This oneshot is due to a prompt from the lovely Air du Temps! It is thiefshipping, but it is much grittier and angstier than my normal fluff. You have been warned. It is very AU and might well become a twoshot, if I get myself together enough to write the second half. I use some lyrics from the song 'Safe and Sound' by Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars. Listening to it might help get the feel of this story. I own neither the song nor the characters – I merely write about them, as a fan. Yu-Gi-Oh is Kazuki Takahashi's. Hope you like! – Jem
Rated T for swearing. No smut!
Run and keep running.
High rise buildings shot up either side of the road as his footsteps slapped loudly against the damp pavement. The soles of his sneakers skidded with a shriek which he instantly hushed, pausing momentarily to listen before pounding on down the street and around the corner. Lights glimmered through the evening air, distant beacons of happy, healthy homes, the sort he had never known. And he was really finished now.
Don't think. Move.
Panic was apparent in his every step. Loud, harsh, breaths pushed raggedly through his lungs, forcing their way through his lips as he ran. Blond hair dripped down into his eyes, irritably blinked away. Every muscle was stretched, ears straining through the silent city, air weighing heavily against his head as thoughts and memories flashed across his mind's eye. It was dark, the night sky dribbling occasional spats of pink and orange as the sun dipped its last rays beneath the horizon, heralding the encroaching night and all the danger it promised. He knew he had to escape.
The city buildings crowded around him through the drizzle, lights glaring at him, throwing him into open suspicion. He ignored them as best he could, willing his legs onward and around the back alleys. Sharp jagged breaths sounded in his ears, blotting out other noises, although he could hear the half-imagined shouts and catcalls of people after him. He was under no illusion that he would use up a thousand lifetimes' worth of luck if he got out of this one alive.
The rain was cold on the bare skin of his arms, slicking the gold around his neck and wrists. Damp mould hit his nostrils as he continued running, the damp pavement causing his shoes to squeak and almost knocking him over, making him hang onto the slippery wall, bricks dripping with rain. He ran pell-mell through the alleys, his feet flying and arms waving wildly. Panic made him clumsy.
The buildings were becoming gradually more familiar. Drawing in a relieved gasp, he hurried the last few metres, dizzy with the confusion and panic and fear. Just a few more steps...
Skidding to a shaky halt, he pounded his fists against the cheap plastic of the apartment door, feeling some of it crumbling beneath his knuckles. The rain lanced down into his hair, dripping down his back and leaving freezing trails across his already cold skin. Gasps sounded through his chest as he heaved in lost air, sagging against the door frame. It felt like hours before there was finally a sound from the other side of the door.
A small squeak sounded. One dark brown eye seared out of the peephole, widening with surprise at the drenched brown form on his doorstep. The eye disappeared, replaced with the sound of chains unlocking and the door throwing wide open. One pale, slender hand snatched out and grabbed the shivering man on the doorstep, pulling him inside and slamming the door shut behind him. He gasped, falling into the corridor with loud coughing breaths, shivering violently as he tumbled into the tiny, dark space. The sound of chains slamming across the door sounded behind him again.
"What the fuck are you playing at, Marik?" The dark voice breathed into his ear, followed by a grasping hand on his shoulder that steered him through into another dingy room, shoving him onto the ratty old sofa.
Marik choked out a growl. He was too breathless to speak, though, so remained collapsed back against the sofa cushions, panting heavily as he sent his new companion a glare.
Brown eyes glared back, ferocious.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Marik had enough breath to speak again. His voice sounded as an angry croak. "We need to get out."
"What have you done?" The words sounded vibrant in the dark cool voice Marik knew so well. The pale figure advanced on him and Marik settled further back against the sofa cushions, weakly swatting him away.
Marik averted his eyes, still gasping for breath. "We just ... Bakura, we have to leave..."
"I fucking knew this would happen." Bakura snarled, striding around the room with danger reflected in his brown eyes. They gleamed in the ill-lit room, his hands curled into agitated fists by his side as he breathed heavily. Tension sang from his every movement.
