Chapter 26: Do It Yourself

Bakura tried to convince his eyes to focus on the brightly coloured...thing that had just been shoved into his face.

"You need to give it to Ryou," a voice told him.

Bakura leaned to the side so that he could see past the multi-coloured explosion. Mio was standing on a stool, looking proud of herself.

"I need to what?" he said. It had been a few days since he'd dreamed about Malik and Ryou's sort-of first meeting, and he hadn't slept well since – mainly because he was worried he'd have more dreams in a similar vein if he did. He didn't want to see anything like that again.

"It's a get-well-soon card," Mio chirped. "You and daddy said I should make one."

"...Oh. Right," Bakura said. He vaguely recalled the conversation but didn't remember contributing to the idea.

"But daddy says I'm still not allowed to go see Ryou," she pouted. "So you have to take it. You get to go see him, right?"

"Sort of." Only when he's unconscious.

"So take it for him," she pestered, waving the card in his face again. He grimaced and took a step back.

"You keep it until it's time to leave," he said, hoping she'd forget.

Mio thought for a moment.

"I'll go put it in your coat pocket," she said finally, hopping down off her perch. Bakura sighed as she skipped off towards the cloakroom. She paused before she reached it, however, and turned back to him.

"Do you think he'll like it?" she asked, displaying it again. Now that it was more than an inch away from Bakura's eyeballs, he could see that it was a crayon drawing of a stick-person in a bed next to an enormous bunch of flowers. There were also a lot of bright red and pink love-hearts floating around.

"...You made it," Bakura said with a shrug. "So he'll like it."

Mio seemed to understand that this was the best she was going to get from him and continued on her way.

"Good answer, Touzoku," a voice whispered from behind him, causing Bakura to jump.

"Boo," Kazuma said, grinning. "I gotta admit, I used to think you were the type who'd be mean to kids if you thought no one was looking. But you're really just a softie, aren't ya...?"

"Shut up," Bakura groaned. "I'm just too tired to put much effort into being mean to anyone."

"I'll get her to call you 'Uncle Touzoku' if you want."

"What part of 'shut up' do you just not-?"

"Oh, look, you're off the hook," Kazuma butted in with ease, pointing. "Your buddy's here."

Bakura looked up just in time to see Mariku sidling inside and closing the door behind him – he seemed to be becoming part of the wallpaper at the Lot, and Kazuma didn't seem to mind. Mio scampered over to him, assuming (quite correctly) that he'd be a much better person to discuss her artwork with than Bakura would ever be.

Mariku kept very quiet until he saw Bakura getting his coat and preparing to leave.

"You haven't been to see them for a while now," he said as Bakura passed him and opened the staff door.

"It's only been a few days," Bakura sighed. Without turning around, he knew that Mariku was following right at his heels. "I'm sure Malik has it all under control."

"He's getting worried. About you, maybe."

"He doesn't need to worry about me."

"But you worry about him. About both of them. Don't you?"

Bakura gritted his teeth and didn't reply. Worry? Worry doesn't begin to cover it, not after what I saw. And I'm trying very hard not to think about that, thank-you-very-fucking-much.

"You're worried but you're hiding from them. Why? What scared you?"

"I'm not hiding," Bakura snapped. "And…" I saw Ryou and Malik after you and I were gone and they were both so tired and so sad and I don't get it and you won't get it either. "...It's nothing."

To Bakura's surprise, Mariku laughed at that. He had a loud, child-like laugh. He always seemed to enjoy the laughter as much as he enjoyed whatever it was that had amused him in the first place.

"You and Ryou are so alike," he said. "How can you fight all the time? You're just the exact same."

"What do you mean?" Bakura asked, as he knew Mariku wanted him to. Whether it was deliberate or not, Bakura didn't know, but he was learning that Mariku liked to be asked the relevant questions before he'd give proper answers.

"Hm. It wasn't so long ago. I think Ryou saw something. Maybe something scary. Maybe something about you," he said with an impish smile. "It was 'nothing' too."

Bakura stared at him for a long moment.

"He told you?" he said finally. "Ryou told you about his dreams?"

Mariku nodded.

"That's right," he said. "He did call it a dream before he called it nothing. I wondered if you had dreams like that too."

"Why didn't you say something?" Bakura ground out.

"Because it was nothing," Mariku said, still smiling. And Bakura just knew that this time, he wasn't being naive. The gleam in his eyes was far from innocent.

"...If I go and see them, will you tell me what Ryou told you?" Bakura asked. He felt bitterly humiliated at having to bargain for the information, especially with Mariku.

"But he didn't tell me anything. He just said it was nothing," Mariku said. "Isn't that annoying?"

"No kidding," Bakura muttered.

"You won't be that annoying, will you?" Mariku grinned.

Bakura blinked, taken aback, before glaring half-heartedly as he saw the circle he'd been led in.

"It seems that...things got bad, after we left. Well. Worse," he said finally.

"Bad?" Mariku repeated. "For Ryou?"

"Yeah. Malik, too."

"Bad how?" Mariku asked. He looked highly attentive now that Malik had been mentioned.

"I don't really understand it. Something was just wrong with the two of them. It's not enough to say that they were sad. That doesn't...cover it."

"Why would they have been sad?"

"I don't know. They were free, they didn't need to worry about...y'know, us. They should've been happy. But instead..." Bakura shook his head in frustration. "Were people always this complicated? I don't remember."

"I don't think they were sad because we were gone," Mariku said with a shrug.

"…No."

"But I guess it must have been hard for them to smile after everything we did. Even though we were gone, those things still happened, right? They must have been glad it was over. But it wouldn't have just gone away."

"How come you find things like this easier to understand than I do?" Bakura said. He folded his arms and tried to look uninterested instead of irritated.

"I want to learn," Mariku said, grinning again. "You waste at least half your time pretending you don't."

"Stop sounding so wise and accepting of your shitty fate," Bakura said, pushing himself off the wall and continuing down the street. "It's annoying."

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you think?"

Malik was scribbling down notes from one of his textbooks when he heard the knock at the door. He was missing a lot of classes because of his refusal to leave Ryou to his own devices for even one minute, but he was corresponding with his professors as best he could to make sure he didn't fall too far behind. And he always got a lot of studying done in the hours when Ryou was sleeping, and during the endless, bitter silences that would fall after one of their frequent arguments.

Ryou heard it too and turned his head with a suspicious frown. Malik rose from his seat and went to answer it.

"Malik, be careful," Ryou said. Their latest squabble (about Bakura, of course) had only ended minutes before – and had not come to a peaceful conclusion – so it was nice to know that Ryou still cared whether he got attacked or not.

"I'll be fine," Malik said, leaving the living room and closing the door behind him.

He was relieved but not too surprised to open the front door and find Bakura lounging against the adjacent wall, doing a rather stellar job of looking not at all interested in him.

"Let me guess," Malik said, fighting down a smile. "You were passing and thought you might as well drop by."

"Something like that," Bakura replied.

"You're getting good at knocking, at least," Malik said.

"Yeah, well, I've got no way of knowing what you might have armed yourself with by now. The bat was bad enough."

"...It's good to see you," Malik finally relented. "Where have you been?"

"It hasn't been that long since I was here," Bakura said, rolling his eyes. "Am I supposed to call in every day like your carer or something?"

Malik arched an eyebrow.

"Should I be worried?" he asked. "You're even grumpier than usual and you look like hell."

"I'm fine," Bakura said shortly. "How's Ryou?"

"Awake," Malik replied, stepping out onto the landing and quietly closing the door behind him. "It'd be nice if you could just come in and visit like a normal person, but...well. He's even grumpier than usual today, too."

"Didn't know that was possible," Bakura said.

"He seems better, though. He's awake more. Coughs less. But I should get back. He'll start thinking I've answered the door to an axe murderer."

"Yeah. Or worse, me."

"I'm trying, you know," Malik said. "To make him be...a little more understanding."

"You don't need to try and talk him out of hating me," Bakura snorted.

"I want to. I don't want it to go on like this forever."

"Get back to your patient, nurse."

Malik rolled his eyes and turned to go but paused to look back at him.

"You sure you're ok?" he said. "You really don't look good at all."

"I'm fine. Stop worrying."

"Promise you'll go home and sleep," Malik said, pointing an authoritative finger at him. "You definitely need it."

"Right, sleep. Yeah, ok," Bakura said, jamming his hands uncomfortably into his pockets. A crinkling sound accompanied the motion and he frowned. His left hand reappeared, clutching something.

"...Make that yourself?" Malik asked, his eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline as he visibly suppressed a fit of laughter.

"It's from that kid at the Lot," Bakura grumbled, handing the slightly crumpled card over with a haughty scowl. "You know, the one who's going to marry Ryou one day."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Malik." Bakura headed for the stairs, signalling that his check-up was officially over.

"Remember to sleep," Malik reminded him.

"Whatever."

Malik rolled his eyes and retreated into the apartment, locking the door behind him.

"Who was it?" Ryou asked when he came back into the room. His tone was just a little too casual, and Malik knew he was suspicious.

"Your friend from work. The one with the little girl," he replied, setting the card on the bedside table. "She made this for you."

Ryou picked it up and smiled for the first time since he'd been placed under house arrest. Malik felt it was a shame that neither Mio nor Bakura got to see it.

At least Ryou would undoubtedly thank Mio later.

It seemed Malik had spoken too soon when he'd said Ryou's condition was improving.

Bakura did as he was told and went home that night and reluctantly tried to sleep. He didn't know that, despite all the medicine being pumped through his system, Ryou had started running a fever. Malik was sitting up with a basin of cool water and all the cloths he could find, trying not to panic and trying to get it to break. And Bakura knew nothing of it – until he managed to fall asleep, at which point it quickly became clear that something was damn wrong. Bakura didn't claim to know much about spirit-links, but it seemed he and Ryou were going to suffer this one together. Maybe that was fair. Maybe. He didn't know.

The dreams came thick and fast, never pausing to let him make sense of them, but simply rushing by like the view from a speeding train. Vibrant, pulsing dreams. Feverish. Snapshots and scraps from three years of a life he'd devastated and then left to just deal with it.

The scenes bled into each other almost seamlessly. And he couldn't wake up until it was done.

Malik only ever spoke about his darkness once in those few months when it was just me and him.

(The few months of Malik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura, two young men who were stuck in a rut, who were looking for their path in life, who were, in a word, fucked.)

We were drinking. I didn't know what and I didn't know how much. Who cares? Really? The end result was always the same.

"But you see," Malik was explaining with a frown of deep concentration, his hands sweeping the air as he spoke. "He...y'know, him...he wasn't the whole problem. Everyone thought he was. I thought so. But no, that's not right. He wasn't the disease. He was more like a symptom, a...whatsit...a manifestation. He was the part that got out."

'He' and 'him' were Malik's only names for Mariku. Because saying his name was like swearing at your auntie or saying 'Candyman' three times into a mirror. You just don't do it.

"So they cut him out of me," he went on. "Like a lobotomy, yeah? Cut away the bit that's sick and rotten and everything's fine."

I nodded my understanding. I knew all about having part of you cut out, and then wondering why you were bleeding.

"Didn't work," Malik said. "There's still a part of me upstairs that's sick. Or maybe it's all of me..."

He trailed off and considered this possibility. I looked at him, and I was so drunk, but I could see that he was in that fog he talked about sometimes, that dreaded fog. His eyes were limpid and vague and I knew he was thinking something along the lines of: 'if I put a gun to my head and pull the trigger, will that make the sickness go away?'

"I'm insane," he concluded after a moment. He looked heartbroken.

"You're not," I whispered. And he wasn't. He was right the first time – he was sick. We were both sick, in our own way. The only difference was, he was going to get better-

"It's open, just come in," I called as loudly as I could (it wasn't really very loud) when the doorbell rang. I knew who it was. Only Malik could make my doorbell sound so tentative, so apologetic. He let himself in, not looking comfortable about it but helpless to disobey.

"Hey," I said, trying to smile – sometimes I could force myself when it was for him.

"...You're not at school," he replied, glancing awkwardly between me and the floor.

"Lucky for you," I said with affected lightness.

"You've not been for a long time now," he said.

"No," I sighed in agreement.

Silence stretched out, like a blank section in a wonky video tape.

"You're not going back, are you?" he said. He looked so wretched. I realised that this – me being here all the time, barely waking, barely moving – was hurting him. I let my head rest against the back of my chair and I felt tears pricking my eyes.

"I'm so tired," I said in a wobbly voice. "I'm so-"

I cried the day he showed me the scars. I'd made myself swear I wouldn't – for his sake – but I couldn't help it.

I'd always tried not to mention his back, but he must have known I was curious. He asked if I wanted to see. In a weird way I think he wanted me to see, too – as another apology, maybe, or a glimpse into where it all started.But most of him didn't want me to see. (Because most of him was shy and scared and swallowed up by that fog.) His hands were shaking when he reached up to take off his shirt and his eyes were down, looking anywhere but at me. He was embarrassed. His shoulders curved inwards as he tried to hide.

And I looked, and I couldn't help myself. I cried. Because that was what pain looked like. My hand and my arm, I thought that was pain. But no, this was it, carved into Malik's back. And it seemed so unfair that something created out of so much pain and blood could still look so fascinating, so intricate and almost beautiful in its painstaking neatness. I cried and I reached out for him – for the first time we made contact, skin on skin, human to human. I held onto him and I cried for him, for me, for reasons I couldn't even explain. He didn't cry. He sat there for the longest moment, tense and nervous, not knowing what to do. Then he let out a long sigh. Maybe he realised he could relax a little around me, because I needed him now just as much as he thought he needed me. Softly, he called me Ryou for the first time.

A long time ago, I asked myself what the word friendship even meant. I had the answer now. It was-

"Isis and Rishid aren't like me," Malik said one day when we were discussing families. (Ooh and what a cheery conversation that turned out to be – between us we still didn't have enough to make one good old nuclear family). I was about to say something trite and breezy like 'well, everyone's different, right?' but then I decided to spare him the bullshit.

"Because they're happy to stay in Egypt?" I asked instead. He blinked as though he'd never thought of that before.

"Yeah, there's that," he said. "I just think they're a whole other type of person. I find it hard to relate to them."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "we all went through the same shit. I mean, they were stuck in that tomb longer than I was. But it never beat them. They never cracked under it. I did."

The hate was in his eyes – the insatiable drive to destroy himself. Because how dare he crack, how dare he be the one who broke down in that dark hole under that first-class fruit-loop of a father-?

"I don't think it's because they're stronger than you," I said.

"They are. Always have been. Even now, look, they're living as if it all never happened, they're just-"

"Then that makes them more stupid than you too," I snapped. Malik shrank back. "It would take a weak, stupid person to be so unaffected by something so horrible. And a strong, smart person would never let someone hurt their little brother, not even their own father, not even if they'd been told it was important, that it was such an honour..."

I trailed off. My nails were gouging into my palms. I thought of Amane – sure we fought and bickered as much as any siblings, but oh God if anyone tried to hurt her, I didn't care if they were twenty feet tall, I would have torn them apart.

(Then someone did hurt her, someone hurt her dead. The guy who drove his 4x4 over the top of my mother and sister had been skunk-drunk, driving so fast I bet they never even saw him coming. He went down for it, of course. I saw his picture in the paper and I sat and stared at it and I wondered if I could kill him. I wished, just for once, that I had the power to take souls and put them into lead figurines. I thought I might have enjoyed it – putting that man in games he was never going to win-)

"Ryou?" Malik said.

"Don't say they're not like you, as if they're better than you," I blurted out. "They're not, they're just-"

There was a bandage around his left forearm. Narrow, and about equidistant between his wrist and elbow.

"What happened to your arm, Malik?" I asked.

"Oh," he said, looking down at the bandage as if just remembering about it. He tried to tug his sleeve over it. "It's just a scratch. I was doing some DIY. Y'know."

"DIY," I repeated. "That's a new word for it."

"What's wrong with you, Ryou?" Malik asked.

I sighed. I was so sick of saying 'it's nothing, I'm fine, I'm just a bit tired...'

"I guess I've finally crashed," I said instead, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't even raise my head from the pillow to look at him.

"Crashed?" he repeated.

"My body," I said. "Bakura used it as his disguise for...for years. I'd go to bed at night and wake up somewhere else. The hallway, the street, someone else's apartment. My mind was sleeping but my body..." I trailed off and took a few deep breaths. Even talking was becoming exhausting. "Do you get it? My body didn't get a break the whole time he was around. And now it's just...crashed."

"You'll be ok," Malik said.

"It keeps getting worse," I said, feeling my chin tremble. "I just sleep and sleep but it gets worse instead of better."

"You'll be ok," Malik said again. I knew he was scared but his voice was steady. "I'll make sure you're ok."

I laughed quietly. He was so precious.

"I know you-"

But days and days went by and it didn't get any better.

I wasn't surprised.

I noticed Malik was smiling more. I knew he was spending time with Yuugi and Jou and the others, so I supposed it made sense. He'd come to me first and we'd split the sadness between us, and now he'd gone to them and they offered happiness and forgiveness and relative normality.

I wished I could like them. I wished this didn't feel like a betrayal.

He could tell something was wrong. He kept asking me but I couldn't tell him. I snapped at him once or twice. He didn't know how hard it was, wanting him to be happy but wanting him for myself too. And if I ever told him, he'd feel guilty just for being happy in the first place.

Oh God make this stop

Can't move

Can't wake up

Crashed.

Crashedcrashedcrashed.

Bakura. So. It wasn't enough to mess everything up while you were here?

I never understood you. I was always searching for your reasons, your motives, your sad story-

You don't have those things.

You're just a…

There's no word for what you are.

Monster demon bastard butcher thief parasite

All those things and more

No word is awful enough

Because you had no reason!

You hurt people because you like pain and blood and screaming and…

And you didn't need to hurt me but you did.

It was Pharaoh you wanted, right?

You didn't get any closer to killing him by putting my friends into comas or chasing my father away or using my body to do all those awful things-

And now this.

You're not even here anymore-!

And you're STILL FUCKING WITH ME-

I think I'm going to die.

It's not fair.

IT'S NOT FAIR!

I hate you.

DO YOU HEAR ME?

I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU-

I-

I-

Blackness.

And then Bakura was finally awake, soaked with sweat and gasping hoarsely for breath like a fish out of water. He lurched forward, trying to sit up, stand up, but then he was doubled over and retching helplessly over the side of the bed. He hadn't bothered eating that evening so there was nothing to come up, but his stomach was roiling and his throat burned and when it was over his mouth was filled with the awful taste of bile. He collapsed onto his back again, trying to will away the trembling in all of his limbs. When he recovered an ounce of his strength, he buried his face in the pillow and screamed as loudly as he could. His eyes were stinging and his hands were white-knuckled among the sheets, and screaming didn't even help.

He forced himself to his feet and pulled on the first clothes he found, feeling dizzy and sick but ignoring it. He stumbled out of the apartment, only remembering at the last minute to grab his key and lock the door behind him.

His feet carried him automatically through the dark Domino streets. At no point had he made any conscious decision to go to Ryou's apartment, but he knew that was where he was going. Why? What difference would it make? Didn't matter. He had to go.

When he got there, he hammered on the door, heedless of the hour. Malik was unlikely to be sleeping because something was wrong and Malik didn't really sleep when something was wrong. Bakura knew that now.

"Malik, open up," he ordered after a few moments of silence from within the apartment. It was understandable, of course – most people would probably just sit tight if someone started battering their door in the small hours of the morning, especially in a place like South Domino.

At length he heard the scrabbling sound of locks and chains being undone, and then the door swung open. Malik peered out at him and for the briefest of moments Bakura didn't see the Malik he knew at all – just a too-skinny sixteen year-old with nervous eyes and bandages on his arms from DIY-related accidents-

(DIY. That's a new name for it.)

"Bakura?" Malik said, snapping him back to the real world, to the now. "What are you doing here-?"

"I don't even know," Bakura muttered, entering the hallway and shutting the door behind him. Malik frowned.

"I told you to get some sleep," he said, folding his arms.

"You look like the one who needs to sleep," Bakura retorted. "Besides, I did sleep."

Uneasy understanding immediately crossed Malik's face – Bakura's strained expression and unexpected appearance at the door seemed to come together in his head to form something with a meaning.

"You had another dream," he said.

Bakura just nodded.

"What was it about?" Malik asked. Bakura brought up a hand to cover his eyes for a moment. The scenes he had unwillingly witnessed were still playing in a continuous loop in his mind, and nothing he did could make them stop.

"It was like getting machine-gunned with information," he mumbled. "It was crazy."

"...Are you ok?" Malik asked.

"How's Ryou?" Bakura said, ignoring the question since he was pretty sure Malik already knew the answer. "Something's wrong, isn't it? The dreams are never fun, but that was…just…"

"Ryou's still sleeping," Malik replied. "He had a bad fever. If it had gone on any longer I would've called the hospital, but it finally broke just a little while ago."

Bakura nodded again.

"I need to..." he started, glancing over his shoulder at the door to the bedroom. "I just..."

"Go see him," Malik said.

"What if he wakes up?" Bakura asked, eyeing the door nervously. He was scared. It was stupid, it was insane. He was scared to go in there and just see Ryou's sleeping form.

"Then...run," Malik said with a small smile. Without another word he turned away and went into the darkened kitchen, leaving Bakura to make his own mind up.

He entered the darkened bedroom as quietly as he could and approached the bed despite an overwhelming desire to keep his distance. There was a chair at the bedside where Malik had clearly been sitting, keeping watch, but Bakura didn't want to sit down as if he had a right to be here. He stood, stiffly, awkwardly, feeling the tremors returning to his limbs as the adrenaline that had brought him here faded away. Ryou was sound asleep, flat on his back in a way that reminded Bakura rather too much of a body in a coffin. His face looked flushed again and there was a square of damp cloth on his forehead. Bakura had forgotten to grab his coat in his hurry and had run all the way here in just a t-shirt, and he suddenly realised he was freezing. He reached out hesitantly and let the back of his hand rest against Ryou's scalding cheek. Ryou instinctively turned his head towards the source of the cold feeling and that broke the funeral home illusion, and that was a little better.

"…I didn't know how bad it got," Bakura said finally, keeping his voice low. "I didn't know how much you were hurting while I was chasing down the Pharaoh. And after I was gone…I didn't know that would happen! I didn't know, I never thought…" He trailed off and shook his head. "I wouldn't have stopped, though. Not back then. Even if I'd known what it was doing to you, I wouldn't have stopped. All those things you called me? You were right. Monster, parasite, whatever. I wouldn't have cared."

He drew his hand away, knowing how repulsed Ryou would be by the idea that he'd actually reached out and touched him. The silence and shadowy darkness of the room was starting to seep into his mind and he could feel himself gradually calming down at last.

"But things are different now," he went on. He knew Ryou was lost to the world right now but these things needed to be said and this was probably his only opportunity to say them. He wanted to believe that, just by saying the words, they would somehow reach Ryou. Get through to him. But he knew that was stupid. Still, he pressed on. "Maybe that doesn't matter to you. So I'm human now, so what? I still did those things. Maybe you're right to think that way. I mean, it's ok. You don't need to forgive me, or hate me any less, or…" He sighed heavily. "But you need to at least see that things are different. That I'm different. Not great. Not even good. Just different. Human. You need to let me fix this. I know it was my fault, ok? And I hate it. I can't take any of it back but maybe I can make things better now. I owe you a life, right? So. Let me pay my dues? Wouldn't that be best for both of us…?"

Of course, there was no reply. The room was silent apart from Ryou's slow breathing and the soft sounds of Malik moving around the kitchen. Bakura supposed he owed Malik an explanation – a better one – and he had a few questions of his own that he wanted answered, but for now he just remained where he was, soaking in the quiet and feeling his own heartbeat returning to normal.

"You really need to wake up," he informed Ryou, folding his arms across his chest. "It's way too easy to forget what a nightmare you are when you're like this. Be careful. I could almost start liking you."

After some time, Malik came into the room, took him by the wrist, and guided him gently out of there and into the kitchen. Bakura pulled away from him and sat down at the table of his own volition, not wanting to wait to be coddled like a child. Malik pushed a steaming mug towards him.

"I don't drink coffee," Bakura said automatically.

"It's tea," Malik replied with a blink.

"I don't think I drink that either."

"Shut up. People have a hot drink when things are shitty. Don't you want to learn to fit in with modern society?" Malik said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his own drink.

Bakura didn't argue further. He didn't know how a hot drink could possibly make any situation better but he didn't care either.

