Back in Marik's apartment, Marik growled at himself and clenched his hands into fists. "We shouldn't have left them alone."

"Marik, it's okay," Bakura said. He tried to keep his voice mellow, off handed.

"It pisses me off. It's such a stupid thing to fear."

"It's understandable." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

Marik snorted at him. He dropped onto the supple leather couch in the center of his living room. "That's really easy for you to say. You fear nothing."

Bakura sat on the chair next to the couch, his crimson-brown eyes locked on Marik. "That's not true."

"Yeah? What is the great Bakura afraid of? Not something stupid like the dark."

Bakura looked away. "It is stupid, and I don't want to say it."

"Not even to me?"

Bakura gave him a wounded look, and maybe it hadn't been fair for Marik to pull that trap card from his hand, but he wanted to know.

Bakura pressed the tips of his fingers into a cage, staring at his hands instead of Marik. "I'm afraid . . . that after trying so hard to end the world, my return here will inadvertently bring about the destruction of everything. Not then when I needed all of existence to unravel, but only now when there's something so important to me that I'd do anything to keep this world from plunging into darkness." He looked up at Marik. "I have to make sure Necrophades never has another chance in this world, Marik – because you don't like the dark."

Marik's mouth dropped open as he stared at Bakura. Neither spoke. Marik jumped from the couch and lunged at Bakura. Bakura stood up in time to catch Marik in his arms. Their lips trembled as they pressed them together. Bakura sunk to his knees on the carpet, taking Marik with him and digging his fingers into Marik's shoulders.

"I can't –" Bakura choked on his own words. "I killed my own heart so I wouldn't have to feel that pain again. Three thousand years of hate, and you damn idiots somehow snuck inside, and if I lost my family again – especially you. Gods, Marik - Ryo too, but especially you. I couldn't bare it. I'll break if I live through that again."

And then, as he held Bakura, the dark didn't seem as threatening to Marik. Horrifying, yes, but not the worse thing to fear, not as horrifying as losing a loved one.

"Kek." The voice sounded soothing, sweet. Not smooth and white like the feeling of calm. No, the voice calling his name sounded like lavender, soft, comforting, warm, like his mother's hand on his brow, though Kek didn't understand how he suddenly knew what his mother's warm hand resting on his brow felt like.

He opened his eyes, grinding his fist into the corners of his eye-sockets to clear his vision. "Who?"

"Kek, it's me." The woman smiled.

"Ishizu?"

"No, not your sister."

She looked like Ishizu, same eyes and face and long dark hair. Kek stared at her. He remembered a light, musical laughter, but it was impossible. He couldn't know that voice. Marik didn't even know that voice. Kek looked closer. The woman had laugh lines spreading out from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her stomach had a small pooch that Ishizu lacked. The body of a mature woman – one who'd given birth.

But that was impossible, and even if it wasn't, she was never meant for Kek. Marik, perhaps, but not Kek.

A new emotion hit Kek – sorrow. He felt himself drawing a step closer to humanity through the feeling, but his stitching didn't hurt. It was something inside. The sorrow in his body reached so deep that it'd never show blood or bruises or even scars, but it dragged him a step closer to being real nonetheless.

Kek could do without it. Tears welled in his eyes. They didn't fall, clinging to his lashes instead of rolling down his cheeks. "I liked it better when you were banging cupboards."

She opened her arms. "My poor child. Come here."

"No," Kek choked out the word.

"Let me hold you."

Never had he put anyone through something as cruel as what he now endured. Blood, pain, monsters, it was all nothing compared to the illusion of an embrace you couldn't have.

"You're not her."

"But, Kek, I love you."

The tears fell.

"Don't cry. Come here. Let me comfort you."

"You come here," Kek growled, remembering the salt circle around his bed.

She gave him a sad, longing stare, but didn't move. Kek's feet swung over the side of the bed. He wanted to go anyway. He wanted that embrace. What did it matter if she turned into a monster as long as, for a moment, she was lavender and warmth?

Kek couldn't stop shaking. He feared the creature at the door because it knew, knew, those darkest insecurities and wishes in the mind that one never let surface to conscious thoughts, knew what you wanted badly enough to do anything for – even if that meant throwing your own soul into the void. Kek threw his blanket over his head, curing into a ball.

