A/N: Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017

Chapter Seven

So Far Away

There had only been nothing at first, a blackened void, and then there was something, small yet definitely still there. It felt as though he'd awoken from a terribly long sleep, the fuzzy cloud lingering at the back of his mind fading ever so slowly and his consciousness creeping along even more so. A few thousand years had passed, and now, after what seemed like an endless eternity, he felt alive again - he was alive. Everything he'd unknowingly missed, everything he'd yearned for, came trickling back to his senses, and suddenly he was human once again; hunger, exhaustion, pain. Every sensation was welcomed and he drank them in thirstily, the oasis to his desert, the feast to his famine. It felt good to be awake again, to be alive.

His body was weak; completely and utterly unhealthy, frail and sore. It'd taken a little over a week to restore; most of which was spent - ironically - sleeping. He'd tried eating right away, nearly devouring anything he could get his shaky hands on, but had immediately hacked it right back up. So, instead, he decided to take things a bit slower from there. Another week passed, this one dragging along slower than he felt necessary, and soon he could move freely and eat at normal amounts.

It was strange how his body looked exactly as he remembered it; as though preserved over the millennia. There were the scars littered along his body, the rather deep and contrasting ones crisscrossing along his right cheekbone, one of few memorable features about himself. His white hair was tinted an estranged lavender, ever-messy locks falling just above his shoulders and bangs hanging annoyingly in his eyes. And of course there was his eyes; illuminating steel with flecks of violet, stunningly beautiful, dangerous, sharp. Looking in the mirror, he could feel his own breath catching at the nostalgia. It was like he'd never died.

Yet something was amiss.

His eyes, though as beautiful as ever, lacked that certain spark - the one that often caused him to do impulsive, irrational things. The spark that drove him, that made him both crazy and completely sane at the same time, that kept a fire burning in his heart, in his soul; it was gone. When he gazed at his reflection, it looked back somberly, placidly.

The great King of Thieves, the merciless Bakura, was nothing more than that scared, saddened little boy who'd just witnessed his village be slaughtered and turned into molten gold. There was a hole where that fire used to be, and he didn't know how to get it back. The title of 'Thief King' made him want to retch; the thoughts of revenge made him feel uneasy. Revenge meant murder, meant bloodshed. It meant he would have to kill. Hadn't enough people lost their lives? His family, his friends, the strangers he'd murdered for simply looking at him in a way he felt was wrong, those who simply tried to protect another - they'd all died, and for what? What would killing the Pharaoh do for him besides give him yet another nightmare?

He looked like himself, that was for sure. But he definitely wasn't the same person mentally. It was eery, scary even. A part of him was missing - a rather large part at that - and he had no idea where it had gone or how he was supposed to get it back. That voice, that damned curse, had left him here all helpless and confused, and Gods did he need it back. He needed the companionship, needed the comfort of knowing he wasn't really all alone in this world that so purposefully stood against him.

Oddly enough, his first priority was not of the Pharaoh or the destruction of him. Two weeks had passed since he'd awoken in a human body, and finally Bakura was able to realize who he needed to find.

The one who shared his name, Bakura Ryou.

His Yadonushi had the Ring. Without the Ring, Bakura was nothing. The Ring was power, the Ring was strength, and Bakura needed those things in order to enact his revenge.

Or rather, he needed that in order to feel whole again.

With that thought in mind, he began to create and legalize an alias; Akefia, his mother's name, and Bakura, his own. Surely his own name wasn't the best choice on his part, but with everything he was currently lacking, he couldn't bare to rid himself of his name as well. Once he had that decided, he set about enrolling into Domino High School, using forged papers and documents to prove he existed.

It had been easier than he thought it would be, and with just the tiniest hint of smugness and a far larger amount of guilt, Bakura soon found himself laying eyes on his prior host. Looking at him from another perspective was certainly strange - after all, it'd been his body as well for years now. Ryou seemed different somehow, but without their mental link, Bakura couldn't be sure. He'd expected the boy to be rejoicing his absence, to be happy, but… He seemed rather normal, that same sad aura about him and a distant expression on his face.

And that's when everything began to change.

Ryou began to change.

Little by little, that distant expression turned to one of pure rage, of what he could only identify as insanity, and then confusion and fear began to bleed through.

At first he assumed Marik Ishtar was to blame; the Egyptian's presence certainly unnerved him, especially since he appeared to be obsessed with Ryou based on the obscene amount of time he spent following him around and spying on him. Marik was a no-good manipulator, someone who knew exactly how to weave his way into the mind of another, Millennium Rod or not. He had pawns, servants he could use to do his dirty work, and as he watched them squirm he would sit upon his throne with a satisfied smirk.

Even with his split personality gone, he was still dangerous. Bakura didn't trust him.

