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yami: -.- Quit talking like Kenshin. It's embarrassing.

Oro?

yami: -.- Well, the pace is picking up in the plot, even if Oni's brain isn't-

Hey!

yami: ignores her and the beginning of the end is starting.

blinks in confusion

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Bakura most certainly did NOT want to go and see Merik. His heart was already in so much pain he felt physically numb. He'd been pushed beyond his usual reactions of rage and indifference. There was no one for him to strike out at; there was nothing he could do to help Ryou, except be there for him, as Yami was for Yugi. It made Bakura feel helpless, and he hated being helpless; the rage would start to build up but have no target, so it would die down again, and the feeling of being lost, of having no way to fight would come back followed by the anger.

That cycle was broken by the soft body held tightly in his arms. Yami was something he could hold on to, feel like he was protecting; he was solid flesh and blood, and he wasn't slipping away from him; he wasn't dying like Ryou. Bakura clenched his teeth and flexed his muscles, drawing the warm flesh tighter to him and got two squeaks of pain in response.

He pulled back and looked down at Yami and Yugi, his dark brown eyes slightly widened. Yugi's little face was flushed and his small hands were fisted tightly in Yami's hoodi; it was hot between their two bodies. Yami's face was a little less pink than his hikari's, but that wasn't saying much. Both were breathing heavily from Bakura's last move.

Bakura started to pull away, put space between them again, but Yami, who was stroking Yugi's hair with one hand, stepped forward and put his head lightly on Bakura's shoulder again; Bakura kissed the top of his head, and that was that. Neither one wanted to talk, had no need for words.

After a few more moments of standing in the hallway with the missing, broken watercolor which was hidden behind a potted plant, Bakura wordlessly started to walk down the hall, but this time he had one arm around Yami's thin shoulders while Yami carried Yugi.

& & &

"What do you mean, we can't see him?!!" Bakura's dark chocolate eyes widened for the second time that day as he stared incredulously at the doctor. He was shocked, the tumbling emotions in him drenched with a bucket of ice cold water. Slowly, so slowly, his usual anger started to build up; his eyes narrowed and one hand started to curl into a fist, knuckles cracking as fingers curled.

Yugi's wide purple eyes filled with tears. "H-he's in a c-coma? W-When...w-why didn't anyone t-tell us....?" He trailed off helplessly, tears spilling down his soft cheeks and his lower lip trembling. Before he could break down crying, his tears turned to a cry of surprise as he was shoved into Bakura's arms.

Yami moved quickly; he knew Bakura was threatening to explode, and Yugi and himself were about to dissolve in tears. He went over to the doctor, his own ruby eyes shimmering with sparkling tears, his lower lip quivering just like Yugi's, and he whimpered. The doctor was young, newly graduated from college and still cared, still full of idealistic dreams of saving lives, of making a difference. And such, he gave into Yami's tears, his heart faltering under the weight of Yami's sorrow, and allowed them into the room.

& & &

Ryou had slipped into a coma shortly before their arrival. The cancer was spreading throughout his body, destroying healthy tissues, and Ryou was growing weaker as each day passed. The medications pumped into him only seemed to be slowing the deterioration; they were loosing the battle.

Bakura stared numbly at the bed, at the body that looked so fragile. The metal of the bedside railing was cold under his palms. Ryou was so still and silent; his breathing was forced by artificial means, and he now had a feeding tube going down his nose into his throat and stomach. His skin was pale and dry, peeling in some places. The older boy reached out to lightly stroke Ryou's hair, a shade lighter than his own. Under his touch, a few strands fell out; from the chemotherapy, Ryou was loosing his hair.

The sight of the sickly, yellowing skin and the thinning hair, once so fluffy and thick, Ryou's pride and glory, would have been funny under any normal circumstance. But there was nothing humorous about Ryou lying there, fighting for life, dependent upon drugs that were also harming his body as they fought for him. So long as his hikari lived, Bakura didn't care if Ryou would be bald; hell, he could be crippled and crazy, and Bakura would still take him. So long as he lived; that was all that mattered.

Ryou became blurred before his eyes; Bakura blinked, and felt a hot wetness slide down his cheeks. He reached up, wiped his face with his sleeve. He was crying, and his heart was bleeding, that helpless feeling pulling him in and consuming him. Then he heard a little sniffle; he looked over his shoulder and saw Yami holding Yugi tightly, as always, the little one with his face buried in Yami's chest, his shoulders shaking, and tears falling down Yami's cheeks.

