Bakura's silent about his past, but you can't keep up your guard when you're sleeping. A short story about the link Bakura and Ryou share.

--

Old Dreams

The soft silver light of a full moon peeked through a crack in the curtains and cut a strip of darkness out of the carpet. It slanted across a bed and the boy sleeping there, illuminating his pale skin and white hair with a faint bluish hue, detracting nothing from his beauty.

In the darkness next to the bed, back pressed up against it, another boy sat on the floor, red eyes wide and staring at nothing. Knees tucked up to his chest, hands clutching fists-fulls of snowy white locks, he tried desperately to stay awake. It wasn't often that Bakura would dream, but when he did-

A small moan escaped the slumbering spirit as he shifted, the tinges of a dream darkening his face before it smoothed back into a deceiving peacefulness.

-it was always about that.

Ryou didn't want to see that. If he kept his eyes open, he didn't have to. He supposed it really didn't matter either way though. He could still hear them; hear the screams of the victims, the cries of the dying. They were faint, ghostly sounds that seemed to emanate from everywhere in the room, particularly from the shadows. Ryou shuddered as another shriek rent the night air, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment-

An armed soldier ran a fleeing woman through with a blood-dripping spear.

The teen smothered a gasp as his eyes snapped open. He had to stay awake! He had to. Argh, he could smell it; burning wood, burning flesh. It was nauseating.

Bakura whimpered, twisting himself up in the sheets, arms over his head as if to shield him from something. Another strangled cry eased itself out of the shadows. Ryou's grip on his hair twitched tighter.

He wished he had enough power to block their link. He wouldn't have to listen to them, to that, if he could guard his thoughts. But he could barely muster the energy to occasionally throw up the barrier during the day, and by night he was just too tired. So he had to stay awake… He succumbed to sleep eventually, he always did, but he would usually wake up when the first man died. It was always the same person, tall and dark, with well defined muscles. He would step forward to see what the soldiers wanted, and they struck him down…

The other option would be to wake Bakura up, and he had tried that once. Once. Bakura had not been happy. Ryou was grateful that the spirit had been tired because when he tried to explain why he woke him up, Bakura was furious, but was too worn-out to do more than chase Ryou downstairs and lock him in the laundry closet. Seemed that Bakura didn't like talking or even thinking about his past, not about that topic at least.

Ryou felt his eyes grow heavier. He relinquished his grip on his hair and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees. The screams were louder now that he was closer to slumber. Sighing, Ryou surrendered with resignation, allowing his eyes to slide shut; an ancient Egyptian city, soon to be cloaked in flames and blood, slowly swam into view.

--

Not reviewing after reading is both a disservice to the reader and the author.