Marik panted. "Stop saying I told you so and let's just get out of here!"
"I knew you were too rookie for this." Bakura acted as if Marik hadn't spoken, danger flashing in his angry glare. "I warned them that you wouldn't be able to cope, that you needed more time with me, but did they fucking listen?"
Marik risked sitting up a little. His muscles creaked as he glared angrily. "Alright, so I messed up, but that doesn't make me a total weakling..."
"Oh, really?" Bakura almost sneered as he rounded on Marik. "You'll have put yourself in direct danger and risked exposing everyone, never mind the fact you probably led them here. How many people chased you?"
"I counted twelve," Marik deadpanned.
"Twelve, and more that you didn't see in the dark, probably." Bakura cursed. "What happened? Just how badly have you screwed us over?"
Marik winced. He had been expecting the scathing tone from his master, but it was still hard to take, especially when he had successfully managed to outmanoeuvre most of the guard that had been after him. No forgiveness was reflected in Bakura's harsh brown glare, however, so Marik thought it would be better just to say it. He flopped back against the cushions with a glower. "I didn't get the jewel."
"I expected that much." Bakura actually rolled his eyes, coming to a stop right in front of Marik. He leaned closer threateningly. "How many saw you? Did they get your face? What did you tell them?"
"Enough with the questions!" Marik sat straight up, his face suddenly inches from Bakura's as he glared up at the pale man. "I did everything by the book. I used the back entrance, got in unseen, didn't set off any alarms. If it hadn't been for the guard in the library..."
"Guard in the library?" Bakura cut in, his white brows lowering. His youthful face creased into one of confusion, lips pursed as he regarded the younger man perched on his sofa. "What guard?"
Marik shot to his feet, pointing an accusing finger in Bakura's face. "The guard you failed to tell me would be there! I thought you were watching that place!"
"I was." Bakura remained unfazed despite the angry ball of Egyptian fury that threatened to explode in his face. His brow remained quizzically creased. "But they knew they were being watched."
Marik stopped short. He stared at Bakura, tilting his head slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Someone's been onto us for a while." Bakura's tone was flat and dead, his eyes hiding something. He almost appeared to look straight through Marik.
Marik frowned, taking a step closer and wrapping his fingers almost painfully tight around Bakura's arm. "Why would you say that? Have you seen something?"
"What?" Bakura blinked. His eyes remained glazed and unfocused for a moment before he zeroed back in on Marik. He stepped closer, beckoning for Marik to step into his arms. "I had a feeling."
"Well, it would have been much better if you told me your feeling before I went in there." Marik grumbled before resting his head on Bakura's shoulder, allowing himself to droop. Bakura easily supported him, holding him close with surprisingly gentle fingers. Marik's eyes closed, his cold body trembling.
"You're soaked." Bakura ran a pointed hand through Marik's sodden blond locks, shaking the water off his skin afterwards.
Marik didn't remove his face from Bakura's shoulder. "That tends to happen when you're being chased through a fucking tornado."
Bakura chuckled quietly. "It isn't a tornado." However, he pulled Marik a little closer, enfolding him safely as he tried to get him to warm up. Marik was shivering violently. "So if just one guard saw you, how come you had the whole lot of them running after you?"
Marik froze. He swallowed, nuzzling closer into Bakura as he shook a little, fingers tight on Bakura's shoulders.
"Marik?" Bakura's tone turned stern, master once again. "What did you do?"
"I..." Marik stopped. He pulled back from Bakura, edging back as quickly as he could and deliberately avoiding the other man's gaze. He shifted on his feet, swallowing. "The guard in the library had a gun."
Bakura went still. The silence turned deadly.
Marik hurried to continue, his eyes going wide. "I didn't mean to! He went for me. I panicked and fought back, he dropped the gun and I grabbed it and..."
Silence reigned for a few long minutes.
