A/N Wow, chapter 3 turned out to be huge! This was a hard one to get the intro going for - I basically wrote it starting with the ending which I'm reasonably sure is a no-no... Also, when Yugi and co. say Bakura, they're referring to Ryou. They call Yami Bakura the ring spirit or the 'other Bakura'. Only Yami Bakura calls him Ryou.

I'd also like to formally announce this story going into full AU mode and I would also like to apologize for the now irrelevant title. Let's just say the story has deviated from my original plan.

Apologies for the POV switching around a lot, but it's either one person getting a POV (eg: 'Superstitious' which will be entirely Kaiba's POV if I ever continue it) or EVERYONE getting a POV with me.

In this chapter Bakura needs a break, Yugi and the other Yugi chat, a kidnapper is annoyed and Ryou makes friends without noticing.

Night had fallen over the city, bringing with it a light snowfall that thankfully cleared the roads. They still hadn't found Ryou and Bakura was tired. Why was Domino so goddamn huge? It was taking all he had to maintain his grip on the burn of Ryou's loss, the cold leeching his strength and the constant motion of the motorbike throwing him off. Correcting the direction after every turn of the awful traffic and dead ends they'd had to find their way back out of was draining what energy he had left after manifesting in front of Ryou that morning. Using this much magic for so long wasn't something he was used to doing. He could feel the Ring's needles dip and tremble just with the effort of keeping them pointing in the right direction.

The world lurched again as Honda pulled over sharply, ignoring the direction of the needles and forcing Yugi's grandfather to stop as well. The break let him refocus himself at least, but the needles moved sluggishly and resisted his magic. He could hear the others questioning Honda as he doubled down on his target, their voices dampened by the snow on the now empty streets. He tried to ignore them, he couldn't waste energy on them.

Honda ruined that plan by poking him with a stick he picked out of the gutter, messing with the needles like he was playing with something dead he'd found in the street. "The Ring's busted, guys. Look, the needles are all droopy - they're useless."

Wow, fuck you too.

Yugi took the stick from Honda's hands before he could aggravate Bakura any further, giving him a disapproving look. Smart kid; damn shame he was attached to the Puzzle or Bakura might've considered tolerating him. "I wouldn't call it busted, but the Ring definitely doesn't look so good..."

"It's metal. It looks like metal."

Metal and the blood, bones and souls of an entire village - close enough, Honda.

Something seemed to strike Jounouchi, shock creeping across his features. "You guys don't think something's happened to Bakura, do you?"

"Don't get us all worked up for no reason, there's no way... The Ring would've reacted, right?" Anzu said, looking at the Ring.

For a split second, Bakura wondered the same thing. That second lasted precisely a second too long as far as Bakura was concerned.

No. Anzu was probably right and Jounouchi was being an idiot. If Ryou was dead, surely the trail would've gone cold by now and he'd be acutely aware of the need to find a new perfect host, even if it took him another few thousand years. Then again, that was before the Puzzle had been solved. Who knew what could happen now?

Speaking of the Puzzle, why was Yugi staring at it with that weird face? Was he wondering if the Puzzle would feel it if he died too?

A triumphant yell from the car suddenly broke the silence of the street and Yugi's grandfather waddled over, a compass in his hands.

Yugi took it, holding the little device in front of the Ring and taking note of something on it before handing it to Anzu. He shivered a little as he pulled off his jacket and lifted the Ring up the same as he did back at the apartment. He held the Ring in front of his face, with the same weird face he'd used for the Puzzle. It reminded him of Ryou whenever he remembered Kul Elna.

Yugi had no right to make that face and it rankled him. Enough that he couldn't stop himself from using what energy he had to point one of his needles straight at him, like a scorpion's tail. Yugi took the warning and didn't get any closer, but he did start talking.

"You don't need to keep pointing anymore, okay? We have a compass and since we know what direction we have to take, we can follow that instead. Like, you can tell us if Bakura moves, obviously, but you should focus on getting your strength back. Bakura might need help from all of us and since you're back, I guess that includes you, so, um... Just take it easy for a while and let us handle everything."

