Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Malik checks the time again. Ishizu's plane is already an hour and a half late. He’s not worried, and he’s rather happy to be away from his father, but it’s not like he’s alone.

“This isn’t necessary, you know,” Malik mutters to Rishid.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize either.”

Rishid bows his head and Malik scoffs but falls silent again. It frustrates him that Rishid won’t fight back, won’t argue, but picking a fight with his older brother won’t help. If it was up to Rishid he wouldn’t shadow Malik so often like this. It’s his father’s orders, and as Lord of the Tombkeepers, Rishid will obey.

Malik sighs even though he know the action will catch Rishid’s attention. It might even be enough to get Rishid to ask him if he’s alright. Rishid might be one of Malik’s favorite people in the world, his brother by choice instead of blood, but the way Malik is constantly forced to have someone as a bodyguard and never alone, it grates at him.

People start pouring out of the gate and Malik pushes himself off the wall as soon as he spots Ishizu. There are two other tombkeepers with her and once they see Malik, they go off to retrieve their luggage. A brief moment of semi-privacy but Malik will take it.

There are bags under Ishizu’s eyes and her hair is pulled up for the trip, but she brightens when she sees Malik waiting.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says, hugging Malik.

“You too. No trouble?” Malik asks, unable to say much more. Too many people around, and though Malik is sure none of them mean them harm, Rishid’s eyes still glance about.

“Only good fortune,” Ishizu says with a wide smile. “I did bring you something. Both of you,” she says to Rishid as well, and he doesn’t blush, but his look turns a little sheepish.

“None of that,” Malik says, rolling his eyes at Rishid. “You’re our brother, of course Ishizu would bring you something back. It’s something obnoxiously American, right?”

“Are American snacks obnoxious?” Ishizu asks sincerely with a laugh as they are joined by the other two who had travelled with ishizu. They begin to make their way to the rented car to drive to the hotel where the Ishtars are currently staying.

“They can be.” Malik launches into a discussion about cheese coated chips, chocolate dipped foods that had no business being mixed with sweets, and double stuffed delectables. Aimless conversation that serves no purpose except to be sure no one has anything to report back to his father.

Malik tries to suggest Ishizu rest, but she shakes her head and goes straight to their father’s room. Rishid walks them up to the room then waits outside. If it looks conspicuous, it doesn’t matter; Father never keeps Rishid closer to him than necessary.

“You didn’t call,” Lord Ishtar says to Malik as greeting, frowning as he looks up from his book keeping.

“My phone died,” Malik says blithely. He lies down and stretches out on his bed. At least he’s past the age of sharing a bed with anyone. There’s a pile of folders on the corner with his name on them in his father’s handwriting but he ignores them.

“I should have. I’m sorry,” Ishizu interjects, but their father just ignores her.

“I gave you that phone so you could keep in contact, Malik. Ishizu’s plane was late already. Something could have happened. Do not make the same error next time.”

“Nothing would have happened,” Malik mutters to himself low enough so his father wouldn’t hear him. With Rishid near stalking him, with the other tombkeepers who would shield him even if it cost them their lives, he would be safe enough. And it isn’t like Malik is worthless. He can protect himself.

Satisfied that his son is supposedly chastised, his father turns to Ishizu. Malik watches as she reports back. America, America; Malik had nearly been eaten alive with jealousy when their father had arranged Ishizu’s travel plans. And though it was for their duty and not for fun, still, his sister is always the one allowed to travel around.

Malik can only follow along beside his father. He supposes it’s better than being stuck to one place, like how most people live their lives, but there’s something about having a home that he yearns for. And it’s not like he’s travelling for enjoyment.

“Malik, pay attention,” his father snaps, and Malik tries not to sigh, as it would only aggravate his father more.

“The Boston Museum had no pieces of the Millennium Puzzle,” Ishizu reads off her notes. “We searched as much was possible-”

“Are you sure you did? I don’t want to have to go there myself when I sent you to do the job properly,” their father says.

Malik rolls his eyes now. Ishizu is nothing but devoted, downright fanatical in Malik’s opinion, and yet nothing is good enough. He tries to give her a sympathetic look but Ishizu is looking down, allowing herself to be chastised and scolded.

Malik scowls and sits up, but his father turns to look at him.

“Malik. I’ve decided to send you to the museum.”

“What?” Malik asks. He’s never been allowed on his own. He knows he will be accompanied but to go somewhere without his father or Ishizu will be something of a first. And to be entrusted with a task, to go and obtain an actual piece of the puzzle, he’d expected to be lord before that happened.

“Yes. You’re old enough. There are reports that the piece is being moved. Go and verify.”

Malik’s heart sank. Verify.

“But if you see the chance, seize it.”

A step then, in the right direction. Malik didn’t care about the puzzle. Let the pieces stay lost forever or get melted down. But for the chance to leave the trappings of the clan for a while, he would fake all the loyalty in the world.

“I’m honored,” Malik lies though his smile his genuine. He can see Ishizu giving him a bemused look, and he avoids meeting her eyes. She knows he doesn’t care for the puzzle, that he thinks their quest is a curse.

“Omar and Jamar will accompany you,” Lord Ishtar continues and Malik freezes at that.

All of the tomb guardians serve the Ishtars, either as skilled laborers or as servants. The Medjay, the police of the Ishtars, are different. They are the police of the tomb guardians. They serve the Lord of the clan. They will one day be under Malik’s rule as well, but for now, they are only loyal to his father.

“I don’t need the cro-Medjay to accompany me,” Malik says, nearly letting the insult slip. “I’d rather have Rishid.”

“You don’t need a servant. You need protection. And it’s time you started to command the Medjay.”

“They still see me as a child,” Malik says.

“Make them see you as an adult.”

Malik rolls his eyes silently. It’s easy for his father to say such a thing. But Malik can see it in the medjay’s eyes. They trust his father; they don’t have any care for him. He will never have their loyalty nor does he want it. The Medjay are the ones who hand out the punishments to the other tomb guardians.

And for those who wish to escape the clan, the Medjay are the ones who hunt them down, and burn their corpses, denying them a proper burial and their afterlife.

But his father won't allow him to choose Rishid over the medjay, and Malik doesn't even bother to protest again. With any other servant Malik would be able to get away with something but not with these people. They'll report every single action of his right back to his father.

A different cage then.

Malik tunes out the rest of what his father said and when Ishizu gets up to leave, having been dismissed, he gets up to accompany her. It's the closest he can get to being away from his father.

"I'm happy for you. This shows he's beginning to trust you," Ishizu says without preamble.

Malik scoffs and Ishizu sighs at him. He doesn't apologize for it though; he bites his tongue around his father enough. He doesn't want to have to start doing the same around Ishizu.

"If he trusted me, he would let me have my own room occasionally. I could share one with Rishid. But no, I'm always to share one with him, so he can keep his eyes on me," Malik whispers. There is no one else in the hallway, and the only person they passed was clearly a tourist, but there are ears everywhere.

"It's different for you, little brother. You're to take his place. He wants you to be ready. It's not an easy task." Ishizu knocks on the door to her room and a servant girls opens it up, bowing her head slightly and quickly moving aside to let Ishizu in.

"Your words are as wise as ever, big sister," Malik says with a mock bow, and he doesn't even have to lift his head to see that she's giving him a disapproving look.

She can always tell when he's hiding how he truly feels. Though in this case, he's made no secret of how asinine he finds their mission. The King is dead, the pieces will stay lost forever, and that is how the world will be kept safe.

Malik doesn't waste time and returns to his room. His father glances up at him, then at his watch, and resumes his work. If Malik had taken too long he would have been reprimanded but apparently he's been quick enough.

Malik reluctantly reaches for the pile of folders with his name. Apparently he has work to do. And if he fails it'll only be that much harder to take control of the medjay. As much as he doesn't want them for himself, he'd like them less as enemies.

Chapter Text

There is nothing the medjay do that Rishid can't do better, but the medjay are the police force of the Ishtars and permitted more weapons. Lord Ishtar won't even allow Rishid to carry a knife, let alone a gun.

They all freeze at the sound of a door opening at the museum and Malik looks to Omar who is already going to investigate.

"We should hurry, Master Malik," Jamar says, and Malik has to bite his tongue down. Obviously they have to hurry. They've broken into the museum, hacked into the computer systems, and are preparing to steal ancient artefacts. Even an idiot would be able to tell what their next move ought to be.

"It doesn't look like the puzzle piece is here anyway," Malik says, though his father won't be pleased.

Really, it's a miracle they have as many pieces as they do. The pieces are small and have been lost for thousands of years. There could be some at the bottom of the ocean for all they know. Malik smirks a little at the idea of his father and Ishizu in a submarine. He's absolutely certain they'd do it too.

Malik shuts down the computers as Jamar cleans up behind them. Much as he dislikes the man, Jamar is thorough, and Malik does appreciate not being caught by the authorities. It would be rather hard to explain this all away, especially if they had heard of the Ishtars. They try to keep a low profile but rumors do spread.

"Omar is taking too long," Jamar says, glancing at his watch. They aren't carrying cell phones tonight and Malik misses his.

"I suppose," Malik says. If Omar dies, his father will replace him with someone else who will either hate Malik or learn very quickly from the other medjay to hate him. It makes no difference to him.

"Come along, Master Malik. We'll need to find him before we leave."

Malik follows, bristling all the while. He will be lord someday and yet this crocodile orders him around. He ceased to be a child at ten, but he won't get any of the benefits of being an adult until his father dies. And his father is healthy, damn him.

Malik tries to banish that thought. His father does love him even if his manner of showing it is less than ideal.

They pass by a storage unit and something about it catches Malik's eye. It's ajar and he can't remember this one showing up in the records they looked through.

"Hold up," Malik orders, and he doesn't miss the way Jamar stiffens at receiving an order from him. But he does turn around and stop. "This is odd. I want to investigate it."

"I need to find Omar," Jamar says, perfectly calm.

"Then go find him. I'm going to look into this."

"I can't leave you. Lord Ishtar charged me with your safety, Master Malik."

"Tell him I ran off on you," Malik says and opens up the door, not caring about Jamar's response. Jamar will definitely say something about Malik's insubordination but that can wait till later.

And it's not like Jamar stayed around to protect him. Malik can hear the last of his receding footsteps. Oh yes, his priorities are well in order. The medjay aren't the only ones with grudges but Malik will have the last laugh.

There is an unmarked storage unit and Malik can sense something about it. He pulls his flashlight out and glances around. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He pries open a box and digs around but it’s paperwork. The next box is some artefact wrapped but Malik doesn’t touch it. It’s too big to be a puzzle piece.

As he reaches for the next box, Malik hears a sound, and he turns around, barely ducking in time as a man swings a knife at him. He pulls his own knife out, not wanting to fire in such an enclosed place and dodges again.

His assailant has white hair, something that sticks out even in the dark of the storage room. Malik’s flashlight is rolling on the floor. But he wouldn’t need it to feel the magic in the air.

“Who are you?” Malik demands as he runs to put some of the boxes between them.

The man chuckles and answers nothing. Malik narrows his eyes but before he can say anything else the man pushes some of the boxes over and Malik scrambles to avoid them. The man takes his chance and rushes at him.

Malik tries to avoid the knife but his arm gets slashed. He ignores it to try to push and kick the man off. The man is fast though, and he ends up on top of Malik, his knife to Malik’s neck.

But Malik gets his knife to the man’s ribs and the only reason he doesn’t keep pressing in is the weapon at his neck. He can feel the metal each time he breathes and they stay like that for a moment. Then Malik’s eye falls on the gold necklace the man wears.

