Disclaimer: I do not on Bakura. I do not own Ryou. I only own the idea behind this crazy fic written after not being able to sleep. I'm still not tired… sigh

This is just something I wrote after noticing that, while pretty much everyone agrees that Bakura can be sadistic, no one really goes into the reasons why! I mean, you're not just born evil! So, here is my attempt at figuring out everyone's favorite tomb robber.

This is done in flashbacks, until the very end. There are time skips. Enjoy! .

The boy whimpered, clutching his empty stomach. He didn't look to be more than five years old, and was clothed in rags, his long silver hair matted and dirty. Clenching tear-filled eyes shut, his breathing was harsh as he tried to stand up.

Get up.

I can't! It hurts too much…

I said get up!

He stifled a sob as his small form hit the wall, the kick surely leaving a bruise. Coughs racked his body, and he curled into a defensive ball.

"Get up you stupid brat! You've got work to do!"

Weakly, he opened one eye to look at his assailant.

"Yes sir…"

After another hard day of laboring, Bakura did what he always did. He laid on his bed, which was a blanket on the dirt ground, stared at the sky, and wondered what it was like to live in the palace. This silver-haired child was one of the many orphans living right outside the palace walls, and he was well-acquainted with the life of an orphan.

Isn't there anything I can do to change this? I don't want to be stuck here… But… There's no way I could get food, unless I… Unless I stole it…

"Thief! Thief! Someone, call the guards!"

Snickering, Bakura ran from yet another stupid shopkeeper, a loaf of bread under his arm. Seeing guards running in his direction, the young teenager skidded to a stop, quickly ducking down a nearby alleyway.

"Try and catch me, losers!" He stuck his tongue out at the guards, laughing.

Almost there…

Sliding underneath a small hole in a wall, he slid to a stop. He smirked.

"I win."

Looking up, he saw two little kids, looking scared and most of all… hungry. His conscience bothered him, reminding him that he was once just like them. Glancing down, he sighed, breaking the loaf of bread in half, and giving the two halves to the children. They looked up at him and smiled, and he found himself smiling back. He could always go back for more food…

"Lemme go! Lemme go, you bastards!"

Bakura yelled, twisting in the soldier's strong grip.

"By Ra, it was just a damn loaf of bread! What else am I supposed to do? Starve?"

His right hand was slammed onto a table, and one guard held up a knife menacingly. Bakura's eyes widened, and his struggling increased.

"The punishment for stealing is losing the hand that stole."

"No! Please, no!"

His eyes clenched shut, waiting for the blow.

"STOP!"

Still panting, Bakura slowly opened his eyes. A powerful, imposing figure stood in front of him and he couldn't help but gape. The Pharaoh?

"What is it that this boy has done?"

"M-My Pharaoh! This boy is guilty of theft! We were carrying out the punishment for theft, my Pharaoh."

"What has he stolen?"

"Umm… my Pharaoh, the boy stole… a loaf of bread."

The Pharaoh chuckled. Bakura's body was tense; he felt as though his fate rested on the Pharaoh's decision.

"Don't tell me you were planning to cut off his hand for merely stealing a loaf of bread? He looks as though he is the same age as my own son, Atemu! Tell me boy, why did you steal that bread?"

Bakura looked up, defiance in his eyes. He answered simply.

"I was hungry."

"Why not buy the bread? It's much easier, I'm sure."

Bakura frowned, expression sour.

"I don't have any money. I can't get a job. No one will hire me."

"Let the boy go. The Pharaoh demands it."

Proud of himself, Bakura chuckled under his breath. He tossed the stolen vase up in the air a few times with one hand, catching the rare artwork. The palace had been all-too-easy to infiltrate.

"That was too easy…"

"Stop right there, Bakura!"

Eyes widening, Bakura froze, realizing he was surrounded by guards. For the second time in his stealing career, he'd been caught.

Desperately, he looked around for an escape. There was none. The guards had him completely surrounded, with no way to escape.

Struggling against the ropes that bound him, Bakura growled low in his throat. There was no escape from this. They had taken his one prized possession; his freedom. At the age of seventeen, he faced the rest of his life in this dungeon? Snarling, he renewed his efforts to loosen the bounds.

"Dammit! Damn you all! Damn you all! I hate you! I hate you! Just die! All of you, just die!"

His body went limp, hanging from his restraints as sobs overcame him. He couldn't spend the rest of his life like this… in this cold, damp cage…

He coughed a little, trying to stop the tears. If he was going to die here, he didn't want them to remember him as crying and sobbing in the end. He was going to be strong.

I've got to get out of here…

Rubbing his still sore wrists, Bakura closed his eyes, enjoying his first breath of fresh, free air in a long time. Escaping from the palace dungeon had been difficult, but he had managed. And now, after a horrible two years of rotting in that stupid dungeon, he was free, and ready to get revenge.

"No one humiliates me like that and gets away with it…"

No matter what they did, he would not break… No matter what happened, he would stay strong… He had to… No one was going to be strong for him…

"'Kura? What are you thinking about?" Ryou looked up at Bakura inquisitively, his head resting on his Yami's chest after their bout of lovemaking.

"Just remembering some things, Hikari." Bakura brushed a strand of hair out of his love's face. His love. His Hikari. My angel…

Ryou yawned. "I love you, 'Kura…"

Bakura inwardly smiled. "Love you too…"

Maybe no one would be strong for him… But he could be strong for someone else… and that, in his opinion, was good enough…

Owari

A/N: I know, I'm a sap… Review?