Hello! So, I wrote this while I was in Japan. It's been a long time since a story was bursting to get out of me, so I'm really happy I wrote this! It's essentially a very long oneshot, but I decided it worked quite well being separated into two chapters, so that's what I've done. And since I've written it all, both chapters can go up pretty much at once!

This story is just... exploring the slightly more negative side of the yami/hikari relationship upon the spirits getting their own bodies. I've never been much a fan of fluffy!Bakura, and I've found myself way more drawn to angst of late.

Enjoy!

Waking up on the first day of university holidays was an extremely tentative experience for Ryou. He didn't know what to expect after last night. Truth be told, he didn't even actually remember it.

Most twenty-year-olds had trouble remembering their nights before as a direct result of alcohol intake, but with Ryou, the cause was a little bit different. Last night he and his two friends had experimented with some ancient magic.

He still knew about the events that had taken place, even if he couldn't remember partaking in them, because the three young men had been planning them for months. Malik, the eldest of the three, had discovered an experimental ritual that could allegedly draw out the three dark spirits living inside them, and give them physical form. And risky or not, an opportunity for freedom like this was unlikely to appear again.

So, all those months ago, they began planning. They decided to wait until the beginning of summer for two reasons: first, in case something went wrong and they needed a whole three months to deal with it; second, because they needed to carefully alter the magic's procedure, since it was designed to kill the dark spirits as soon as they exited the hosts' bodies, but nobody had been comfortable with that idea. Reprieve, yes, but not murder.

And finally, last night was the night – though Ryou had no idea now whether it had been a success.

Did the evil Spirit of the Ring have a form now, or was he still trapped inside Ryou's mind? His head was buzzing too much for him to be able to tell just yet.

As his consciousness grew, the first significant thing he began to notice was a sense of wrongness inside him. Wrongness? No, he thought hazily. Just different, rather than completely wrong. And with that feeling, he became hopeful. Any sort of change had to be a good sign, surely.

He pushed his mind, urging it to become clear, and at the same time pushing it to its outer limits to find some hint of the Spirit's presence.

Then, with stark comprehension, he realised.

His mind wasn't going to get any clearer: it was complete as it was. Everything was where it should have been. The only thing missing was the presence that lingered in the dark recesses; it was gone. All gone. It had worked.

Then why did Ryou feel so – so smothered?

He ought to have felt more free. That's what he had expected, what they'd all expected. And physically – if you could call it that – it appeared he was free. The Spirit must have been granted his own body.

Where was he?

Ryou couldn't hear any telltale sounds indicating that somebody else was at home with him. And of course, he couldn't hear any dark voices hissing inside his head. He was rather apprehensive about this; maybe something had gone wrong after all, and the spirit had simply vanished from existence. The thought made Ryou's blood run cold.

Nervously, he got up. Still wearing the same clothes as he was last night, he took no notice of anything else before leaving for a place he knew he could find answers.

He had been to Malik's house often enough now to not bother knocking when he arrived. Their friendship had been forced upon them, in a way: their respective dark spirits were possessive, dominant and cruel, and they decimated their hosts' relationships with outsiders. So, Malik and Ryou only had each other. Yugi's was an exception, of course, his spirit being willing to let the youngest continue seeing his friends. But even just having Malik to confide in was enough for Ryou, and he enjoyed the closeness of having only one really good friend.

He tiptoed through Malik's house, which was as quiet as his own had been, until he reached the bedroom. Even entering here without warning wasn't a taboo (though it had been an unpleasant shock to Ryou to find that out. He had no idea that it was a possibility that he could wake up one morning to find Malik sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers on the wood with one hand, and leafing through Ryou's uni notes with the other).

He slipped in quietly, remembering the way Malik would always tell him very publicly how cute and sweet he looked as he slept. Well, the same couldn't be said for Malik. Today more than usual he looked haggard and slovenly. And the room looked tornado-stricken – the bedside lamp lay in pieces on the carpet.