But eventually he recognized himself in Ryou; the fear, the mood-swings, the inexplicable anger - it was all him when he was alive. The Millennium Ring still hung from his neck, and it was because of this that everything was going wrong.

Bakura had sold his humanity for a companion and a reason to live, and Ryou, his legacy, was now paying the price.

Revenge, he needed to get revenge.

Revenge for his village, revenge for Jono.

Revenge…

As if he couldn't control his legs, he found himself maneuvering towards Yuugi's Game Shop. His body felt numb, almost like it were moving on its own accord. He felt like he had no power over himself, but he knew that whatever it was he was doing needed to be done. If making things right meant giving up control for a little while then so be it.

To think that he'd befriended Yuugi… After everything his other self had done to him, to Jono, to his family…

He had to avenge them.

Halfway to his destination Ryou realized that he'd left Yuugi at school. He slowed his pace, trembling with rage at both his own stupidity and the fact that his revenge would have to wait, but he still continued to walk. When he found himself standing before Jounouchi's apartment complex, he finally understood that what he was searching for was not vengeance, but comfort.

The apartment was empty, no sounds heard through the door, so Ryou waited. He could only hope that his friend would head straight home rather than hitting the arcade or stopping for food. Thankfully, he could spot a speck of blonde hair bobbing its way down the street before long. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryou steeled himself.

"Bakura?" Jounouchi blinked, amber eyes wide, and paused a few feet away from him. He raised a golden brow curiously. "What are you doing here?"

Ryou shifted his weight awkwardly, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what he was doing at Jounouchi's apartment. "W-well, I…"

And suddenly all he could see was Jono, red eyes gleaming like rubies, bandages concealing every trace of skin possible leaving only his face revealed. He could see him wearing a long crimson cloak, an image he knew Bakura had once seen, and suddenly everything hurt. It was an agony like no other, ripping him apart from the inside out, and some part of him wondered if this was what Jono felt as his soul was being torn from him.

A sob broke past his lips, tears welling in his eyes, and blinded by emotions and memories that could only be Bakura, Ryou sprung forward and clung to Jounouchi - to Jono - like a lifeline. His friend caught him easily, a sound of confusion rumbling in his throat, yet he didn't turn him away.

"B-Bakura? Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Ryou shook his head, burrowing his face into the crook of Jounouchi's neck. His tears soaked into Jounouchi's uniform blazer, his fingers clutching at his back hard enough to bruise, but neither seemed to notice nor care. "Y-you were dead," Ryou cried, squeezing tighter. "You were dead and - and I was so alone! I was so sad and scared and alone! I - I tried to save you, I did, but I couldn't, and..!"

"Hey," Jounouchi cut in, pulling him back just far enough to make eye contact. "What are you talking about? I'm right here."

"But you were dead, I watched them k-kill you!"

The blonde offered a comforting smile, though he clearly had no idea what Ryou was talking about. "Was this a dream you had? A nightmare? It wasn't real, alright, I'm right here," he soothed.

"Don't - no, it was real! It was real, and it hurt, and I-," Ryou buried his hands into Jounouchi's hair, fisting the smooth blonde locks desperately, and crushed his lips against his friend's. When he pulled away, leaving Jounouchi stunned, he continued. "I was so scared," he whispered, "I was sure I'd never see you again, Jono… So scared…"

Jounouchi's brows knit together, but before he could speak, Ryou pressed in for another kiss.

"So…" Marik cleared his throat. "You're saying you… you kissed Jounouchi-kun, thinking that he was Jono and you were… Bakura… because they were lovers thousands of years ago?"

Ryou groaned pitifully, burying his face further into his pillow. It was the first time he'd allowed Marik into his bedroom, but seeing as how he'd refused to leave the comfort of his bed and his father had simply let the Egyptian in without a concern, he honestly didn't have much of a choice. Marik had perched himself stiffly in Ryou's desk chair, facing his sort-of-friend who was covered in a mound of blankets, but had quickly moved himself to sit at the foot of Ryou's bed once the conversation took on a more interesting tone.

"I'll assume that means 'yes'," the foreigner continued, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. "My apologies, Ryou, but I think you're really losing it. To kiss Jounouchi…"

"Twice," Ryou piped in, his voice muffled.

"Twice," Marik agreed. He paused, thinking, before glancing at his distressed friend curiously. "Did he - just out of curiosity! - did he kiss you back?"

Face heating almost painfully with embarrassment, Ryou cleared his throat and reluctantly glanced up. "He… well, the first time he was too stunned to do anything. And the second… um, the second time he kissed back." Marik's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "I don't think he meant to!" Ryou quickly continued, swallowing nervously. "I… well, it's obvious that he likes Kaiba-kun, so… I think it might have just been a reflexive response. He pushed me away and fled into his apartment after a moment."

