Chapter Three:

To Catch a Dream

Glittering mocha eyes clashed determinedly with darker mahogany ones through the flames that separated them, a sneer of contempt held on the combatants' faces. Only a Shadow creature, a proud blue and silver dragon, flanked the man dressed in the lavish trappings of a Priest. A tall, lithe protector wielding an intricately carved scepter of exotic jade flanked the other man, obviously the one of higher power.

"Why are you doing this?" the Priest's opposition, the Pharaoh, demanded suddenly.

The Priest chuckled, patting his Blue-Eyes like one would a puppy when it nudged him. "Why? Because it has to be done. You've served this country well but you are weak."

The Pharaoh's guardian, Daryius, scowled. "You don't care about this country or her people. From what I've seen, all you want is power."

"Then you must not see properly, sorcerer. In Khasekhemwy's hands, the precious Thousand Year Items are nothing but pretty trinkets for us to parade around with," the Priest replied.

"You speak of war, Seth! My father did not create the Thousand Year Items for them to be used as tools of destruction. They were forged to help uphold peace!" Khasekhemwy growled.

"Peace can only be obtained by war!" Seth replied evenly.

"If you think that, you're more of an idiot then I thought," Daryius sneered, his long fingers curling and uncurling around his staff. "You think like a barbarian!"

Seth smirked, shaking his head. "Don't make me laugh." The Priest's piercing gaze turned even sharper. "Duel me, Pharaoh. Not with your pathetic Shadow players, but duel for yourself."

A shadow detached itself from behind the Pharaoh's throne then, limping over to Egypt's Morning Star determinedly. "My Lord, you cannot face him."

Khasekhemwy's mahogany eyes softened as he took in the battered form of his most trusted Shadow player, Ausar. "And neither can you, my friend."

"High Priest, allow me to duel you once more in the Pharaoh's place!" By the fierce light shining in the younger man's coffee hued eyes, it was apparent that he was stubborn and most likely wouldn't back down.

Seth sneered, though something about it wasn't quite as fierce anymore. "This isn't your battle! I wish to face your beloved Morning Star and him alone."

Ausar limped forward, trying to hide the fact that his last encounter with Seth, not even a half hour previous, had injured him badly. His eyes, almost covered by beetle black hair, glared fiercely. "If you want to duel Khasekhemwy, you'll have to destroy me first."

Seth almost crumbled under the weight of the Shadow player's voice. "A-Ausar?"

"You heard me, Priest. If you can successfully kill me then you deserve the right to face the Pharaoh." Ausar scowled, looking irate and crushed at the same time. "Do you accept?"

"Don't be so foolish!" Khasekhemwy hissed. "That Blue-Eyes White Dragon will destroy you!"

"Have faith in me, dear friend." Ausar flashed the Pharaoh the shadow of a cocky grin. "Do you accept my terms, Seth?"

The Priest took a second to scramble for his voice again, his heart threatening to tear from his chest. "I accept your terms, Ausar. If I win-"

"I'll be dead and you may face the Pharaoh," Ausar broke in. "If I win, you'll be dead and we won't have to worry about anyone else dueling this day." A charcoal gray aura flickered to life around the Egyptian. "Prepare to duel..."

Seth steeled his resolve to complete his plans, his own dark green aura surrounding him.

"...Traitor."

* * * *

The luxurious office, once silent, now echoed with the sound of a yelp as its sole occupant, Seto Kaiba, jerked out of his sleep. Shaking and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the young CEO tried to get a grip on himself. A web of fear spun from the dream ensnared his mind, forcing him to recollect it whether he liked it or not.

Seto ran unsure hands through his messed up hair, trying to get a grip. That nightmare had been of his former life, that much he knew simply by seeing the Priest with a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He knew one of the others had been the Pharaoh simply because it had been spelled out for the shaken billionaire.

But the last character of the dream, Ausar, struck Seto as someone of great importance to his past self.

With a sigh, the Japanese teenager wandered over to his paper-cluttered desk, flopping down bonelessly on his plush chair. He reached for a listless paper on the nearest stack, looked at it, and put it back. He didn't have the head for work right now.

Seto glanced down at his watch and it slowly dawned on him that he was supposed to call Mokuba ten minutes ago. The brunet reached inside his trench coat pocket for his cell phone and punched in his home number.

On the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. "You've reached the Kaiba household. If you're calling for Seto, try the office. If you're calling for me, I'm not paying attention. Leave a message and maybe we'll call you back!"

Seto rolled his eyes. "Mokuba, pick up the phone."

A few seconds later, the younger Kaiba's breathless voice floated over the line. "Hey big brother. What's up?"