Bakura growled. "And?"
"It was quick." Marik breathed quickly, avoiding Bakura's gaze again. He swallowed. "He was going for me and I had the gun ... The trigger was under my finger, I just panicked and pressed it and it hit him in the chest..."
Bakura remained silent, his dark glare boring into Marik. Pale fingers latched onto Marik's shoulders, holding him firmly and leaving pale marks behind in the brown skin. Cool breath washed over Marik's already freezing skin, sending shivers sparking down his spine. "You killed him."
"I didn't mean to!" Marik's voice came out as an embarrassing squeak. "But the gunshot alerted the other guard, and he came in the room..."
"He saw your face?" Bakura cut in quickly, glower deepening. "With the gun, over the dead body?"
Marik winced, flinched, and nodded reluctantly.
Bakura cursed loudly. He instantly left Marik, flitting as fast as he could to the window and peering through the closed shutters, squinting through the dark and desolate night. The rain made it hard to see anything, the meagre streetlights sending vague shadows spreading across the dim road. Anything could be moving out there. Cursing again, Bakura flew to the door and checked the chains and lock again, pulling them tight before returning to Marik. "We need to get out of here."
"That's what I told you when I arrived!" Marik grabbed Bakura's hand, shivering in the darkness. Bakura nodded curtly, flying to the switch and turning all the lights off, plunging them both into darkness. Marik's eyes went wide and staring, fear making his heart beat faster until a familiar strong hand was in his own again, leading him confidently to the back door.
Lips pressed close to Marik's ear. "Don't let go of my hand, and don't make a sound."
Marik nodded obediently, tightening his grip on Bakura's fingers as he blindly followed his pale master. The darkness was absolute, too thick to see even Bakura's white hair. A lock clicked, loud in the sudden heavy silence, and then a cold breeze blew across Marik's face, whipping his blond hair around his face in a messy halo. Bakura pulled him out, closing the door quietly behind them, and in the dim light of the moon Marik could see that they were in Bakura's back porch, sheltering under the eaves of his building. The rain still whipped up a frenzied storm just a few inches away.
An alarm sounded from the other side of the building, accompanied by loud shouts. Bakura cursed quietly. "We didn't move fast enough."
"They can't find us!" Marik's voice was a breathless gasp of fear. His fingers dug tightly into Bakura's wrist, violet eyes going wide.
Bakura growled. "No, they can't." Swiftly, he pulled Marik behind him and led them out into the back alleys behind his house. The rain shot down on them, droplets almost painfully hard as they lanced through the darkness, instantly drenching the two of them. Marik shivered, already soaked from his last run. His muscles ached with tiredness but panic drew him on. He followed Bakura, trusting implicitly that the pale man would get them to safety. He had never let Marik down before.
Bakura hurried them out through the maze of back streets, ignoring the rain that slicked his white hair down his back, sticking some of the strands to his face. Marik panted and kept up as best he could, trying to match Bakura's silent footsteps, though he had never yet mastered the absolute stealth the master thief by his side managed to portray. Watching Bakura move was a masterclass in sneaking.
The alleys were narrow and the pavement soaked, making the cobbles slippery, but the two of them pushed on, knowing they had to escape. Shouts and heavy footfalls behind them showed the guards were still in hot pursuit. Bakura hissed, leading Marik on through the alleys, skidding around a final corner until he stopped suddenly, almost sending Marik flying.
A ring of torchlight showed guards surrounding all the outer exits.
Bakura cursed loudly and span back, pulling Marik against the wall of the alley. Marik hissed in pain but Bakura clapped a hand over his mouth, sending him a warning stare. Marik swallowed but obediently kept silent. With silent movements, Bakura pressed Marik against the wall and leaned close against him, melding their forms together in the shadows of the alley, enough to keep them out of plain sight. For now.
