Song: A Thousand Years by Sting

Warnings: slightly dark, I guess, yaoi (Bakura/Malik, Bakura/Ryou) and, uh, YGO bastardization. More or less AU, too.

Summary: Bakura, forgetting and reshaping the past during his 5,000-year banishment to the Shadow Realm, searches the world for the truth and a love he can't remember.

Disclaimer:Yu-Gi-Oh! And the guys don't belong to me; neither does the song "A Thousand Years" that belongs to Sting. I Make no profit.

Let Me Lie

A thousand years, a thousand more,
A thousand times a million doors to eternity

I never fully remembered my first lifetime. It never seemed as important until I met the Pharaoh again. Now, in retrospect, I wonder how I could live like that. Knowing nothing of what or who I was.

I suppose it wasn't very relevant until now, anyway.

When I died, caught in the Ring and uncertain as to why, I drifted in the shadow realm, seeing memories played out again and again. The people of my former life became real in my fantasies, though I suppose I realized they were simply shadows.

Sometimes I wondered if I was one, too.

I may have lived a thousand lives; a thousand times
An endless turning stairway climbs
To a tower of souls

It caught me, as the Shadow Realm is meant to do, in a place where I could have anything. I was an endless person, made to be whatever I fancied myself into.

In the dark, it's our weakest instinct to find the one sure thing in our lives and cling to it. I relived my first life, a grave robber searching for a good time and money, in a million different ways.

And in the end, the one thing I could not abide to forget was Malik. But every time I watched my life play out he seemed to change so subtly I suppose I never even noticed.

If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,
The towers rise to numberless floors in space
I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,
A million names but only one truth to face

It's something I've never forgotten; everything I touch is irreversibly tainted.

In dreams and visions that were never real I searched for something I know now never existed. I could have searched for an eternity, but I know I have never and will never find what I had in my dreams.

It is a sad truth that we always make things seem better when we don't have to touch them.

A million roads, a million fears
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time

After a while, I think I might have realized that they were only shadows. Or maybe the shock of someone actually wearing the Ring woke me from my delusions. In any case, I awoke again in the body of someone who looked exactly like me: my first host, some miserable beggar named Tic, who was easy to overcome once I realized my position.

In his body, I searched for Malik again. I returned to Egypt and found nothing; a thousand years had passed since I was alive, and everything was changed. The people no longer spoke my language; in fact, their broken dialog was like that of the Arabs now. I wondered the earth for years, living as I always have and always will: a thief and murderer.

All that time the dreams of people I could not remember meeting plagued me, urging me on. The Pharaoh's face swam in my dreams, that puzzle clutched tightly in his hand, swaying and dripping blood from the very tip. I know now that it was calling me to it, urging me to replay history again in a place I could have found if I had known to look for it.

Those years passed, however, and I was soon dead again, the body of my host beginning to age and becoming unmade while I still lived in it. Eventually, I returned to the Ring and the dreams took over again.

But if there was a single truth, a single light
A single thought, a singular touch of grace
Then following this single point, this single flame,
The single haunted memory of your face

These memories of things that may have never happened were soon becoming concentrated on the events that led to my death and entombment in the Ring. The battles that I know now I never saw replayed in my head, slowly driving me insane. The memory of the puzzle, hanging bloody from Yuugioh's neck haunted me with knowledge I had lost a thousand years ago.

In my dreams, the priestess screamed and screamed, the priest cursed and sputtered, and the sounds of my feet running echoed my heartbeat. I searched these dreams for their meaning, endlessly cursing my own inability to grasp the truth of what I was looking for.

The screams and the bloody puzzle echoed in my mind. The focused my senses into function, searching through the ring for answers to my past.

They were, perhaps, the only truth the Shadow Realm has ever shown me, and however my I hated them, the memory of Malik's face, chocking on the dust as we ran, kept me searching.


I still love you

In my mind, Malik became a god. A perfect person that I'd found once and would find again and again until the end of time. The memory of his hands and his voice and the feeling of his skin drove me out of my mind and into action. Bakura was once again, for the first time in nearly 2 thousand years, reborn.


I still want you

Soon, my time came again and I found my next host, identical to Tic, this time a merchant's son who 'found' the Ring in Egypt. I traveled the world in his ships, ignoring the new sights, my mind was focused on one thing and I knew that once again I had a chance to find it.

The memory of the screams and the bloody puzzle kept me searching in the shadow Realm, extending my senses through the ring and looking for the bright presence of the Millennium items.

A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head

As last time, I watched the battles in my dreams. The screaming echoed in my head and the priest's hoarse, gasping demands haunted me. The knowledge of their names or their significance eluded me, but I knew that if I could only find Malik, find the puzzle, I would remember everything.