"Ra," Kek whispered. "Ra . . . help me."

He was trying to pray, but how does an evil spirit possessing a doll pray?

"Kek, don't you want to be loved?"

"Ra make her go away. Ra make her go away. Ra make her go away."

"Ryo," the voice whispered, almost sang.

Ryo rolled over and nuzzled harder into his pillows. He'd fallen asleep as soon as the cupboards stopped, but didn't want to wake up yet.

"Ryo."

"No." He shook his head against his cotton pillowcase. Something in the voice brought up sad, sweet memories of childhood, and Ryo didn't want to think about them.

"Ryo, please help me."

"Mom?" Ryo blinked his eyes. His brain protested his efforts to wake up.

"Yes Ryo. I'm lost. Please . . . find me."

Her voice was a memory resurrected. Ryo looked around the dim room, lit up by the snowy t.v. screen. He stood up and turned off the t.v.

"Ryo."

A cold sweat tickled Ryo's neck. His mother's voice had faded into a dream over the years since her death, but here it was again, crawled up from the grave and pleading for Ryo to help. He peeked through his bedroom door into the night-darkened hallway.

"Mom?"

"Please, Ryo, it's dark. I'm scared."

"It's okay," Ryo promised as he stepped into the hallway, but he wondered if that were true.

His mother died seventeen years ago. She was moved on like the Pharaoh. She couldn't call out Ryo's name.

"Where are you, Mom?"

"I'm in the kitchen."

Something was wrong, but Ryo couldn't think straight. The exhaustion from the past few nights muddled his brain. He wanted it to be his mother. He wanted to hug her and talk about stupid things like college and Monster World. He wanted to tell her he had a boyfriend – not a girlfriend – and hear her say that it didn't matter as long as he was happy. He wanted to hug her and cry because he missed her, all those years and he still missed her.

"Where's Amane?" A tear ran down Ryo's cheek.

"We're all here."

"In the kitchen?"

"Yes. Help us. It's dark. We're scared."

"I'll help," Ryo said, his voice cracking.

A creak to his left startled him. Kek's face peeked out of the door, his skin ash and sand, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. "Ryo, don't go."

"Ryo!" Her voice sounded desperate, and Ryo swore he smelled her perfume floating to him. He'd forgotten that smell, how could he forget? Water lilies and hyacinth clinging to a yellow summer dress. Long hair like fresh milk pulled back away from her face with a satin ribbon. His mother.

"Ryo don't." Kek grabbed Ryo's arm.

"Kek, you're shaking?"

"I'm . . . scared."

"Ryo," his mother called from the kitchen.

"It's lying. It's a damn filthy liar. That's not your mother . . . or mine." He said the last part like speaking pushed a knife through his throat.

Ryo couldn't see, his eyes blinded with searing tears. "I know. I know it's not really her." Small, timid sobs squeaked out of Ryo's mouth. He couldn't hold them in. "But I wanted it to be. I did, so badly."

"I know." Kek pulled Ryo into his room, holding him and kissing both Ryo's cheeks. "I know. I wanted to see my mother, too. Even one time."

The dark raped him. Bakura couldn't scream because of the black cramming down his throat and couldn't cry because the pitch forced itself through the slits of his shut eyes. All the while, Zorc's scarlet eyes watched him, hungrier than ever. A scalding, razor-sharp tongue licked up Bakura's throat.

A pounding against Marik's front door woke Bakura. He gasped and sputtered as he caught his breath. Marik stood up to answer the door; they'd fallen asleep on the couch in each other's arms. Bakura pushed himself to his feet and ran past Marik.

"I got it. It's Ryo."

He threw open the door and saw Kek standing with Ryo wrapped in his arms. Ryo wept hysterics into Kek's chest.

"Hey." Kek looked awkward. "There's a monster under our bed, can we sleep with you?" His efforts at humor only made the rueful, nauseous look on his face more pitiful.

Bakura acted on raw instinct. Not having time to filter himself and shaken from his own nightmare, he threw his arms around both of them and squeezed for a second before stepping back and letting them inside. As soon as he stepped away, Bakura wished he hadn't lost control enough to hug them. He felt stupid for having done it, and he caught Marik's wordless stare as he shut the door.