Then he snapped, desperate for a familiar emotion, anything but facing Ryou's demise. He whirled around, and snapped, the tears gone, eyes blazing with anger and hatred, lips twisted in a snarl. "Why should you cry? It's not your hikari that's dying. You're just a pathetic, whining whelp, Motou. Yugi will never walk; get the fuck over it."

Yami gasped, his mouth open in shock, tears frozen on his thick black lashes, ruby eyes wide. "B-Bakur-ra?"

Bakura snarled, hatred flashing in his eyes, and he lost it; he shoved Yami as he stalked past; Yugi cried out as Yami's arms dropped from around him, and he fell to the floor, the breath knocked from his small body upon impact, a jarring, searing pain racing down the bones in his back to disappear at his legs. Yami stumbled backwards, falling after a few clumsy attempts to regain his balance; he fell when he put all his slight weight on his cut foot, and he fell backwards, the wall catching him part way down. He hit his head, and bright spots of light danced across his eyes as Bakura stormed out into the hall.

It took several moments for Yami to regain his breath and his senses. He rubbed the back of his head where a very sore bruise was beginning to form. He was stunned and confused by Bakura's sudden hostility, and disoriented from the blow to his head. His body was shaking slightly and he felt weak. He heard little whimpers and moans. "Yugi? Aibou, are you alright?"

Yugi's very thin shoulders were shaking with sobs. He had never liked Bakura, never trusted him. Though he'd wanted to see Ryou, he knew coming here with Bakura was a bad idea, and he was right. Bakura had no heart. That look of dark hatred in his face, in his eyes, reflecting the blackness in his soul, scared Yugi. The little one whimpered and cried harder. He wanted to run, run far away from here, back home where it was safe. But he couldn't even roll over. He was just lucky he was wearing his much hated back brace, which had stabilized his back and hopefully helped keep it from further injury.

"Yugi!" Yami crawled over to his hikari and pulled him into his lap. The smaller boy snuggled against him, face buried in his shoulder while Yami examined him, panic making his heart stop. Yugi's spine was very fragile; what if it had been damaged? The only thing he could find on his soft skin was a few budding bruises matching his own. "Where does it hurt?"

"I...Yami...my back; I felt pain from here...to here...." Yugi caught one of Yami's trembling hands in his smaller one and placed it on the top of his chest, since he couldn't reach his back, and drew it down to just before his navel. The little fingers clasping Yami's trembled, and under the thick cotton of Yugi's long sleeved shirt, Yami could feel the encompassing hard plastic of the brace.

"Yugi...there? All the way? B-but.." Yami wasn't sure what to make of that; ever since falling down the stairs, Yugi hadn't been able to feel anything at all below his armpits. Tears welled in his eyes, and he wasn't sure if they were happy or sad ones. "It...c-can't..."

Yugi smiled softly, sadly, his own eyes reflecting what he saw in Yami's face, and tears trembled on his lashes, too. "You know what this....this m-might mean?" He dared not voice it aloud, dared not even to wish that it might be true. "I...oh, Yami..." His tears fell at the same time as Yami's, and the bigger boy leaned down. Their foreheads touched, and Yami kissed Yugi's trembling lower lip softly as he would that of a younger sibling, or friend.

Yami's arms were tight around Yugi, his face buried in the little one's hair, tears soaking the tri-colored locks. Yugi pressed his face into the hot hollow of Yami's neck, his tears trickling down Yami's shirt, soaking it and dampening his soft skin. They sat on the cold, tiled floor by Ryou's bed and cried for Bakura's hatred, cried for Ryou, cried for the cruel hand fate had dealt them all, cried for Merik and Malik, for the hope that was dangling above their heads, just out of reach; their fingertips could only brush against it. They cried until every last tear had dried up, then just sat numbly on the floor, holding each other, minds and hearts numb.

& & &

Bakura's hands were clenched into fists, his face was twisted into a menacing scowl, and his eyes burned with the fires of hell. He stalked through the halls like a predator looking for prey. He saw everything through a distant red haze, his anger ruling over his rationality.

He wanted to break something, wanted so smash it into a thousand tiny pieces. He wanted Ryou whole and healthy, smiling softly and laughing again. He wanted to see Ryou run, hear him begging Bakura to take him to the library or coffee house. He just wanted his hikari to open his eyes.

Bakura growled and felt the tears well up. He savagely pushed them down, wiping his face with his hand, then raised the iced tea bottle he'd taken from Oni, unscrewed the cap, and took a long, greedy gulp. He chugged what little was left in there. It might not help much; Oni had already drunk most of it, but it was better than nothing. He'd had it in his hand all this time, and he'd forgotten, just as he'd forgotten the razor blade tucked into one of his pockets.