Again and again the scenarios played out in my mind. What ifs' plagued me endlessly. And always, I wondered towards the rising sun, searching to the east and going further and further. In my mind, the sun was the only stable reoccurrence.

Though sometimes, in my dreams, even it seemed different in a way I couldn't name.

I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant

I wondered until my ships crashed, the sailors abandoned, and I was ruined. The merchant's son had gone insane, they said, until finally I was thrown overboard.

I awakened again in another thousand years, this time with a host as lost as I was. Suppressing him in his soul room required now some strength, but I managed it finally and wondered again. The dreams, still focusing on those few days before my death, slowly drove me mad, until I no longer remembered even the snippets I had known before. I no longer remembered my occupation, or Malik's name, or what the never-ending sounds in my head were.

Having lost everything, I became a shadow, killing and stealing when I must. Sometimes, however, I looked at the blood on my hands and it seemed as if the puzzle was there with me, the swinging motion and dripping red fluid, making me dizzy.

Sometimes, I imagined I had never killed. My knowledge of the present came and went. At one point I imagined myself back in Egypt.

Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands

The shadow realm welcomed me back into its' womb, and I floated; finally awake enough to block myself from the memories. The darkness soothed my mind and I slept for a time with no recollection or thought spared for anything.

Then, some time before my next awakening, I began to try and grasp the meaning of my dreams. The Ring, I understood, was like the Puzzle. I found the Priestess's name; Isis, named after the goddess. I knew that I had robbed graves and that Malik had been my accomplice. 

The truth of what had happened in those few days still eluded me, however. I could remember the battle, somewhat; the priest against the pharaoh, but the meaning of the blood on the puzzle made me shiver. I did not understand the reason for the items, or why I, specifically, had been banished from death.

Finally, I awakened again with a sense of purpose and some clarity.

It was the end of the old religions, and I was an upcoming knight. For the first time, I learned the ways of that time, took from my hosts' mind the names of things and how they spoke. I soon realized that the language, although more vulgar and as broken as I was, was some sort of dialog born of Latin.

I participated in many of the battles, laughed secretly at the religious battles; having at one point disappeared to go back to Egypt, I knew that few, now, if any, remembered the old speech. The gods I had worshiped and been spat on by were dust in empty ruins. I returned to Europe, becoming a mercenary for hire.

It was, I think, my only true occupation.

I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times
Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes

I wondered in this fashion for years, all the while ignoring the dreams and exploring this time, until opportunity struck.

I had, as always, continued to search through the ring for the other Millennium items, although I no longer remembered all the names or who had owned them.

It is an instinct of the bearer of one of these items to search for others. We wonder the earth through the ages, reborn again and again, and the magic continues to strive to be remade into a whole again. The Millennium items are meant by fate to once again belong all to one person, to become one thing and then no thing and be released again.

I found someone who was to be my first step in the right direction.
Shadi.

He, as I, had been reborn, but seemed to have lost none of his memory or potency. At first, I wanted answers; I stocked him and drove him mad as well as I could. I suppose he must have been somewhat afraid, because although he gave me no answers and certainly refused to battle me for the items he possessed, he pointed me towards the east, telling me to find my answers there.

The direction rang true inside some part of me that knew everything. It was, I think, the only reason I let him be.

I journeyed to the East, across land at first, then stowed away on a ship to cross the Indian Ocean. My previous occupation, as well as anything else I had owned in this life, was forgotten.

I died again before I could reach China. My visions, now, were filled with images of the rising sun, and when I didn't dream, I plotted my course once I awoke again and reached the coasts of the Oriental.

Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief

The nest time I awoke, the world had changed considerably. Everyone, it seemed, was in a hurry and I was a child in the eyes of most. My host, a nameless boy, was starving on the streets of an unfamiliar city. He was weak, very pliant and easy to manipulate.

Having found the city to be Calcutta, in India, I began to plot my course towards the East. I stowed away in a merchant's caravan, gaining strength before steeling a horse and racing off in the middle of the night, headed towards the sunrise. I lived in the jungle for several days, using up what supplies I'd taken, before hitting a temple to one of India's old gods, ransacking it to restock in provisions before heading out again.

In this fashion, doggedly and slowly, I made my way towards China and the coast, looking for colder weather and answers to my past.

All this time, the dreams were with me. They had taken on a nightmarish quality of realism, and sometimes I awoke thinking I had just barely escaped. The hot wind and bright, unforgiving sun reminded me of Egypt to a point where I would sometimes forget things altogether and lie on the ground, dreaming.