Marik's breath sounded in loud, harsh pants. His back ached, cold and soaked from the wet wall it was pressed against, Bakura's damp hair dripping onto his chest as they pressed close together. Fear making his heart race, Marik lifted one dripping hand and latched onto Bakura's fingers, holding them tightly in the darkness to remind himself that he was not alone. Bakura made no response other than to squeeze Marik's hand once.
Loud shouts followed by torchlight heralded the arrival of the guards. Black figures appeared in the driving rain, calling to each other and shining bright lights into every crack and crevice, thoroughly searching the network of back alleys. Marik's heart pounded painfully hard in his chest, his chest rising and falling raggedly against Bakura's, who by contrast was as still as a doll. His brown eyes locked onto Marik's, exuding confidence, but Marik wasn't fooled. He knew Bakura too well; the tension was plain in the set of his pale, drenched shoulders.
Footsteps sounded closer. The guards were everywhere to Marik's untrained ears, confusing echoes making them seem double the true number and increasing the fear flooding through his veins. Only Bakura's stalwart presence stopped him from falling into a state of utter panic. Torchlight flashed again, this time down the alley concealing the two thieves, and Marik clutched painfully hard onto Bakura's hand, fear making his eyes wide and glassy. Bakura pressed closer, both of them leaning into the hard wall as the torchlight beamed across both of them, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of a lone guard. The torch swung haphazardly through the darkness, creating wild shadows that reared their ugly heads along the wall as the footsteps came closer.
Marik held his breath.
The guard stepped within touching distance and Bakura moved. Releasing Marik, the pale man swung around and easily kicked the torch from the guard's hand, probably breaking his wrist in the process. Before the guard could scream, however, Bakura's hand was over his mouth as his other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling the guard easily against one wall and cracking his head harshly against it. The guard crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Bakura dusted his hands off smoothly, sending Marik a slightly arrogant look before grabbing his wrist again and pulling them forwards. Marik followed with ease, fear making him hasten them on. Bakura led them through the maze of alleys, sticking to the shadows, the rain making it much easier to avoid the tell-tale glint of torchlight from the guards. Marik kept close to Bakura's side, soon losing track of where he was in the maze of streets, but Bakura's every step exuded silent confidence. He pulled them sharply left, hugging the walls, before moving on a few more metres and turning right down a messy, muddy driveway, pulling aside overgrown shrubs and dripping branches of trees to make a way through. Marik coughed and spluttered, attempting to silence himself at Bakura's dark glare, and obediently followed. His shoes stuck in the muddy ground, squelching in the torrential downpour.
Breaking through the last of the overgrown greenery, Marik's eyes widened when he saw their destination. An old, abandoned manor rose high into the night sky, black and deadened against the hidden stars. The rain lanced through the sky, highlighting the cold dark shadows of the broken glass in the window, casting jagged darkness through the air. Marik blinked the hair out of his eyes, jaw falling open. "The hell...?"
"Shh." Bakura shushed him quickly. He led them up to the old front door, creaking it open with a couple of harsh shoves of his shoulder. A dank, musty smell washed out at them, making Marik's nose wrinkle.
"How long has this been here?" Marik asked in wonder, gazing in awe at the creaking floorboards and ancient, peeling wallpaper that just barely concealed the damp mould on the walls. It was dark, the moonlight glistening in from the broken windows, and rain splattered the walls of the ancient house as Bakura led them further into the hallway, the broken door swinging shut behind them.
Bakura shrugged, hand still tight in Marik's. "A couple of hundred years, maybe. It's one of our safe houses. No one knows it's here except me."
"And me, now," Marik reminded with a small smile. He glanced around, dazed by the dank musty example of what once must have been a beautiful house. With the front door shut the rain sounded much quieter, deadened by the thick layer of dust that pervaded the very air around them. It made Marik's tongue feel thick, his skin crawling a little at the touches of ancient cobwebs. He shivered.
Bakura caught his expression and snorted. "Don't freak out on me anymore. The guards can't get us in here."
