AN: This takes place during the Battle City arc. Warnings: Some swearing.

Private

Anzu placed the Sennen Ring beside the unconscious Ryou. For a moment, life came back into her eyes, the control over her slipping as a part of Malik's frail soul crossed over. But this was only momentary and the girl would not recall any of this later, only waking up to find the bedridden person no longer there.

"Get out."

"You should be grateful. You were trapped and immobile before I came along."

Had there been some sort of door to the tomb, Yami no Bakura would have slammed it on Malik's face but the only thing blocking the invader from entering his Soul Room was his own body and the few shadow guards he'd taken a very long time to develop. The irate "King of Thieves" did, however, revel in the fact that Malik was shivering from the cold desert night, especially since it wasn't even a real desert.

"I'd thought you were lonely with your host out of commission." Malik smirked at his own joke but Bakura's face remained still as stone, though there was some tension in his jaw.

"So you fuck up and try to make it look like I need you," Bakura spat, more angry that he had to navigate out of the many corridors of the tomb to deal with Malik than with what the invader had actually said, "Well if you can't deal with whatever shit is going inside your own damn body, how the fuck are you any use to me? Now fuck off, I'm sleeping!"

The man was shirtless and barefoot. The only thing he wore were shorts made of something too thin to be street-legal. His hair was messier than normal and there was a thin film of sweat on his chest and belly. It was too bad he didn't "go out" looking like this. Malik decided to store this image away for later use.

Bakura slapped him.

"Think of it as part of our deal." Malik said casually, fighting the urge to smooth his stinging face. Normally, he would have lashed out with equal force but he knew whose head he was in and, in the long run, things wouldn't turn out in his favour.

"I said nothing about invading my space."

"You still want the Rod, don't you?"

Bakura showed no signs of thinking it over. "You're not invading my space," he said and turned his back, a veil-like shadow closing over the entrance as he disappeared into the blackness of his mind's home.

"Bakura!" Malik called after him, reaching through the veil and immediately pulling back as invisible little pins and needles stung his hand. A strong gust blew past and him and Malik braced himself against the side of the tomb. He had already known that this mind wouldn't be as cooperative as those of his servants or Yugi's friends but he'd also breached the threshold without fully aware of how hostile it really was. He called out to Bakura again, the sound of his voice eerily absorbed by whatever lay beyond the entrance of the tomb.

He was about to call a third time when something soft flew at him and hit his face. He wrestled with it and flung it to the ground, hastily stepping back and away in preparation of the threat. It was a blanket. Grinding his teeth, Malik swiped it from the ground, shaking it out to make sure nothing was amiss. His eyes turned back to the opaque innards of Bakura's Soul Room and he could have sworn he heard its owner laughing.

Something heavy and thick seemed to be infused in the air and Malik cracked a wiry eye open to see Bakura staring at something in the distance from the entrance of his Soul Room.

"Change your mind?" He asked, struggling to stand as if the weight of the atmosphere around them physically weighed him down. "You would if you knew what this is."

"Were you going to sprawl there like a starving dog until I came out?"

"Probably." Malik shook the sand from the blanket and dusted his pants, "But only because I knew you would eventually. And I'm obviously right."

Bakura leered at him, "What the fuck did you bring with you?"

Malik wanted to savour this; savour the fact that he knew something Bakura didn't within the Thief King's own mind. But the look Bakura gave him warned of unpleasant consequences to come if he held his peace. This was the first time he'd entered an ancient mind and he hated how powerless he was.

"It's the presence of Winged Dragon of Ra," he said, watching Bakura intently for his reaction, "Having awakened after so long, it's presence lingers even after the duel is over."

Bakura looked around and up at the air. "Don't tell me you're actually looking for it," Malik added incredulously, figuring a soul so closely attached to Ancient Egypt would know better, "You're not going to find it under a sand dune if that's what you're thinking."

Bakura spun around and shoved Malik, catching his shoulder as the blond tried to dodge the attack, "What are you hiding from me? Huh?" He lunged with stealth, managing to hook the collar of Malik's shirt over both hands and pinning him against the side of his tomb, "What kind of fucking power does this creature have?"

Malik gave a crude smile, following it with a forceful shove. Bakura let go willingly enough but the distance between them – or lack there of – was a sign of who still had the upper hand. "I'll tell you everything if you help me."

