Title: Canvas

Summary: A post-Duelist Kingdom story centered around Pegasus and his search for a way to bring Cecelia back… And the man he wants help from is the most unlikely of all. Shounen-ai of a very uncommon pairing that someone requested.

Disclaimer: Lily does not own YuGiOh. Lily is not making money off of this.

Warnings: Brain-boggling stuff, mate. Anybody wanna guess what it all means?

Chapter 8: Portrait

Apart from a lunch break, when Croquet had brought them sandwiches and fruit juice, Pegasus and Seto spent almost four hours at the laptop, trying to decide if each certain color fit with his dream.

They stopped abruptly, hardly daring to believe it, when they reached the end of the extensive color list. Left with three and a half hours of surveillance video, Pegasus had opted to take a nap, murmuring that he never wanted to lay his eye upon a computer screen again. Though he would, of course. Anything for Cecelia.

And while Kaiba worked busily to manage his company, Pegasus dreamt.

A pearly mist had rolled up around him, obscuring everything from his view. Someone seemed to be calling out to him, but he was too weary to even turn his head. He rose slowly, until the mist, no matter how it reached up, could only coil about his ankles, and he could see the one who had been saying his name over and over until it fell from her lips as meaningless as drops of snow and ice mixed together with hot, steamy blood.

"Do I know you?" He thought to ask, though he couldn't be sure if he had spoken or not; his tongue felt like paper or something else equally dry. Perhaps he shouldn't ask such a question, though, for obviously she knew him, and it would hurt to know that he had forgotten who she was. Too late.

"You… don't know?" Her eyes and mouth widened as if they had broken apart and were now falling in a shower of petals around her feet. But they weren't falling, of course. Only tears. And the word that had once meant his name.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling out of control and dizzy, "I'm sorry. If you could remind me, though, maybe…"

"I'm Cecelia."

"…What?"

"I'm your wife."

"N… no... You're... not… You can't…"

"Why can't I?" Her eyes looked so desperately sad, and he just wanted to brush the raindrops from her face, but he couldn't… something was holding him back…

"You don't look like her," he said, though his mouth was drowning with glue and rubber and tree sap that tried to shut him up. "I know what she looks like."

Her delicate porcelain face was breaking, breaking, shattering into a thousand infinitesimal pieces but when they didn't fall, he realized that there was no sign that it was breaking after all except the tinkling glass sound of pieces crumbling against one another, all its support gone. "No, no you don't. It's all an illusion. You can't continue this… You're breaking my heart."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you really know what your wife looks like?" She was grasping at her chest now, as if trying to hold the pieces of her heart together, her piercing eyes turning him inside out. "Or do you only know your memory?" He couldn't say anything; he couldn't move, as if her eyes were holding him in place like a stake through his heart. "The Eye can give you my image, the Ring can find me, the Ankh can give you my memories, the Rod can give you my habits, the Scales can give you my ideals, the Tauk can give you my destiny, the Puzzle can put it all together… but it's still not really me. Do you know why?"

Her lips were terrible, terrible, her tongue was like a snake, lashing out at him, biting, and finally, those sharp fangs sank into his wrist and the poison filled his bloodstream, and he screamed and screamed and screamed but the pain was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving only illumination. "You are…"

"Because I'm dead!" Her words were harsh, bright light, destroying the darkness behind which he had for so long made his shelter. "You can never have me back, not with any amount of magic."

"…Cecelia," he whispered, putting his arms around her at last, and she was crying and he was crying and they were both crying together not noticing the blood trickling from her mouth nor his wrist. Gold that had not been there before was falling from his arms and legs like fetters shed. "I can hold you…"

"…Because I'm real. Because I'm not an illusion. Because I was something the Items can never imitate: I was alive."

He was crying too much to answer now, weeping and holding and wanting nothing more than to just hold her forever and ever and ever and ever, so she did the talking for the both of them. "Stop searching for me. I'm right here, with you, forever… The Eye can pervert my image, but you won't believe it, will you?" Mutely, he could barely shake his head for the relieved and yet desperate sobs that racked his entire frame. "I'm right here… but I'm not alive anymore. Remember me, but forget me…"

"I could never forget you," he murmured absently, running his hand through her hair and streaking it red.

"I just want you to be happy, like you've made me happy. And I know you couldn't be happy if you don't let go of me. The past is gone, and so am I…"

"Cecelia? Wait!"

Her smile was the last thing that remained of her, until that too was gone, faded away into a brilliant sunrise that forced him to shield his eyes. Both of them.

To Be Continued…