Marik nodded once, again trusting Bakura implicitly. He followed the pale man down the musty hall, their fingers still linked, and through a ratty old wooden door to their left, opposite a wide, sweeping staircase. The room they entered was full of once-fine furniture; a beautiful emerald green divan now dotted with moth and maggot holes, an ancient wooden bureau crumbling away into dust, sweeping red curtains surrounding an expansive bay window, its panes of glass now jagged and broken as the rain fell against the mouldy old material of the once-great curtains.
Marik followed Bakura across the wooden floorboards, careful of old nails that sprung up from rotten old bits of dusty grey carpet that still occasionally clung onto the floor. He shivered in the cold air, his sodden skin dripping and drenched hair sticking to his forehead and shoulders. He shook it out furiously, droplets flying everywhere.
"Gods, you act like such a dog." Even Bakura's familiar dark voice sounded muffled in the dank air of the manor. He flicked some water carelessly off his fingers, moving to the dusty divan. Bending, he blew the worst of the dust into the air, sending the tiny particles dancing in the moonlight and revealing the soft, surprisingly unspoiled green of the soft cushions below. He patted it invitingly, sending Marik a small smirk. "We should be safe here until sunrise."
Marik nodded once, still wringing out his hair as he slunk to Bakura's side. "You're sitting on it first."
Bakura rolled his eyes. He stripped off his dripping black coat, tossing it carelessly in a corner before digging around the ancient trappings and finding a musty old blanket. He draped it over the divan before settling himself down, invitingly patting the cushion next to him. "Come one then. It isn't going to eat you."
"I know, bastard." Marik shivered. He prodded the soft cushions tentatively with his toe before crawling carefully up into the space beside Bakura, curling up under the blanket with him. Bakura tucked them both in, wrapping an arm around Marik and bringing his shivering body into his chest, pressing one small kiss to the top of his head. Marik nuzzled gratefully against him; the divan was deceptively comfortable and the thick blanket kept off the worst of the cold.
Bakura sighed lowly, nuzzling Marik's head. He kept the shivering man close to his side, stroking one hand through his wet blond hair as he spoke quietly. "So what exactly went wrong tonight?"
"Other than me killing a man, everything," Marik responded, his tone darkly amused. He nuzzled into Bakura's neck, movements a little despondent as his violet eyes glazed over. "I didn't expect the guard to be in the library."
"He shouldn't have been." Bakura's gaze was blank as he looked down at Marik, holding him close.
Marik sat up a bit, managing to send Bakura a glare. "Yeah, I thought nothing got past a master thief like you! You should have warned me."
"I would have, had I been aware of it myself." Bakura headbutted Marik lightly, growling. "It was no reason to kill him."
Marik shook his head, collapsing back into Bakura's chest. "I didn't mean to. I don't even know how it happened. I just somehow ended up with the gun, and when he was advancing on me I panicked..."
"First rule of thievery," Bakura grunted. "Never panic. I taught you better than that."
Marik shook, and this time not entirely from the cold. "I didn't mean to ... Gods, there was so much blood, and I was just frozen, even when the other guards came in ... One of them shouted, that's the only reason I ran..."
"It's alright." Bakura ruthlessly pulled Marik closer, kissing his forehead and both his cheeks. "You're safe now."
Marik heaved in a breath. "But for how long ... I killed him, Bakura, the law doesn't take that lightly..."
Bakura's eyes squeezed shut. He gripped Marik tightly, holding the younger man close to his chest. Marik drew in a shaky breath and crawled up onto Bakura's lap, hiding his face in his shoulder, his heart beating painfully loud in his chest. "I'll be on the run forever..."
"Then I will be with you." Bakura's voice was gruff as he held Marik close.
Marik drew in another shaky gasp, tears escaping his closed lids and falling onto the skin of Bakura's neck. "Don't ever leave me ... I can't face this on my own..."
