Author's Notes: HOLY. RA. It's been a long time since I posted anything. Betcha all thought I was dead. But...I LIVE!!

Anyway, a long long...long time ago, I got a request from one Darksnickle-PrincessKezadoodle asking for a MarikxBakura fic where "they're not harsh and cruel to eachother but instead you can see that they are in love with each other" and then it went on to (the reqest, i mean) ask for a Bakura uke fic with a vulnerable Bakura and I thought: Vulnerable and Bakura? In the same sentence?! But then I also thought, what a challange that would be, and hey, I can do anything, right? So, here we go.

Warnings: hmm, let's see, swearing and violence and sex and...no, that's probably it

What Is Love?

Part 1: Get it Together

Ryou was sitting next to Malik on the couch. His feet were tucked up on the cushion next to him, a mug of hot chocolate cupped in his hands. Malik said something that made Ryou smile and look away, shifting his vision downward. Malik turned fully to him, reaching out a hand to cradle the other's face gently; said something else, a soft whisper that faded the smile from Ryou's lips, the breath left caught in his throat, anxiety, as though something wondrous was about to happen. Malik kissed him. But even to watch them, Marik could tell, there was so much more in that kiss; so much feeling, as though a silent exchange passed between the two, understanding and acceptance, longing and warmth and a solemn oath from Malik. When they parted, Ryou curled into Malik's side, with his cup still in his hands but forgotten, and Malik held him there contentedly.

Marik stared down at them from the railing. Malik thought of Ryou constantly, talked of him constantly. Ryou was kind and sweet and beautiful. His cooking was amazing and he smelled nice. Marik guessed he tasted nice too, by the look on Malik's face. Malik had never been so happy as when he thought of Ryou and now … he looked like he needed nothing more to live happily the rest of his life. He looked as though he had never known hate.

Marik slipped out the back door. He was glad that Malik was happy but it made him feel somewhat out of place there, so he defected to the Bakura house instead. Unfortunately, he arrived just in time for aversion to Ishtar day – that is to say, Bakura got one look at him on his front step and slammed the door in his face.

Marik swung the door open anyway and followed him inside. "What's your problem?"

"I'm starving." Bakura complained.

"How is that my fault?" Marik asked, gesturing wildly as he followed Bakura to the couch where the white haired thief fell back onto the cushions in a huff. Marik watched transfixed as the long strands of his hair rustled at the movement, resettling themselves on his shoulders until Bakura frowned, looking up at him strangely and breaking the spell.

"What?"

Marik blinked, refocusing his gaze and grinned. "Nothin'… I'll make ya food."

Bakura raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "You can cook?"

"A little." Marik answered, heading into the kitchen.

"If I wanted something a little edible I'da cooked it myself." Bakura complained from the couch but he made no move to stop the other.

Fifteen minutes later, Marik returned with two slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwiches and offered them to Bakura who wrinkled his nose in disgust but took them anyway.

"So I take it you're missing little Ryou." Marik asked with a knowing smile.

Bakura frowned. "I never said that."

"You know, I've been seeing a lot of him at our house these past few days." Marik continued. "He just sorta seems to bring the sunshine with him whenever he's around."

Bakura glared back at the grinning Egyptian. "And yet you always seem to end up here. If it's so fuckin' wonderful at your house then why don't you just stay there?"

Marik just continued to smile. It really irritated Bakura. "I like the company." was his simple answer and Bakura turned away uncomfortably, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Chyea, whatever."

"I think," Marik said to change the subject, "that you should get out more."

"What are you, my truant officer?"

"I think that would work backwards." Marik returned and continued quickly so as not to give Bakura the chance to butt in again and, as he was inevitably bound to do, turn him down, crashing his happy little mood in a fiery blaze if he could. "There's this little club. They'll let anyone in. I've been there before with Malik. We'll go there tonight, ok."

"What?" Bakura's eyes narrowed slightly but Marik plowed ahead in blissful ignorance.

"Wear something nice. I'll swing by around nine." Marik was already making his way to the door.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Bakura shouted, throwing his cheese sandwich down on the plate.

"You won't be sorry."

"I'M NOT GOING!" Bakura yelled to the tune of the front door slamming shut behind Marik.

"Marik! Shit! I gotta piss!" Malik was nearly begging now as he banged on the bathroom door.

Marik opened the door and Malik wasted no time rushing past him for the toilet. "Why can't you just use the bathroom downstairs?" Marik asked, returning to the mirror as he continued the intricate pattern of the band he was drawing on his arm in permanent marker.

"The downstairs toilet's still broke." Malik answered, finally relieved.

Marik caught a glance at his other in the mirror. "Well of course if you knock I'm gonna tell you I'm busy. Next time just come in."

Malik turned and growled through his reflection. "I thought you were busy doing something else."

Marik chuckled. "Well, we can't all have someone as sweet as pretty little Ryou-chan to help us with our 'somethings else' like you have, now can we?" he asked sweetly and took amusement in the dark crimson blush that heated Malik's face behind him.

"That's not even…he doesn't!" Malik shouted back, flustered.

"Oh?" Marik replied, turning back to his arm to put on the finishing touches. "Well, maybe his yami does."

Malik arched an eyebrow and made a face, turning away altogether and flushing the toilet. "I don't even want to hear this."

Marik chuckled to himself as Malik left the room, too flustered to even stick around long enough to wash his hands there.

Ryou descended the stairs, leaving his homework unfinished, to answer the persisting knock at the front door and found Marik waiting there in black and dark red leather and fishnet.

"Is Kura ready?"

Ryou blinked back. "Is he supposed to be ready for something?"

Marik frowned and shoved past Ryou into the house. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a few yen and dropped them in Ryou's hand. "Here, go get a hot drink." And he closed the door, pushing Ryou outside in the process.

Ryou stared at his front door in his stocking feet, speechless.

Marik found Bakura lounging on the couch in the middle of a low budget horror movie and his frown deepened. Bakura pretended not to notice the other until Marik reached over and shut off the tv.

"HEY!" Bakura snapped, bolting up and glaring hotly at the intruder.

"I told you I'd be here at nine." Marik argued but Bakura's glare only intensified.

"You got a hearing problem shit-head? I said I wasn't going."

Marik narrowed dark violet eyes in a glare that had, on occasion, been known to cause traffic accidents and replied in a level, dead serious tone: "Go…or I'll molest you here."

Bakura chocked slightly on that and Marik dropped that line altogether, throwing out a completely different angle instead.

"You never get out of the house. You're not going anywhere, the world's not going to magically roll back to age of the dinosaurs, and you're not gonna stop being dead until you start to live."

It took Bakura about two milliseconds for Marik's words to sink in before he was on his feet in anger. "If I chose to live in the past that's my decision to make. It's my shit life! I'll do whatever the hell I goddamn please with it. And what right do you have to say I should live here? There is absolutely nothing here worth living for and the only thing I do have is bringing the fucking sunshine to your house!"

All of Marik's witty comebacks left him in his shock. He just stood there while Bakura screamed at him and had no idea what to say when at last his tirade had ceased. He'd had no idea that Bakura had actually known what he was doing - or that he thought they were somehow stealing Ryou away from him.

"I didn't…" Marik tried, lamely but Bakura cut him off.

"Just leave me the fuck alone." All of the anger seemed to have drained from Bakura and he turned, crossing the room and heading up the staircase. "I don't need you…and you can't help me."

Marik barely heard the last of Bakura's words as he disappeared into the shadows of the second floor. And all Marik wanted…was to have never gone there at all.

Marik's heavy footsteps sounded in the upstairs hallway and came to a stop at a door which he unceremoniously pushed open. Malik, who was laying back on his bed listening to the stereo, removed his gaze from the ceiling to watch his yami cross the room and fall next to him on the mattress. Malik's gaze returned to the ceiling as he spoke casually, unmoving.

"That didn't last long."

Marik only grunted in reply and Malik turned to his side, tucking an arm beneath his head as he addressed the other.

"Wasn't Bakura interested?"

"He didn't even leave the house." Marik answered in a dead tone, staring at the ceiling.

"He's been like that since Ryou's started coming over so much." Malik explained. "I don't think he likes change but I'm not gonna lose sleep over Bakura's inadequacies. Ryou needs to be happy too. If he liked Ryou he should have said so while he had the chance."

Marik regarded his other more seriously. "You think he likes Ryou?"

"Who knows."

Bakura ignored the light knock at his bedroom door. It was easy to pretend he hadn't heard it over the roar of the stereo but Ryou opened the door and entered anyway. Bakura continued to ignore the intrusion until Ryou turned the volume down low enough that Bakura could hear his quiet voice.

"Bakura? What was that all about? With Marik, I mean."

"He felt the dire need to come here to flaunt his stupidity. I guess his house wasn't good enough." Bakura muttered venomously.

Ryou nodded slowly, not quite getting it.

"He kind of looked like he was … going out somewhere." Ryou commented.

"Did he? I hadn't noticed." Bakura's off-handed reply confirmed Ryou's suspicions that something was definitely bothering his yami.

"Bakura," Ryou hesitated but Bakura made no remark so he continued "Malik and I are going out to a concert next weekend. I'd…like it if you came along, Marik too. It'd be nice for us all to get out and do something together, don't you think?"

"Your naivety is sickening." Bakura answered quietly. "If you're that determined to live in your happy, sugary little fairy tale world, then just go ahead but don't try to drag me in there with you. … Eventually it'll rain and you'll be booted back to the real world. Happiness is nothing but a detour that keeps you occupied for a while and if you honestly think he loves you that's worse. Love is nothing but an ideal."

