A/N: Deathshipping for a friend. Hope you enjoy! (fun fact, the working title for this piece was "Bonnie and Clyde go to Hollywood", which was a darn groovy title, but unfortunately I felt didn't really fit)

Out With Old Darkness, In With New

The silence in Ryou's household after his other half was gone didn't last long. He had barely gotten used to the silence in his mind, when he, coming home from school one day, found a familiar looking Egyptian lounging on his couch.

He didn't look up when Ryou entered the house. He was staring at the television, at some game show. He looked bored out of his skull, and annoyed at the fact that he was. Ryou moved the shoes he had abandoned in the hallway to be by the door, where he had left his own, before taking the groceries to the kitchen.

"Marik," Ryou said as a greeting, as he passed the couch.

"Ryou," the other answered with a laugh.

"Do you want something to eat?" Ryou asked.

That had Marik finally on his feet, as he made his way to the kitchen, to look curiously through the things Ryou had bought. The topic of how he had gotten in and why was not brought up that night. Ryou made a bed for Marik on the couch and let him sleep there. He stayed there the following day and the day after, and then some weeks.

There was no explanation asked, and none offered.

Ryou was in debt to this man. It was because of him that he was free. His other half, his shadow, his darkness, had finally been killed off. And Ryou couldn't say he felt bad at all, even if they had shared a body for years. Their relationship had been a constant struggle, and one in which Ryou had found himself in the losing side most of the time.

But now the Spirit of the Ring was gone, and Ryou could breathe again. There was no more long blanks in his memory, and he didn't he wake up hurting from wounds he didn't remember getting. There were other things too, some a bit more surprising. The nightmares were gone. Apparently the visions of piles of bodies and the blood reddening the white sand and waking up screaming and crying, that had all been the Spirit. Ryou hadn't known that, and would now never know why this had been. Perhaps there had been a reason, Ryou had stopped caring, when it had become clear the Spirit was not to be reasoned with. And now he was gone, destroyed. The people's souls the Spirit had bound in Ryou's figure collection were freed, those at least that haven't had their plugs pulled on their empty bodies.

Ryou too was free, and it was all because of Marik.

He wasn't the original Marik. Ryou had never really met the real Marik. His only memory of real Marik had been of arms around him and a concerned voice and him hurting all over, wondering what had been done to his body without his knowledge this time. The real Marik had been friends with the Spirit. He had died with the Spirit. He hadn't been strong enough for the other Marik, and without this Marik's help Ryou would not have been strong enough either.

There was only two of them now: the original Ryou and the other Marik, the only Marik.

Marik moved in. As far as Ryou could tell, he hadn't much family left, and certainly none that would want to associate with this particular brand of Marik. It was too bad, there was no one else there anymore.

Marik was not a bad roommate. He was loud and prone to violent outbursts, and at times he simply vanished for days, appearing just as suddenly, often covered in blood. But he never hurt Ryou, no matter how many plates he flung at the wall and how many pillows he left ripped to pieces in his wake. He never hurt Ryou. And he payed rent, unlike the previous person Ryou had lived with. Even if he could have picked a rent for his own body, he was sure the Spirit would not have paid it. Marik paid, always on time, with crumbled notes, he produced from his pockets. Sometimes there was something that looked like dried blood on them. Ryou didn't ask.

And with all this new freedom to do anything Ryou would ever want, he stayed with Marik. Ryou could have gone out and made new friends, and no one would have taken them away from him, not anymore. Yet he stayed home, spending his time with Marik, and when he was gone, reading and getting lost in the same video games he had been so lost in before the Spirit took hold off him. He got his old life back. And Marik as something new.

Marik didn't seem to mind. He was certainly a hard one to read, prone to snapping at unexpected times, only to have those moments of pure rage followed by bouts of laughter to a joke only he understood. The whole world was a joke to him, the whole world meant nothing to him. And he did exactly what he wanted with it, now that he too was free of the burden of a another mind in his body, of a coincidence. Marik wanted to burn the world. Ryou said nothing. It wasn't his place to question, as long as the polices never ended up on his doorstep.

Sometimes Ryou did have to get involved. There were nights such as this, when Marik had barged in, grinning and laughing and bloodied beyond all belief in the middle of the night, hardly being able to stand. Ryou had looked at him and sighed. He lifted Marik under his arm and hauled him to the bathroom.

"What's this then?" Ryou asked, securing a bandage on Marik's bleeding arm. Taking him to the hospital was out of the question. He wasn't sure if original Marik had came to Japan legally, but he doubted he had even owned a passport; Egyptian or otherwise. Pretty sure, having grown up in a tomb meant that no government was even aware that such a person as Marik Ishtar existed. Not to mention that Marik had just committed a crime or, knowing him, few. No hospital for him.

"A knife fight," Marik said. He sounded cheerful. "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

"I think I would rather not," Ryou answered. "I have just eaten."