Ah, that would be it. He could join Ryou, or at least let out a little pain. His gaze flicked to his wrist, then he sneered in contempt. He was too strong willed to fall into that trap; he'd much rather slice the flesh of someone else than his own, in rage or despair.

Bakura snorted and kept on walking. He threw the empty plastic bottle, minus the cap which he'd carelessly let drop, at a garbage can tucked into a corner. It bounced off and landed on the floor, but the silver haired yami paid no heed and kept going.

Then, since the world conspired against him and lady luck hated him with avengence, he ran into none other than Oni. She hadn't gone home; she was lingering outside the doorway to Merik's room. Her face was screwed up in an attempt at anger, at a distancing emotion, as she listened to Malik crying. She looked much like Bakura did, like she didn't know what to do with the emotions plaguing her, and wanted something safe, familiar. Like anger.

Sneering, Bakura hesitated, tempting to turn around, but then he caught sight of Malik. Merik lay on a hospital bed, either asleep or unconscious, but the Ishtar's hikari had lowered the bed railing and had his head buried in Merik's chest, hands tightly gripping the scratchy white sheet. His sleeves were pushed up; his forearms were heavily bandaged, like Merik's. Oni grimaced with each of the hikari's sobs before she shook her head and walked off without even noticing Bakura. That wasn't saying much, as he heard her trip over something soon as she was further down the hall, heard her loud cursing, then several uptight nurses' voices, then Oni's released a bit of her pent up frustration on them.

Malik heard the loud threats and nasty curses, and his head shot up. "Oni?" He looked directly out the door, and Bakura felt his heart sink. He'd been spotted; there was no walking away now. "Bakura."

Bakura merely grunted, refusing to look into the lavender gaze, but Malik was already ignoring him. Bakura really could leave and get away with it. He took two steps, sighed heavily, swore, then came into the room, leaning against the door frame.

Malik was holding one of Merik's hands. It was remarkable how much the two of them looked alike; they could be identical twins, except Merik was a bit taller, his shoulders a little broader. Malik wasn't like Yugi, Ryou, or even Yami. He was no innocent angel; he, like his yami, like Bakura, had caused plenty of trouble in his time. Then again, Yami occasionally graced the detention room at school as well, but sweet little Yugi had turned him into a goodie two shoes.

"You stupid bastard. You fucking asshole. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you...." Malik's eyes were filling with angry tears again as he stared down at his yami's heavily bandaged appendage, then caught sight of the stark white bandages on his own caramel skin. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" His voice was hoarse and confused.

Malik looked up at Bakura, then looked back down at his and Merik's intertwined hands before putting his face in his one free hand. His shoulders shook, but he made no sounds, and no tears fell. Bakura leaned against the wall, wanting to be anywhere but here, yet he was unable to leave. They were silent, each lost unto themselves, when Malik raised his head, lavender eyes piercing through dark brown to stare into his soul. Though his stare was deep, showing Bakura his tortured soul, his voice was soft and trembling with fear and uncertainty. "Why?"

Bakura held his gaze for a heartbeat, then looked away, down at the tiles on the floor, and shrugged. The youngest Ishtar let out a dry, high pitched, half sob, half laugh. "I don't know, either." Then he laughed; not the joyous sound of one amused, but the rasping call of one on the verge of shattering into pieces.

Bakura didn't move, didn't think, didn't feel. He just stared at the gray, pink and blue speckled tiles while Malik laughed and fell to pieces.. Merik gave a sharp, sudden, indrawn breath, his body shuddered, but he didn't awake. The hiss of his breath stole Malik's laughter; he slumped forward, like a marionette with the strings cut, his head on Merik's chest and one fist tight on his hospital gown, and Bakura turned to slip into the hallway and out of the psycho show.

Malik's voice had returned to normal, though it was laden with sadness. "Isis is sending us away. To a place with doctors and crazy people." Bakura halted, but didn't turn around; he already knew Malik's head was lowered and his cheeks were wet. "Isis just wants us out of the way, so she can have a relationship with Kaiba."

When the youngest Ishtar said nothing more, Bakura took a step, but was halted again. "Tell Ryou I said goodbye. And that I'm sorry."

Bakura froze; he wanted to know what Malik was sorry for, but seriously doubted that the hikari was in any frame of mind to communicate clearly or coherently. Some of what he said may just be delusional ranting of a fractured mind. And yet, Bakura nodded his head, and left.

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yugi and ryou: big chibi eyes Review? Please?