Marik stood shocked at both Bakura's behavior and Ryo's open grief. "What happened?"

"It's – not . . ." Ryo sucked air into his lungs, fighting his tears. "A poltergeist. It's something stronger."

"Are you hurt?"

Kek shook his head at Marik. "We're fine."

Bakura stood in front of Ryo. "Ryo, is it him?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Ryo sniffed, trying to pull the tears back inside. "It's strong."

"She – it – it tried to lure us into the kitchen." Kek looked away. "Dirty, fucking bastard."

"How?" Bakura failed to hide the desperation in his voice. "What did it do?"

Ryo's little pocket of composure imploded as fresh tears flooded across his face.

Kek kissed the crown of Ryo's head before looking back up. "I woke up to a woman calling my name. I sat up in bed and saw her standing in the doorway. I thought it was Ishizu, but she was older and . . . she." Kek shook his head. "I threw the blanket over my head and prayed to Ra until she went away."

"Why Ra?" Marik asked. He looked sick, his skin a wan imitation to his normal complexion.

Kek shrugged. "I had his card. I merged with the Winged Dragon. I feel . . . closest to Ra, and I needed something . . . holy? To protect myself."

Bakura thought of that. Kek calling on the gods for protection was unsettling, and the thought of feeling close to a god was foreign to Bakura. Horus was his favorite god to curse. Horus was the soul of the Pharaoh. Something more important hit Bakura. If the haunt pretended to Marik and Kek's mother . . . he turned to Ryo and put his hand on the back of Ryo's shoulder.

Marik ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll make some tea – I think I have tea somewhere."

They settled for coffee – black since Marik had neither milk nor sugar.

Bakura snickered as he sipped from his cup. "Seriously, Marik, we need groceries like normal fucking people."

"Oh? You want to be normal? I thought you were better than that."

Bakura let the sarcasm in Marik's voice slide over him as he answered. "Yes, but I'm currently in the most boring RPG campaign ever, and I keep in character." He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I think I like playing human. It's been so long since I've been anything other than a dark spirit that normality is a dirty kink at this point."

Marik smiled into his cup at that. "Well, I suppose I really should indulge your fetishes, provided you indulge me in mine."

"That could be fun."

Ryo sniffed, weak laughter made his cup tremble in his hands. "You two are crazy." He set the cup on the table and stared at it. He spoke to his cup instead of the others. "I heard . . . her voice, but it wasn't that, any spirit could replicate a voice. I could smell her perfume. I could remember her better than I had since her funeral. No mere ghost should be able to get in my head like that."

"But Kek never saw our mother," Marik said. "Neither of us did. She died when I was born."

"I know, that's what scares me." Ryo drank from his cup. "You haven't, but Ishizu has."

Marik clenched his fist at the mention of his sister. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Bakura rubbed his temples. "Each Item had a piece of Zorc inside it."

"And the Items kept imprints of the memories of each of its users. Just like how the Rod stored memories of Priest Set," Kek muttered.

Bakura noticed something odd about Kek. His knees curled into his chest as he sat in Marik's chair. He held his cup of coffee without drinking it, as if he only wanted the warmth and comfort of it more than the actual drink. He kept reaching his hand out to rub Ryo's shoulder or stroke his hair. The gestures weren't lustful, nor were they the desperate attempt of a construct seeking new sensations. He was comforting Ryo, and rather well. Bakura saw the difference on his former host's face each time Kek brushed his fingers against Ryo's arm.

"Your body language is different."

Kek looked at Bakura. "What?"

"If idiosyncrasies alone defined a human – you'd be more of a person than Marik at this point."

"Bakura, is now the time?" Marik slammed his coffee down on the table. "You're worried about Zorc returning as much as the rest of us. Stop shielding with your damn quips."

Bakura opened his mouth to yell in return, but drank from his cup instead. It was hard to argue when he'd been in hysterics himself hours before. "Whatever."

"We still don't know if it's him. It could be any higher negative spirit," Ryo said.

"You don't sound so sure," Bakura said.

