According to some, the key to a dream's meaning is buried in the dreamer's past life. Though he vehemently denies it, Seto Kaiba is no exception: his dreams are of sand; of an endless desert stretched out before him; of unconditional loyalty, years of rigorous training and, eventually, of blood saturating his hands as everything he'd sworn to protect threatened to crash mightily down around him. These particular dreams do not seem to suffer the same limitations as ordinary dreams -- that is, they are not restricted to the few hours that Seto Kaiba indulges himself in sleep. They are constant; flashes of gold and red and light behind conscious thought. If he'd ever believed (or admitted to believing) the fairytales told to him by the other Yuugi, he might now concede that desciribing them as visions may not be so far removed from the truth as he claims. The most unsettling part of these dreams (visions, fantasies -- what are they, really?) is the reoccurring image of a certain white-haired thief -- the same thief, in fact, that sleeps next to him an impossible number of years later.
Bakura's dreams are less pleasant than Seto's; he is often jolted awake in awkward positions at equally awkward times of the morning, having thrashed himself awake mid-nightmare. The modern world is haunted by the ghosts of the past -- so much so that Bakura, fearless as he is, at times longs for an escape -- and the bleakness of his future; that the Pharaoh would fall and all the years spent waiting would finally be given purpose, but as time passes this becomes less likely. What Bakura needs is one more chance: a final, ultimate game that will not only knock the Pharaoh from the pedestal his little insignificant friends have raised him onto, but one that will keep the stubborn bastard down. Keep him down forever.
For now, though, he is content to remain here.
When these nightmares occur, Bakura only needs to tug lightly on Seto's arm and he will spring to life, placating the thief with soothing nonsense about net profits and standard protocol until the other is lulled back to sleep. Office talk can be surprisingly relaxing. It is no mark of consideration that motivates Seto to do this: it is simply because he is conscious and unnocupied during Bakura's violent awakenings, and it does not take much effort to soothe him -- if Seto tunes out and allows his mouth to operate automatically, he can almost lull himself to sleep. Almost. Most of the time, however, Seto ends up thinking about his own words and abruptly realizes that there's work to be done.
Privately, Bakura half-believes that Seto doesn't sleep at all. He simply pretends. Perhaps this is to make Bakura feel at ease as he slumbers; perhaps because he drinks too much coffee during the daylight hours, or even because he considers sleep a waste of valuable work time (really, he's almost married to that company). Bakura doesn't know. Seto's motives are often veiled. While this would frustrate most people, it is an excitement to Bakura -- other mortals he has encountered in the modern day seemed less complex, somehow, nothing more than puppets to be manipulated the way Malik, his partner in battle city, demonstrated. Seto is different. He is truly an enigma, Bakura muses, nestling closer to the warmth of the other instinctively. A thief's instinct, sharp as ever. For a moment there is no response.
"Go to sleep." Seto murmurs, turning to face him. Bakura wonders how Seto knows he is still awake, though it is not entirely surprising. He trails his fingers through immaculately trimmed hair, admiring the contrast between his unruly white locks and the chestnut that crowns Seto's pale, stoic face. Sighing audibly, Bakura considers the possible parallels he could draw between them: over three thousand years have fused them together and at times Bakura feels like an old painting, his colors bleeding into Seto's as their habits overlap and intertwine. And yet this is the one thing Kaiba Seto cannot accept: that it really has been millennia since their first encounter; that the tale told by the Ishtar family does, in fact, have some grounding in reality and that all of this is real. The evidence that has been shown to Kaiba is irrefutable, yet he determinedly screws his eyes closed or looks away and manages to deny it even while his mind shows the memories real, tangible in front of him. Irrelevant, though. He'll believe in the end -- when the Pharaoh is on his knees, he is once again a priest and there's nowhere else to look -- or he'll perish in his attempt to run from the past, much like Bakura is slowly, steadily doing now. In so many ways, Bakura decides, they are the same.
Seto Kaiba, this blind denial of your past has no place in your future. I'll see to that.
-- Yet, in others, they are still so unfathomable to one another.