"What the hell . . . " Ryou gasped softly to himself. And, if he had expected anything at that moment, it was not a response.

"It wasn't pretty," a voice said behind him.

He whirled around – and was bewildered to see Malik. Ryou's eyes darted back and forth between the one who had spoken and the one who was still lying asleep in the bed, and it only took him a second to understand.

"Yours worked!" he exclaimed, but with one sharp gesture from the standing Malik, he lowered his voice again quickly. "There are – my God – you look exactly the same!"

"I suppose it only figures," Malik said darkly. "He was technically me."

Malik clearly didn't want his dark spirit disturbed, so Ryou almost suggested that they leave the doorway, but he changed his mind. Despite Malik's obvious disgust – for that was certainly what it sounded like – he was staring intensely at the person that could have been his twin, and didn't look like he wanted to stop any time soon.

Ryou couldn't blame him; the absence of his own spirit gave him such a strong feeling of loss. No matter how malicious the spirit may have been, the bond between them made it hard to let go. Malik was probably just as attracted to his spirit as he was repulsed, by no fault of his own.

Then Ryou noticed something.

"Malik!" he whispered urgently. "You're bleeding."

Malik looked down automatically to his arms, correctly guessing the place Ryou meant. He just wiped it on the front of his shirt, and went back to staring. Ryou's eyes widened.

"Did he attack you?"

The spirit jerked, and rolled over. Suddenly terrified, Ryou dragged Malik back down the hall, as close to the front door as possible. Malik obeyed limply.

They waited in silence for several minutes, Ryou's heart thumping almost painfully in his chest, but the spirit didn't come rampaging after them.

"My lamp," Malik said finally, grimacing. "He threw it at me. I woke up, saw him standing next to me, and I jumped up. He looked as surprised as I was. I – I think he did it just to make sure we weren't still connected at all."

"And you're not? Connected, I mean – not at all?"

The spaces in Ryou's mind were making him nervous.

"You mean mentally? No. I can't feel him at all, and I'm glad. Who knows what he might have done if I could read his thoughts?" Malik attempted a chuckle, but it sounded humourless. It was plain to see that he was itching to get back to his bedroom, closer to the spirit, but Ryou was sure he would never have admitted it. Perhaps he was unaware of what his instincts were telling him. "What about you?"

"I . . . haven't seen mine yet," Ryou answered hesitantly. Malik looked envious.

"Lucky you."

"Yeah. I guess so."

Of course he was lucky. He forced himself to remember all the horrible things the Spirit of the Ring had done; tried to recall the fear he felt every time he realised what new crime the Spirit had framed him for – not to mention the anguish from whenever the Spirit hissed derisive words in his mind.

He felt the pain and fear, but as mere memories. They died away instantly.

"I guess so," he repeated, but he couldn't keep the reluctance out of his voice.

Ryou didn't want to leave Malik alone with his evil doppelganger, but the longer he lingered the more he knew he was outstaying his welcome. Although he would never say it, Malik wanted Ryou to leave.

"I – I guess I'll check on Yugi," Ryou said. "I'm sure the Pharaoh wouldn't do anything to him, but if something went wrong . . . "

Malik nodded mutely. He seemed distracted right up until Ryou was out the door – and as soon as it was shut behind him, Ryou heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps running back towards the bedroom.

Ordinarily he wouldn't think twice about whether Malik could take care of himself, but obviously circumstances had changed in a big way.

Visiting Yugi wasn't really at the top of Ryou's priority list, but the thought of going back to his own empty apartment made him feel desperately distressed. He was so confused, his mind so empty, and he couldn't deal with it alone.

The game shop looked warm and inviting. He wanted to put on a smile of greeting as he entered, but found he was unable. So when Yugi appeared, he was met with a strained grimace.

Yugi, however, didn't look much better. His eyes were red and his breath hitched as he spoke.

"Oh – oh Ryou, h- hey. Please come up – upstairs."