"I will never let you go." Bakura swore the words in a hollow voice, although his expression was fierce as he hugged Marik close. Tears still spilled from Marik's eyes, though, so Bakura tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together, fiercely. Marik responded, his movements shaky as he cuddled as close to Bakura as he could physically get. When they parted, Marik hid back in Bakura's shoulder.
Bakura wordlessly tightened his grip around Marik's shoulders. Marik rested close to him gratefully, shaking in the darkness of the old room. Moonlight glistened through the window, highlighting the silver in Bakura's hair and the lightness of his pale skin. He cut such a stark contrast to Marik's dark complexion. Marik's eyes shut firmly as he shivered, burrowing into Bakura's side.
Bakura pulled the blanket tightly around Marik, cradling the dark man against his chest as he lay back on the divan. Marik curled up gratefully on his chest, hiding in his damp clothes as he tried to blot out the images. The gunshot sounded over and over again, resounding through his skull.
Bakura sighed. "Try and get some sleep. It'll be morning soon."
"I can't." Marik shivered, his teeth chattering a little as he buried his head in Bakura's shoulder. Wet white hair dripped down his shoulder but Marik didn't care; he just wanted to be close to his pale partner, to escape the searching lights of the guards outside and the frightening images trapped inside his head.
Bakura murmured lowly into Marik's ear. "You're safe here, with me."
Marik shook his head, trembling. He managed to gasp. "But what if they find us..."
"Marik, this isn't called a safe house for nothing." Bakura tightened his grip, rocking Marik gently against his chest. "No one is going to find us here."
"But what if they do?" Marik's tone was almost childlike in its fear. "I won't be captured. I won't go with them...!"
Bakura's eyes slid shut. He buried his face in Marik's hair, almost choking on his words, though he forced his voice to sound calm. "Relax, Marik. You're safe with me."
"With you..." Marik's voice trailed off. He buried closer, his nose cold against Bakura's neck. "Yes, I'm safe with you..."
Bakura's head dropped. His voice almost sounded broken. "Go to sleep."
"I'll try..." Marik mumbled, fear still trembling in his tone. "But I'm scared..."
"Hush." Bakura hummed softly, lifting Marik closer to him. He lay back fully against the cushions, cradling Marik atop him and wrapping the blanket tightly around them both. Marik nuzzled close into Bakura's chest, still trembling, and Bakura knew he would never sleep when he was this tense. So, quietly, almost too quiet to hear, Bakura began to sing, the lullaby drifting soothingly into Marik's scared skull.
Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurt you now
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound
Marik's breath hitched, the gentle melody calming him considerably. It was melancholic and nostalgic, filling him with a sort of peace. Bakura cradled him gently, wrapping him up in warmth and caressing him lightly. One pale hand stroked through golden hair, disturbed dust dancing in the cold moonlight.
Marik mumbled, mostly asleep. "What is that?"
"Just a lullaby." Bakura paused in his humming, fingers stilling in Marik's hair. "Want me to stop?"
"No, keep going..." Marik's voice trailed into silence, his eyes fluttering closed. Bakura sighed, resuming his fingers in Marik's hair, lulling him softly.
Don't you dare look out your window
Darling, everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold on to this lullaby
Even when the music's gone
Marik shifted a little, unconsciously gripping onto the front of Bakura's damp shirt. Bakura used his free hand to lightly peel away Marik's fingers, stroking the cold Egyptian skin as he continued to sing.
Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurt you now
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound
Bakura watched as Marik's breaths slowed, eventually falling into a calm pattern of sleep. Bakura remained awake and steadfast, however, his brown eyes distant and cold. They glinted dead and dull as flint in the distant moonlight, his gaze unforgiving as his brows furrowed.
It was the longest night of his life.
The sun eventually fought its way above the horizon, its weak rays struggling through the still-cloudy sky. The clouds had rained themselves out for now, though, leaving behind a damp, refreshing scent that filled Bakura's nostrils with almost ironic hope, considering his world was about to end.
The knock came, just as expected.