"That's…" Marik shook his head. "I really did not need to know that Jounouchi-kun likes Kaiba-san."

The Brit merely shrugged.

Silence, and then, "You don't actually like him, do you? Jounouchi-kun, I mean."

"What?! Me, like Jounouchi-kun?! No way!" Flushing madly, Ryou plunged back into his pillow, earning an amused chuckle from Marik.

"Who knows," the Egyptian mused, "if you keep merging with Bakura you may just end up head over heels for him." The mass of white hair and blankets squeaked at him. "It's strange," he sobered after a moment, suddenly serious, "you turning into Bakura. You feel what he felt, you know what he knew."

And then Marik froze, eyes wide, a look of absolute horror overcoming his handsome features. Ryou, feeling the other stiffening beside him, raised his head again. "Marik?"

"You know what he knew," he repeated, lilac eyes dilating. "You know. Oh my Ra, you know."

"I know what? Marik, what are you-,"

"You have to help me kill him! He - he raped her!"

Ishizu Ishtar entered the apartment from the front door, her long black hair falling loose around her shoulders. In her hand was a suitcase, and Ryou assumed she was probably returning from somewhere, perhaps an expedition. She licked her lips and darted her teal gaze at the boys nervously, smiling a bit forcedly when she noticed someone other than her brother sitting on the couch.

"Marik," he called lowly, his voice not unlike that of a hissing snake. The Egyptian raised his breath-taking lilac eyes in acknowledgement, jaw clenched in a concentrated frown. "On my mark, I want you to force yourself into your body."

"You have to help me kill him!"

Bakura huffed, pursing his lips in thought. "...Should you choose to do so, I think I could spare some time to listen to you speak. I'm feeling rather generous today," he said after a long pause.

"He - he raped her!"

And somehow, everything began to make sense. All of the pieces were fitting themselves together into a puzzle, intricate and dark. It make his stomach flip in his abdomen, made him feel nauseous and disgusted to his very core.

Bakura had disappeared while trying to destroy Yami Marik and get Marik his body back. Someone, perhaps only days before if his estimations were correct, had asked for Bakura's help in killing someone. Someone who had raped someone.

And Ryou had already suspected Ishizu Ishtar, however briefly. She was off, and looking back, that suitcase might not have been for work purposes after all. "Please excuse my coming and going," she'd said - perhaps she was leaving. It would certainly explain why Marik had been such a mess that day.

Marik's evil split personality raped his sister.

Yami Marik raped Ishizu Ishtar.

Using Marik's body.

"Oh, Marik," Ryou breathed, feeling rather winded. He hesitantly reached a hand out to the Egyptian, seeking to comfort his friend, but Marik flinched away.

"I knew it," he murmured, "you know. You know what he did - what he did to her."

"She never deserved that, Marik."

"Yeah, well, it fucking happened, Ryou. It happened. And now," his voice cracked, "and now she can't even look at me. All she sees is him. Her rapist. It was bad enough when I - when he - murdered our father right in front of her. But now-,"

"Marik, it's going to be okay," Ryou interrupted, tugging Marik into a hug. It was strange, and it felt more than a little wrong, but he endured for his friend's sake. "He's gone now, Marik. Bakura got rid of him. Just like you asked him to."

"But now Bakura is gone too! And it's all my fault!"

"It wasn't-,"

"Yes it was!" Marik pried himself from Ryou's embrace, eyes wild. "I asked him to kill that monster! He's gone because I fucking made him fight him! And you know what's even worse? I created Yami Marik in the first place!"

Ryou shook his head, growing increasingly more desperate. "That wasn't your fault either! It was your father's fault, and the Millennium Rod-,"

"SHUT UP!"

And along with a resounding smack and a crash, Ryou felt scorching pain flooding his cheek like wildfire. It stung and burned, and his arm and side hurt from where the force of the slap had thrown him against the floor. He gaped, stunned, up at his supposed friend who now stood towering above him.

"You know nothing!" Marik yelled, fists clenched at his sides. "You're nothing like him! He would never say such stupid things, such lies! I thought - I waited for him to come back, I waited and waited and waited, but all I got was you. You and your annoying whining and crying, and your stupid little problems! And just when I was starting to lose hope, I realised you were becoming him. I got so - so happy. I thought, I'll finally be able to see him again, that I'd get him back through you."

Ryou felt his heart clench. He could already feel the abandonment coming.

"But you're nothing like him, Ryou."

And then Marik was gone, leaving nothing but a few bruises and a lot of pain in his wake.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the voice was laughing.

A/N: Alrighty! Here's some plot in return for forgiveness for my uber late update!

As always, any feedback or criticism is appreciated. Review(?)