NOTES: Again, yaoi action is only hinted at.
 

Malik Ishtar was pretty much a slave to the Pharaoh. As much as he wanted to deny it, that was what he was. Yami no Bakura could order him around as he pleased, and Malik would always obey. 
 

But Malik knew he was no ordinary slave. The ordinary slaves acted out of fear. He acted out of love - and as far as he knew, the Pharaoh was most likely aware of this. 

Which was why he was able to get Malik into bed so easily, for his personal pleasure. And yet Malik knew he was just another slave. Worthless. Every minute of the time they spent together, with Bakura sheathed deep inside Malik, thrusting so hard the boy would bleed... it meant nothing. It just showed how submissive Malik was to his own emotions. 

Bakura would seem to force himself onto the modern Egyptian, although admittedly Malik would welcome it. He delighted in the abuse Bakura pushed on him. It would never be enough to really hurt him, but enough to cause him some kind of masochistic pleasure which he loved almost as much as Bakura himself. Bakura would whip him, scratch him, bite him, but Malik always wanted more.

Yet it was strange, Malik thought, that he would never do this with any other slave. Bakura craved feeling a surge of power over an individual. Surely then, he would prefer to use a slave who wasn't willing to do his bidding? Clearly, either Bakura had some warmth in his cold heart, or he truly trusted Malik.

Malik considered all of this after being awoken by the sleeping Pharaoh nuzzling his shoulder. For a while he didn't move, but then he sat up. His movement didn't wake Bakura, much to his amazement, and he looked down at the spirit, feeling a pang of sympathy. He didn't know what had happened to him, but he sensed that Bakura had not had an easy life. His mind suffered greatly from dwelling too much on the past. He'd even tried to make himself look the way he once had. He had recently inexpertly sliced into the skin beneath his right eye in an attempt to recreate the scar he had, leaving nothing but a few very thin scabs backed by pink, inflamed skin. His hair had been messily cut so that it was just above shoulder length.

When he was awake, Bakura was a fearsome, destructive and inescapable tyrant. But when he was asleep, he became innocent, pitiful, and even vulnerable.

Malik sat watching the rise and fall of the Pharaoh's chest, and he felt certain that Bakura trusted him. Bakura trusted him not to hurt him, and he trusted him not to steal from him. But Malik knew he had to break that trust if he wanted to help Bakura...

Feeling sick from the guilt of knowing that he had to betray the one he loved, Malik leaned over, and kissed the sleeping Pharaoh's forehead, before clambering out of bed and dressing himself. He often left the room before Bakura woke up, and the Pharaoh had come to expect it. Malik pulled on his black trousers and high collared sleeveless jacket, before pulling his long, purple cloak over his shoulders. He took a quick glance about the room with his lavender eyes, before seeing what he wanted. 

The Millennium Tauk was around the neck of a statue. It was the Millennium Item Bakura never put to use, and Malik had noticed Bakura was so convinced of its safety he had never checked to see if it remained in his possession. 

Malik unhooked the golden chain of the Tauk from around the statue's neck, and put it around his own. It was hidden well by the high collar of his jacket. If a glint of gold was caught by the sun, it would be assumed to be from the jewellery he always wore around his neck, arms and wrists.

The Egyptian made to leave, before a moaning sound distracted him. Bakura sat up, blinking blearily as the sunlight from the uncurtained window fell upon his face. 

"Malik? Where are you going?" His voice lacked the usual sharp, psychotically lilting tone that most people were used to, although his partner knew it would soon return.

"I'm heading into the city, sir," Malik replied, honestly.

"What for?" Bakura asked. No emotion was visible on his face, not even curiosity.

"I just want to walk, Pharaoh, sir," Malik responded. "You're welcome to join me." He hoped that this would throw off any further questions. It was rare for Bakura to agree to walk among the 'pathetic mortals', unless he had some scheme to cause them more terror. 

"No, Ishtar, I want you to stay in this building," Bakura snapped, the peacefulness wearing off as quickly as Malik expected it to. "No objections."

"Very well, sir. May I leave the room?"

"You'd better."

Malik left the room feeling slightly discouraged, but knowing that if he obeyed Bakura now, the more likely he would be allowed to head into the slums later. He just hoped that Bakura wouldn't catch him with the Tauk about his neck.

~~~~~

"Hi Shizuka," Ryou said, feeling slightly amused that she didn't jump like most people did. 

"Nice to see you, Bakura," Shizuka said calmly. "You're here rather early."

"I thought you'd be asleep anyway," Ryou commented. "I was only here to see if everyone was okay." He gestured towards the makeshift beds that lay across the room.

This place, the closest place the slums had to a hospital, was the basement of one of the destroyed buildings - specifically, the Game Shop that once belonged to Yuugi Motou's grandfather.

The rubble that had once covered it had been cleared out, and used for the shelters. Now, the basement was home to Shizuka, who took care of those who had their souls banished by the Pharaoh, and those who were injured and unable to find a shelter of any sort. 

Mattresses that had been scavenged from the rubble lay in organised rows. There were no pillows left. Nearly all of these mattresses were occupied. 

Three people, Ryou knew. Yuugi Motou, former carrier of the Millennium Puzzle. Isis Ishtar, former carrier of the Millennium Tauk and sister of Malik. Seto Kaiba, reincarnation of an Ancient Egyptian priest.

The others Ryou did not know, nor did he feel the need to find out who they were. He knew, however, that several of them were badly injured, for Shizuka had walked to the middle of the room to tend to the heavily bleeding arm of a child not more than seven years of age, with the attitude of one who had done this many times before.

Since he wanted to speak with the girl, he decided to wait for her to return. But until then, he would wait patiently.

He turned around when he heard a gentle, dreamy humming from behind him.

"Mokuba...?"

The boy, who now looked to be around sixteen, looked up into Ryou's eyes from his position, sat on a stony ledge. He said nothing to him, but continued his humming as if in a trance. His eyes were unfocused, his messy black hair falling over them, almost completely obscuring them from view. There was a wide horizontal gash beneath his left eye, which was clearly still healing, yet Mokuba didn't appear to acknowledge any pain.

Ryou was slightly taken aback. He had known the younger Kaiba brother was here, but he hadn't expected to see him in this condition. When Jounouchi had briefly described Mokuba's condition, he had immediately assumed it was more due to depression than anything else. 

But Mokuba appeared quite happy on the outside, as if refusing to accept anything that had happened. It was as though he believed it to be a dream.

"Your feet aren't touching the floor," Mokuba stated, his voice retaining that dream-like, distant quality as it had when he had been humming. Ryou looked down and noticed that Mokuba was correct, although he hadn't noticed the boy looking. He corrected his position dutifully.

Mokuba lowered his head, hiding his eyes from view. "They're still not touching the floor..."

Ryou frowned. He knew, this time, he was on the right ground level. He was about to say so when Mokuba prevented him.

"You can't touch the floor, can you?" Mokuba looked up again. "Isn't that right, big brother?"

Ryou took a shocked step back, taking no notice of the way his foot sank into the ground. "Big brother?" he repeated, looking stunned.

Mokuba took no notice. "I knew, I knew you'd come back to protect me, even if you can't wake up in your body, I knew you'd come back, Seto."

"No, Mokuba, I'm not your brother," Ryou informed the boy, in a forcibly calm tone which contradicted the shock and surprise that was apparent from his tense muscles and widened eyes. "I'm Bakura! You know, Ryou Bakura...?"

"Well, if you're not my brother, then my brother must have sent you to protect me!" Mokuba stated. Even though his voice still sounded gentle and distant, the tone was confident. He didn't doubt his words. "You don't really look like my brother anyway..."

Feeling somewhat relieved, Ryou sighed, and looked to see where Shizuka was.

"Ryou...?"

"Please, Mokuba, call me Bakura," Ryou told him, not even glancing at him.

"But you're my angel, the angel my brother sent, let me call you Ryou. It sounds as beautiful as you..."

Ignoring the compliment, Ryou turned his head to look at Mokuba, unable to resist feeling slightly sorry for him. He had gone through a lot, after all... he'd lost his home, and his brother - the only things he really had left. Nearly all the friends he had must surely have been killed. Why not allow the boy to call him by his first name?

"All right, Mokuba. You can call me Ryou..."

A smile spread across Mokuba's face - the sort of smile you see when one temporarily overcomes their sadness. The sort that would make anyone's heart melt. It made Ryou long to gather the boy into his arms and protect him from all that was wrong in the world - to make everything all right again.

"So, Bakura, what did you want?" Shizuka questioned, returning and dropping a torn, bloody bandage into the mouldy cardboard box that currently served as a rubbish bin.

Momentarily distracted from Mokuba, Ryou sat cross-legged on a non-existent cushion in the air. "I wanted to talk to you about... you know..." he gestured towards Yuugi. 

"I see," Shizuka responded, knowing immediately that he meant all three of those whose souls had been banished. "Like I've said before, Bakura, there's nothing to do. There's no way to help them, unless you can pull something with the Millennium Items." She shook her head sadly. "Have you made any progress...?"

Ryou sighed. "Malik said he was trying something but... to be honest, I don't think I can trust him anymore. I don't think he can bring himself to turn against my yami... he really cares about him, you know?"

"I could never understand why," Shizuka commented, lightly. She picked up a clean bandage and walked across the room to a man in his late twenties. Ryou took this to mean she didn't want to talk about it - after all, she and Honda had been in a relationship, and were exceptionally close.

Deciding now would be an appropriate time to leave, Ryou left his imaginary cushion and walked over to Shizuka. 

"Bakura, I'm a little busy," Shizuka said. The man's eyes widened at the sight of Ryou, but said nothing about it. Ryou's occasional appearance in this shelter was becoming expected, and despite the similarity in appearance, most in here knew that he was not the Pharaoh they feared.

"I just wanted to say I'm leaving now, alright?" 

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye," Ryou said, walking back across the shelter to the entrance. He was just about to leave when Mokuba spoke up.

"You're not leaving me so soon, are you Ryou?" the boy asked, sadly. "Let me come with you?"

"Mokuba... I think it would be best if you stayed here."

"I don't want to," Mokuba said, simply. "You're here to protect me and to find a way to wake my brother up. I want to help too."

"No, Mokuba, stay here." The boy had a stubborn expression remaining on his face. Sighing, Ryou reduced his visibility, so that the boy wouldn't follow him. He was slightly surprised when Mokuba didn't comment. "Bye, Mokuba." He left the room quietly.

Shizuka looked back across the room, noticing that Ryou had left. She had the strange feeling something else was missing, but she ignored it.

"I should have told him..." she murmured. She laid her hand on her stomach, gently. "I'm sorry, Hiroto..."
 

~~~~~

Bakura stormed into the room, clearly angry about something. Malik, who was sat on a collapsing sofa, looked up nervously, fearing that the Pharaoh might have discovered the theft.

"Ishtar!" Bakura yelled. "Get out of here! I don't want to see your face!"

"Why not?" Malik asked, confused. 

"Don't ask questions, out! OUT!"

Taking this to mean Bakura wanted him out of the building altogether, Malik left, nervously, resisting the urge to lift his hand up to the stolen Tauk around his neck.

"AND THE REST OF YOU CAN GET OUT TOO!" Bakura screeched, at the few slaves that had been in the room. They immediately scuttled out of the room, racing down the corridor, eager to get as far away from the Pharaoh as they could. Malik avoided this rush, and walked in the opposite direction, making it his intention to get into the slums and give the Tauk to Jounouchi.

Yami no Bakura paced around the room, muttering to himself. "Stupid fucking bastard, how DARE he steal from me? I should fucking KILL him! He thought I wouldn't notice? But what in the name of Ra could he do with the Tauk? It's not like it's USEFUL or anything! But why the fuck did he take it? I'll kill him, I'll fucking KILL him! I should've killed him right there! Damn it!"

~~~~~

END OF PART