He led Ryou up to his room, and all the while Ryou was guessing what was wrong. Certainly not the same as what went wrong for Malik. Was it possible that the Pharaoh's spirit had vanished too?

In spite of himself, Ryou felt hopeful. Misery loves company, he thought shamefully.

"So," he said softly, as they entered Yugi's bedroom, "did it work for you?"

Yugi took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded.

"Where's the Pharaoh?"

"G – gone."

Ryou's heart skipped a beat. "He's gone?"

"Out for a walk," Yugi whispered. "Said . . . he needed to think things through."

And right away, Ryou's hopes were dashed. He knew he should have felt happy for Yugi for not being alone like he, Ryou, was, but it was difficult to deal with the fact that he was the only one for whom things hadn't worked.

He tried not to look crestfallen. "That's not so bad. Why are you upset? He'll come back."

Yugi sobbed again and shook his head. "But he doesn't want to."

"What? Why wouldn't he – "

"He – he knows he doesn't belong here. In our time." Yugi was now shaking so badly he had to sit down on his bed. "It doesn't feel right for him, he said. He thinks he's supposed to die."

Die. Ryou didn't want to think about it. No. He couldn't bear actually using that word to describe what had happened to the Spirit of the Ring.

"But the thing is, I don't want him to die," said Yugi. "Even if he thinks it's the only way for him to find peace. I know it's selfish, I know, but . . . do you understand, Ryou? I can't be without him."

Ryou's defences were collapsing, his despair threatening to overwhelm him. Of course I understand, he wanted to scream. I understand better than you! Being without him would mean being alone and it's so, so hard to be alone after being so close to someone . . .

Even the voice in his head started wailing. He couldn't last.

"And I think the worst part," Yugi continued, "is that he's so definite about what he wants. Like he doesn't feel what I feel at all. It doesn't bother him that he's alone now too."

And Ryou broke down.

He felt foolish for crying, not because Yugi could see him but because he realised now that he had expected something utterly unrealistic.

Before performing the separation ritual, his mind had conjured images of himself and the Spirit of the Ring being apart, but maintaining some sort of connection. Ryou would have been free, and being human once again would have forced the Spirit to exercise caution, not committing crime or risking his life. A balance would have been reached.

But Ryou was stupid, stupid, for expecting a being of pure darkness to comply with that. There was no connection. The Spirit didn't care if he lived or died.

Yugi and Ryou shed tears for a long time, until their eyes and throats were too sore to continue. They didn't keep talking; Yugi had said it all already, and he understood Ryou's pain even if Ryou hadn't shared his story.

It was just before midday when Ryou wordlessly took his leave. He couldn't help Yugi, nor could Yugi help him.

As he stepped out into the sunshine that was doing a terrible job of reflecting his mood, he ran into the Pharaoh.

Ryou knew right away that it was him, of course, because of his acute resemblance to Yugi, with only some minor differences stopping them from being identical. Stature was the main thing: it may have just been the way he carried himself with certainty, but the Pharaoh looked taller and more imposing. In spite of this, it was obvious that he shared the gloomy mood felt, it seemed, by everyone today.

Out of politeness, the Pharaoh nodded hello and held out his hand. "Ryou. It's good to see you safe."

Ryou grasped the hand and shook it, hoping his eyes weren't still red. "And you. This is like our first proper meeting, wouldn't you say?"

"I would."

"Congratulations, I guess, on your new body."

The Pharaoh sighed, and for the first time Ryou saw that he looked weary. He thinks he's supposed to die, Yugi had said, and Ryou could believe it to look at him. He clearly felt out of place, out of touch with everything and everyone, including Yugi. No wonder the boy was in private agony.

"I'm guessing Yugi already told you how I feel about my staying here," the Pharaoh said. "And I know he's in pain. But by all rights I should have been dead a long time ago."