Ryou fought back the urge to argue with him and sighed instead. "I don't pretend to absolutely know that we'll be together for all of eternity. But I do know that I love Malik. It isn't an ideal. I'm feeling it now and I know it's real. And I love you too Bakura, weather you love me back or not. I know you're just trying to keep me from being hurt but that's not the way these things work." Ryou let the stereo fill the silence for a moment before he spoke again. "At least think about the concert." With that said, Ryou turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Bakura frowned. The last thing he wanted was to go to some public concert with hundreds of people to watch his hikari cuddling with that Ishtar and having a grand old time forgetting he was ever there in the first place.

Ryou would be gone soon, Bakura told himself, slipping in with Malik and leaving him behind with all the upsetting memories that were associated with him. Ryou would happily leave him alone. He wanted to be ready for it, so that it didn't surprise him when it happened. If he expected it, it wouldn't be so hard to take.

Marik raised his fist and brought it down on Bakura's door but after several prolonged minutes, it became apparent that no one was going to answer. Marik let himself in. At first he thought maybe Bakura was still asleep upstairs, it was early still, but his bedroom was empty; the entire house was empty, so Marik took a seat on the couch and decided to wait.

It occurred to Marik that he really had no idea where Bakura might have gone out to. He would have liked to know, but no, Bakura would never tell him. If he wanted to know anything about Bakura he would have to find out for himself. But that was alright. That was just fine. Anything worth having had to be earned, right? Not that he was delusional enough to think that he could actually have Bakura, but on the other hand, he had nothing to lose.

Marik had admired Bakura from the moment he had first seen him but it wasn't until he had returned from the Shadow Realm after Battle City that he began to admire him for the finer things; the way his hair flew around his face when he moved suddenly, the way his eyes flashed in anger or turned away, looking inward in pain, the way his lips parted when he was uncertain or the way he carried himself with an air of dark power. Marik found that he noticed everything, and remembered every detail. Bakura was beautiful, like a deadly predator, silent and sulky until he was provoked and then he knew just what to say to cause the right amount of pain. Even in his anger, he struck with precision.

Marik wasn't going to say that he understood love, given his background, the circumstances of his creation, that would be blatantly presumptuous, but he was coming to realize that he did care for Bakura. And he found it strange that a being born solely of hatred and power could learn to feel such things while someone who had once been human seemed to know nothing of them.

Marik was pulled from his musings by the sound of the door opening and closing and he craned his neck to see over the back of the couch, watching as Bakura took off his shoes and turned to head toward the kitchen. Their eyes met, and for a moment Bakura's expression was blank, but it quickly melted to a frown.

"What are you doing in my house Ishtar?" he demanded, eyes growing hard as he spoke.

Marik turned back toward the television set, even though it was off, and gave it his attention instead. "Don't you just hate school?" he commented off-handedly. "It gets so boring when you're alone."

"Is there something wrong with the rest of your clan?" Bakura countered, continuing on his way to the kitchen. "I know you don't live alone in that house with Malik."

"Isis has work, and whenever Malik's not around, Rishid follows her." Marik watched as Bakura walked past him, carefully keeping his gaze on the doorway ahead of him. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked out of the blue and Bakura froze in his tracks.

The thief turned on his heel, giving Marik that view of flying silver-white hair he enjoyed so much and flashing dark brown eyes that seemed to bleed crimson when the light caught them just right. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he demanded harshly, defensively.

"You avoid me." Marik answered simply. "You go out of your way to repel me. I know it's not hatred. I know hatred. So what is it then?"

Bakura smirked, then laughed. And the sound sent chills down Marik's spine. "What a nice delusion, to think the whole fucking world revolves around you." The strike had venom in it, but Marik could take it. "Maybe I just don't enjoy your company." Bakura continued, smugly, completely yanking the control Marik had had on the situation only seconds before. "Maybe I think you're an annoying, narcissistic little joke who isn't worth my time, did you ever think of that?"

It was too much. The poison cut too deep, as it always did with Bakura.

And Marik smiled too, as he stood to face Bakura, but he could not look him in the eyes. "You may think I'm weak, but it takes strength to move on. At least I walked out of my cave; left the rotting carcasses where I dropped them. You carry all of yours with you. You kiss them every night and cling to the pain they offer to you like a lifeline. If anyone's a joke, it's you."

The fist that slammed into Marik's face knocked him back into the couch behind him and he looked up in shock, clutching at his cheek, to see Bakura looming over him, a dark and golden aura blazing around him. In his eyes was a truly horrifying miasma of anger and hatred that seized the heartbeat in Marik's chest. Without the Rod, his power was limited. He really stood no chance against Bakura's power.

"You have no right to pass judgment on me! No one does! Not even the Gods!" Bakura screamed, voice infused with the power behind his Item.Marik winced as he kicked the couch so hard it jolted, even with him on it. "You don't know anything! And I don't have to explain myself to you!"

Marik knew, he knew that Bakura's situation did not compare with his own. Despite the hatred he had kept and nursed after he'd killed his father, Malik's father, now because the matter had been settled he was able to move on. Bakura had never gotten that chance. And Marik understood the pain, understood that it was all that Bakura had to cling to, all that gave him life. He hadn't meant to say it.