"Well . . . like I said, there's how well it knew our memories. It's not impossible for an ordinary demon to manipulate on that level, but when searching for the answer to any problem the most logical thing to do is apply the simplest solution first."

Bakura gestured with a swoop of his hand. "And in this case, the simplest answer is that when our closing ceremonies didn't send us back to the Shadows, it created a tear in your kitchen from the Shadow Realm to this dimension. Necrophades hasn't returned yet, but he can influence us in hopes of obtaining a new host."

Ryo nodded. "I'm going to try a banishing ritual. It may drive him back enough for the tear to heal naturally." He looked at Bakura, his brown eyes begging. "Bakura, if something goes wrong . . . will you please kill me?"

"No. We already went over this, Ryo," Kek snarled. "Bakura won't touch you either if he wants to live. Anything he does to you, I'm doing to him."

"Ryo, that's insane." Marik held his cup tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

"Both of you shut up," Bakura said, his voice low but stable. "You don't know what it's like . . . to be part of him. You don't know, so neither of you can make this choice." He looked back at Ryo. "If it ever comes to that." Bakura clenched his hand. "I won't let you go through what I did."

"Thank you," Ryo sighed, closing his lids. Soft, purple circles shadowed his eyes from lack of sleep.

"Nor will I let you perform a banishing ritual alone."

"Bakura. I know what I'm doing."

"Fuck you. It's not going to happen."

"Let's ask Yugi to help us," Marik said.

"Fuck no." Bakura ground his teeth together until the action hurt his jaw.

"I don't want to see him – any of them." Kek shook his head.

"Besides, I can't pull him into danger like that," Ryo added.

"But it's Yugi," Marik protested. "He's the current avatar of Horus. He can summon the gods to his defense if he needed to."

"If he knew how." Ryo frowned. "Yugi beat Atem during the Ceremonial Duel, but he doesn't realize what that means. He doesn't know that he's the new incarnation of Horus, and I doubt he'd know how to help us. The only person out of that group with enough skill in magic to be useful would be Anzu, and I refuse to put her in that kind of danger."

"Then just let me freaking help you already." Bakura spoke through clenched teeth.

"Bakura, out of all of us, you're the most vulnerable. I can't let–"

"Don't you dare say I'm vulnerable! I survived three thousand years with that thing. I know him better than any of you." He glared at Ryo as he paced across the length of Marik's kitchen. "Stop acting like you're the only person that knows white magic. Diabound was my ka."

"When's the last time you used anything other than shadow magic, Bakura? Three thousand years ago?"

"It's like riding a bicycle."

"Bakura," Marik spoke with a softer tone than he'd ever used with his old partner before.

Kek looked at each of them. "Why not all four of us?"

"What?" both Marik and Bakura asked.

"Whatever that thing is – Zorc or a regular demon – it couldn't cross the salt circle. That's why he tried to get us away from our beds. If we make four circles in the room and connect them with a larger circle, then the tear and anything trying to escape it would be trapped. That would weaken it from the beginning, and with four of us, any spells will be four times more powerful. More importantly, four of us would make it difficult for it to possess any one of us."

"That . . . could work." Ryo thought a moment. "If you guys take this seriously. Holy spells are more difficult than dark magic. You can't just say the words; you have to mean them." Ryo looked at Marik and Bakura in turns. "No fighting, no sarcasm, no hiding your emotions behind a wall. You need your emotions. They're your strength. Could you two do it? Earnestly?"

Bakura scoffed, still pacing. "You know I'll go to any lengths to defeat my enemies."

Marik looked more serious, his mouth a thin line and his jaw tight. "I think I can. Before Battle City? No way, but now . . . I think I'm finally strong enough for that."

Ryo sighed and rubbed his face. "Okay – we'll try it. All of us. It will take me a few days to arrange a proper ritual."

"We need to hurry," Kek said, his voice quiet.

"I know." Ryo nodded. "Since everything started with a few banging cupboards and then progressed . . . that means the tear is getting larger and Zorc's gaining influence in our world. If we don't stop him, he'll be able to come through even without a host."

***Bakura, "I have to make sure Necrophades never has another chance in this world, Marik - because you don't like the dark. "

Me, "Did ... Did you just say the most romantic shit that I've ever written in a fanfic?"***