His voice trailed off towards the end, like his brain - or more likely, the Puzzle - had just reminded him of the inherent ridiculousness of trying to be nice to the spirit that had already almost killed him once. And all his friends too.

Spite was a wonderful motivator, but he only had so much to go around. Letting the needles finally drop was as much a relief as it was a disgusting humiliation and he barely had time to realize just how much magic he'd used when the bliss of unconsciousness swept over him.

Other me, you felt that pulse from the Ring right? When Anzu and Jounouchi were talking about Bakura?

I did, but we can't assume that it means anything. He's a master of deception. I don't doubt that he'd be good at faking emotions too.

I'm not so sure.

Why is that?

Could you hear the words too? They were such a jumble, I could barely make them out but...

Words? You heard his voice in your mind? Like he'd possessed you?

No! No, not like that - I like to think we'd both know if he was sneaking around in here. It was more... I can't explain it, but I just don't think he meant to send them. They didn't make any sense at all. I don't think it's possible for anyone to fake that kind of panic.

Nothing that's happened today makes any sense, partner.

You're right about that. One phrase stuck out more than the rest... 'Not again'.

...

Other me? Do you have any ideas?

I still think he could be faking it. However, it IS possible that he may have lost someone before. He may have bonded with a previous host, only for them to die. It would explain why he's so cruel to Bakura, if he is constantly being compared to someone the Spirit loved, only to fall short. Grief can destroy people; just look at Pegasus. But that doesn't explain his zeal for searching for Bakura.

Maybe he didn't want to become close to Bakura in the first place, so he wouldn't be hurt again if he died, but couldn't help it? God, this whole mess must be bringing back some awful memories. I wish we could talk to him without risking Bakura being possessed again, or anyone else for that matter.

Bringing back memories... I can't say I'd want my memories returning, if it would mean putting you in harm's way.

I wouldn't want to hurt you either.

If I lost you like this, I can't say I wouldn't act the same as him...

I don't think our friends would let you end up like him. It's a shame he didn't have anyone like them around. Maybe the two of you could've been friends.

I doubt that.

What was the phrase? 'Criminals always come back to the scene of the crime?'

He'd always scoffed at it before, but now here he was, waltzing back into the relatively ritzy apartments like he'd lived there all his life to pick up a trashy ring for his even trashier boss.

What the hell was so special about something that looked like it had thousands of identical brothers stuffed into arcade claw machines every day? The gold was shoddy and tarnished even to his untrained eye. Hell, it probably wasn't even real gold, just painted scrap metal. As if some random kid in Domino would have anything worthwhile on him - especially a random kid who lived on the seventh floor of an apartment with a broken elevator, oh my god.

Maybe it was sentimental. The boss seemed weirdly fixated on the brat at least, though they didn't look alike in the slightest so his 'long lost loose end' theory was dead. And that didn't explain the world ending if he didn't get his tacky ring.

Bah. He wasn't getting paid to think about that - then again, he was lucky to be getting paid at all.

Hopefully this kid was getting paid somehow too. Because the broken door resting on the wall looked expensive. This kid must be having the worst day of his life! First kidnapped by one pair of assholes and now broken into by some other asshole!

Wait.

He glanced around, listening for any movement from the neighbors and stairwell before stepping inside the apartment.

The ring was gone. The ring was fucking gone.

Maybe it was worth more than he thought. Bah. He wouldn't be getting paid for this.

Since there was no such thing as an honorable kidnapper, he decided he might as well cut his losses and ditch the creep. No skin off his nose if the kid died or not, if the boss hadn't killed him already. That guy down at the docks would probably help him out, if he asked. Hell, if he remembered he might drop off an anonymous tip to the cops once he hit international waters.

A blast of fluorescent lights jolted Ryou from his slumber, though they seemed dimmer than before he fell asleep and couldn't hold their glow for more than a few seconds without flickering. Static burst from the intercom and he awaited the voice of his kidnapper. He couldn't tell how long he'd been sleeping for, but he knew it hadn't worked as exhaustion wracked his body. At least he didn't feel cold, which was odd given that all he had was a shirt and his boxers - oh god, he'd answered the door in his underwear. What if it HAD been Honda? Or one of his neighbors?! He'd never live that down, he'd have no choice but to move. Preferably across the planet.