"I didn't mean it." he answered, dropping his hand and surrendering. "You struck a nerve and I lashed out, just like you wanted me to… But I didn't mean it. I don't judge you."

Bakura screamed and kicked the couch again, and again the Egyptian winced as it jolted under him.

Marik let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling through tranquil violet eyes. "I wanted…to be close to you."

It was like a shockwave had coursed through Bakura. All of the raw power and emotions disappeared, leaving him empty in their wake, feeling naked and exposed and drained.

"Do you really see me as annoying?" Marik asked, his words sending slow, calm ripples across the suddenly still atmosphere. "I would settle for being a distraction at least. Aren't I anything at all to you?"

Bakura didn't answer. Instead, long after the words had settled and the silence had set in, he moved to the door, put his shoes on, and left, leaving Marik alone in the silence.

Marik really had no idea why, after going out of his way to get close to Bakura, he then somehow managed to find and accomplish every possible way of thoroughly fucking up. He had known that Bakura's words were nothing more than a defense mechanism to push him away but he had let the words affect him anyway. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, there would always be some small part of himself that not even he could control, the proof of his psychosis so-to-speak. One day he might even haul off and punch Bakura for no reason whatsoever and when that day came, he would remember this day and promptly forgive himself.

Marik touched at the bruise that was no-doubt coloring his cheek in dim rainbow colors and winced as he slammed the front door of the Ishtar's elegant two-story estate house shut behind him.

Isis, who happened to have been passing by with an armload of papers and books, paused to look at him. She hesitated but after a moment, spoke with a trace of concern lacing her words. "Marik?"

"What?" he asked, directly, but Isis would not be put off.

"What happened to your cheek?"

'Ryou's yami hit me.' Should he say that? Did it make him sound lame? Then, 'I allowed Bakura to hit me.' That was worse, it made him sound stupid.

"Got in a fight with Bakura."

Isis hesitated again, perhaps deciding weather or not to inquire as to what the fight had been about but in the end what she said was "Do you want some ice for it?"

"No."

Isis nodded and moved on. That was their relationship. She accepted him and she tried. It was all he could ask for and probably more than he deserved. But they would never be close, not in the way she was close to Malik.

And that was the basis for all of his relationships except for Malik. Marik neither knew, nor cared to know, the resurrected pharaoh or any of his friends. They were, to put it simply, of no interest to him. They would never look at him as a friend, they would never accept him as they had accepted his lighter half, there would always be that sense of wariness about them whenever they were in his presence. It annoyed him sometimes, but he couldn't really say that it bothered him because he just felt…indifferent.

But with Bakura, Marik had felt a connection and Bakura was the only person aside from Malik with whom he felt connected.

Existing, Marik had learned, was synonymous with desire. A being, by default of existence, desired and needed certain things to continue existing. That feeling of being connected to someone was one of those things that Marik had found he needed but Marik had also found that it was difficult to exist for only one person who in turn existed for another.

Marik had never blamed Malik for loving Ryou. Malik and Ryou, it seemed, could gain enough from merely being near he and Bakura to continue existing as a whole being. But Marik felt that, in some way, his separation from Malik had left him incomplete and the desire to become whole through Malik was rendered moot by Malik's love for Ryou. And he had thought that if he felt that way that Bakura might also feel that way and they might find solace in each other, that they might become whole through each other. But Bakura, it seemed, couldn't have cared less.

Maybe he was incapable of filling the hollow void within Bakura and Bakura certainly made him feel foolish for trying, but Ryou and Malik were taken with each other and in the end, he and Bakura were all each other had. The only chance of truly being able to live in this life they had been granted lay in each other, and Marik wanted to live. He had had enough of being and feeling dead to last an eternity; it was not a place he wished to return to. Ever.

But it wasn't just a case of necessity to Marik. It frustrated him that Bakura wouldn't even give him the time of day. Bakura meant something to him, what exactly, Marik was still working out but it hurt that the feeling was not returned. What would it take, Marik wondered, to get Bakura to look to him with softened eyes or to speak to him with an unguarded tone. What would he have to do to gain the thief's trust? Or was he only fooling himself to think that Bakura even knew how to trust or feel any of the things that Marik felt or desired. For that matter, Marik had no idea what it was that Bakura even desired. Perhaps that was the place he had needed to start from at the beginning. That resolved, Marik lay back on Malik's double bed to wait for the other to return so that he could ask Malik to make a phone call for him.

Ryou had to admit that he was a little nervous as he made his way through the Ishtar estate to it's back lawn to meet, not with Malik, but with Marik after school. Malik had not told him why it was that Marik had asked to speak with him but not only had Malik nonchalantly left him on his own to attend this meeting, he had also left the premises entirely to run to the grocery store for pancake syrup, leaving Ryou completely alone with his yami in a show of complete faith that he faced absolutely no distress whatsoever.

Ryou wasn't so sure. It wasn't that he distrusted Marik, it was just that Ryou had had little opportunity to get to know the other and he was nervous. Marik had shown little interest in him even though he was seeing his 'other half' and Ryou worried that that was exactly why Marik wanted to speak with him now.

He should make a good impression, he thought, and hope that Marik did not ask him to back off. If that were the case, Ryou knew that he would defend his relationship with Malik, and hopefully defend it valiantly enough to impress Marik since Marik seemed like the kind to be impressed by a show of defiance, unlike Bakura who took it strictly as a personal challenge no matter the situation.

With as much resolve as he could possibly gather, Ryou slid open the back door and stepped out onto the patio, closing the door carefully behind him.

The scene that awaited Ryou was far from the one he had expected. On the patio table was a teapot and two cups surrounded by various confections and from the edge of the patio, Marik turned to face him, a downright nervous look on his face. Ryou began to wonder if he'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

Marik waved Ryou to the table by way of greeting and took the seat across from him as soon as he'd sat down.

Ryou stared at the cakes in front of him with subdued apprehension, waiting for Marik to say something. But Marik seemed to be doing the same thing until finally he startled Ryou when he said "Eat something."

That seemed to snap Ryou out of his daze and he snatched up a fork, looking down at the cake in front of him.

"They're for you." Marik continued. "Malik said that you liked sweets, so…" He waved a hand at the table invitingly. "Have as much as you like."

"Thank you." Ryou remembered to say, politely before taking a hesitant bite of the slice of strawberry cake sitting in front of him and couldn't help but smile at the taste.

"That's it." Marik said, almost to himself and Ryou looked up curiously. "Your smile," Marik explained "it's beautiful, just like Malik says." Ryou felt a faint blush color his cheeks as he refocused on the cake. "I want you to tell me … how to make Bakura smile like that."

But all trace of that smile left Ryou's face as he looked back at Marik, all of the pieces falling neatly into place to create a picture that Ryou was still not certain he understood. "Bakura?"

"What is his greatest desire, what does he need to survive, can you tell me that?"

Ryou could tell that Marik was serious but Marik's inquiry felt like a weight in his heart. Ryou had never imagined that anyone but himself might truly care for Bakura and the thought that the culmination of his years of experience with the ancient thief could not offer any help at all to the first person who asked, saddened him.

Ryou lay the fork on the small china plate with its slice of strawberry cake with the utmost care and heaved a sigh. A moment passed before he spoke. "I'm not sure you can make him happy." The expression on Marik's face hurt more than Ryou thought it would. "Bakura is… People only understand the emotions that they've been shown. Bakura…understands contempt and mistrust and fear and hate, loneliness, desperation… When he's shown kindness he looks for … what that person might gain by their actions. It's all that makes sense to him. If he can't find an ulterior motive it just …upsets him…" Ryou tried to explain as best he could and he could see Marik muddling it over, sorting through the new information in his head and finally he spoke in reply.

"But I know that…Bakura is kind to you, isn't he?"

Ryou glanced down at the cake once more. "Because he knows my motive. … I'm afraid of being alone. That's why he's having such a hard time right now." Ryou explained, looking back at Marik. "He sees me with Malik and thinks that I'm replacing him. I've tried to make him see that isn't true but he doesn't understand. He's distancing himself from me." Ryou's eyes filled with tears suddenly and Marik felt bad for him, but he couldn't find any words to comfort Bakura's light and he had to wonder; if he couldn't even comfort Ryou, finding a heart that had never fully developed within Bakura might be nothing more than a foolish dream that was so far out of his league that uttering that intention might have sounded more like a terribly sad joke than anything else. But he was going to try, foolish or not, because Bakura was stuck in his head and Marik knew that he would always be there. He would have rather had Bakura haunting him with eyes full of desire than pain and anger.

"Take the cake home." Marik said, standing suddenly and drawing Ryou's attention with a start. "If Malik finds it he'll be up all night." Marik gave the other a rare smile that left Ryou in awe at the sudden proof of its existence and walked back into the house, leaving the door open behind him.

Marik knew then that his strategy had to change, so the next time that Marik invaded Bakura's house, he brought Malik with him. If Bakura refused to go to the party, he'd bring the party to Bakura.

Predictably, Bakura was not overly enthusiastic to see Marik, given how their previous encounter had ended but Marik mentioned nothing of the event and Bakura stayed. It was Marik's first victory, as far as he was concerned.

Marik, after some thought, had realized that when Malik had invited Ryou to his house, he had sought out Bakura and so he hoped that by reversing the situation, Bakura might be the one to seek him out.

At first, Ryou was too timid (or maybe wary was a better term) to show Malik affection in front of Bakura but after a time Malik won him over and Bakura, having been silently hostile the entire evening, declared that he was going to bed (at a ridiculous hour) just to get away from them without overly upsetting Ryou.

After they'd heard the door slam upstairs, Marik casually made his way up. It was only 9:00. He'd pegged Bakura for another hour at least … but apparently not. Marik had left the living room for the kitchen ten minutes ago hoping that Bakura might follow him in there but he'd been wrong about that too.