"I was just calling to make sure that you were okay," Seto replied. "Is Joey there?"

"Yep! He got us pizza and movies when you come home! When are you coming home? It's getting late and the weather's getting really bad."

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down!"

Seto smiled when he heard Joey in the background. "Can I talk to Joe for a second?"

"Sure. Here ya go, Chihuahua!"

There was a growl on the other end. "Hey Seto. What's holding you up this time?" Joey asked, sounding very much like Mokuba had.

"I'm coming home now. I don't have the mind set to stay here all night," Seto replied. "What are you and Mokuba doing?"

"I'm kicking his ass in Dungeon Dice Monsters!" Mokuba yelled in the background.

"Mokuba, watch your mouth," Joey admonished. "I have a chibi-Kaiba to go beat up. Be careful on the way home. The roads are really wet."

Seto chuckled. "I will, Joey. You and Mokuba behave yourselves. I'll be home in a half hour."

"Okay! Love ya!"

The CEO smiled warmly as he hung up the phone. He gathered a few things from his desk and threw them into his ever-present briefcase. As he got up, he noticed there was a message sitting by the phone. Wonder who left this. He picked the note up, his brows knitting in confusion.

Seto,

I need to speak with you as soon as you are available. I have reason to believe that I have found something of great importance that will help you in the future. I will be in Domino till the end of the month if you wish to reply to this note. I believe you know where to find me.

-Ishizu Ishtar

Seto sighed in exasperation. The always-mysterious Ishizu never failed to amaze the seventeen-year-old with her profound puzzles and riddles. If I have time this weekend, I'll head down to the museum, the CEO decided, tucking the note into his pocket where it would probably be forgotten.

* * * *

"Let me get this straight..."

"Yugi! We've explained it five times already! We are not bloody dead!" Ryou cried in exasperation. "And no, you can't go telling everyone and their grandmother!"

"But, it'll make the others feel a lot better," Yugi argued. "They're your friends, Ryou! Why are you going to make them suffer under the fallacy that you're dead if you're not?!"

"Don't start with that self-righteous, friendship bullshit," Bakura growled. "Technically, we are dead. There's no need for complicating an already complicated matter."

Yugi growled at the thief. "I'm just saying-"

"Spare us, midget." Bakura looked down at the Japanese teenager imposingly. "Once we find a way to restore ourselves to Ryou's body, then we'll let them know."

Ryou nodded in agreement, though he didn't look quite as aggravated as his dark side. "Yami has a point. If we reveal our presence now, then it'll be nothing but an endless torrent of questions."

"Until then, you're just going to have to get used to the fact that we're here," Bakura added with finality.

Yugi sighed histrionically and headed for the door leading to his conscious. A second later, a slightly miffed looking Yami appeared in the soul room.

"That vertically challenged runt of yours really has an attitude problem," Bakura stated nonchalantly.

"Wouldn't you be a little on guard if one of your worst enemies just sporadically appear in the recesses of your mind?" Yami shot back.

"What do you mean 'worst enemy'? I haven't tried to murder the fern headed midget!" Bakura cried. "Ra, with freaks like Mar-Malik on the loose, why am I even on the list?"

Yami's expression went deadpan. "You first sealed his soul in a little wooden game piece. Then you sealed his soul into a Duel Monsters card. Then you-"

"But those are just little things!" Bakura argued.

"That would have destroyed his soul if he lost. Stop playing innocent, tomb robber. It's not a befitting role for you." The former Pharaoh crossed his arms.

"You like to seal people into things, don't you, yami?" Ryou suddenly asked, looking amused.

Yami's amethyst eyes grew cold. "Which is all the more reason for me to kick the both of you out."

"WHAT?!" Bakura screamed. "You do that and the only place we have to go is the Shadow Realm!" The thief advanced on Yami. "You can send me there, but you are not sending my hikari."

"If I leave him be, you can find your way back. I'm not ignorant, tomb robber." The Pharaoh matched Bakura's glare evenly. Part of him was as enraged as the thief that he was suggesting to destroy his former lover, but he reasoned his first duty was to Yugi, not his heart.

Bakura grabbed Yami by the collar. "I've been trapped in the Shadow Realm for thousands of years. So have you. We both know that punishment is beyond Hell, suited for the likes of characters like Malik. Do you really want to spend eternity knowing that you murdered an innocent soul."

Ryou ventured forward to capture his darker half's arm. "Bakura, please don't. Unfortunately, Yami no Yugi has a point." But we're not going anywhere, the Brit added to himself. He turned large, sad eyes on Yami, pouring defeated acceptance into his voice. "I know we're a threat to you and Yugi. If you feel a need to be rid of us, then I understand."

"You what?!" Bakura growled. "Hikari, what-"

Ryou's sad eyes held Yami's steadfastly. "No, yami. Neither of us have proven to be trustworthy. Like you're sworn to protect me, Yami no Yugi must protect Yugi."

The Puzzle Spirit felt guilt clawing at his consciousness, seeing the sadness and despair glimmering in Ryou's gaze. They've been through so much already. If you banish them, I'll be no better than Malik. I can't do it.

Ryou saw Yami was about to cave in and decided to turn on the waterworks, somehow forcing small tears to roll down his porcelain face. "It's your decision."

Bakura suddenly realized what his light side was doing and suppressed a laugh. "Ryou, shut your mouth! Where ever the Ring may be, we'll be banished to that cursed thing for eternity."

Suddenly, Ryou's eyes widened. "THAT'S IT!"

Yami and Bakura jumped at the sudden shout from the always-quiet Brit. "What are you talking about?" the former asked tentatively.

Ryou suddenly looked more excited then sad. "The Ring can remove souls from their body but the Puzzle can put them back! If we can find Malik and get the Ring then we can use the Puzzle to replace me and Bakura and then I...um we can be on our merry way!"

Yami raised an eyebrow. "How can I return you two to your rightful body if you don't have one."

"...Didn't think of that."

Bakura grinned. "That's easy! We dig our old body up!"

Ryou and Yami blanched. "BAKURA!"

"What? Unless you want to pick a random dog and be content to live like that for the rest of your life."

Ryou sighed. "Yami, that body's been dead for nearly a week. Do you know how disgusting that idea is?"

Bakura shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Yami shook his head. "Now, two questions. One, do you know where the Ring is? And two, how are you going to get it off of Malik?"

Bakura opened his mouth and closed it again. A deep scowl shadowed his handsome features as he grated out, "Stop making sense!"

* * * *

Ishizu Ishtar sighed deeply, sidestepping a pond sized puddle. Her car had picked the worst night of the year to break down on her, so she was stuck walking halfway across Domino in a practical monsoon without an umbrella. The Egyptian pulled her soaked jacket closer to her delicate form in a vain attempt to ward off an invading chill.

The last thing I need is to get sick! A second later, Ishizu sneezed violently. Too late, she thought sarcastically, hugging the buildings as a car sped past. The twenty-year-old hurried around the corner just in time to miss the tsunami wave that washed over the sidewalk. This is so stupid. I just should have called for a taxi. Rolling rich cerulean eyes, the elder Ishtar sibling bit back another sneeze.

Another car roared around the corner, this tidal wave successfully and thoroughly soaking every inch of Ishizu's shaking form. For the love of Ra! I believe I would be more dry extended deep sea diving! The unfortunate Egyptian pushed her lanky ebony hair out of her face, moving her gaze upward to watch for anymore motorists.

None presented themselves, but a lump in the middle of the sidewalk did.

What is that? Ishizu padded forward, sneezing a few times in a row. As she neared closer, she made out a deadly familiar shock of flaxen hair. "Malik?!" She finished the short gap between her and her unconscious brother, kneeling down next to him. "Little brother, get up."

But, Malik was limp as a rag doll.

* * * *

"Let go of me!" Malik growled, trying to pull himself away from Marik's groping touch. He knew he couldn't make any rash moves against the highly violent Egyptian without some sort of major injury being incurred.

"All in good time, hikari. All in good time," Marik replied, a smirk evident in his tone. He pulled the heavy sweatshirt Malik was wearing over his head, revealing perfectly toned muscles and exotic mocha skin.

Malik growled and thrashed around. Since his tenth year, when the Pharaoh's memory had been engraved into his back, the seventeen-year-old had despised to have the taboo in plain sight. "This isn't going to make me cooperate any more!" he threatened.

"We'll see about that," Marik purred, tracing long fingers over the blond's hated tattoo. "This hurt, didn't it?" Lilac eyes narrowed. "I believe it did. Having that searing hot knife dig into your youthful flesh with all the grace of a barbarian. Feeling the unbridled pain as the blade dug deeper to assure permanence, wincing as you felt your own blood cool and dry."

"Stop it," Malik sneered. "It hurt like hell. Happy?"

Marik smiled cruelly. "This broke your childhood spirit in half. You questioned you reasons for serving the mighty Pharaoh, asked the gods why you had to be scarred for the rest of eternity." The ancient's hand left the hieroglyphs to tangle in soft blond hair. "Your hate allowed me to return to his world."