“You have a Millennium Item,” he says in surprise.

The man looks surprised at him.

“You recognize the Item? How?”

Malik can’t help a smile. “I know more about that thing than you do.”

The man laughs.

“I doubt that.”

“That’s one of seven items. And I’d wager you’re here for the same reason I am; to find the piece of the Millennium Puzzle.”

The man stares at him again.

“Maybe you do know something,” he says in a soft tone. He gets up off Malik and watches as Malik stands up and retrieves his flashlight.

Malik touches his neck but the cut is shallow and already closed up. The bleeding on his arm is sluggish and he presses his hand to it. He glances over at the man but he’s shrugged his black coat over to hide the little blot of blood at his side. Neither of them are heavily wounded but they’ve both spilled the others’ blood.

“The puzzle piece isn’t here. It’s been moved,” Malik says. He can say that without really offering anything of importance up. The man’s posture has already relaxed and he keeps studying Malik as if unsure what to do about him.

“How do you know?”

“I checked their records.”

The man makes a noise of disgust; Malik assumes it’s at the fact the piece is out of his hands and not at him.

“What’s your name?”

“Malik. And yours?”

The man raises an eyebrow at the lack of name but shrugs.

“Bakura.”

“That’s an odd name.”

“It’s mine.”

Malik blinks.

“If you say so.” Malik listens for a moment but he can’t hear either of the crocodiles. He looks at Bakura. “Did you happen to run into someone before you came here?”

Bakura grins, sharp and feral, and Malik has to hide a smile at the look. It’s a rather good look on him.

“Was he one of yours? I do apologize. But he got in my way so-” Bakura makes a throat slashing motion with his knife and Malik tries to picture Jamar’s reaction.

“Oh no, thank you.” Malik says, in all sincerity, though it just makes Bakura’s grin widen even as a glimmer of confusion exists there too. “Well. I suppose I’d better retrieve the other one before you find him too.”

“Wait. You know about the items. How?” Bakura demands.

“Same way anyone does, I suppose.” Malik has no intention of telling Bakura about the Ishtars. If he’s any good he’ll recognize the name. And Malik doesn’t want to die for the clan. He’s already endured enough pain for them. His back can attest to that.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Bakura says, going to block his exit.

Malik stops and rolls his eyes.

“You know what they say about the items. They have untold magical powers. Of course anyone would want them. Everyone loves magical powers. Now move. I’m not going to get caught in a damned museum because you want to know all about me.”

Malik pushes Bakura aside and makes his way out, though he’s not surprised that Bakura follows him. He keeps an eye out for Jamar; he wouldn’t be that shocked if the man left without him but he’s certain that even he wouldn’t dare leave the Ishtar heir abandoned.

“Tomorrow,” Bakura says, “Not many people know of the Items. I want you to tell me how you know. And why you’re after the pieces.”

“Because I want to melt the goddamn things down,” Malik snarls. It was a lie. It was the truth. He didn’t turn to look at Bakura’s reaction.

Bakura laughs and follows him out of the museum. Malik stops after they cross the street. None of the alarms have been tripped but Malik doesn’t know how Bakura got in. Judging by how quick and ready he was to kill Malik, and his answer to Malik’s question about the crocodile, he’s certain Bakura doesn’t have many scruples about murder.

“I think you’re telling the truth,” Bakura says, and Malik frowns because it sounds like that amuses Bakura more than anything else. Malik’s hate for the Pharaoh is no laughing matter though it’s not like he’s said enough for Bakura to know that. “If you don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll find you, and ask you again.”

“I’m terrified,” Malik says, bored. He watches the streetlight change and wishes for his phone again.

“I’m not usually this polite.”

“And what makes me so special?”

Bakura tucks his knife into the pocket of his jacket.

“You reek of magic, boy. I can smell it.”

“Smell? What, are you an animal?” Malik doesn’t care for the lives of the crocodiles but he won’t lead Bakura to the hotel where they’re staying. His father, Ishizu, and Rishid are there.

“Tomorrow,” Bakura repeats. “In the museum. At noon.”

Malik glares at him out of the corner of his eye and says nothing. Bakura seems to take his answer as a ‘yes’ and he walks off with a cheery wave. Malik turns on his heel and returns to the car, waiting for Jamar to return.

By his watch it takes forty three minutes and Jamar’s eyes nearly bug out when he sees Malik lounging on the front hood.

“You weren’t at the museum,” Jamar hisses.

“I didn’t think it wise to stick around,” Malik says, affecting an innocence they both know he doesn’t possess.

Jamar says nothing more out loud but Malik smirks to himself. It’s easy to tell that Jamar is inwardly cursing him.

Malik doesn’t ask about Omar. But Jamar doesn’t wait for him so Malik supposes he knows the answer. That should be enough to dissuade him from Bakura’s proposed meeting tomorrow but it does the opposite. Bakura is dangerous.

And none of his family knows it.

Malik hides his smile behind his hand. Now to figure out how to make that meeting.

Chapter Text

As expected, Ishizu searches him out the next day. Rishid always gives him space though he’s still in the hotel courtyard. And his father never humors his bad moods. She frowns at him and the cigarette he is pretending to smoke. He hates the smell and taste, but his father only glares at his supposed poor taste, while Ishizu deplores the supposed bad habit he’s picked up.

“Please don’t tell me Father is calling for me. I’m not in the mood to be yelled at again,” Malik says, carefully holding the cigarette away from Ishizu. He does like the smoke curls; it looks cool, like in the movies and tv shows.

“He’s not. But you know he’s only concerned for you. Last night there shouldn’t have been any trouble and a medjay returns dead,” Ishizu says, sitting next to him even as she wrinkles her nose at the smoke.

“I couldn’t help it. Jamar isn’t even sure how it happened,” Malik lies.

“I know. Father doesn’t blame you for this, truly. He’s just worried at how it could have been you. You’re the heir to our clan, and his legacy, Malik. Our future is riding on your shoulders.”

“He’s invested plenty of time into me, I agree,” Malik says.

Ishizu gives him a sad look.

“Malik. You know he doesn’t think of you like that. You’re his son.”

Malik sighs and makes sure it’s long. Ishizu’s face falls further and he has to fight now to smile. She’s far too predictable.

“It doesn’t feel that way. I couldn’t help anything last night and he just won’t listen to me, Ishizu. I verified that the piece had been moved to the museum. Jamar was with me the whole time, he can attest to that. We’re not even sure who killed Omar. But these are all failures on me, and it’s all my fault.”

“No one blames you,” Ishizu says firmly.

“The medjay do.”

“The croc-the medjay’s opinions are simply that, opinions,” Ishizu says hotly and Malik has to fight another smile down. Even his sister believes the medjay are beasts, and it warms his heart.

“I guess,” Malik says, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Ishizu sighs and looks over at Rishid. She clasps her hands on the table, probably restraining herself from taking the cigarette right out of Malik’s mouth. It’s been a while since she’s done that. He’s old enough that Ishizu will take him seriously.

“Malik, I don’t think Father will call for you for a while. Would you like to accompany me out today? I’m not doing anything terribly exciting but I think you should get out more.”

Malik pretends to think it over.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble, sister,” he says slowly, for he is sincere in that.

“Ah yes, but perhaps I choose to take that risk,” Ishizu says with a smile.

“I would like to,” he says softly.

“Then come with me. I’ll bear the brunt of Father’s anger. You needn’t worry.”

Malik puts out the cigarette.

“Alright. I won’t let Father be angry at just you though. It’s better if he simply stays angry with me rather than spreading it around. But I would like to get out for a while.”

“Wonderful,” Ishizu says, and they stand up together, Ishizu taking his arm. “Meri is already in my room with the door locked. Rishid will tell Father that I’ve invited you in for a talk. You do know how I try to talk to you after a row with Father so it’s completely believable. And Meri knows to keep the door locked no matter how much Father or the other servants try to get in.”

Malik smiles and nods. He does appreciate these outings that Ishizu arranges, though it’s not what he truly wants; it’s still within the clan and amongst the Ishtars. Ishizu has no qualms about taking along a tomb guardian or two when she wishes to go out. And Father allows her more freedom since she isn’t the heir.

It’s really a shame too since Ishizu seems like she would suit the role better. She even bears the scars on her back, as all of the Ishtar bloodline do, though she carries them with dignity and considers it an honor. Her hair is cut short so if the Pharaoh ever returns she will be able to show him her back without taking a precious second to move her hair out of the way. Ishizu is devoted to the clan despite everything.

Malik will never understand that.

He listens, feigning interest in her plans for the day, and tries to keep the location of the museum in his mind. The medjay and servants may be the ones driving them around but that’s no reason why he would sit back and just allow it. He’s trapped by the orders of the clan but he can’t be forbidden to look at his surroundings.

He does accompany Ishizu to one store. When he’d been younger these outings had been joys until the reality that he was still just as caged with her as he was with the rest of his family sunk it.

Malik watches as she smiles at him. Ishizu doesn’t consider the Ishtars to be under a burden. His sister, intelligent as she is, can’t see how terrible their lot truly is. That is the curse of the Ishtar clan. No one can see. But Malik can.

And perhaps he can do something about it now.

Malik pretends to linger a bit in the shops and once Ishizu is a foot away, he ducks into a crowd, taking a hoodie he had bought and slips it on, making sure to flip the hood to cover his head. He slouches and tries to blend in.

As a child he’d gotten lost before and Ishizu had never called their father. Those times had been few, for Malik had never liked being lost, as thrilling as the novelty of being alone was. And he’d always been found quickly.

And especially now that he is older, Ishizu won’t call their father unless she thinks something terrible could have happened.

Probably nothing terrible will happen.

Malik grins as the museum come into view. He quickly pays for a museum ticket and goes inside. It looks completely different in the daytime and with the lights on. Malik loops through once and sees no sign of Bakura, though Malik is early, and he ends up hovering around the Ancient Egypt exhibit.

He’d picked up a few bits of history from spending so much time studying them in order to break in and steal pieces. Most times they’re a bust. There just aren’t that many pieces left around. His father estimates there are ten pieces unaccounted for. And museums never know what to call them other than pieces of gold.

Which is not wrong, but they’re far more than just gold.

Malik loops around the museums exhibits again, and he has to fight down his irritation once it nears one o clock. Bakura has no idea how much effort it took Malik to get here, of course, and Malik has no plans of letting him know. But it’s only polite to show up on time, particularly when Bakura was the one insistent on coming here.

“Oh, so you did show up,” Bakura says, sounding a little disappointed.

Malik frowns. .

“Were you looking forward to tracking me down?” he asks, a little dryly.

“Vastly.”

“I’m sorry to have ruined that for you.”

“No you’re not,” Bakura says. He grins and they stand in front of some pots and vases, vaguely pretending to stare at them. “Though since you’re here, you might as well tell me how you know of the Items. And why you believe you could possible know more about them than I do.”

Malik sticks his hands in his pockets. The gold of the puzzle pieces is comforting. He glances at Bakura.

“I’ve researched them all of my life.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“If you were smart you’d be able to figure it out from that,” Malik says, and he nearly laughs at the scowl Bakura shows. “Now a question from me. How did you get that Item?”

“It’s always been mine,” Bakura says with a dark chuckle. He brings his hand up to caress it. “Now if you’re smart you should be able to figure it out from that.”

“You’re just repeating my words. How dull,” Malik says but his mind whirls with possibilities. The puzzle bears the pharaoh’s soul. If the puzzle can contain a soul, perhaps the other items can as well, though Malik can’t be sure whose soul would be trapped in another of the items.

He looks Bakura over again. Bakura watches for him, waiting to see if he understands.