Marik quietly knocked on the door to Bakura's bedroom. There was silence for a long moment as Bakura made his decision and Marik hoped that he wasn't planning on ignoring him altogether. After so long, Marik couldn't take it anymore and let himself inside rather than calling through the door for permission.

"I don't recall inviting you into my room." were the cold words that greeted Marik as he closed the door behind him.

Marik gave the other a weak cynical smile. "Who do you think I am, little Yugi?" Bakura made no reply and Marik moved into the room a little. "Ryou is worried about you, you know." he said, hoping for neutral ground. Bakura remained silent so Marik continued. "He's beautiful, Ryou. I know what Malik sees in him." Later, Marik would realize the mistake of this statement; he had meant so much more than he'd said. "But he's nothing like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bakura asked. He had meant it to be a demand but as Marik advanced, his level, depthless violet eyes holding him in place, it had somehow lost the harshness he had intended.

"You're beautiful too, Bakura." Marik reached out, touching Bakura's pale soft cheek with a gentleness he had never used to touch anything before.

Bakura felt that same shockwave course through him as when Marik had told him he had only wanted to be near him, only this time Marik was not staring off into space and he was not sitting on a couch in front of him; he was holding him in place and he was too close. Bakura felt the panic rise without warning. His heart raced in his chest, deafening him, he couldn't breathe.

"Get away from me. Stay away from me, don't touch me." he said, swatting the hand away and stepping back. He didn't notice the confused and hurt look on Marik's face. "Is that why you've been at my house lately?" he accused. "You think because my hikari is letting himself be led around by yours that you're entitled to me?! If that's what you want then go find a cheap whore!"

"Bakura!"

"No!" Bakura shouted back. "I get it now. I'm the only conquest worthy of your time, is that it? Well don't think just because you beat me once that you're better than me. And just because you claim to think I'm attractive doesn't mean I need your petty endorsements so badly that I'd be your delusional bitch for them."

"Damnit Bakura!" Marik lashed out, gripping the other by the arms and shaking him. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? There's more venom in it than a Ra-damned cobra! I never expected you to be a bitch or a slave!"

Bakura shoved Marik harshly and swung at him but this time Marik dodged. It was enough of a distraction for Bakura to vanish, using the shadows to disappear to Ra-knew-where and Marik sighed, alone again.

Bakura felt out of control and it was making him act like a child. He hated himself for it. Why did Marik have to act like this now? Marik was getting bored, looking for a new kind of conquest, Bakura could understand that, but it would never be him. He would never be overtaken by Marik again and he would never for a second allow himself to think that he actually meant anything to Marik.

Marik may have wanted to bed him, but it was really far more meaningful…filled with deep intent…than that. Sex was an act of dominating another individual, in the most intimate way possible. From the top it was likely a good experience, one could take what they needed and walk away as a master, but from the bottom, sex equaled vulnerability - willing vulnerability - and Bakura considered himself far too smart and not nearly naive enough to do that. To bear your throat to a wolf is to ask it to tear your throat out. What Marik wanted was for him to fall and trust that he was standing there behind him but whenever anyone asked you to fall it was usually a good indication that they didn't intend to bother with you for long.

It all put Bakura in a foul mood and he felt the sudden need to prove that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Bakura was the King of Thieves. He did not bow to anyone. With that thought in mind, Bakura made his way determinedly to the worst part of town he could find, knowing that someone there was bound to try and piss him off.

Marik was not surprised that Bakura had run off. He'd just come on to him with no warning at all. Bakura probably hadn't even known that Marik thought of him like that until just now. He'd screwed up again. And the worst part was that he really had no idea what had possessed him to do that. Bakura, you're beautiful. Why hadn't he fucking just asked him to marry him while he was at it. Marik felt like banging his head against the wall.

The way Bakura had looked at him… almost like he was afraid at first… Marik couldn't get it out of his head. He didn't understand. Distrustful, yes, but afraid? What was he afraid of? Ryou's words came back to him, and it was just as Ryou had said. Bakura had sought out an ulterior motive and when he'd tried to dissuade him of that revelation, he'd fled. How could he possibly convince Bakura that he was not seeking his trust only to betray him later?

Deciding that he was liable to start throwing things if he didn't get out of the house, Marik descended the stairs, told his hikari and Bakura's that he was leaving, and slammed the door shut behind him.

With no real direction, he just started walking. It didn't matter where he was going because he wasn't going to outrun all the thoughts swirling around in his head that had driven him out here in the first place.

Bakura was having trouble finding someone to pick a fight with. It seemed like whenever he looked at anyone sideways they turned and went the other way or huddled together in conversation…they avoided him like the plague. Whenever he wasn't particularly looking for trouble they crawled out of the woodwork and now that he was, they wanted nothing to do with him.

Bakura was just about fuming when the head man of a group of thugs passing by bumped shoulders with him. Had he been someone else, not milling around on purpose, he might have stumbled, or even been knocked to the ground, but as it was, Bakura turned around with one smooth step, a malicious grin splitting his face as the group turned back to him, their all too predictable line about watching where he was going hot on the leader's lips…until he saw Bakura's unexpected satisfaction and faltered. Instead, he said in a harsh voice, "I don't know what you're on buddy, but if you want trouble, you found it." The four other men with him started to spread out in anticipation for the coming fight. "You see this is my turf, and when you're on my land you need to show respect."