"You should probably sit down," he told Malik. "You want answers, don't you? So I'll tell you everything. But you won't like it."

Malik lowered himself into the opposite chair, looking apprehensive.

And Bakura told him everything that he'd dreamed and seen and learned about him and Ryou. The strange, painful first meeting, the developing friendship, the sadness and hurt and sickness – everything. By the time he was done, Malik looked like he'd need something a lot stronger than a cup of tea to calm him down.

"…I really hate that you get to see those things," he said. His face was set in a stiff but neutral expression, and Bakura couldn't tell if he was angry or upset or scared or all three. "I never wanted anyone to see that…"

"I'm not surprised," Bakura said. "You weren't looking…yourself."

"Were you shocked?" Malik asked with a sharp laugh.

"Yeah," Bakura said frankly. "And you know I don't understand people and feelings and how they work. So you're going to have to tell me what was wrong. I don't…get it. You and Ryou, you were free. It was what you both always wanted, right? So what…went wrong…?"

Malik sighed heavily.

"It's not that simple," he said, shaking his head. "When something bad comes to an end…yeah, of course that's great. But the bad stuff doesn't just disappear. Nowadays you hear about it mostly with soldiers coming home from someplace where they've seen half their friends blown to pieces. People wonder why they aren't just happy to be home. But the things you've seen or done, they never leave you – not really. You know that. Think about Kul Elna. Even if you'd got the revenge you were fighting for, the pain wouldn't have gone away, would it?"

Bakura didn't answer. He didn't need to.

"I was fine for a while," Malik went on. "After Battle City, I'd sometimes have these…moments. I'd just sit and stare at nothing and feel like something wasn't right. Then I'd remember that Mariku was gone, and that I was redeemed, and so everything had to be alright. I thought the peace felt incomplete because our duties to the Pharaoh weren't finished yet. But then…" He paused and chewed on his lower lip. "Then it was finished. He passed on to the afterlife. And things only got worse. Everything was meant to be perfect, so at first I ignored it. I didn't understand. I felt so ungrateful. And then I couldn't ignore it anymore. It was like a fog, those dark feelings creeping up on me. It swallowed me up completely. That's when I knew I had to do something, change something. Maybe fix something. So I came back here."

"And you found Ryou," Bakura said quietly. Malik gave a faint, sad smile. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he remembered.

"He was just the same," he said. "Free but not free. He was haunted by you. The things you did, the problems you left behind. The scars you gave him. And the mystery of you, I suppose. Ryou had no chance for closure. He was your host, but he knew even less about you than the rest of us. You stormed in and bulldozed his life and he never even got to know what it was all for."

"And I…I wore out his body," Bakura said tonelessly. "And he got sick. That's what was wrong with him before."

Malik hesitated a moment.

"I don't know how true that is," he said, looking uncomfortable. "I let him believe it at the time. I guess I believed it for a while, too. And maybe that was a…contributor. But I don't think that was exactly what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Ryou was fine for a while, too," Malik said. "Things were just starting to get bad when I met him. That seems a little weird, doesn't it? Your body can't be fooled into believing that everything is alright just because you've been told it is. Bodies are simple and demanding. If his body had been at breaking point when you left, he would have collapsed a lot sooner."

"So what does that mean?" Bakura asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Malik tapped his left temple with another cheerless smile.

"I think he was sick like I was. In here." He jabbed his temple one last time. "It manifested a little differently because the feelings were different. I can understand it now, sort of. His world had been leveled, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. He hadn't done anything to deserve it or bring it on himself, but it had happened. When the world is so random and unfair, what's the point in trying? What's the point in anything when you might get cut down at the next turn, for no reason at all…?"

"He gave up," Bakura said.

He didn't miss the way Malik's gaze swooped to the floor at those words.

"…There's something else, isn't there?" Bakura said, feeling sick all over again. "The thing you and Ryou 'locked up'. It's something worse. There's still something else and I'm going to have to see it."

Malik nodded mutely.

"It's…" he started shakily but Bakura cut him off.

"Don't tell me," he said. "I don't deserve a warning. I'll just…I'll wait for it to come. And I'll watch. And then maybe I'll understand."

"I'm sorry," Malik said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry this has to be so hard on both of you."