“I assume you’re not lying,” Malik says.

“Why would I lie?” Bakura asks cheerfully. “I have nothing to hide from you, nothing to fear from you. I want information. And you want something as well.”

“Is that a question?”

“No. You’ll tell me that on your own. I want to know why you’re after the puzzle pieces.”

“Maybe to see if I can solve it.”

“I don’t give a shit for ‘maybes’. I want your reason.”

“I don’t have a reason. I don’t want to. The pieces can stay lost forever for all I care,” Malik says, keeping the hostility out of his voice only because they were still in public. It’s only just barely that he manages though.

Bakura stares at him.

“You’re telling the truth, I’m sure. But you’re not telling the whole truth.”

“Bravo,” Malik says.

“Hmph.”

“Why do you want the puzzle pieces?” Malik asks.

“I don’t want just the puzzle pieces. I want all of the Millennium Items.”

Malik carefully does not look at Bakura. Any one of the Items holds immeasurable power. All seven could destroy the world. But just getting the seven items isn’t enough. A shiver crawls down Malik’s back.

“What’s your family name?” Bakura asks, and Malik laughs a little.

“So you have heard of the Ishtars,” he says, and it’s a relief to admit it without having had to say it.

“Rumors. Stories. I never thought any one would be so stupid,” Bakura says. He walks over to stand in front of another painting. Malik is certain he doesn’t know anything about art and that they’re all one and the same to him. He follows. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tomb guardian.”

“That’s a compliment,” Malik says.

“No wonder you’ve been difficult with me. Your family probably has a sizable portion of the pieces,” Bakura says with a sharp grin.

Malik absently wonders if Bakura would pull out a knife right here in public. He’s only just met the man and he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“You’d be surprised. People run off with the pieces all the time. They think having a piece is enough to bargain for their freedom.” It never is. The medjay don’t negotiate. They return with the pieces each time.

"Still."

"Still," Malik admits and he pulls the piece from his pocket. Bakura looks over after a moment and his eyes light up. "Here."

Bakura doesn't reach for it. He narrows his eyes.

"What do you want in exchange?"

"Nothing yet."

"Oh?"

"I told you who I was. That's what you wanted to know, right? Are you satisfied with that alone?"

Bakura grins but doesn't speak for a moment. He reaches out and takes the piece, his fingernails scraping against Malik's palm.

"I'm right here and I sensed nothing. There's magic clinging to you. It's difficult to tell it all apart."

That's not too surprising. Between the pieces of the puzzle, the two millennium items, and the sigils carved in his back, Malik's surprised he isn't outright glowing with all the magic he deals with.

Bakura runs his fingers over the piece, touching each centimeter of the gold as if to verify that it is real. He pockets the piece and looks at the painting in front of them.

"I'm still not sure what you want."

"I want to kill the pharaoh."

Bakura looks at him in surprise and then at seeing his serious expression barks out in laughter. Malik pushes down his irritation. He’s certain Bakura would only laugh more.

"You want the same, right? That's why you want the pieces of the puzzle."

"I suppose in the end I do,” Bakura says, thinking a little on it now. “But his death is incidental. It is an inevitability. His arrival is necessary. I certainly want the puzzle put together.”

Malik doesn’t say anything. There are mentions of a Door to Darkness. What that precisely entails, he doesn’t know; he’s certain that even his father doesn’t know. With just the items, Bakura would be powerful, but that door would be shut to him.

But with Malik’s help he’d be one step closer to that.

“The Ishtars have been searching for the puzzle pieces for centuries,” Malik says. He clenches his fists. “Our lives are not our own. We’ve lived trapped. I want to kill the pharaoh and free my clan.”

“How noble,” Bakura says. He’s amused again.

“My father and sister and brother don’t agree. They’re all devoted.” Malik pauses. “No, they’re fools.”

Bakura doesn’t say anything. He frowns a little now.

“And you follow these fools’ orders?” Bakura asks.

“There is a branch of Ishtars known as the medjay,” Malik says slowly. He’s giving away a secret of the Ishtar clan and he can hear his father’s and Ishizu’s voices in the back of his head, telling him as a child to never trust outside people, to always keep their family secret. “When someone runs away, or attempts to, they stop them. I tried as a child. I failed each time. They will follow, all the more if I bring pieces of the puzzle.”

“Interesting.” Bakura licks his lips. It’s a challenge for him. But then, Malik wouldn’t take a chance on Bakura if he were frightened off at the mere suggestion of a pursuit. Bakura pulls out the puzzle piece again and looks it over. Then he pockets it once more and turns to face Malik. “There’s more you’re not telling me. I want to know it all. But I suspect I could ask you for months and never know it all. So perhaps you do have some value to coming along with me.”

“Perhaps?” Malik says, smiling a little despite himself.

“Get me the rest of the pieces and I’ll take you with me.”

Malik laughs. “I’ll get you ten more. And whatever else I can find.”

“‘Whatever else’?” Bakura repeats, narrowing his eyes at him.

“It’ll be a surprise. You don’t want to ruin it, do you? I swear you won’t be disappointed.”

Bakura studies him then nods.

“Tomorrow,” Bakura says.

“In a week,” Malik counters as he writes Bakura’s phone number on his museum ticket. “It’ll take me time.”

Bakura scowls but doesn’t argue further. He turns on his heel and leaves without another word. Malik stays for a minute longer. He has to get back to Ishizu before she panics too much more. But he doesn’t want to. He’s bargained for his freedom. To go back to the trappings of his clan makes his lungs constrict and leaves him choking.

He makes his way back to the shopping center he left Ishizu at, making sure to catch as many red lights as possible and to take the long way back. After about ten minutes of careful wandering, he finds one of the clan members there, anxiously looking around while failing to appear casual.

Ishizu doesn’t look anymore composed but she at least maintains something resembling calm till they get into the car.

“I don’t take you on these trips so you can get lost, Malik,” she says, hands clenched in her lap. There’s no anger in her eyes, just fear, and Malik’s heart aches. His sister shouldn’t be so worried. They should have the freedom to walk around as they please.

“I’m sorry,” he says honestly. “I only wanted to look around. I didn’t mean it.”

Ishizu sighs and says nothing more. She’s disappointed in him. She’ll never say it but Malik can feel it emanating from her.

“Do you ever wish you would be the one to lead the clan instead of I, sister?” Malik asks, unable to help himself.

“Malik?” Ishizu is surprised and for a moment her disappointment is gone.

Malik doesn’t say anything. If only he could confide in her as he used to when he was a child. Ishizu doesn’t tell his secrets to their father but Malik doesn’t know what she’d do if he made any actions against the clan. The clan is just as much blood and family as Malik is to her.

He doesn’t want to know who she would pick if caught between the two. But soon he might not have a choice. He may find out regardless of his desires.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the heir,” Malik mutters to himself and stares out the tinted window.

Ishizu has forgone a good deal of her shopping so they arrive at their expected time. Their father is none the wiser to their adventures, Malik’s least of all, and when Malik enters their shared room, he says nothing.

Malik lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. It’s still the afternoon and though Malik’s mind is sick at the thought of doing any clan business, when his father calls to him Malik still gets up and obeys. He’s not free. Not yet.

Chapter Text

Malik had told Bakura a week but that wouldn’t be necessary and he’d known it then. He’s an Ishtar and the heir to the Lord; only the medjay will raise an eyebrow at any request he makes. The rest of the tomb keepers won’t think twice about it. They’ll assume that his father sent him.

The puzzle pieces are in his father’s possession at all times. But Malik always shares a room with him. There’s nothing difficult about lifting those.

The items are slightly more difficult. His father hides those from everyone and even Malik has only seen them a few times. But there’s only so much space and Malik knows his father would never entrust them to a stranger.

After a quick search Malik finds them under a cabinet. He holds the Tauk and the Rod for a moment. The metal feels unnaturally warm and almost pulses with something like a heartbeat. If the Puzzle and Ring contain spirits could these ones also have some? There’s little that Malik knows about them; his father would have taught him more about the items once he was older.

Malik shoves them in a bag with a grin. He won’t have anymore rules and traditions to follow. He’ll finally be free. If Ishizu and his father want to waste their lives for some dead pharaoh that’ll be their problem now, not his.

Malik opens the door and nearly runs into Rishid. He has to blink a few times to be sure he isn’t hallucinating.

“Hey,” Malik says, trying to get past him, but Rishid doesn’t move. “Rishid!”

“Master Malik, your father asked me to be sure you didn’t leave your room.”

Malik freezes. This isn’t the first time he’s been kept in the room for no reason. His father has whims and moods and the rest of the clan follows them. They’ve happened more as he’s grown older but when he’s nearly obsessive about keeping the clan safe and healthy, most people are fine with turning a blind eye to some of his doings.

Malik wouldn’t fault them if he weren’t the one taking the brunt of his father’s idiosyncrasies.

“I’m not going to stay here,” Malik says softly. He’s done with the clan and their sacred duty.

Rishid frowns in confusion.

“Rishid. Move.” Malik says, clenching his fists. “Please.”

Rishid hesitates and looks around then back at him.

“Master Malik?”

“I’m leaving. And you won’t stop me. So I suggest you move, brother, because I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Rishid eyes the bag slung over Malik’s back but he doesn’t say anything. He steps forward and closes the door.

“What are you talking about?” He asks softly.

“I’m not saying it again. I’m leaving. I don’t want to be a tombkeeper anymore. I won’t serve any pharaoh who makes a family do this to their child,” Malik says bitterly and he doesn’t even have to explain. Rishid remembers his screams and the agonizing months of recovery after the initiation. He has his own scars to match.

Rishid says nothing but Malik can see that he’s thinking. He can even see the moment when Rishid makes his decision.

“I’m coming with you,” he says.

“No,” Malik says but he sounds less certain of this. Rishid will get punished if he stays behind and Malik is gone. The thought only just occurs to Malik and there’s a modicum of guilt in his belly now. But it’s not enough to make him reconsider.

Rishid smiles for a moment.

“Then I’ll follow you, Master Malik. I only want you to be safe. I swore that to myself long ago. I don’t wish to break that vow.”

“Fine,” Malik says. “Fine then. But you won’t call me ‘master’. Understood?”

Rishid nods and Malik sighs in relief to himself. He can take Rishid as a brother; he will not take him as a servant. Malik will shed every trapping of tomb guardian clan that he possibly can.

Chapter Text

Rishid doesn’t know what Malik carries in his bag but he makes the astute guess that he’s got puzzle pieces in it. Perhaps it’s not a guess so much as what everyone does when they try to escape the Ishtars. But he keeps Malik from walking out the door without any precautions and it’s two hours later that they’re driving away in one of the Ishtars’ cars.

“How long do you think it’ll take before they realize we’re gone?” Malik asks, unworried. He won’t get caught, and he won’t get dragged back. Malik will have his freedom. The decision eases away the worst of his fears. Rishid being by his side takes care of the rest. He’s not so foolish as to think he’s free yet but it will happen as long as he doesn’t do anything monumentally stupid.

“Hopefully not till tomorrow.” Rishid shows no outward signs of nerves but Malik can see the way his eyes are flickering everywhere, looking for medjay and enemies.

Malik pats his bags, smiling at the clink of gold, and pulls out his phone to call Bakura.

“Hello?”

Malik frowns a little. The timbre of the voice is similar but that doesn’t sound like Bakura. It’s too soft and frightened. He hangs up and dials again.

“Um. Hello? Did the call drop?”

The same voice but Malik definitely has the right number.

“Is Bakura there?” Malik asks finally. Something is going on here and he’s not sure what to say. He’d never thought about Bakura’s situation before. But Bakura hadn’t mentioned anything about someone else taking his calls or answering his phone.

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to him?”

There’s a pause that Malik doesn’t like.

“You are talking to me. To him. Me. I’m Bakura Ryou, is what I mean to say. That is who you’re trying to call, right? Who are you?”

Now Malik is just confused. He pulls the phone away and stares at it, aware that Rishid is watching him, curious about what’s going on. Malik puts the phone back to his ear and taps his fingers against his knee.

“We talked the other day,” Malik says carefully.

There’s a strange sound and Malik pulls the phone away to stare at it again. It’s an inhuman noise, as if someone was getting dragged away, and it chills Malik down to his very essessence.

“Malik, are you still there?” The voice sounds tiny away from his ear but it’s the Bakura that Malik knows.

“What was that?” Malik asks. He’d determined to get an answer.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Do you expect me to believe that?”

Bakura sighs. “I have enemies, alright? It’s a safeguard. Sorry if it frightened you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Malik says, clenching his fist. The urge to punch Bakura in the face is growing and he hadn’t even been talking to the man for more than a minute.

“Of course. Now to what do I owe this call?”

“I’m ahead of schedule. Thought I’d get ourselves on the road and away from this all. Unless you still have business to take care of?” Malik smiles at the passing scenery then turns to Rishid and gives him an even wider grin. His plans hadn’t included his brother coming along for the ride but now that Malik has him here, he finds that many of his anxieties have fallen to the back of his mind.

“You were my only business.” Bakura laughs. “An eager partner is a welcome thing though, Ishtar.”

“Malik,” he answers frostily. He won’t disown his name, but he is more than just an Ishtar.

“Malik,” Bakura confirms, and Malik rather likes the sound of his name in Bakura’s mouth. It sounds strong. “If you’ve none of those ‘crocodiles’ chasing you then meet me at my hotel room. I’ll text you the address. Then if you’ve kept your promise I’ll keep mine to take you along with me.”

Malik hangs up without another word.

“He’s a bastard,” Malik says to Rishid, attempting to sound pissed off but entirely too pleased with himself.

“Who is?” Rishid says.

Malik blinks and the reality of having Bakura and Rishid meet crashes upon him.

“A man I met. He’s going to help us escape.”

“Is he trustworthy?” Rishid says without looking at him.

Malik turns to stare out the window. Bakura and trust are not words he imagines go together well. But he has assurance, and that’s similar to trust.

“I think that’s the wrong question, Rishid,” Malik says, and Rishid doesn’t say anything. Malik turns to look at him.“But you trust me, don’t you, brother?”

“Of course I do,” Rishid says.

“And I trust you. So believe me; you and I will be fine. We will thrive. I swear it to you.”

“I believe you.”

Malik doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t doubt Rishid’s faith in him, but Rishid still has to meet Bakura. Malik stops thinking about that meeting.

They arrive at Bakura’s hotel soon after and go straight up. Malik knocks at the door and Bakura answers promptly, grinning still he sees Rishid and freezes.

“Who is he?” Bakura asks. He hasn’t moved aside to let Malik in and he’s looking at Rishid with distaste.

“My brother. Move,” Malik says.

“Your brother.” Bakura glances at Malik. “You didn’t mention a brother.”

“Rishid wants to come. Now out of the way,” Malik says and pushes Bakura. He goes inside and now Bakura can see the bag at his side.

“Does he know?” Bakura says, gesturing with his head towards Rishid.

“Yes, he knows about the puzzle and the Items. I tell Rishid everything. Get used to it,” Malik says, still holding tightly onto his bag.

Bakura folds his arms.

“Your brother coming along wasn’t part of the plan, Malik.”

“Take this and stop complaining,” Malik says, throwing the whole bag at him. He’s bringing Rishid now and nothing Bakura says will change that.

Bakura rips into the bag and he breaks into a huge grin at the sight of the Millennium Rod and Necklace. Malik watches him and makes certain not to move. It’s fascinating how enraptured Bakura is by the Items. He touches every bit of them, same as he did with the puzzle piece back at the museum. The gold pieces clink against each other, the only sound in the room as Malik waits for the answer he knows will come.

“He can stay,” Bakura declares and takes the two Items out, holding them as near reverently as Malik thinks he can be.

“I’m so glad I have your permission,” Malik says but Bakura ignores him, still too enraptured by the Items.

Malik pushes down his irritation and looks at Rishid. Rishid is staring at Bakura, his face carefully blank, but Malik knows his tells; he’s not at all pleased by this plan. He goes over and touches his arm to get his attention.

“You can go back,” Malik murmurs to him, and Rishid gives him a look as answer. Malik smiles inwardly then turns to Bakura. “Stop salivating, it’s disgusting.”

“Shut up,” Bakura says but he does return the Items to the bag. “Though you have exceeded my expectations, so I suppose you deserve to come along with me.”

“You say that like I should be honored by your praise. I’m not that simple,” Malik says. He frowns at the one bedroom. “Are we staying here for the night?”

“No. Your family will be after you, so we will leave. Freedom isn’t something that should ever wait,” Bakura says and Malik doesn’t believe him but the words sound good to him, and even better coming from Bakura’s mouth.

And he wants to leave as soon as possible so he bites down the retort on the tip of his tongue and nods. Bakura won’t be able to use him that easily though that’s something he’ll probably have to learn the hard way.

Chapter Text

Bakura grabs his own stuff and gestures at them to hurry up.

“You can both drive, correct? We’ll go as far as we can to start so we can get away from any pursuers. And we have rather a lot to discuss, Malik. Starting with why I don’t have all of the Ishtar pieces of the puzzle.”

“If I took them all my father would move the earth and sky to get them back,” Malik says. His lord father will be determined even if Malik left with nothing. “The Ishtars can’t afford to let the whole of the medjay loose to find me.”

Bakura climbs into the back and forgoes his seatbelt so he can hang around Malik’s headrest, fingers occasionally playing with Malik’s hair. He thinks on that for a minute.

“Wouldn’t you like your clan to dissolve into chaos?”

“Not particularly,” Malik says. His people are sick in mind and if he destroys their promise to the pharaoh, he can free them of that. But they aren’t terrible people all on their own. Ishizu and Rishid are testament enough to that. Away from the curse of the Ishtars Malik is sure they can both thrive.

“Hmph.” Bakura yanks on one of his hairs, pulling it right out of his head, and Malik reaches up to slap him away.

“Stop that,” Malik says absently. “I can’t tell you anything about the other Items but that’s because I don’t know. I’ve heard rumors about the Scale, Eyes, and Key. It’s said that a ghost protects them.”

“A ghost,” Bakura repeats with a laugh.

“Yes. The Ishtar clan is old, but not so old; originally the clan was underground but at some point there was a split. We went aboveground and sought out the puzzle pieces. The other faction, well, we lost contact with them centuries ago.”

“Oh?”

“There’s bad blood between the two. We made few attempts to keep tabs on them.” Malik pauses. “There’s not much written about them even amongst our records. Some say their ghosts still protect the Items.”

“Ghosts can’t do anything like protect,” Bakura says. “It’s not in our nature.”

Malik turns around a little to look at him. “You don’t seem like a ghost.”

Bakura shrugs. “Ghost, spirit. They’re similar, aren’t they?”

“You’re far too annoying for a dead person. Only the living can pester like you can.”

Bakura tugs on a strand of Malik’s hair again though it’s soft this time. “I’m a thief and professional irritant.”

“That hardly seems like a profession.”

“Think of it as a side quality of the job.”

“That’s stupid, shut up.”

“Do you have any suggestions for our next destination then? I follow where the Ring but I get the feeling that won’t satisfy you.” Bakura sounds a little insulted, but he’s making a compromise for Malik without asking for anything in return and a thrill goes up Malik’s spine as he realizes that.

“Yes, well,” Malik starts slow, “there is something I’ve been meaning to look into. Have you heard of Duel Monsters?”

“The card game?” Bakura asks in surprise.

“The very one.”

“What.”

“My sister and father had some business a while ago with it. An American man visited my father. I wasn’t privy to the finer details, but the man mentioned a power beyond his control hidden in the game.”

Rishid stiffens as he realizes what Malik is talking about. Malik says nothing to him. He’s made his decision and Rishid has made his. And Malik won’t change his mind.

“Go on,” Bakura says, sounding a little interested now.

“The puzzle isn’t the only key you need for your goals. You need the God Ka as well.” Malik closed his eyes. “The man who came hid his [right] eye the entire time. But my sister told me later that he possessed the Millennium Eye. I believe he trapped the God Ka into the cards themselves.”

“If he had an Item it’s certainly possible,” Bakura says slowly. He mulls it over. “You say ‘ka’. Do you mean like a monster’s spirit?”

“No, but I suppose they mean they same to you.” Malik frowns a little at Bakura but he stays facing forward. How can Bakura have an Item and control of it without knowing of the monsters he can control with it? What powers does the Ring possess that he’d be satisfied without knowing of the true nature of the items?

Bakura thinks on it more and Malik patiently waits.

“You’re saying the card game then holds these gods?”

“God Ka,” Malik corrects. “They aren’t the Gods themselves. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh excuse me, I didn't realize I was speaking to such a devoted man,” Bakura says with a huff. The air hits Malik’s neck and he feels the hairs on his skin raise and a delightful shiver passes through him.

“The point I’m trying to make is, they’re powerful, and we both need them.”

“Are you proposing we share them?”

“You only need them for a while,” Malik says. He smirks at little though he doesn’t turn to Bakura to face him. “And if you can’t share for that long then you’ve got some issues to work out before you can handle a God Ka.”

Bakura grins and settles for flicking Malik’s hair into his face for the rest of the drive. Malik and Rishid switch, and Malik continues on, though Bakura just moves over to his side of the car and continues to bother him.

They stop at a hotel and Bakura pays, flashing a credit card and telling them not to worry about it. Malik doesn’t ask though he doesn’t miss how Rishid becomes uneasy even as Bakura gets his own room. He doesn’t say anything to Rishid though preferring to fall asleep.

“I don’t know if I believe you about these God Ka cards. It sounds ridiculous,” Bakura says the next morning, waking Malik up.

Malik stares up at him and says nothing. He does manage a tiny glare at Rishid for letting Bakura into their room while Malik is more asleep than awake. Rishid goes to the bathroom.

“You’re certain we need these? I know of the Items. I’ve never heard of these cards.”

Blurry Bakura is just as irritating as regular Bakura and Malik rubs at his eyes hoping it’ll clarify something. It doesn’t help at all. He sits up and stares at Bakura, hoping he doesn’t look as asleep as he feels.

“The reason no one knows about the cards,” Malik says slowly, “is because we kept everything a secret. The legend of the puzzle and the Items is far beyond just the Ishtars. But the cards are a smaller aspect of the whole thing. In truth we have the tablets that contained them. We noticed the change right away but we didn’t know what it meant. But the essences of the monsters now no longer reside in the tablets but in these cards.”

“I think I would have heard about something like that,” Bakura insists.

“Why would you? The medjay do their job,” Malik snaps and tears his blanket off as he gets up from his bed. The crocodiles are well fed and they are the ones who keep the Ishtars’ secrets safe from the world. They are the last line of defense. And they are well aware of it. Failure is not acceptable to them.

Bakura studies him then shrugs.

“If you think you need this then that’s fine. Sooner or later I’ll locate another puzzle piece. And then you’ll just have to follow me.”

Malik blinks again and ignores Bakura. Whatever the man is planning, Malik won’t agree to any plans while he’s still asleep. That’ll only get him into trouble.

Rishid comes out of the bathroom and he looks mildly offended at Bakura, who glares at him then leaves. Malik waits until he’s sure Bakura is gone; Rishid won’t speak in front of Bakura, he can already tell, but that’s alright. There are some topics of discussion Malik won’t share with Bakura.

“Do you know much about the god ka, Rishid?” Malik asks.

Rishid shakes his head.

“I know of their existence and of the day the man with the Eye came but little more than that.” He stares at Malik’s stomach, as if he can see through where the scars that denoted their importances are etched on Malik’s back. Malik glares at him and Rishid turns his gaze elsewhere.

“It’s alright. I know plenty. And if not I can figure out a way to learn more,” Malik says. He stretches and then begin to get ready for the day. Their main priority is still putting as much distance between themselves and the medjay, who are no doubt after them by now. It makes Malik’s blood rush to think of walking out right under his father's nose with not only most of the puzzle pieces but the Items as well.

Once they are back on the road towards [Memphis] Malik turns around to ask Bakura something.

“The puzzle is in pieces, right? So are you going to attempt to put it together?”

Bakura lounges in the backseat and at the question, he ponders it for a few minutes.

“I don’t think so. Or rather, I don’t think I could,” he says with a dark chuckle. “It’s a puzzle that someone will put together and when they do, I’ll be ready for the pharaoh.”

“So your plan has only been to gather the pieces. You really thought this plan through, didn’t you.”

“And I suppose you are going to be the one to put it together?” Bakura shoots back.

“I’ve tried,” Malik says. His father had forced him and Ishizu to try countless times. Without all of the pieces trying to put a puzzle together is a fool’s errand, of course, but at the same time, Malik has held the pieces. The puzzle is not for him to solve, he can feel it.

Though that does beg the question of who will solve it and allow Malik to have his complete and utter revenge. And if Bakura will beat him to it or not, because despite what Bakura claims, Malik is sure he also wants the pharaoh dead.

“How does that thing work?” Malik asks later when they’ve stopped for lunch. Rishid is probably mentally grimacing at the lack of nutrition in the meal but Malik lets him alone. It’s better he fret over that than continue to stare at Bakura.

“My Ring is not a ‘thing’,” Bakura says icily. As coldly as one can when they’re stuffing their face with fast food. He swallows and his glare is much more intimidating when his cheeks aren’t bulging with food. “You’ll pay it the proper respect, Malik.”

“I grew up doing nothing but respecting the Items so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m all out of the shit,” Malik snaps.

Bakura’s expression changes in a blink as he laughs instead.

“Then you should know all about it, Ishtar.”

Malik grips his plastic fork and wishes it were made of metal.

“I told you to call me by name,” he says softly.

“This Ring is mine. It always has been and always will be. Treat it as you’d treat me,” Bakura says, eyes on his food, comfortable again now.

Malik eyes the Item. The Ring was in the keep of the other clan for as long as the Ishtars’ records go back. It never served anyone and its powers are a mystery. Malik doesn’t doubt that Bakura is its true owner but he does wonder why.

“Fine. How does your Item work?”

“I’ll know. It will tell me. And then I follow.”

“That’s all it does? It tracks the other Items?”

“Of course that’s not all it does,” Bakura says, nearly snapping at him but reigning himself in at the last moment. He lowers his voice. “It’s an Item. You know what that entails.”

“We’re partners now,” Malik says, and he doesn’t miss the way Rishid flinches ever so slightly next to him. “That means we have to share what we know.”

“Oh? And have you been telling me everything that you know?”

“I have.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true you wouldn’t know if I’ve been lying to you or not. But tell me this; have you felt like I’ve been lying to you? Because you seem like the type of man who would be able to tell a liar.”

Bakura stares at him then looks away, mumbling something. Malik does not smile but that’s because he can control himself.

“The pieces haven’t ever been a problem for me. It’ll take time, and I’ve waited a long enough time for my revenge. Waiting a while yet won’t harm me. But these cards you speak of, I know nothing about them, let alone why we truly need them.”

“I’ve told you, you will need them for only a moment. I’ll need them for much longer. Which makes them my task, not yours.”

“You’re not answering me,” Bakura drops his voice but that doesn’t frighten Malik so much as send a chill up his spine.

“We’re in public,” Malik says without flinching. He finishes the rest of his salad and it isn’t until he’s done that he looks up to see Bakura glaring at him, plastic fork twisted in his hand. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? Even if my father wasn’t chasing us, I’m not going to tell you everything in public where anyone can hear us.”

“You’re a coward.”

“Call me what you will, it won’t change anything. But we talk in private, Bakura.”

“See, this is what I can’t figure out,” Bakura says, and Malik does not like his tone. “You don’t seem like a coward. But when it comes to your father you are. What could have happened there I wonder?”

“It’s probably not whatever you’re thinking of,” Malik says, and he manages a smile which only confuses Bakura further. In this partnership the day will have to come sooner or later when Malik will show him the scars upon his back. But it’s still too soon and Malik won’t do it until it’s absolutely necessary.

“Malik, we should continue,” Rishid says, breaking into their conversation, and Malik wants to glare at him for some unknown reason. He settles for nodding, holding back a laugh at the jump Bakura gives when he hears Rishid speak.

Once they’re safely in the car, Rishid having taken the keys away from him, and Bakura’s face right up against his own, already becoming strangely alright with that, Malik continues.

“I can find the cards using one of the Items. And we can keep one step ahead of my father as well.”

Rishid can’t suppress a gasp. Malik glances at him but he keeps his attention on Bakura who has lit up at the idea and possibilities.

“How?” he demands.

“I’ll show you.”

When they arrive at a motel they all share a room. Malik pays no attention to the way Bakura is glaring at everything. Rishid is staring worriedly at Malik. He ignores him too.

Malik pulls the Necklace out and holds it in his hands. He’s never held the Items before. His father guarded them almost jealously. Ishizu had worried that their father had been besotted by the Items but Malik had never thought that. Father was just paranoid. He was right to have been.

Bakura stops and joins in staring at him. There’s far too much in his gaze, and Malik can’t even begin to pick out a single emotion. He looks away from him and slides the Necklace around his neck, latching it shut and letting it sit at the base of his throat. The metal is warm and soft, as gold should be, but it’s much heavier now.

Nothing happens for a few minutes and Bakura starts to twitch, but Malik doesn’t worry. The Items are not inanimate. There is something to them, and it never does to rush magic.

The colors in the room start to change, subtle at first, then spiraling around him. Malik opens his eyes wide and watches, trying to see everything even as it makes his head hurt. The drab yellows and browns mix and meld, somehow turning dark and bright at the same time.

Malik attempts to control the flow but it’s impossible. The controls and images dance and jerk as they will. Malik is simply along for the ride.

There is no melting of colors or fade; one moment it’s an impossibility the next moment Malik is watching the medjay. He recognizes them by face though he cannot tell if they are on foot or in a vehicle. But he can see in their eyes that they have a purpose.

Malik forces himself to look more, to see where they are, and just as he catches a glimpse of the city they are in, he’s jolted back to the present.

He blinks and looks up to see Rishid and Bakura, both of them staring at him, though he quickly looks away from the hungry look on Bakura’s face. Malik isn’t ready to deal with that. Rishid is welcoming and Malik reaches out to him for a helping hand though he doesn’t brush Bakura’s away.

“You fell down,” Rishid says as he helps Malik stand up. “I managed to catch you. Barely.”

Malik grips onto his arm and tries to breathe. The world is still but somehow that feels wrong now.

“How long?” Malik asks, surprised at how normal his voice sounds.

“A few seconds,” Bakura says. He’s hovering right by Malik’s face and Malik blinks rapidly, wondering when he got there. Bakura’s hand is on Malik’s arm as well.

“Oh.” Malik stares at nothing, unable to focus on the shapes. It’s common furniture, he knows that, but for the life of him he can’t put names to them right now.

HIs limbs are running on autopilot and Rishid guides him to the bed and helps him sit. Malik tries to shake his head to clear his mind. The price for using the Items is high but Malik was born for this and nothing but this. He glances at Bakura and fixates on his Ring. It’s the easiest object to look at in the room, even more so than Rishid, and when he remembers the word for ‘bed’, he relaxes a little.

“The medjay are in [Cairo]. They’re following.”

“Good,” Bakura says, grinning sharp and lethal, and Malik is taken back to the first night they met. He doesn’t doubt that Bakura can handle himself and if he had any concern for the medjay, he’d be more worried about them.

“Malik,” Rishid says, and Malik doesn’t know what to think of his tone.

“It’s alright. We’re still ahead of them. And they don’t yet that we’re after the God Ka.” Malik closes his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. He can’t seem to remember how to breathe normally.

If this is the price for using the Tauk for a few minutes he’s hesitant to try using the Rod next.

“You’re in no position to move anyway,” Bakura says, and he looks serious for once. It doesn’t last for long and then he smiles and something in Malik’s stomach drops. “But hey, at least your soul didn’t burn up.”

“What.”

“It happens.”

Malik manages a laugh. Maybe normal people die when they try to use an Item but he’s an Ishtar. Something like that would have never even been a concern.

“You’re an idiot,” Malik says but he lies down and drags a pillow over his face to block out the light from the lamp. He manages to stay awake for a minute, during which he’s hyper aware of the awkwardness in the room, but he passes out.

When he wakes up hours later it’s still dark and though he can’t see, Malik knows Bakura isn’t in the room. He gets up and goes to the bathroom and once he’s out Rishid is awake.

“Go back to sleep,” Malik says, looking for the clock in the room. It blinks 2:32 AM in red letters and Malik feels wide awake.

“Bakura left soon after you fell asleep,” Rishid says and he turns a lamp on. The light doesn’t hurt after the bright lights in the bathroom but Malik still winces a little at it.

“Good for him. Will you turn that off?”

“He didn’t say where he was going.”

Malik sighs and sits down on the bed.

“What do you want me to say? I’m not surprised. He’s a bastard. But he’ll be here tomorrow morning so there’s nothing to even think about.”

“I suppose.”

“I know you don’t like him,” Malik says, not missing the way Rishid struggles to contain himself at that understatement. “But even so, he has an Item. You know what that means.”

Bakura was always a part of this. Maybe if Malik had never left the Ishtars they would have never run into each other. But there’s no way of knowing such a thing now. Rishid doesn’t look convinced.

“Malik…”

Malik scowls and reaches over to turn the lamp off himself.

“We have the medjay on our tracks. We’ll need our sleep,” he says and he waits until he hears Rishid get on the other bed to move around.

Malik doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and he isn’t even sure that Rishid is asleep when he gets up a half hour later. But if Rishid is awake he’s faking it and Malik will take that. He goes to the outside patio and sits there until Bakura returns two hours later.

“Why are you awake?” he demands.

Malik doesn’t turn on the light and he stares at Bakura through the dark. He can’t see the blood but he can smell it.

“I slept all afternoon,” he says lightly and relaxes against the chair.

Bakura goes to the bathroom without another word then returns, the smell of blood still clinging to him but no longer so strong.

“So you’re awake.”

“So observant.”

“Shut up, Malik. I thought you could handle the Items. You went on and on about how you were an Ishtar and meant to use them. And you couldn’t even handle the Tauk for five minutes.”

“I don’t think it likes me,” Malik says, half in jest and half serious.

“Yes, let’s take the time to get to know the Items.” Bakura says. “Because we have that luxury.”

“I have them. That’s the important part. And the Tauk will let us remain one step ahead of everyone else. For that I will master it.”

“And the Rod?”

Malik didn’t answer for a moment. He knew what the two Items were capable of. But who could he control with it? Bakura had an Item and if Malik thought could have controlled him with the Rod, he would have considered it from the start. And Malik could never use the Rod on Rishid.

“We’ll need an extra something for that one to work,” Malik decides on saying.

“Since when do the Items need additional pieces?” Bakura sneers.

“You’re irritating before you’ve eaten breakfast,” Malik says and he gets up. He’s aware that Rishid has been awake since Bakura returned but there’s only so long he’ll let his brother fake at being asleep. “Rishid, let’s go. We may as well start since we’re all awake.”

Bakura curses as Rishid gets up and he stomps off. Malik hopes it’s to get food. He’d been serious.

They grab some breakfast and Bakura slinks back just as they're ready to leave, no longer pouting and smelling like bacon and eggs. Malik doesn't comment.

They drive for an hour till the sun rises. Malik pulls out the Tauk again and this makes Bakura speak.

"And what are you up to?" Bakura asks.

"I told you, I will master this. The Items were always meant to obey me and I will control them." Malik slips the Tauk around his neck again and this time, the colors start spinning instantly.

Combined with the movement of the car it is nauseating for a few seconds but then it doesn’t even feel like he is in a car anymore. He is lost in that aimless space again and Malik struggles not to fight it and to let himself drift along.

The lights then vanish and before Malik has time to worry that something has gone wrong, he recognizes the people in the room. Malik scowls to himself; he has just left, he has no desire to see his family just yet.

His father is standing up, talking to some of the other Ishtars, barking out orders and deriding Malik, though Malik just chuckles a little to hear it.

His father is a relic of the past. Malik can see beyond, he's always been focused on the future, and for the first time he is certain that the Tauk will obey him. How could it not, when Malik years for the glorious potential of the future more than any other Ishtar?

His father says nothing that Malik doesn’t know. The medjay are following them. The clan is in panic but stable. Malik lets his gaze linger on Ishizu for a bit. She looks devastated, and Malik mourns that he hadn't asked her to come.

But Ishizu would have never left the clan. Her loyalty is admirable but it is misguided, and though she loves Malik dearly, Malik is sure she would have chosen the Ishtars. He doesn’t need the Tauk to see that much.

Then it seems as if his father could see him, and Malik feels his heart thump loudly enough that he is sure everyone in the room can hear it.

But such a thing is impossible. Not even an Ishtar is be capable of seeing through the magic of an Item. After a few minutes his gaze shifts and Malik relaxes; it’s one thing to think about his father's disdain and malice, but it’s another thing to see it directed at him and for the first time Malik realizes how little he knew of his father. He hadn't seen for himself as his father had carved up his back, after all.

And watching his father torment Rishid all of his life is no where near the same.

Malik listens to his father but he keeps his gaze on Ishizu. She is sitting stock still and upright, the perfect Ishtar lady, and Malik suddenly wonders why his father didn't confide in her more. She would be honored to accept leadership of the clan. She never complained about the scars on her back. She wears them proudly.

If only there'd been a chance that she would have come along with him! With Ishizu and Rishid by his side Malik is sure that they wouldn't have any trouble defeating the pharaoh. But no, Ishizu's loyalty is too absolute. Pity.

His father speaks of nothing of the God Ka, to Malik's relief. He will need the element of surprise for that one, for once they realize Malik is after them, they will hide them again, and it will only be that much more difficult to find them.

Malik doubts they will realize why he wanted the Items; that implies they know him and the more time he spends with Bakura the more he realizes that his family and clan had never truly known him. They'd only seen him as the devoted son and future leader they had wanted him to be.

The colors begin to shift again and Malik struggles against them, wanting to hear more. The medjay report they were in on their trail but the more Malik can learn, the better they can keep ahead of the clan. But his struggles only turn him sick and when he returns, he gives a dry heave, determined to keep from puking.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Bakura's voice says but everything is still just shapes. Malik finds a white shape and tries to focus on it, thinking it to be Bakura's hair.

"What?" Malik asks. He still can’t see but he can feel himself moving. "Where-?"

"You can barely use that item while sitting down, what did you think was going to happen when you were in a car while using it? Fool."

Malik feels something against his hair and doesn’t move. It feels nice but most importantly it grounds him. He stays like that for a few minutes as his eyes adjust to seeing the present and he remembers that he'd been in the car. He is no in the back seat, head on Bakura's lap, as Bakura's fingers absently run through his hair.

"How long?" Malik asks, surprised that his voice isn’t as raspy as it feels.

"An hour," Rishid says from the front, and Malik suddenly remembers that he is here. He pushes himself from Bakura's lap and makes to climb in the front but Bakura yanks him back.

"I hope you found something out worth all that hassle," Bakura says.

"Why, were you worried about me?" Malik asks with a smirk.

"I always worry when I work with idiots."

Malik ignores him.

"I found out plenty though perhaps not all of it is for your ears, Bakura. The medjay are a day’s travel away."

"They're close. They must be alternating drivers,” Bakura says.

"Well we knew they wouldn't just send one out after us. I'm sure there's quite a number," Malik says cheerfully.

Rishid glances at him through the rearview mirror but he says nothing.

"I still don't think these guard dogs of yours are anything to worry about," Bakura scoffs.

"Please save your breath and don't say obvious things," Malik says.

"Next time I'll tell your brother you're dead and that we should throw your corpse from the car."

Malik laughs at the idea and Bakura scowls at his own empty words. Rishid doesn’t say anything, but Malik didn’t expect him to. Though Malik is sure he found no humor in the baseless threat.

"The danger in the medjay is not their threat level or how competent they are. And surely it's irritating enough that we have someone following us, isn't it?"

Rishid shifts uncomfortably. The medjay might not kill Malik, but Rishid is a different matter, and they both know it. Bakura doesn’t need to be aware.

"That's true enough, I suppose," Bakura says slowly. He seems to be thinking Malik's words over but Malik doubts that he will understand the actual threat. And Bakura doesn’t need to know everything about the Ishtars. Malik has already told him far more than he should have ever known.

But rebelling from one's family surely has to include breaking centuries old traditions and vows, and Malik is more than pleased to oblige.

"As long as you won't be irritated if I kill them," Bakura says.

Malik smiles.

"I'll join you."

Chapter Text

Bakura seems to be asleep in the back seat but Malik doesn’t trust him. He turns to Rishid and speaks to him in Egyptian but not one that any modern person would recognize.

"I think he's asleep."

"Do you." Rishid says without asking. He is in the passengers side resting, though Malik doubts that he will ever truly sleep again. Perhaps Rishid had felt safest amongst the Ishtars but Malik had only ever been choked and stifled with them.

"I want to try using the Rod."

Rishid doesn’t say anything right away. He opens his eyes though and stares forward at the road as Malik drives. The only light comes from the front lights and it barely pierces through the darkness.

"We'd need to find someone for you to use it on." Rishid says slowly.

"I know that. The Necklace is invaluable but I believe the Rod might be more suited to me."

"I don't know what they do," Rishid admits.

Malik gives a start at that but it makes sense as he thinks about it. His Lord Father has no love for Rishid after all. Though even if Rishid had been declared the heir Malik's back would have still been scarred so perhaps this was all fated.

Malik smiles to himself. He is taking charge of his own destiny, and he has no patience for Fate and Duty. He will do as he pleases.

And what he wants is the Pharaohs crown.

"You've seen the Tauk. It grants the person the power to see into the future. Father always said it was absolute but I have my doubts. What's the point of being able to see an unchangeable future? No, I think it can be altered, but Father and the clan are so bound to a singular future.”

“The Rod can control, Rishid," Malik says and he smiles a little to think about it. "If the Tauk won't bow to me I'm sure the Rod will. It has the power to make others submit to your will. A strong will. I don't imagine I'll need it much. I could never use it on you or Bakura."

"Can't you?" Rishid asks softly.

Malik barely holds back a laugh.

"I don't think I could if only because he has an Item as well. But perhaps I ought to try anyway?"

"I don't believe that would be wise, Malik," Rishid says so softly that Malik barely hears him.

"No, it probably wouldn't," Malik agrees. "But I'm sure he'd have a singular reaction."

Rishid shifts but he says nothing more.

"I mean more towards other people, you know," Malik says. "People in my way, outsiders who could never understand. We don't need to kill everyone who stands in our way like my father does. Sometimes we just need someone to step aside for a moment."

"If you're after the God Cards you'll probably need more than a few people step aside," Rishid says. Then he pauses for a moment. "Though that would be preferable to killing them."

"Exactly. We can get one God Ka by surprise. The second will prove to be the most difficult since my father will discover it. Unless we can control the people and make it seems as though nothing has gone wrong." Malik says, pleased that Rishid has little oppositions.

"You're very at ease about this," Rishid says suddenly, and Malik frowns.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Rishid tries to say but Malik persists.

"Explain yourself. I want to know what you meant."

Rishid hesitates.

"I thought, I didn't think you still hated the Ishtars so much. To oppose them so thoroughly."

Malik hums and says nothing for a while. He glances back at Bakura, who is shifting a little more. It's impossible to tell if the man is asleep or awake.

"I could hardly indulge my anger, Rishid. But now I can. So it's not so surprising."

Bakura makes a noise as he stretches out though he remains asleep but it's enough to silence Rishid. Malik smiles, amused.

"Eventually you'll have to talk in front of one another."

Rishid looks offended at the suggestion and Malik doesn't hide his chuckle.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe you don't know how to drive," Malik complains later on that night as he and Rishid switch again. Rishid lies down in the back seat as much as he can and Malik is thankful that he's so tired he manages to sleep despite the uncomfortable position.

Bakura scowls and taps his fingers against the open window.

"It's different where I, shall we say, grew up. And this body has an age, and laws about that age."

"And when have you cared about laws?" Malik says, laughing at the mere idea.

"It's complex, now shut up," Bakura snarls.

"That's not an explanation," Malik says, though he's less teasing this time around. From the sounds of it Bakura is a spirit of some sort and Malik isn't sure he wants to know about the finer details of it, as curious as he is.

And from a strictly strategical point of view, as well. It wouldn't do him any good to keep quiet and then discover a fatal flaw later on that could undo his whole plan.

But the fact remains that Malik is sure he would rather be kept in the dark about this.

"You don't want to know," Bakura says with a nasty grin and though he's right, Malik laughs again.

"What, do you have to perform a sacrifice every night?"

"It's a host body."

"That suits a parasite like you then," Malik says.

"Hardly," Bakura says with a sharper grin. "It's mutual agreement and benefit."

"So you share. I'm surprised you're capable of that."

"I'm a man of many talents," Bakura says.

Malik glances at him then inwardly shrugs.

"I won't have to deal with another person popping out of your body, will I? It’s difficult enough to handle your personality, let alone a second."

"That won't happen," Bakura says confidently, more than reassuring Malik.

"I still can't believe you don't know how to drive. How did you get around? Did you walk?"

"I can drive," Bakura snarls.

"But not well?"

"Well enough."

"Have you crashed?"

Bakura hesitates and Malik goes off into a peal of laughter.

"You did! Oh that's rich. What did you crash into?"

"I didn't crash!"

"As if I could believe that answer? Go on, tell."

"It wasn't a crash," he repeats and Malik grins wider.

"Tell me you stole the car, at least?"

"I can definitely say that."

"Good. Otherwise I would have started doubting you."

Bakura grins a little.

"Oh really?"

"It would have been a shame to have ruined my image of you. A little thief and terror since you were a child, I presume. It's a rather charming image."

Bakura laughs now.

"You're not wrong."

Malik blinks a little at that.

"But?"

"You don't get that story, Malik. Not while you're hiding plenty,” Bakura says. Malik doesn’t think Bakura can be kind but his manner isn’t harsh.

"I'll get it out of you sooner or later," Malik says casually.

"I almost wouldn't mind," Bakura says in a soft tone that makes Malik glance at the mirror and fervently hope that Rishid is actually asleep.

Chapter Text

"Are you stopping for the night?" Bakura asks, bleary eye and suspiciously at ease.

Malik nods but then he turns to see Bakura's eyes closed.

"We are. The medjay will catch up to us tomorrow. There's no reason to rush around while we could get some rest instead."

"Sounds rather like you've given up," Bakura says and Malik finds he doesn't care how asleep Bakura is, he's tempted to keep on driving.

"I'd rather we all get a decent night's sleep in a bed. And I haven't decided entirely what to do about them."

"The answer is rather obvious."

"Yes but will it send the proper message? I don't want to be chased by medjay all my life. My father is stubborn enough for that but there aren't enough Ishtars for that."

Bakura yawns and rubs at his eyes. He’s awake enough to crawl into the space between the front seats so he can stick his face next to Malik's.

"I don't understand why you worry so much over the clan that you abandoned."

"I left them. I haven't abandoned them. And technically my father is still alive and the leader, so really, it's more like I'm taking a much needed vacation," Malik says.

"Excuses and there isn't even a need for them," Bakura mumbles into his shoulder.

"Rishid, wake up," Malik says and Bakura jolts back to his seat. Malik smiles. "Bakura, are you afraid of Rishid?"

"You wish I were."

Malik shrugs. Rishid has been awake the whole time anyway. Resting and sleep are two vastly different things for him and Rishid, Malik has noticed, can barely sleep in front of Bakura.

Malik ignores them for the rest of the night and focuses on getting a good rest, though he really only shakes the worst of the exhaustion off.

The reality that he will have to kill some of the medjay isn’t lost on Malik. The question is how to reduce the deaths but still make a big enough impact on them so that his father will retreat for the moment, long enough for Rishid and Malik to get out of the country. The Ishtars have too much influence in this part of the world.

There are plenty of places where the Ishtar name means nothing and Malik wants to go there. Though of course the God Cards are here but those can wait for a while. There is no rush, so long as no one knows his plan to find them. And the tauk still hasn't shown him anything of where the god ka have been hidden though so far he has only used them to keep an eye on the mejay's progress.

The next morning Malik wakes up first and he takes the driver's seat. Bakura sits up front with him, smirking at Rishid who just ignores him and sits in the back.

"So we're leaving civilization. You think the medjay are that dangerous?" Bakura asks as they drive away from the city and into the desert.

"They care about results. Not about too much else," Malik says. "And we don't need to draw the authorities. Rishid and I only somewhat exist. I expect you exister rather more substantially, spirit or otherwise."

Bakura grumbles then thinks Malik's words over.

"Somewhat exist?"

"Plenty of people know about the Ishtars. And plenty of people keep it that most don't know." Malik smiles bitterly. "I told you, the Ishtars have quite a lot of power in this part of the world."

"Yes but that sentence rather lacks in details."

"If the names meant anything to you I'd tell you. I rather doubt your Arabic is any good."

Bakura sighs dramatically.

"Blame the education system, not the individual, Malik. I expected better from you."

Malik smiles but doesn’t say anything. The joke itself is nothing but it does raise the question of what kind of upbringing Bakura had and Malik isn’t interested in getting those answers. He might be curious but something tells him he is better off not asking. It’s better if he doesn’t know too much about Bakura.

Malik parks and looks out at the desert. He can just see the tips of the buildings from the city. After they take care of the medjay, they can secure passage by boat and head off. Bakura says he follows the ring but that won’t be a feasible method to travel for the three of them. Let alone if anymore were to join, which Malik is still toying with the idea.

Rishid gives him a look as he got out of the car, as if thinking the same thing he is. Malik knew that Rishid wished that Malik had been able to practice with the Rod, but he'd not had a chance. He hasn’t even been able to spare at moment at the hotels, especially not with Bakura staying with them in the rooms more and more. Bakura had already watched him flop around new attempts with one Item. He didn't need to see the other attempts. He didn't need more to laugh at.

"So we sit here and wait for them to come to us?" Bakura says in a bored tone as he sits on the front of the car.

"They'll come. They've been following us for days now."

"That's not my question," Bakura says and Malik remembers how the other medjay that Bakura had met had ended up.

"I don't want to be caught unaware and boxed in," Malik says. Not again, he thinks. He'd spent far too long caged in by the medjay. "The medjay have been after people who left the Ishtars for their whole lives. They know how to corner them."

"And I'm a thief; I know how to escape people who want to catch me. And I know how to deal with them."

"Yes, but I'm not a thief. I'm only going to take what's mine." Malik points out. "The God Ka are won by the strongest. The Items are mine by birthright and again, by my will. The Tuak has already granted me visions of the future and allowed me to subvert the destinies of others. And Pharaohs have taken the crown throughout history."

"The Pharaoh's crown," Bakura repeats thoughtfully. He’s looking at Malik with a critical eye. Malik lets him, enjoying the attention.

"Think of the Ishtar clan as a steward. He holds no real power, and it meant to serve the king. He can make decisions but they're generally to the purpose of the pharaoh. Of course he can subvert them to his own will but it must always be done through that veil. A pharaoh has no need for that. A pharaoh can command."

Bakura stretches out.

"You do know that most pharaohs are dead and nothing but bone now, correct?"

"Pharaoh over my people," Malik clarifies. He gazes up at the clear sky. "We'll forget the Nameless Pharaoh and build our own kingdom. It doesn't need to be a grand empire that spans continents; it will simply be our own."

"Your dream is boring," Bakura says though it has an odd bite to it.

"Oh? So far it just seems like you want to kill the Pharaoh. That seems far more boring."

"I told you, that's a means to an end. Killing him will happen. But it's not my goal."

"A nuance, I believe. You haven't told me the truth. Though I hardly expect you will."

Bakura chuckles.

"I don't think you'd like mine. It might, ah, destroy yours a little."

Malik's first thought is that Bakura wants to destroy the world. But that's silly. Bakura is one man with one Item.

"I'd like to see you try." Malik doesn’t look at Rishid, who is staring out at the desert, waiting for the first sign of the medjay to appear. Rishid and Bakura have made no attempt to come at any sort of peace but Malik is just about done waiting for them to get to it.

He takes the Rod out of the car and sits next to Bakura on the front of the car, laying the item over his knees. Bakura stares at it for a while before turning to look out at the desert as well.

"Eager to find out what it does?" Malik asks.

"You know I am."

Malik runs a nail over the gold.

"You haven't told me why you want all of the Items, you know."

"Really?" Bakura gives him a look and Malik laughs a little.

"I know. We both have our secrets. But still. The medjay could kill you right now."

Bakura bursts out laughing and Malik grins a little to see him. It’s comforting to see him have such confidence about the matter.

"They wouldn't be the first nor the last."

"You are rather irritating," Malik says.

"That isn't what I meant but it's nice to know your honest opinion of me."

"I've made no secret about it. You're a questionable figure with loose morals and no qualms about killing. And you seem very interested in ancient magics and mystical golden items."

Bakura grins.

"Aw, how kind of you. You failed to mention my excellent skills at thievery so fuck you."

"How eloquent," Malik says, narrowing his eye sat a cloud of dust headed their way. The Tauk isn’t great with telling exact times.

Bakura follows his gaze, sitting up a little as the cloud of dust grew larger.

"So these men of your fathers want the Items and to take you back home, correct?" Bakura asks quietly.

"Yes."

Bakura glances at him then at Rishid, who is clenching his fists.

"Will your brother help them or you?"

"Me, of course." Malik frowns at Bakura.

"Ah." Bakura says only, and Malik looks away from him. Rishid had always known the stakes of serving Malik before the ishtar clan. But he had freely made his choice. Malik had not ordered him.

Though perhaps, Malik thinks , Rishid had never had a choice. Perhaps this had ever been the only choice for him. Rishid couldn't have ever abandoned Malik after all.

Malik shakes his head. They are both free now. He'd wanted his own but he'd given Rishid his early and inardevently.

They watch as the mejday approach, saying nothing more until the men step out of the car and stand before them. Malik knows each of them. and he knows that none of them had any liking for him.

"You look tired," Malik says, a little smirk on his face, genuinely delighted at having caused them any discomfort.

One of them steps forward and Malik groans as he sees it’s Oscar.

"Lord Ishtar wishes for the safe return of you and the Items, Master Malik." Oscar says and Malik rolls his eyes at the 'master' part. As if they care about him at all.

"Tell him he can choke on it," Malik says and Bakura gives a soft huff of laughter next to him.

Some of the medjay are staring at Bakura with curious looks and Malik smiles to himself and wonders what their little minds are thinking. The truth is probably far more scandalous. Well. Malik certainly wishes for it to be.

""Did this man, did he kidnap you?" Oscar says, looking a little confused at the idea.

"No," Malik says.

"I'm surprised you don't recognise me," Bakura says, grinning wide and terrible.

Oscar frowns but he visibly puts Bakura out of his mind and turns back to Malik.

"We have orders to take you back by force if it turned out that you'd run away."

"I'm sure you're very surprised that I did," Malik says. He tightens his grip on the Millennium Rod. Really, it’s a bigger surprise that he hadn't run away before. "So why dont you -"

"Move," Bakura snaps and he grabs Malik's wrist and yanks him as gunshots rang out. One of the other Medjay aimed at Bakura or possibly Malik himself.

Malik whips his head around to stare at them, unsurprised they have firearms but surprised they would fire so close to him. He is the heir. Then he follows Bakura's gaze.

"No," he mouths, his voice gone from him as he sees Rishid slumped against the car, his blood blossoming out from his chest.

"So that's how you want to play, huh?" Bakura says from far away and he leaves Malik, and something bright glints in the sun. He disappeares from Malik's sight as Malik runs to Rishid.

"Rishid," he says thickly and he presses a hand against the wound, trying to stop him from bleeding. Trying to do something when he has nothing.

The din of the medjay falling against Bakura as he cuts them apart falls from his ears. Instead there is a rush, a throbbing, and his head feels like it was about to split open but all he can do is sit beside Rishid and stare.

He is supposed to have freed Rishid not killed him.

An old anger that he had forgotten is back, and Malik doesn’t try to hold it back. It washes over him and he feels red and black in his vision, and it is blissful.

The sun is hot about him and the sand irritating below but inside is a cold core and he can’t feel his arms or legs, his fingers too far to even curl them. Everything feels distant like it is through water.

Rishid shouldn't have died. That was Malik's risk, Rishid should have been spared, because he had done nothing wrong. He had pledged his life to Malik so of course he would follow him.

They had never been aiming for Malik. Even though the medjay hated him he was their future. But Rishid, in their eyes, he was nothing.

Rishid could have thrived away from the Ishtars. He could have been judged on his own merit and Rishid was a good man, far better than Malik, and Malik was lucky to have a brother like him.

Something is scraping at the back of his head, as if there is a fingernail dragging down the inside of his skull.

Malik tries to turn his head and he blinks as he realizes he is lying down, looking up at Bakura's head. He is blocking the sun but it casts an odd illusion, seeing Bakura illuminated in light. It doesn’t suit him.

"Bakura?" Malik says, his voice strangely strained.

"What the fuck was that, Malik?" Bakura snarls and he hauls him up.

Malik barely manages to stand and he has to fight to focus on the sight before him. The medjay are lying around, all dead. But dead is a kind word for them. Most had been butchered.

A stray thought wanders but any quip he was going to make is gone in the aftermath of Rishid's death.

"Did you kill them all?" Malik asks.

"What? I didn't kill them. Well. I killed a few. But you did this," Bakura says, confused.

Malik looks at him in shock but that only makes Bakura's confused look grow.

"How can you not remember? You butchered them," Bakura demands, waving his arm over the slaughter.

Malik looks, but he can’t remember anything. Only that myriad of emotions that had overwhelmed him. It wasn't just sadness alone but that didn't even remotely begin to explain how he had lost all consciousness.

"It was like you were a different person," Bakura continues. He rubs the Ring, smearing it with a little bit of blood, and he shakes his head. "What are you?"

"I'm not anything like you," Malik snaps, offended. He is a flesh and blood human, not like Bakura who wears people like suits.

Bakura gives a short bark of laughter but there is no joy in it.

"No, you're something like me."

"Stop it," Rishid croaks out and Malik nearly dies on the spot in surprise.

"Rishid!" Malik runs over and looks him over, unable to believe what his eyes are showing him. But Rishid is alive, if panting harshly and clasping at his shoulder with a grip tight enough to make his knuckles turn white.

"Stop, Bakura," Rishid orders and Malik jumped again a little to hear Rishid talk to Bakura, let alone make a demand of him.

Some of the tension leaves Bakura.

"He stopped you. And then you just, collapsed." Bakura shifts a little and Malik can now see that his arm is covered in fresh blood.

"Did I-?"

"Wasn't you," Rishid says just as Bakura says,"If that was you, then yes. But I don't think you're as human as you claim to be."

"I am though. If I wasn't my Father would have known. The Ishtars would have known. We have magic that the world has forgotten." Malik says, not panicked yet, too elated that Rishid is alive.

"Maybe it's magic that even the Ishtars forgot," Bakura says softly.

Malik stares at him for a moment but then Rishid moans and Malik snaps back. Rishid is alive but not well so Malik jerks his head at Bakura to help him. Bakura scowls and points at his arm but Malik barely sees him. But then he is there, helping to hold up Rishid's weight, and it helps keep some of the pressure and pain off.

"Are you going to leave the corpses here?" Bakura asks as they climbed into their car.

"Not my concern," Malik says with a dark look. Let the desert take them. He wipes his bloody hands on the seat, deciding they will ditch this car and steal another. It reeks of blood in here thanks to Rishid and Malik is aware that the sides were also covered.

And he is covered. Much more than he had thought. And even though it doesn’t cover all of him it still feels like he is drenched.

For a half hour they drive in silence but then Bakura can take no more.

"What happened? What was that? Why was Rishid able to break you out of it? Who-"

"Shut up," Malik says. "It's nothing. We'll, we'll figure it out later."

"It's not nothing, you imbecile. I've never seen anything like that and I've seen quite a bit. Is it the price for a human using an Item?"

"Ishtars have been using the Items for centuries," Malik snaps back. "It's not that. There's nothing wrong with my blood or heritage so I suggest you fucking drop it."

"Not if I want to fucking stay alive will I drop it," Bakura shoots back and Malik feels his blood freeze. So he had attacked Bakura. But he had no reason to, not to kill at least.

"Okay," Malik says softly and Bakura huffs a little as he sits back in his seat.

"It's not fun when you just agree with me."

Malik glances at the back seat in the rearview mirror and says nothing. He has to focus on Rishid first, something that Bakura seemed to take into account without question.

Rishid couldn't die. Malik wouldn't allow it.

Chapter Text

"I hope you remember where you are," Bakura's voice says and Malik struggles to open his eyes. When he does manage it he doesn’t recognize where they were but he did manage to get his focus to land on Bakura. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed watching Malik with an indescribable expression.

"What?"

"Didn't think so. They kicked us out of the hospital because you kept trying to be with your brother. Now thank me for dragging you to a hotel so you could sleep." Bakura looks more amused than pissed off though.

Malik drags himself into the bathroom and after dunking his head in a sinkful of questionable but cold water, he comes back out, finally awake enough to process Bakura's words.

"Rishid will be alright, won't he?" Malik says, more to confirm than anything else.

"Probably," Bakura says but there isn’t any malice in his voice. He shrugs. "Either way, he needs to rest, and we need to plan. By the sounds of it I don't think your father will stop looking for you so it's best we get out of Egypt sooner rather than later."

"We'll have to wait till Rishid is strong enough," Malik says and Bakura sighs but he doesn’t argue.

"There were eight of those men yesterday. I get the feeling there are far more."

Malik nods once. By his count there are at least thirty medjay on active duty, not counting the ones that are retired but still lethal, and the ones still in training. He wouldn’t be surprised if his father had been hiding some from even him. He might not have suspected Malik of leaving the clan but he was paranoid about everything else.

"But none of them were left alive to report back so we'll have some time thanks to that," Bakura says, avoiding naming who killed most of them. It’s still a blank to Malik but though Bakura is a liar, Malik is sure even he can’t fake such panic.

"I'm not leaving Rishid. Today when I go back to the hospital I'll ask when he'll be able to move again." Malik runs his hand over his face. He sits down on the bed, mind whirring with concern, breaking into his thoughts every time he tries to plan for the future.

He hadn't intended to bring Rishid but now that he is here, there is no chance that he will leave him behind. Rishid will be at his side as they carve the new path for the Ishtars.

Bakura sighs and sit down next to him.

"I don't think I like this side of you," he says and before Malik can get angry, Bakura leans over and grabs his face, kissing him.

Malik's eyes open a little but he decides that since Bakura had started it, it would be appropriate for him to kiss back.

Bakura is forceful but not painful, though their teeth knock into the other's. They quickly slide into a more comfortable position and when they break apart, Malik licks his lips.

"Is this more to your liking?" Malik asks, unable to keep a little sardonic note out of his voice.

Bakura grins, lips wet, and he makes to kiss him again but Malik turns his face away.

"I can't right now," he says softly and Bakura exhales loudly.

"I know. That's to remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

Bakura shifts a little, away from him but Malik can tell it’s mostly to make himself more comfortable rather than to put distance between them.

"Of your freedom. You have it."

Malik chuckles a little and looks at Bakura.

"Oh so you mean it to be a promise? That's more emotional than I thought you were capable of."

"Shut up, Malik. Maybe next time I'll reject you and throw a tantrum."

"As opposed to how maturely you usually handle everything?"

"I," Bakura says, "am a reasonable man. There's a time and a place for everything. You don't understand that because you're a fool."

Malik grins a little.

"If I kiss you and you don't kiss me back, then you're the fool. I'm probably the best you'll ever get."

"I can wait. I can't say the same for you." Bakura says.

Malik actually laughs out loud.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Hardly. I'd win."

"We'll see," Malik says with a genuine smile. Bakura only ever fakes at being patient. Malik can outlast him with ease.

Bakura gives him an odd look then shakes his head with a grin. He gets up to put some distance between them and put his hands in his pockets.

"You'll probably want to go to your brother. I'll find us another car. I don't think you'll want to use that one."

"Ah, that's true," Malik says, and he suppresses a shiver. He still isn’t entirely sure what had happened back there, and Rishid is in no fit state of mind or health to be discussing such matters.

He hurries so he can go back to the hospital. The medjay's absence will only go unnoticed for so long, especially if they are checking in with the clan.

Chapter Text

"The doctors won't be happy to find me missing," Rishid says though he's got a glint in his eyes that suggests he's not as irritated as he's trying to be.

Malik grins and gives a playful shrug.

"They should have kept me from seeing you then. I'm a horrible influence on you."

Rishid laughs but it's only a gentle shake of his shoulders. Anything more would agitate his wound and Malik sombers up. Normally Rishid would insist on staying to the letter of the doctor's orders but in Egypt they are at the mercy of the Ishtars. And they can both see what that means for Rishid.

"Rest here for now. We'll come back later tonight to get you."

"Malik." Rishid shifts uncomfortably. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Bakura is consulting his Ring. And I'll do the same with the Tauk," Malik says without looking at Rishid. His brother deserves an answer and a plan but after the encounter with the medjay and whatever happened to Malik, he's more unsure than ever before. He looks at Rishid but says nothing; that's a conversation that can wait a while still. His goals haven't changed and it doesn't seem like Bakura intends to leave them just yet.

Malik leaves without saying anything else and he's thankful that the hotel room is empty. He needs time to think. And he's still not fond of using the Items in front of Bakura.

He sits on the bed and holds the Item for a moment. It's too powerful to not appreciate but sometimes Malik wishes he could throw the Items into the Nile River and never see them again. But perhaps the Items like being away from the confines of the Ishtar clan and so they obey him for that.

Malik slips the Tauk on and waits. The color change is subtle this time and Malik almost doesn't recognize that he's seeing a vision until he tries to turn his head to look at the clock and realizes he's in a different room entirely.

There's a boy there about Malik's age and Malik holds back a laugh. What a normal child. Malik had never had a chance at such a thing but at the same time, he's not entirely sure he would have liked going to a school.

His gaze falls to what the boy is fiddling with and Malik's mouth drops open. The God Puzzle is nearly half solved in the boy's hands. And the pieces are coming along steadily though Malik can't see the box in which they're all held.

Malik hears something and he can tell it's outside of the vision. But he can't stop it, nor can he stop the image from melting away. He blinks away the last of it just in time for Bakura to walk in.

"Where you just using the Tauk?" Bakura asks as he stares at him.

"Hm?" Malik has no intention of playing dumb but he needs a moment to register what the Tauk has just shown him.

"You have this look in your eyes," Bakura says, making a wobbly gesture with his left hand. "What did you see?"

Malik blinked again and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"The puzzle is in pieces. The Ishtars were never told who would solve it. Only that one day it would be solved and the Pharaoh would return, then our task would truly begin."

"I know that," Bakura says, irritated.

Malik doesn't say anything for a moment.

"What do you know about Japan, Bakura?"

"What do you mean?" Bakura asks, narrowing his eyes at Malik.

Malik ran his fingernails over the curves of the Tauk.

"Because I believe that's where we'll find the person who can solve the puzzle for us."

"The Tauk showed you the puzzle solver?" Bakura asks, not bothering to hide his surprise. He looks too shocked to think of anything witty to say.

Malik nods and grins.

"The God Ka can wait if we can get a hold of this boy."

"It's really a shame we both need the puzzle to be completed. Otherwise we could just kill him before he finished it," Bakura says with a wistful sigh.

"The Ishtars would love to get their hands on him," Malik says. "That's more than enough reason for me to get there first."

"Japan though," Bakura says thoughtfully and Malik can't resist.

"So you do know something of it?"

"A little. I can speak the language."

"That's more than a little, you must realize."

Bakura shrugs and avoids Malik's look.

"It's a long boring story. And it doesn't seem like something you're interested in."

"Give me the short version and let me decide for myself," Malik says, a trifle demandingly.

"A former, shall we say vessel, used to reside there." Bakura says, meeting his gaze again, and Malik gives him a look.

"You're no judge of stories. It's not something I'm interested in, but I'm sure it's fascinating enough."

"All stories about me are interesting," Bakura says with a sniff.

"The important part is you can speak it. What are the odds I can learn it?"

"Zero."

"Give me a month."

"Zero," Bakura says with a grin. "I look forward to watching you fail."

"A month," Malik repeats with a smile but the challenge is gone because he has a plan again.

Tonight they will retrieve Rishid and board a boat away from Egypt. And as soon as Rishid is better they will head to Japan to deal with the puzzle solver.

Malik can almost feel the Pharaoh's crown on his brow.