Bakura seethed and Malik thought he would be struck again. Instead, Bakura slammed his fist at the stone beside Malik's head, cursed and went back inside the tomb. Malik stared as the veil closed over again and he sat back down, impatiently yanking the blanket over him. Moments later, Bakura reappeared, looming over the seated Malik like a predator.

"If you touch anything, I will kill you."

The corridors lit for them wherever they went, though as dimly as possible as if the entire place was allergic to light. Malik figured Bakura was not only used to it, he wanted it that way.

When his eyes adjusted, he saw that each wall was covered richly in painted images. They seemed to be an amalgamation of Bakura's life in the past and, unlike the Pharaoh, most of Bakura's memories were in tact.

While the Thief King's back was turned, Malik studied the images. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought they were in an actual tomb of a pharaoh. The clearest, most vivid pictures were those of the Ancient Egyptian gods and how they touched the lives of their people who prayed to them. Next was the royal family, whose faces and chests were smeared over in blood to the extent that some were barely recognizable. Malik noted that this desecration was worst on a certain pointy-haired pharaoh.

There were gaps in the walls where an image would be cut off abruptly, as if something painted over it and Malik guessed that these parts represented gaps in Bakura's own memories. More and more of these empty spaces were seen in Bakura's childhood, which wasn't all that surprising.

Malik paused in step to stare when he saw something that looked like an arm of Obelisk the Tormentor. It was difficult to tell because of how little of it was there but there were also splashes of red and yellow on the same part of the wall.

So Bakura had almost completely forgotten about the Gods. Malik's lips curled in a Cheshire smile. That explained why he freaked out so much about Ra's presence and had not sought to collect these powerful creatures like Malik and several others on board the ship did.

When they reached a fork in the path, Bakura yanked Malik to the left when he drifted towards the right. Something strange caught Malik's eye but he had little time to actually see what it was before he was pulled away.

Bakura was tense; it was obvious he didn't want Malik in his Soul Room and was trying to conceal as much as he could while both of their minds were in the same place. The Egyptian couldn't help wondering where Ryou resided or if he'd been down these halls. He wouldn't have been surprised if their Soul Rooms were separated by miles of desert.

"Where are we going?" It was a belated question but he'd been, admittedly, distracted.

Bakura grunted, "Look, if we're going to do this, than you go where I tell you to go. I fucking hate this so let's just get it the hell over with. This'll have to do."

They stopped in front of an unmarked wall and Bakura reached out to turn an invisible knob. When he pushed, the wall opened for him, creating, on the spot, a room. The interior was nothing impressive; empty except a ratty-looking bed and the hint of mould. The smell wasn't unbearable but it was noticeable if you paid attention to it.

"You're fucking kidding me," Malik looked around the small space, making a face.

"You're getting what you wanted so take it or fuck off." Bakura twirled his fingers and a key appeared. He headed towards the door but Malik stopped him before he could leave.

"What are you doing?"

"This is my space," Bakura pulled the door close behind him as he stepped outside but Malik yanked it open with both hands, "and I can't have you screwing around in it."

"It won't work if you keep me here, we have to work together." Malik hated himself for saying that but there really wasn't another way to put it.

Bakura laughed, spittle flying at Malik's face, "So you get your rocks off with mind-control and you want to see how much I can make you orgasm." He forced the door close so that all Malik could see was one auburn eye, "You're so damn cocky with that Rod of yours." And with that, the door closed and the light that filtered through was extinguished.

Malik hollered Bakura's name, pounding on the door before searching for the doorknob on his own side. There was nothing. No door knob. He seethed, wanting to crush the sense of helplessness he felt in Bakura's mind. He gave a final kick before stumbling backwards, trying hard to make his eyes focus faster.

Bakura was right. He'd done anything he wanted when he was in other people's minds. It had been so easy to do so and the person was almost always oblivious. Malik had grown to be somewhat of a snoop and, given the opportunity to look through Bakura's mind, he would have taken it.

And now that he was restricted from doing so, he wanted to even more. Bakura was hiding something juicy and he wanted to know what it was. He was certainly looking forward to some kind of revenge after the way Bakura treated him.

His eyes never adjusted and he figured this was how Bakura wanted it. Stuck in some forsaken place with no light like a caged animal. But, just like before, he knew Bakura would return. The Winged Dragon of Ra unnerved him and without Malik, he wouldn't know how to deal with it. And if he was to tap into Malik's knowledge, he would have to share more of his mind with him.