Malik growled. "Don't I feel all special inside? If I knew that those markings would make my life so damn miserable, I would have killed myself long before the ceremony."

Marik pouted. "You act as if you don't like me." The Spirit nipped at Malik's ear. "I don't like that at all." He ran roaming hands over the seventeen-year-old's bare flesh, enjoying it's smooth-as-silk quality.

Damn it. Someone give me some divine intervention here! Malik screamed at the heavens. He knew exactly what Marik wanted and would be damned if he was going to get without a fight. He also knew that his threats would fall on deaf ears. Suddenly, the Egyptian felt a line of fire rake over his stomach.

"There's no one here to save you, little one," Marik sneered, smearing the blood on the Millennium Rod on Malik's face before making a cut that ran down his jaw. "No one cares to save you because all you do is murder them."

"That's your fault!" Malik shot back, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Those three words sent Marik's mood to Hell as the Egyptian jammed the Rod's dagger into Malik's previously wounded shoulder, straight to the bone. "Don't you dare try to pin your sins on me, child!"

Fire shot through Malik's nerves as the Rod was twisted before being withdrawn. A single, traitorous tear rolled down his abused face as he tried to contain his agony for naught.

"You are just as evil as me! There is no light and dark for us. Only dark and darker. We share body, mind, soul, and sin," Marik growled, tracing his dagger around Malik's back. "Remember that I am the master and you are the slave."

Malik glared at the floor. "If that is true, then why can I not pin my faults on you?"

"Because I'm better then you!" Marik made a quick slash down his light's arm. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

Malik's lilac eyes floated upwards. "Then maybe you... aren't so sure of your own reasons," he whispered, low enough that a pin drop could rule out his words.

Marik growled, but restrained himself from making another slash on the seventeen-year-old's body. "I have had three thousand years to cement my reasons. I see no reason in sharing them with something as lowly as you."

Malik only nodded, his energy waning on oblivion from blood loss. "If you want to think that, so be it." The teenager screamed when he felt the cold metal of the Rod lodge even deeper into his shoulder wound, drawing forth another cascade of blood.

"You will learn to hold your tongue yet, hikari, Marik sneered, twisting the Rod in an almost bored fashion. "You will learn that I am your master." He yanked the bloody artifact out of Malik's shoulder and banished the shadows holding him.

"And what if I don't?" Malik ground out, a hand pressed to his shoulder in a valiant effort to stop the bleeding.

A sadistic smirk crossed Marik's lips. "Then I'll kill you." The Egyptian crashed his boot into Malik's cut stomach. "Now get out of my soul room."

The seventeen-year-old nodded, head bowed, as he staggered back toward his body.

[sighs] Downside to this morning: There's no Battle City and it's snowing. Upside to this morning: There is Malik and Bakura in the episode and they're now showing BC during the weekdays! …Heh, anyway… KUDOS!

Reen: I can so relate to not having any time to do what you want. [sigh] It's, like, some curse that teenagers have to endure. Good luck revising "Sweet Tomorrow"! ^)^

Evaru: If Bakura knew you were calling him a dollie, I believe you would be moving into the deepest level of the Shadow Realm… or Hell. Depends on how charitable 'Kura's feeling.

Monoshiri: Marik 'tis a twisted little bitch, is he not? He has a fun character to write; many opportunities to torture poor, poor Maly-chan. ^)^ And why would I kill sweet, little Ryou? [hugs Ry-chan] He's so nice, it wouldn't be a story without him!

YukiKIKI: Aw, thank-you! It's nice to know that I'm keeping all the nice little bishies in character. (Surprisingly, Malik's pretty easy to keep in character. It's Ryou that gives me a hard time.)

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Chapter Four Trailer:

"...Where did you hear that bit of lunacy?"

"A nice kid named...Ryou." Malik's tone suddenly fell from jovial to depressed.

Ishizu heard the fall in her brother's voice, but didn't understand it. She didn't want to press the issue, but she wanted to know what had disturbed Malik. "Who is he?"

"He was a duelist at Battle City," the blond replied at length. His eyes were now glued fastly to the ground, his head bowed.

"You're acting..." It suddenly struck Ishizu. Malik is talking about the boy who held the Millennium Ring. "Didn't you two hold an alliance?"

"Ryou? Nah. His Item held the Spirit of a thief and my alliance was with him." Malik spoke haltingly, his flaxen hair serving to shield his eyes from his sister.

Ishizu decided then to drop the issue, sensing that something about the gentle Brit's death had struck a deep chord within the youngest Ishtar.

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