Ryou was half aware of the static that continued to blare as he calmed his internal meltdown about almost having the most embarrassing moment of his life. Sometimes it shifted, like a radio being tuned and just missing the right frequency. There was a metallic whining noise that grew louder the more he tried to ignore it, but nothing coherent managed to make it through.

The camera's light was on - he waved at it, then pointed at the intercom and crossed his arms over his chest like an X, shaking his head. Then covered his ears for good measure.

Nothing. The camera didn't move, the static and the flickering kept going. The high pitched noise as well - if anything it got even louder, not muffled in the slightest by his hands.

His head still hurt, the ache he'd tried to escape with sleep reminding him of its existence with a vicious throb. The noise really wasn't helping.

It stopped. Not the noise, the pain. Like a switch went off in his head. He could feel the cut on his scalp and the swollen bruises around it, but there was nothing other than the sensation of his fingers touching his skin when he should've felt agony from lightly pressing his nails into the wound.

Then all he could feel was sharp cold. His eyes rolled back into his head and Ryou passed out, a trickle of blood trailing from his nose.

Unfortunately for the kidnapper, he was a player in the Shadow Game. You don't just give up on Shadow Games.

Unfortunately for the Shadow Game, the shadows weren't exactly sure what sort of Game they were playing. The one who'd called them had neglected to give them any rules, or an ante. There had to be rules, there had to be an ante, or the Shadow Game could never start and therefore could never end.

It was almost insultingly easy to loop the stairwell to keep the attempted quitter busy - technically it wasn't really his fault there was no game to play, so they couldn't let him go. There was always the chance he'd reconsider and decide to play after all. He might even win!

They waited patiently for their new favorite caller to set the terms. Oh, they liked him, even if they'd only known him for a little while. His voice was so nice and soft and polite when he reached for them and wasn't that wonderful, he actually SPOKE instead of just taking from them! It didn't matter what he called them for really; whether to shred a vile interloper (the rule for that first Game was 'tell the truth' and the ante was escaping the caller's mind alive - a simple game but the intruder lost nonetheless by refusing to answer. What a pitiful way to lose!) or just to warm him in the darkness as he slept, they were happy to answer.

I miss Bakura.

(/We miss him too/let's miss him together/)

They loved the boy, they really did and they were more than happy to keep a sweet little thing like him company as he dreamed, but he absolutely had to set up the Game soon. He clearly didn't want to send them away, so he had to have something in mind. The anticipation was lethal.

Oh? Was the caller awake? Was he ready for the Game?!

Oh dear, that simply wouldn't do - how was the caller supposed to come up with a good Game if he was distracted by such pain?

Healing wasn't something the shadows had tried for a long time. It couldn't still be that hard, right? Just burn away the parts that hurt and leave the parts that didn't, right?

But burning hurt humans.

But it had to be done. Perhaps they should numb it first... In immediate retrospect, not their brightest moment.

(/I tried my best/since when were you a healer/idiot/don't be rude/at least he's not dead right/did we check/)

If the caller was unconscious, they definitely couldn't start the Game. Did they numb his brain too much?

(/He's BLEEDING/that was all your fault/we're so sorry/please don't send us away/we didn't mean to we promise/we still want a game/)

They would just have to wait for him to wake up again. They'd waited hundreds, if not thousands of years between Shadow Games before. They could handle a few more hours. Maybe the thief would show up and play too, or the man with the pretty silver hair or the boy who'd fainted last time they met, the poor thing. They didn't like the other boy though. Hopefully he wouldn't show up.

...

Where was the thief? He was part of the shadows too. Why was the spirit within the Ring nowhere to be heard? They couldn't reach him, wherever he was, no matter how hard they tried.

The shadows gathered around the caller's mattress, crawled under his clothes and slipped through his skin. They could sleep until he woke up and demand an explanation from the thief when he arrived. It had better be a good one.