Ryou wanted to argue, but he had nothing to say. 'Yugi needs you alive more than you need yourself dead'? The look on the Pharaoh's face made that impossible to utter aloud. All this really was, was a matter of whose selfish desire would win, his or Yugi's.

"However – " The Pharaoh paused. "However, I've been thinking, and I've decided I can't leave Yugi with his emotions all shaken up like they are now. He deserves time to come to terms with everything. I won't leave him alone until he's ready."

Ryou processed this, and his emotions began swimming with uncertainty again. Yugi wouldn't be alone. The Pharaoh thought he deserved more than that.

Spirit of the Ring, why didn't I deserve more than that? Did you consider me at all?

"Is Bakura keeping under control?" the Pharaoh asked abruptly.

"Bakura?"

"Ah, I apologise – the Spirit of the Ring, I meant. Having no better name for him, Yugi and I just referred to him by yours. I'm sorry, that was quite insensitive."

"Oh no, don't worry about it. Calling him Bakura is fine." Inside, though, Ryou felt another pang. They shared a name; wasn't that connection enough? "And I . . . I don't really know where he is. I haven't seen him. Or felt him."

The Pharaoh's expression darkened, but it held no pity for Ryou. Probably he was unable to empathise, not fearing the loneliness whose promise so scared Yugi.

"He shouldn't be allowed to roam free. He's still dangerous, even if it's not you he's hurting."

Ryou wanted to fall into the abyss. You don't think he's hurting me?

You think I just let him go?

You think I wanted it to be this way?

Ryou ran.

Time passed, days, weeks. It was almost time for Ryou to go back to university, though it was uncertain whether he could survive it.

He wasn't sick, but it was plain to see that he was unhealthy. No amount of food could put colour in his cheeks, and no conversation could make him laugh or smile. He didn't go out much, but when he did, it was always late at night through bad areas. Secretly, he hoped to be given trouble, in case Bakura suddenly appeared to protect him, in whatever brutal manner he liked.

Ryou had kept calling the Spirit Bakura. He had also begun avidly following the local news for crimes, waiting for a suspect's description that closely matched his own.

He never had any luck.

Malik and Yugi, recognising that he wasn't well, visited him alternately almost every day. Each time he would vicariously ask them about their respective spirits (if they could still be called that), and they reluctantly agreed.

Malik had at first come to Ryou's place sporting a variety of gashes and bruises, brushing each one off as, "Not even painful. I swear he's getting weaker," until one day he announced smugly that he'd won. The other Malik ("Marik, he calls himself. Very creative, eh?") had apparently satisfied himself that he wasn't going to be able to break Malik in like some submissive pet, and was now treating him with aggressive respect. They fought fiercely for dominance like two pack alphas, and Malik groaned about him constantly, but they had definitely adjusted.

"It's really demented when you think about it," Malik said cheerfully one time. "He and I think the same things, like we're still kind of the same person. He just lacks my morals and conscience. Truly my evil half."

Conversely, Yugi's 'other half' had been saintly in behaviour. The Pharaoh now went by Yami and had stayed true to his word about not leaving Yugi, even though it was becoming increasingly obvious that Yugi would never come to terms with his imminent departure to the afterlife. Yami would have to wait until Yugi himself died first.

Yugi was, as a result, happy. And although panic flashed in his eyes when he didn't know where Yami was, he rarely worried about being alone.

Malik, having never been threatened by the prospect of a Marik-less life, didn't understand Ryou's anguish at all. He kept trying to convince Ryou he was better off without Bakura. Yugi understood far better, and displayed patient tact when he talked.

The night before university started up again, Ryou got properly sick.

It came upon him suddenly as he lay in bed, striking him like a seizure. He was simultaneously covered in sweat and numb with cold. His vocal chords wouldn't let him cry for help.

Water. Shakily he pulled himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support, and staggered towards the kitchen. His head spun and his stomach lurched, but he made it to the sink. He didn't bother with a glass, just brought his mouth to the tap.

When he stood up again, he was staring eye to eye with Bakura.