The memory of Shadi, of the millennium items he'd possessed, was the only certainty I had that my immediate mission was not some dream as well. The fact that I had truly met him kept me sane, and the memory of Malik's face in the dust and the swinging, bloody puzzle encouraged me.

I still love you

The Malik in my mind continued to shift slowly, away from the crazed, bored and vengeful snit he'd truly been and into someone I had always wanted him to be. In the past I didn't fully remember, Malik was a child, terrified of the Rod and its' powers, dieing in the dust and the wind and the sand by the Pharaoh's unfinished tomb.

I remembered the fights between us and they made me angry so I forgot them. The memories of all of his imperfections were erased because I couldn't stand to think that I was looking for a real person. I doubted that anyone less than a god coming down from heaven could have satisfied me then.

I still want you

In my dreams, the characters from my first life took on an unnatural appeal. The Pharaoh, shiny and perfectly dressed, bold and bright and something I could truly hate, made me afraid to look at myself. The Priestess was regal, a queen in disguise, even the priest, someone I know to have been truly haunted, seemed something more than human.

In my mind, they slowly twisted into some ideal of perfection, the Pharaoh young and strong and right, the priest capable, decisive, unafraid. They cast aside whatever human qualities they had ever possessed and became monsters I wanted to compete with.

A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head

I died again before I could reach the coast, somewhere on China's muddy roads from a disease I hadn't even realized I had. Back in the Shadow Realm again, I plotted. At first, I had only wanted to find answers to my past, to remember again what and who I was.

Now, however, I wanted the power to be mine. What little I remembered pointed that the millennium items we all possessed contained within them magic enough to subdue the world.

In my dreams, I thought I could become like the glazed, perfect shadows of my nemesis if I could only win all of the Millennium items and make them one thing and mine.

On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid

Again and again I made out of shadows the future I would make, the god I would become. Endlessly I watched as the golden me, the perfect me from those last few days before my death rescued Malik from the dusty, crumbling tombs. Even when he was a hair's width from death, my golden ghost seemed gallant to me; capable of anything.

If I could have that back, become the indestructible again, I knew that everything could return to the snippets of memories I had from before the Pharaoh and the dreams. The only way I could have everything back, I knew, was if I could gather the millennium items and use them to make the world in my dreams real again.

In my most deliriums moments, I fancied going back in time to some point in my past and telling my own self what to avoid. Showing myself the future so I would know what not to do.

In some dreams, I was with Malik again, robbing tombs in my outdated, modern version of reality.

I stayed like this, plotting my return to life, until I awoke again in my soul room, a curious Ryou Bakura peering down at me. He was having a strange dream, he said.

'Til you love me

Meeting the pharaoh at last, seeing how he remembered nothing, much less than what I myself knew, startled me out of my nightmarish delusions. To finally see the bright, perfect presence from my dreams alive again in the body of a short, horribly innocent and ignorant boy, both of them knowing nothing, brought back to me the memories I lacked.

Sometimes I wish I could have kept my fantasies, the grand delusions were, after all, so much better than the reality I was once again a part of. For a time, too disappointed to go out again, the only thing that entertained me was my host. Ryou reminded me somewhat of my vision of Malik, the innocent trapped in some sick game by the Pharaoh and the Priest, and it drove me into violence.

The anger, disappointment, hate and absolute loneliness that I had found in Domino City were all taken out successfully on my too-pliant host.

Sometimes, now, in the middle of the night when I am in my soul room and the knowledge that Malik is closer than ever but dead to me drives me into looking at Ryou. Sometimes, I see the real, hurting truth; that what I'd loved and what I'd hated has come together in him and that I must, at whatever cost, protect this from the world and from myself.

But then I remember again the dreams and the hopeless mantra that has sustained me for five thousand years and it's back again. The old hate, the pull of the Millennium items return and I am once again in my soul room, thinking of Malik, the ideal, perfect Malik from those last few days before the end.

Then I am awake again, I plot the destruction of the Pharaoh and the Priest and the Priestess, of how I will draw the world back into the past and find, forcefully if I have to, the traces of the Malik I remember

Until then, though, until it is time to act again, I lie in my soul room or in the large chair in Ryou's room and look for traces of Malik's eyes, Malik's hair, his voice, in my own pale reflection.

Sometimes I can almost find it, but the illusion only makes me angrier.

End

A/N: Yes, it doesn't make too much sense, but I've been thinking about how everyone got to where they were today, and how I think I heard Isis say that people got reincarnated every thousand years, so this story just popped up. The song, I think, isn't really the best for Bakura, but I really wanted to write something where he has some other reason for beating up on Ryou than that he expresses love through pain or wants to toughen him up.

Not my best, but oh well. Dont forget R&R!