Malik found a wall and began feeling his away around the room. It was bigger than it initially looked and there was random stuff on the ground for him to trip over but he managed to make it to the bed, where he carefully sat down. He fisted the scratchy blanket in his hands, wanting to tear it apart in blind rage. He found the pillow, slapped it around some and screamed into it before throwing it somewhere in the room. He immediately regretted it, realizing now he had no pillow, but shortly got over the regret. When Malik finally simmered down, he flopped his back with his legs propped up. Waiting for Bakura would be long and annoying.

Malik nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw the girl. He didn't know he even fell asleep much less for how long, and he didn't know what woke him up. But when he did, the door was cracked open and a skinny little girl was standing beside the bed, staring at him.

She blinked when he glared at her and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking nervously. For a moment, it was a staring contest between them and, despite how intimidating Malik thought he was and how frail the little girl looked; she didn't show any signs of backing down.

The thumb slipped out of her mouth with a wet pop. "Hello."

Malik scanned his surroundings. He was still in the little room Bakura shoved him in so, therefore, he was probably still in Bakura's Soul Room. "What do you want?"

She shifted from one bare foot to the other, scratching her chin with her tiny fingers. She blinked several times and Malik realized the way her white bangs poked her eyes irritated him, "We heard there was someone else here and we thought he got more of his memory." She looked him up and down, "But you're much too old to be part of our village."

His glare gave way to genuine surprise, "What?"

The girl frowned, suddenly looking much older than she seemed, "He has been acting strangely and we have all felt it in these walls. Then we see that a stranger has breeched his space. That has never happened before." She crossed her arms over he chest, shifting her weight to one leg, "Who are you?

"My name is Malik Ishtar." Admittedly, he didn't have anything better to say.

"I am not familiar with that name." She paused, "No, you cannot be an intruder. There is no such thing as in as an intruder in this place. If he does not allow anyone in, they can never come in."

She looked like she could have stepped right off one of the paintings on the walls. The resemblance to Bakura was uncanny. "I'm not going to be smart-mouthed by a kid. Who or what are you?"

"My name is Lanata of Kul Ena."

"Okay, Lanata of Kul Ena, looks like you're my ticket out of here. Your master was an ass and locked me in but I guess the things scurrying around his Soul Room didn't get the memo." He got up and headed towards the door but Lanata stepped in his path.

She looked up at him with big, innocent eyes (eyes that reminded Malik of Bakura's host), "He is not our master but if he has confined you here, it must have been for a purpose."

"The purpose is that he's a paranoid ass."

"I do not understand what that is."

"Then get out of my way." He stepped to the side but she mirrored his move. He tried again but she was quick. It was almost as if she knew in advance where he would go and when he tried to push her, she pushed back first.

"I could allow you to leave against his will," she said, curling her hair behind her ear, "I seem to have the power to do so." She smirked, "But what would be the gain for me?"

Normally, Malik enjoyed a good challenge and this situation was probably no different. But he was in someone else's head and the person he was talking to was obscenely young. Nonetheless, he wanted to see where she was going with it, "You want to strike a deal?"

"I see you're already familiar with the etiquette."

Malik snorted at the word 'etiquette.' "What do you have in mind?"

She didn't answer right away. Finally, she said, "It has been a very long time since he gained new memories. More specifically, I mean it has been a very long time since he gained new memories of us. So come entertain us; we're bored."

"You're serious."

"Yes."

His anger rose as he watched Lanata, searching for signs of deception. He saw nothing but impatience but he was irritated nonetheless. This had to be Bakura's idea. It wasn't bad enough that Bakura tossed him around, he had to humiliate him as well. "Piss off, Bakura. Go play with someone else."

Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him, "I am not him!" She stamped her foot, "It is bad enough that Khasha and Amana say so and I will certainly not take this from a stranger!" She eyed his mid-riff, "Especially a stranger as strangely-clad as yourself!"

Had he still had the Millennium Rod in his hands, she would already have been a 'ghoul.' Malik Ishtar, after all, did not get where he was (had been) by being selectively merciful. "I don't give a damn what you are, just leave me the hell alone!"

"It is clear that you are insolent and uncooperative," she voice was low and very familiar, "In that case, I will take what I want by force. You will come with me." Lanata snatched his wrist and pulled him down to her height before proceeding to drag him out of the room.