"You shouldn't talk," Bakura advised "it makes you sound stupid."

The leader's face turned purple with rage and he shouted in a near-quaking voice, "Get him!"

The lackeys moved in, pulling out various weapons; a club that might have been lifted from an officer, a chain, a wire, and a knife. Bakura dodged the club and came up with a strong right hook that took out wire-guy as he was trying to sneak behind him.

The knife came next, the chain was coming Bakura noted, and he side stepped the lunge from knife-guy grabbing his wrist as he sailed by. It snapped with a sickening crack before he let go. He couldn't dodge the chain so he caught it around his arm, grinning back at the man on the other end and ignoring the pain from the impact.

"Take him out, no mercy!" the leader shouted, anticipating a win now that Bakura had been caught.

The man with the club pulled back for another swing, and Bakura grinned. He was next. Bakura waited until he'd advanced to where he wanted him and with all of his strength, he yanked the chain, sending the man on the other end crashing into the one holding the club. They wouldn't be down long though, so he discarded the chain quickly and turned to face them.

After what seemed like a long walk, Marik found himself in a dumpier part of town. There were sirens in the distance and music pounded from various boom-boxes along the street. He started to think about heading to the bar, or maybe just going home. It was a waste of time to just wander around with nothing to do but think about Bakura. What he really needed was something to take his mind off the whole thing for a while until he could think.

Noises somewhere nearby drew his attention. Someone was screaming. It sounded like they'd been wounded. Curiosity got the best of him and he jogged toward the noise to see what was going on.

"That's enough!"

Bakura turned from the two recovering lackeys to face the leader. He'd pulled out a gun. Bakura narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"I warned you you'd best have respect and now you're gonna pay." He cocked the gun.

He was going to shoot it, Bakura knew. He laughed; a dark, disturbing sound that shot straight to the man's spine causing a chill to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. "Do you honestly think that little toy can harm me?" he demanded to know in his amusement.

The leader was about to reply but his eyes flicked to the side slightly instead, to somewhere behind Bakura. Bakura's own eyes followed to see who it was that had interrupted their exchange, and widened in temporary shock at the figure that rounded the corner, taking notice of him almost immediately - Marik. The grin drained from Bakura's face.

"Bakura?"

"Friend of yours?"

Bakura's head whipped back in time to see the smirk on his opponent's face as he readjusted his aim slightly and pulled the trigger.

Bakura didn't have time to think. The Ring flared to life as he used its power to fade and reappear before Marik, shoving him away. But he was just a second too late. The impact from the bullet threw him off balance and he hit the ground hard.

Marik could only watch the scene unfold in shock. Bakura had shoved him aside, stumbled, hit the ground; he was bleeding, but Marik only got a second's glance at the blood draining from the back of his shoulder, staining his black t-shirt around the hole that the bullet had made before he had moved, turning back to face the man and his gun.

Another shot filled the air but before the bullet could even reach them it - and the gun behind it, and the man behind that - were swallowed by the darkness.

Tendrils of wisping shadow dissipated like smoke, leaving nothing where the man had stood only seconds before, and after that, the three remaining conscious men fled, crying out in terror as they left their comrade behind to save themselves.

It all happened so fast. Marik was still processing the fact that Bakura had saved him, fallen for him…and the serious, nearly frightened look in his eyes as the thief's hands made contact with his shoulders and shoved him back… Somehow, it all seemed so surreal to Marik, like he wasn't really sure it had actually happened.

Bakura groaned, clutching at his left shoulder as he lifted himself off the ground and Marik rushed to help but Bakura shoved him away.

"We have to get out of here." was all he said, and Marik nodded, taking note of the sirens nearing their location and all of the hidden eyes trained on them from behind objects and windows. The scene had been too public.

Side by side they took the back alleys and wove their way out of the area. They ran until Bakura slowed and stopped, leaning against the nearest brick wall for support. They were in an alley somewhere, they could no longer hear the sirens behind them.

"We should head back to your place." Marik said but Bakura shook his head firmly.

"Not yet."

In the silence Bakura tried to catch his breath, filling his lungs slowly and deeply to maintain control of the situation and Marik took the opportunity to speak.

"You saved me."

Bakura's glare hit him instantly. "Don't praise me for it. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. If I'd used my fucking head at all I wouldn't be in this mess! I could have just sent him to the Shadow Realm in the first place! I could have stolen his soul! So don't fucking pity me! It's my own goddamn fault I'm bleeding. From stupidity!"

"It meant something to me." Marik returned softly, approaching the other cautiously. Bakura was eyeing him warily. He looked disheveled, blood was seeping through his fingers, pressed tightly against the wound at the back of his shoulder, he looked back at him unsurely, waiting to see what Marik would do.