With cold, lifeless eyes, Bakura lifted the still-sleeping form of Marik off his chest, laying him carefully on the divan and wrapping him again in the blanket. Marik shifted a little, his fingers reaching out for Bakura even in his sleep. Clinically, Bakura detached his hand and stepped away, leaving Marik alone on the cushions. He looked uncharacteristically small.
The knock sounded again so Bakura forced himself to turn, his steps as heavy as his heart. He entered the musty old hall, its magic and mystery faded in the cold light of dawn. Bakura ignored the promise of exploration, instead heading straight for the front door. Another knock sounded and Bakura pulled it open, the figure just who he expected.
Bakura kept his face an impassive mask. "Yami."
"Bakura." The young man nodded, his gaze intense as his gaze seared into Bakura's. "Where is he?"
Bakura's jaw clenched. His fists tightened by his side, fingers curling into his palms with almost ferocious intensity. He couldn't bring himself to speak; instead, he merely jerked his head towards the door containing the still sleeping Marik.
Yami nodded once. He lifted his hand – such a simple gesture – and a multitude of guards sprang up from the bushes. Bakura stepped aside, watching with dull eyes as they processed into the ancient manor, the floorboards creaking under the weight of so many heavy footsteps. The wooden door was ripped carelessly from its hinges, tossed to the floor without a second thought. Bakura kept his eyes on it throughout, blotting out the surprised yelp from Marik in the other room, the screams that followed, the yells of "Bakura!" that sang through the corridors, tinged with fear and desperation. He averted his eyes when the guards reappeared, not wanting to see his shame.
Unfortunately, he wasn't given a choice.
"Bakura!"
Marik's scream was raw and wretched. Bakura lifted his cold, hard eyes and saw Marik's thin, trembling form surrounded by guards, held up by two of them despite his kicks and struggles. Violet eyes were wide and accusing, tinged with a wildness driven by panic and fear. Bakura imagined that look was the last thing seen by the guard in the library, just before Marik had killed him.
"Help me!" Marik screamed again, his breath sounding in loud pants. "Attack them!"
Bakura did nothing.
"Come on!" Marik kicked and struggled as the guards continued to drag him out. "Bakura, help me! DO SOMETHING!"
Bakura closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see the dawning realisation in Marik's.
Marik's desperate pleas came to a stop, replaced instead by a shocked, frosty silence. When next he spoke, his tone was entirely different; broken, tinged with accusation and shock. "You ... you betrayed me?"
Bakura's eyes flew open, searing straight into Marik's. He still didn't speak.
Marik stared back, shock glazing his expression. As the minutes ticked by his face flickered to slow realisation, followed by anger to hide the hurt. He shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger straight at Bakura. "I trusted you! I fucking loved you!"
Bakura winced inwardly, but he kept his manner cold. His voice, when he spoke, dripped ice. "Then you are a fool."
Marik was brought up short. He stopped, staring with hurt and disbelief still in his expression, however much he tried to hide them with anger. "I hate you. I HATE you!"
Bakura merely closed his eyes again, listening as Marik's cries faded with the distance. The guards dragged him away.
A hand clapped Bakura on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Yami's cool gaze. "Well done, thief."
Bakura's jaw clicked. "Where is Ryou?"
"Your brother is safe, as promised." Yami's expression didn't flicker. His fingers dug into Bakura's shoulder.
Bakura hissed. "Tell me where."
"He's in one of our smallholdings." Yami gestured with his chin to one of the remaining guards. "Follow him, he'll show you the way."
Bakura ripped out of Yami's grip, his hands still clenched into tight fists by his sides. He began to walk away, following the guard, but Yami's voice floated over to him.
"I knew a thief's honour could always be corrupted."
Bakura froze. He tensed, every muscle shrieking, before sagging again. His head dropped in defeat.
As he followed the guard to reclaim his brother once more, a lullaby rang through Bakura's skull, and try as he might, he could not get the haunting melody to leave him be.
Just close your eyes
You'll be alright
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound.