Malik gave a snort. Fragile? The same brash loudmouth who had plunged a knife in his own arm and delighted in the blood? 

He shook his head slightly, looking at the boy again.  But it was true that he looked almost completely different asleep. Gently, Malik reached over and pushed a pale strand away from the boy's face, noting the softness with mild amusement.  The boy was pretty, he mused, gently tracing a line across the pale cheek. His skin was also soft, almost pampered, utterly contrasting with the roughness that the boy exuberated when awake. 

The boy gave a soft sound, tensing slightly, and Malik pulled away, realizing his bedmate was waking up. Sitting up slightly, he let his expression fall into an arrogant smirk.

He gave a small snort when the boy gave a shuddered, ragged breath, sounding pained.  So he did feel pain when the euphoria wore off. "About time you woke up," he commented with a smirk. "I was beginning to wonder if the blood loss had gotten to you."  His chuckle died in his throat when he turned to look at his bedmate.

The pale haired boy was staring at him in wide eyed terror, hands curled around himself to cover his nakedness as he shook, breath bordering hyperventilating.

It wasn't the psychopath, Malik realized with a sinking feeling.

It was his host.
 
 

Shit.
 

It seemed like an eternity before Malik's mind unlocked and he leaned over to retrieve the sheet from where it had fallen on the floor. "You okay?" he asked as he tossed the thin cloth over the trembling boy, keeping his voice disinterested. 

Soundlessly, the boy covered himself, curling up in the thin protection of the cloth as he looked at the Egyptian, brown eyes still fearful. 

Malik's internal litany of curses continued. He toyed with the Rod in his hand, debating his next move.  He could always dive into the boy's mind and--- 

No, he decided. That would let the psychopath know more about what the Rod could do.  He rose from the bed and began picking up his clothing, swiftly getting dressed. He gathered all of the other discarded clothing and laid them on the bed next to the still trembling boy. "I'm going to make some tea," he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "You get dressed, and after, we'll talk." He turned, exiting the room.
 

Hopefully, the boy would feel better once he dressed. He wasn't even why he even cared about the host's well being. He hadn't cared when the boy had collapsed of the docks, utterly incapacitated by the wound the psychopath had inflicted on the shared body.  He had even chuckled, reflecting how soft the host's life must be that such a simple wound caused that much anguish.

The blond Egyptian frowned slightly. Shaking his head he reached for the teapot. The psychopath would probably be back by the time the tea was ready anyway, he decided. Then they would iron out the details of their plan and set it in motion.

He smiled darkly as he poured the tea in a mug, thoughts moving away from the soft boy to his revenge against the Pharaoh as he returned to his room. 

He paused outside the door, knocking. "Are you dressed yet?" he called. He frowned as there was no response.  What was the psychopath doing now? Shaking his head, he pushed the door open, one hand almost hovering near the Rod so he'd be ready for anything.

Anything except the sight of the psychopath's host still wrapped in the sheet, shaking with choked sobs that were muffled by the pillow his face was buried in.

Placing the mug down, the blond Egyptian moved to the side of the bed. "Hey..." he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

The pale haired teen flinched at the touch, tensing slightly. 

Malik swore under his breath, pulling his hand back. "What's wrong? Why didn't you get dressed?"

"It hurts..." the boy choked out. "Oh god, it hurts so much..." he whimpered, curling up slightly, fists clenched.

Malik winced, feeling a pang of empathy for the boy.  "I'm sorry..." he said softly. "I didn't realize..." he nearly bit his lip, remembering how gleefully he had attacked the psychopath in their 'love'making, digging his nails into the pale flesh as the man beneath him spurred him on with his moans and exclamations.

He rose to his feet, moving to his dresser to retrieve a small jar before returning to the boy's side. "Where does it hurt?" he asked, voice still uncharacteristically soft. 

"My back... and-- and my sides and-- and---" the boy tensed up again, unable to continue.

Malik winced again, knowing where else the boy would be hurting. "I have a cream," he explained. "It can numb the pain, but you have to let go of the sheet."

The boy was silent a long moment before slowly pulling the sheet out from under him, not looking up.

Malik pulled it down to expose the boy's back, noting the burning red marks and slashes. Uncapping the jar he scooped out a glop of the off-white cream and gently began rubbing it into the scrapes and scratches, doing his best to sooth away the boy's pain.

He smiled softly to himself as he worked, remembering how Rishido would do the same thing for him whenever his back ached. It always comforted and calmed him, the gentleness of his older brother-figure's hands making him feel safe and cared for. 

He smiled again when he felt the smaller boy begin to relax under his touches, tensing briefly whenever Malik began working on a new spot, only to relax once more, periodically giving small sighs. 

It was amazing how smooth the boys back was, Malik mused. The pale skin looked almost as if it had never been exposed to the sun, and the contrast of the Egyptian's darker skin only made the smaller boy look even paler. Gently, Malik brushed aside the boy's barely tinted hair, moving to sooth the bruises he had inflicted when he had held the psychopath down with violent passion. Carefully, he moved the cord that held the Millennium Ring and began massaging the cream into the pressure-marks.

He paused, hearing the boy's breath catch. "Too sore?" he asked.

The boy shook his head slightly, reaching up to pull his hair down to cover his neck, face slightly red.

Malik nearly chuckled and obliged, moving to attend to the boy's shoulders.  So the psychopath shared his host's sensitive spots...

He shook his head slightly, pushing the thought from his mind. Now was not the time. Especially not when damage from the roughness of the previous night would be at it's worst.

Finishing his ministrations, he pulled away, recapping the jar.  "Better?"

"Un... Thank you..." the boy said softly, a small relaxed smile on his lips.

Malik smiled back. "Think you're up for some tea?"

The boy gave a small nod, shifting to slowly sit up, wrapping the sheet around his waist carefully, looking very self-conscious.

"Here," Malik handed him the slightly cooled off mug. 

The pale haired boy took a small sip and blinked slightly before giving a smile. "I know this tea..." he said softly, voice almost fond. "Whenever I get to go with Father to Egypt, I have this tea..."

"You've been to Egypt?" Malik asked, interested. It would explain the psychopath's knowledge of the language, he mused.

"Un," the boy smiled softly, eyes warm. "Father works there. He's an archaeologist," he nodded before taking another sip of his tea.

'Hm,' Malik thought with amusement.  The pyschopath's host was the son of someone who would be considered an enemy of his tribe.  There was an amusing sort of irony in that fact, he mused.  "That where you got that?" he asked, pointing to the Ring.

The paler boy nodded, putting a hand over the Ring, expression fond. "Father brought it back for me."

Malik gave a small snort. "I thought finds were suppose to go to a museum?"

The boy blinked, then gave a small smile. "He didn't find it on a dig, he bought it at a bazaar."

The Egyptian boy barely managed to cover his laugh with a cough. Someone bought a Millennium Item at a bazaar. The clan would be furious if they knew.

There was a long awkward quiet as the paler boy traced the outline of the Ring, expression saddened. 

"Why do you wear it?" Malik asked finally, startling the boy out of his thoughts. He frowned slightly as the boy seems to be searching for an answer. 'The truth, now...' he ordered subconsciously, using the Rod's power to lean into the boy's subconscious slightly.

The boy's eyes glazed slightly and he looked down. "I have to..." he said softly. 

Malik raised an eyebrow and gently nudged the boy to continue, frowning slightly as the boy spoke.  "But if it causes you so much trouble, why don't you just get rid of it?" he asked after the boy had finished.

"I've tried. Every time it comes back to me." The boy's dulled eyes looked at his chest, a hand unconsciously rising to trace the five puncture scars under the Ring's pendants and Malik's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed another similar scar on the back of the boy's left hand, much larger then the ones on his chest.  "It's my destiny to have it... and be its host..."

The Egyptian's expression darkened. "This too is the Pharaoh's will..." he muttered angrily.  So it wasn't just the Gravekeepers that suffered for the sake of the past.  His frown deepened. Did that mean the psychopath was similar to the Pharaoh's spirit?

He looked over to where the pale haired boy was looking vacantly at the Ring. In a way, the boy was just as much a pawn as he was, the Egyptian mused.  He let go of the Rod as well as his control of the paler boy.

The boy blinked slightly, eyes clearing slowly as if just waking. Seeing Malik's gaze, he looked down, pulling the sheet up around him closer, looking visibly upset.

Malik frowned slightly at the boy's action. He shouldn't have been aware of any change.... "Something wrong?" he asked.

The boy shook his head. "I-- I just had a memory lapse, sorry..." he gave a small nervous laugh. "I must have spaced out, I'm sorry if I acted strange at all."

"Memory lapse?" Malik pressed. He hadn't used that much of the Rods power on the boy, had he?

The paler boy gave a small nod. "It happens to me a lot, like a type of amnesia." He fidgeted slightly, his hold on the sheet tightening.

Malik looked at the boy a moment. "You don't remember last night at all, do you?" he stated in realization.

The boy gave a small nod, hugging the sheet close to his chest, looking almost fearful, much like he had when he had first awoken.  "S-sorry..." he whispered, curling slightly into a ball.

The Egyptian boy nodded slightly to himself. "Do you remember me at all?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

The paler boy shook his head, hugging his knees to his chest under the sheet. "Sorry," he apologized meekly.

Malik nodded again, expression thoughtful.  So the boy wasn't aware of what happened when the psychopath was in control of him, much like those he controlled with the Rod were unaware of anything outside their minds. After a moments thought, he extended his hand to the boy. "I'm Namu," he introduced. 

The boy looked up, expression slightly surprised before he gave a small smile. "Bakura," he returned, carefully taking the Egyptian's hand. "Bakura Ryou."

Malik smiled.  So the psychopath had used the boy's name when he had introduced himself. "Can I call you Ryou?" he asked, continuing when he saw the boy's reluctance. "I already know someone named Bakura," he explained. "It would be awkward for me calling you that."

The boy hesitated a moment, then gave a small nod.

Malik gave a smile. "Pleased to meet you, Ryou-kun."

Ryou gave a small smile in return. "Pleased to meet you, Namu-kun," he echoed softly, relaxing slightly.
 

Malik smiled as Ryou sipped his tea. It'd been so long since he'd had an actual conversation with someone besides Rishido that was just conversation and not dealing or plotting, and oddly, he was content just to listen to the paler boy talk. His voice was a soothing sound, not like the psychopath's harsh alteration of it. It was interesting, the differences between the two, where the psychopath was brash and arrogant, Ryou was polite and almost timid. He hadn't even lashed out when he woke to find himself violated and injured...

"Namu-kun...?"

Malik looked up to see the boy's concerned eyes looking up at him. "Nani?" he smiled.

"You looked upset about something," the paler boy's voice was timid and with a start, Malik realized Ryou was worried that he had caused Malik's shift in mood.

"It's okay," Malik smiled assuringly. "I was just wondering if you were feeling better enough to get dressed."

Ryou blushed slightly, holding the sheet close as if just remembering it was his only covering, and gave a small embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aa, sorry," he apologized, shifting to reach for his clothing. His expression grew briefly pained as he leaned, and Malik frowned.

"You're still hurting?" he asked.

Ryou looked down, expression almost ashamed as he nodded slightly.

"Did the cream wear off or was there a spot that I..." Malik trailed off as he realized where the boy would be still hurting. 

There was an awkward silence a moment before Malik stood.

"Namu-kun...?" Ryou asked nervously as the blond Egyptian approached. "Namu-kun, what are you--" the boy gave a small squeak as Malik gently scooped him into his arms. 

Malik gave a small chuckle as the near terrified boy clung desperately to him to keep from falling as he was carried.  "It's okay, Ryou-kun," he smiled at the boy in his arms as he began walking.

He reached the bathroom and gently set the boy down in the bathtub before leaning over to turn on the water. "Let me know if it's too warm, okay?" he said, turning to face Ryou again.

The paler boy looked down at the sheet around him uncomfortably, hesitantly moving to remove it.

"You can leave it," Malik said softly, putting a hand over Ryou's.

Brown eyes widened slightly. "Bu-- but..."

"Don't worry, I can get someone to take care of it later," Malik dismissed with a slight smirk, thinking which of his mind controlled flunkies he would make clean up the sheet and the mess from the psychopath. He turned off the water and leaned back, looking at Ryou. "Why don't you take that off and lean back?" he suggested.

The boy hesitated, hand going to the Ring, eyes widening a moment in surprise before narrowing, expression shifting as he gave a dark chuckle.   "He won't take it off," he smirked, rising from the bath and letting the soaked sheet fall back into the water. "He's the perfect host. His will is easy to overcome and with his innocent face, he can wrap anyone around his finger with out even meaning or trying to."

Malik scowled, crossing his arms in irritation as the psychopath continued, grabbing a towel to dry off. "If that small amount of pain I let him feel melted a bastard like you, think of how his 'friends' will react when he's feeling all of it."

"So your plan is to use his pain to separate Yuugi's friends?" Malik inferred, hiding the disgust in his voice as he followed the pale boy out of the room.

The psychopath smirked, grabbing his clothing and swiftly getting dressed. "It will work," he said simply. 

Malik scowled again, knowing the wild haired boy was right. '15 minutes ago, you wouldn't have had any problem with this,' an annoying voice in his mind reminded him as they existed the boat.  15 minutes ago, he hadn't known what Ryou's life was like with the presence inside the Ring controlling him. It was different then his mind slaves, he reasoned. Fate had no hand in his choosing of them, as it had had in cursing Ryou with the Ring; as it had in cursing his clan with the keys to the Pharaoh's memory...

His thoughts were interrupted as the pale haired boy at his side collapsed to the ground with a strangled exclamation of pain. 

Instantly, he was at Ryou's side, helping him up. Supporting the barely conscious boy with one arm, he reached for the Rod.  'You feel no pain,' he instructed the boy's subconscious. 'You will act as if you do, but you will feel no pain.'

The boy's half closed eyes glazed and Malik gave a grim smile. He wouldn't let these feelings get in the way of his mission, but he would not let the Ring's spirit hurt his host any longer....

Slowly, he began helping Ryou over to where his friends would be arriving.