he didn't want to be found this time. When the t.v. crackled, announcing the presence of a spirit, Ryo slipped from his hiding space and crawled beside the bed.

A dark, low chuckle violated the silence in the room. "So this is a game?" a scratchy voice, one that sounded raw and unused, asked the room. "Okay, I'll play."

Ryo saw a shadow stretch across the wall, tall and lean with a crown of knives instead of hair.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty." Kek laughed into the room. "Come out. Come out. Wherever you are."

Instead of a tea cup with water, Ryo carried a small, capped bottle filled with salt water. That way, wherever he was when Marik called out to him, he could end the game as quickly as possible. Ryo slipped under his bed, and crawled out the other side as Kek inspected the closet. He glanced over his shoulder, as if he heard something, but Ryo tucked himself behind the bedroom door and stayed unseen.

Kek continued to laugh, happy but manic. "This is fun."

In truth, Ryo agreed. His palms sweated, his heart shivered, and he struggled to keep his breath silent, more so because of the water in his mouth, but that's what made it fun. Ryo crept out of the room and watched in the crack of the half opened door.

Kek checked under the bed and near Ryo's dresser. He stopped to stare at a picture of Ryo, Yugi, and Marik, and then another picture of Ryo and his father at an archaeological dig when Ryo was seven. He set the photographs down and turned to the yarn and cloth and spools of thread Ryo kept in baskets on his dresser. He plucked a pin from the pincushion and jabbed up his arm with the point. His face didn't register any pain. He stuck the pin back into it's place and lifted up his shirt to look at his stomach. Noticing the thread sealing him together, Kek touched it with his fingers.

"I'm a doll," he said.

His face sank into a sad, lonely expression. Ryo wanted to hug him at that moment, but knew better.

Kek snorted. "A temporary distraction from the Shadows is better than nothing. Where are you, my little, white kitten?"

Ryo moved to the guest room. He knew his apartment and crawled without a sound. The extra room only had a bed and some old Monster World dioramas, but Ryo managed to hide under the bed until Kek checked the closet and then hide in the hallway as Kek checked under the bed.

Kek growled when he didn't find Ryo. "I like coy, but this is dull. Wouldn't you rather play another game? For example, I cut you and you see how long you last until you scream."

Ryo rolled his eyes. It hurt not to be able to shout back a sarcastic reply – another bad habit Ryo picked up from having Bakura in his head for so long. Although he knew Kek was only trying to goad him, to scare him into making a mistake and give his location away through heavy breathing or some other kind of noise. Instead, Ryo slipped into the living room for round three of their game.

The living room had myriad places to hide, the couch, the large chair, a computer desk. Ryo heard voices in the kitchen. His mind silently urged Marik to hurry, but Ryo really wanted to play until the last second.

Kek strolled into the living room as if bored. He scowled at the t.v. when it flared up, but his expression shifted to curiosity when he reached the computer desk. He rummaged through Ryo's school books, and played with the action figures sitting on Ryo's desk. Ryo had a small, stuffed bear, something he won at a carnival, and Kek picked it up and nuzzled the top of its soft, fur head. He smelled the bear, or maybe he was trying to catch Ryo's sent like a hound dog during a hunt. Ryo lifted his head up from his sofa hiding spot to watch Kek, fascinated by the odd behavior.

"Hmph, nice place." Kek gave himself a crooked smile as he spoke. He set the bear down and walked to the window, shifting the curtain aside and peeking out the glass. "Windows. We never had windows."

The voices in the kitchen grew louder. Ryo ducked back down as Kek turned his head. He snarled, the sound of a rabid wolf. "Marik."

Kek raced to the kitchen. Ryo unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, preparing to end the game. He chased Kek into the kitchen.

"Bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" Kek screamed.

Bakura put himself between Marik and Kek like a shield, at the same time, Ryo spat the salt water onto Kek's skin. Kek screamed again, in pain, as the salt water sprayed him.

"I win! I win! I win!" Ryo shouted, but as he raised his hand to dump the last of the salt water onto Kek's head and banish him, Kek pivoted to face Ryo and smacked the bottle from Ryo's hand.

Time stopped for a moment as they stared at each other. Kek's lips curled upward, and he licked them with his long, pink tongue.

"Oh shit." Ryo ran out of the kitchen.

Ryo raced out of his apartment door and into the hallway with Kek chasing him.