When Marik reached out a hand, laying it against Bakura's cheek, this time he didn't move, but met his eyes, waiting. And Marik leaned in, covering Bakura's lips with his own.

So many things he should have said: that he knew Bakura was not weak, he didn't need defending or protecting, he was a force of nature, a beautiful disaster, and he wasn't trying to insult or dominate or control him, he loved Bakura and everything about him. But at just that moment, Marik could find nothing more to say, nothing that he didn't press into Bakura's lips.

Bakura did not kiss him back, nor did he stop him and when Marik pulled away he seemed to be in deep thought until he ducked down and returned with a knife, which he held before Marik.

At first, Marik thought Bakura meant to use the knife on him, but Bakura was holding it out to him and Marik accepted the weapon slowly, confusion written on his face.

"Carve it out." Bakura said simply, turning his back to the other and reaching down with a grimace pull his shirt over his head.

Marik stared at Bakura's back with the knife in his hand, and for a moment everything froze. When he finally managed to speak, all that came out was a weak "What?"

"Hurry up and do it." Bakura urged, bracing himself against the wall in front of him, tensing for the pain.

Marik was finding it hard to breathe suddenly. The knife shook in his hand. He looked at Bakura's back and pain flared white-hot in his memory. He saw the markings appear before him in blood, carving into Bakura's back, and he couldn't take it. Marik shut his eyes against the images swimming in front of him.

"Isn't there another way?" he asked. His voice shook unintentionally. "The Ring? Why can't you just go back into the Ring and heal inside?"

Bakura turned back, in curiosity more than annoyance, and studied Marik for a moment before answering him, with far more patience than Marik had anticipated. "It's kind of like eating." Bakura explained. "Whatever goes in your body becomes a part of it… I could heal in the Ring but the bullet would still be there. And I want it out now." he added harshly. He left no room for argument. "Are you going to do it or not?"

Marik paused only a moment before nodding his head and Bakura turned back around.

Marik fought down images of Malik's father, of what he'd done to that man and urges of changing his answer to no as he brought the knife to Bakura's shoulder. He'd been so uninhibited then, and now…he had to will his hand to stop quivering. To someone he despised, Marik felt he could still do those things, could still let lose with an utter and total lack of compassion and anything resembling sanity, but to Bakura…those thoughts arose a repulsion in him that turned his stomach sour; thoughts he could neither stop nor control.

Marik let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and bent his head, pressing his lips instead to Bakura's shoulder. He never wanted to let go of the way his heart and mind felt with Bakura inside of them, because without him, and without Malik, they were both empty.

"Forgive me." he whispered.

Bakura was caught off guard by the tender gesture but it was soon replaced with pain as Marik drove the tip of the knife's blade into the wound in his shoulder, and as he dropped his head and closed his eyes, concentrating on maintaining his silence, any thoughts that might have arisen concerning the action were driven from his mind.

Moments later Marik finally saw the accursed piece of metal rise to the surface and he pulled it out with his fingers, his hand fisting around it in sudden anger as he flung the thing as far from him as he could. He heard it clink to the ground several yards away.

Bakura relaxed slightly but did not move and Marik spontaneously wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders. Bakura flinched at the contact against the bleeding wound, the knife was still gripped tightly in Marik's hand and he was smearing blood. He didn't know what to do.

"I'm the same…as you." Marik said in the void between them. Marik hadn't changed. He was still capable of the atrocities he'd committed in the past. The only thing that had changed was that he had accepted life, and in doing so, he had clung to precious people. He had pulled them to him desperately to fill the void that had been created when his purpose had dissolved with his last life point into the darkness in that fateful duel against the pharaoh. Marik had no idea how to relay the thoughts that filled his head, they were so many, and they swirled and fought for dominance inside.

Bakura didn't know what to make of Marik. "What is it that you want from me?" he asked finally, exhausted. "What do you want me to do?" Bakura did not move from Marik's awkward embrace, but neither did he accept it. He felt Marik's face press into his hair and took it all in carefully.

There was a long moment of silence as Marik seemed to consider his answer. "Be alive… … with me."

The awkward silence that overtook them was broken abruptly by a low chuckle that slowly erupted into a laugh that startled Marik as Bakura's body shook against him with the strange, resigned and almost light sound. Bakura reached over his shoulder, dipping his fingers in the blood still draining from the open wound and turned, smearing it across Marik's cheek with an unbelievable, almost happy look in his eyes that Marik had never thought possible as he continued to laugh.

And without even knowing why, Marik too, laughed, the sound filling the alley they stood in and reverberating off of nearby trash cans and fire escapes, returning to his ears as a relieved, ironic sort of sound that made him happier than he had possibly ever been.

- To be continued.

Post whatevers: Well, there it is, the first part. Kind of long. Hopefully, I nailed the personalities as having evolved rather than seeming OOC. I have to admit I'm not used to working with this side of Bakura but admit it, even Bakura has insecurities, especially given his past.

And, as always, please review if you liked.

Ja!