She was unnaturally strong, her vice grip on him almost cutting off his circulation. No matter how much Malik struggled, how many curses came out of his mouth and how many times he tried to strike her, it was all useless. They traced his earlier steps down the halls until they came to the fork in the path he'd encountered earlier. She proceeded to take him down the right arm of the fork where the walls were bare and there was even less lighting. But just when all sensation in his hand was gone and his back was too sore to continue, they came to a room.

They walked right in, as there was no door to this room. The other children stopped and dropped their toys, their eyes fixed on the two as they made their entrance. Keeping a firm hold on Malik, Lanata presented him to the group, "This is whom I have found."

"He is much too old," a platinum-haired child accused, pointing a finger at him.

"That is what I realized as well," Lanata gave Malik a sidelong glance, "But he is not a memory. He has allowed him into this place."

"That has never happened before," another child pointed out.

"I have realized that as well," Malik wondered if the skinny girl choking his wrist was their leader of some sort, "But it seems to be the case."

The children caught each other's eyes and bunched together, whispering. Malik decided to take the opportunity to get away but Lanata would have none of it. Occasionally, the children would stop and look at him before going back to their whispering. Finally one bold child approached him, "Do you know how to play?"

Malik gritted his teeth and was about to give a sharp retort but Lanata cut him off, "I suspect that he allowed him into this place because he believed he is of some value. So I'd assume he would know how to play. Otherwise, we can entertain ourselves by teaching him how to play."

The child that approached him shot him a disgusted look before returning to his place amidst a pile of wooden blocks. "If he does not know how to play, than his value can be measured in his ability to learn how to play."

"I agree."

"And if he is mediocre?"

"Than we can discard him."

Lanata tugged Malik towards the group and forced him onto the ground in front of a chubby black-haired girl. She quickly assessed him and hummed to herself with a quirk of her lip before slowly pushing a game piece in his direction. "We can begin by teaching him Mehen."

"Is that not too advanced a game to begin with?"

"Well we have established that he must be somehow skilled if he was allowed into this place."

"Rahib has a point."

"I do not like his clothes."

"Neither do I, but his clothes are irrelevant."

Lanata held up a hand and they fell silent, "There is little point in arguing about it. We will not know until we test him." She nodded at the chubby girl, "Mehen is a good choice, Laila."

She surveyed the group and, though without some grumbling, they reluctantly agreed. The Mehen board was then presented in front of Malik; a round surface that looked like a coiled snake. The surface was supported by one leg at its centre. The rest of the children abandoned their toys and formed a tight circle around them, attentive to what Malik would do. It was then that Lanata finally let go.

And as soon as her hand was off him, Malik stood, his knee knocking over the Mehen board. Startled, the children shrieked and backed away, their circle breaking.

"Do you little brats have any idea who I am?" He shouted, chucking the playing piece that had been shoved in his hand to the ground. It bounced and landed at the feet of the chubby girl, who stared at it blankly.

He'd expected the children to scream and disperse but, after the initial shock, they just stood there, looking up at him. "I thought we already established we do not know who you are," the same platinum-haired child from before said in tone that sounded like such obviousness should not have needed to be stated.

"I am beginning to doubt his ability to learn." The chubby girl picked up the piece, blew on it and rubbed it on her clothes.

"I do not want him touching my doll."

"Neither do I."

"I would like to know what he was thinking."

"He is useless. We should oust him."

"I agree, we must oust him!"

They closed in on Malik, their faces red with anger. Shouting, they knocked him down; a mighty tower fallen at the hands of the mob. He grabbed at him, their sharp little nails scratching whatever they could get their hands on. More than a few kids jumped on him, their little fists and feet going at him with relentless fiery.

"Oh. Fuck."

They halted and all eyes turned towards the entryway. As soon as they saw who it was, they backed away, revealing a curled-up Malik.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

The children made eye-contact and, with a hand wave from Lanata, they all followed her out of the room in hurried steps, leaving everything behind.

Bakura stepped up to Malik, who slowly turned towards him. There was no anger in the owner of the Soul Room's face, though he was noticeably red. His lips were pursed and his eyes were dead. After some hesitation, he held his hand out to Malik, who gingerly took it.

The two made their way out of the room, carefully manoeuvring around the toys. They walked in silence down the halls towards the main entrance of the tomb. When they saw "natural" light, Bakura parted the veil and they were outside. For the first time since he walked in on the incident, he looked directly at Malik's face, "Let's do this."

"Yeah." Malik straightened his dishevelled clothes, "Let's."

- End -