Marik threw his head back and laughed, not even caring that the movement caused one of his cuts to reopen. Ryou only sighed again.

"You are an odd one," Marik said finally, watching as Ryou finished bandaging his other arm.

"You have met my other half, haven't you? That should explain most of it," Ryou said.

"But he is long gone. And yet here you are, bandaging me like I've done nothing wrong."

"Oh, I know you've done wrong. I doubt there is nothing right you could have done that had caused this." At these words Ryou pulled at the bandage, a bit too hard, but Marik made no comment, no sound, not even a wince. He seemed to be listening intently at Ryou, a thing he wasn't that used to. "As long as you don't bring the police to my doorstep we should be fine."

"Fine," Marik answered. "It's a promise."

"A promise? From you?" This finally made Ryou chuckle.

"Won't my words do? What do you want, a pinky promise?"

To Ryou's surprise Marik actually held out his pinky, waiting for Ryou to answer. Ryou looked at the waiting hand, and let out a laugh, half disbelief, half amusement. But he did lock his pinky with Marik's.

"It's a good thing I'm a bit loopy from the blood loss or I wouldn't be doing this," Marik grumbled.

"And I have no excuse," Ryou said. He thenused their pinkies to pull himself closer to Marik and kiss him on the lips. Marik made no sound. It was clear that this was something he hadn't expected.

"Wordless, are we? I wouldn't have expected that from you or is that just the blood loss too?" Ryou asked, getting up from the bathroom floor and starting to put away the first-aid kit.

"We will have to wait and see, won't we?" Marik said.

He slept in the bathtub that night, which couldn't have been comfortable.

And Ryou got his answer. The reaction had been blood loss mostly. At least Marik was louder about it later, far far louder. Ryou was used to it by now. He had dealt with someone like Marik for a long time.

But Marik was different. For the first time Ryou felt that this darkness did something for him. Even if it just had been killing off the other darkness clouding his mind. This darkness cared, at least a bit about Ryou. That was enough.

So he showed his gratitude, his appreciation, even love, and Marik took it like he did most of things. How he wanted. Ryou didn't complain, he preferred it this way too.

The school was out and the day was rainy. Ryou wondered if he should stay at the library to see if the weather would clear up, but decided against it. The clouds looked heavy. It seemed like it would rain for a long time.

So he waited until the school had emptied before wandering off himself. He liked this moment of the school day the best, when the whole building was empty, completely abandoned. When his footsteps echoed in the long hallways, but otherwise it was silent. He had used to fear these moments, because in these silences the darkness lurked, ready to take over his mind, ready to take control. But now, there was nothing to fear in the silence. It was his to enjoy, finally.

He didn't linger. He still feared that if he lingered the voice would come back. It was an irrational fear, he knew the Spirit was gone. But it held onto him, and he felt it would for years to come. Besides Marik should be home waiting for him. He had been off the previous night, so he should have brought home money for the rent.

Ryou opened his umbrella and stepped into the rain. It was coming down so hard that it was blurring his vision. The whole schoolyard was covered in a quickly deepening lake, and his shoes got soaked immediately.

He had made it halfway across the schoolyard in a jog before he recognized the figure standing by the school's gate. It was the familiar blond hair that made him realize who it was, even if it wasn't as messy and spiky at the moment, thanks to the rain.

Marik didn't have an umbrella. Ryou had no idea how long he had been standing there, but he was absolutely soaked, his hair sticking to his face in lumps and his shirt glued to his chest.

Ryou stopped in front of him. He didn't mind that he was standing in a middle of a puddle that was up to his ankles, his shoes and socks were soaked either way.

"What is it?" Ryou asked.

If there was anything to be read from Marik's face it was that he looked like he was ashamed. It was an odd look on his face, and certainly didn't suit him. But then again, something had to have happened to make him come to Ryou's school. They never met outside their apartment. Marik did his thing, mostly illegal thing, and Ryou went to school and appeared to all others an anti-social teenager.

But here Marik was, so something was wrong.

"You can't go home," Marik said.

"Why?"

"Police are in there," Marik said.

"Well, can't you get rid of them?" Ryou asked. Marik stared at his feet, also ankle-deep in a puddle, before finally saying:

"There's too many."

"That's a first," Ryou said. Then he sighed. "I thought we agreed no police in our home."

"I have to go," Marik said. "Change towns."

Ryou nodded. He turned to look back at his school. The building was disappearing behind a sheet of falling rain. It looked like a block of gray except for one window in the upper floor where a light still shone. He wasn't sure why he had turned to look at it, he had already made up his mind.

He turned to Marik. Then he took a step closer, raising his umbrella so the taller man could fit under it. He said:

"How much money have you got? Enough to get both of us out?"

"Both? You're coming with me?"

"Well, there are apparently police officers swarming my home. I have nowhere else to be." Ryou turned to stare at the rain until his vision had turned into nothing but gray blur, and with a smile said: "Did you know, I've always been very good at running away."