"Don't feel bad for me," Bakura snapped. "I've finally got to a point where I feel like I deserve this shit. Don't waste any sympathy on me."

"Shut up," Malik said again. "I'll do whatever I want."

Bakura found himself laughing at him despite himself.

"…Has Ryou been dreaming?" he asked suddenly, somber again. "Do you know?"

"I think he has," Malik replied. "It's hard to tell. Sometimes he tosses and turns something awful. Mumbles things, like that time he scared the crap out of us. But when he wakes up, he won't talk about it. I've tried to ask him and he just says it's nothing."

"Yeah, that's Ryou," Bakura said dryly. "Just…the dreams are getting steadily worse for me, aren't they? Working their way towards the worst possible thing. So if the same thing is happening to him…"

"Kul Elna," Malik finished for him. "He'll see it soon. I told you that."

"See, that's more unfairness," Bakura said with frustration. "I don't want him to see it. It's awful. It'll hurt him. Why does he have to see these things…?"

"Because you two need to learn about each other," Malik said exasperatedly, slumping over the table. "You're to blame for a lot of things, ok? I get that. But you're not the only one at fault."

Bakura thought about this.

"I want to be here," he said finally. "When he sees it."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Malik asked uneasily.

"I want to be here," Bakura repeated. It was not up for debate. Malik put up his hands.

"Your call," he said.

"I don't want him to…go through it alone," Bakura said. But that didn't quite explain his need to be here for it, and he scrabbled desperately for a better reason. "And just…I'm the only one who…"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Malik said with grim amusement. "This stuff is very much between you two." He paused and frowned. "One thing, though. How are you going to know when it happens?"

Bakura felt his connection to Ryou give a twinge of reminder.

"I'll know," he said.

End!

I'm back. Please don't hit me xD; This has been a tough year so far-! But hopefully I'll have more time to work on writing now that summer is approaching.

Thank you very very much to CalloftheHaunted, crazyhikari, NightFury812, Metalmark, Twilight-Imp-626, Enjeru, Carlos de Citron, HeartShapedLocket, thooruchan, SilversShadow13, Kiara victory Tatsu, IceDragon1095, BlackSatellite, BlackPanther1987, melisse, Hikari-Kira1, Fluffy no Danna, Klausolas, sorathestar, killerdoodlebug, millenniumspoon, Fictatious, Bloody Rabbit Alice, CrimsonEyes27, Kanashii Umi, xXMekkzyFwuffzXx, IntricateDivinity, RiverTear980, Schizo-of-Destiny, Lilac Rose6, pride1289, Mana, bbb136, Breathing in Snowflakes, The-Elaboration, bakura'kagamine'ishtar'2173, Vampire Prinssess, Airyballoon, PurpleWildcat2010, ilovemanicures, SHADOWoftheFOX, Arashi, CalamariCool, Seto K4iba1, ani, Caluism, SoraSlayer, Kiei, Shadow Realm Snowflakes, Karasu the Dark One, KittyWoman12, Atsuma, JustASadSong, Gee, MonaLisa20, Twitterpated Yaoi, noffermans, LadyBlackwell, XionItachi, Teddy syn, GoodAndPl3nty, StrangeLiou, SilverScaledSnowDragon, Cana-Puff, AtomBunny, D.R.A.W, SetsunaNoroi, Aeleita, Kitsune Demon Girl, Midknight123, BattleGoddess126, envoy-of-the-end, mimsiechan, Glitter and Kisses, Hengenjizai, Jess, A Soul Alone, yamiXyugi-setoXjou-4ever, winnie, erin-flight, sweetness4theheart, Xuedragonsong, BumblingLobster, Uryuu-Nipaa, Chasing, soupcan, xHoshi-Chanx, Lazy Gaga, sway-babysway, SilverFinDragon and Rainforestfrogs for all your lovely reviews ;~; And thank you to EVERYONE for being so patient with me.

I'm really sorry to all the folks who wrote me really wonderful, in-depth reviews and didn't get a reply back. Like I said, this year has been crazy, and my brain has been a puddle of soup. I promise to do a lot better from now on! And feel free to poke me on tumblr if I'm bad again. It can get quiet over there, anyway xD

I hope you liked the chapter!

And thank you as usual to LadyBlackwell for beta-ing x3

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