Chapter Two: Discovered

When Ryou next opened his eyes and gazed upon the world, it was with the certainty that several hours had gone by, for his yami was slumped on the sofa watching T.V. He was flicking through channels aimlessly, with no obvious interest.

"What's the time?" Ryou asked haltingly. It hurt to talk.

"Half past four in the morning." The reply was said in a vague sort of way, as if time, infinite though it was, still occurred only on the physical plane, and therefore didn't really matter. "And I wouldn't do that if I were you," he continued in a more matter-of-fact tone, as Ryou tentatively put up a hand to touch his face and flinched, his battered skin screaming at the contact.

Bakura got up from the sofa and surveyed his light's face. There was evident satisfaction in his expression. "You'd better get in there and clean yourself up." He pointed to the small bathroom adjacent to their bedroom.

Numbly, his lighter half nodded and made his way in the indicated direction, his whole body swaying as if drunk. He fumbled for the light switch several times before finding it. Automatically he raised his eyes to the mirror, and-

"No!"

For a fraction of a second Ryou stared in horrified fascination at the mask of blood before him, taking in the long jagged slashes that ran down his face and the clotted, congealed substance dried down his neck. Then the trance broke and he stumble out of the mirror's gaze, clutching his face as if he could somehow tear it off to reveal how he had looked hours before.

"Oh God, please no…"

He staggered blindly to the bed, his legs giving way beneath him. Ryou hid his disfigured face in his hands as his body was wracked with silent sobs. Pressing on the cuts made red circles explode in his vision, but he didn't care about the pain anymore.

"Are looks really that important to you?"

Ryou peeked at his other through the gaps between his fingers, and at the bored expression he felt something snap inside.

"You! You were the one who did this to me, you…you…"

The lack of interest intensified his rage even further, burning away the fear. He seized the pale shoulders and shook them. "Stop looking at me like that, goddammit!"

"Yadonushi, you're acting like a child." There was no emotion in the spirit's voice.

"Fuck that!" Ryou slapped him across the face, hating him. Hating him because he looked so utterly bored, hating him because of what he had done. And most of all, hating him because he still looked normal, he didn't look like some sort of ugly freak-

"Are you finished yet?"

"Shut up!" Ryou was panting hard, his anger leaving a bitter metallic aftertaste in his mouth. "Stop dismissing me! You could at least pretend to take me seriously for once, instead of looking so goddamn bored!"

"Well, this isn't exactly the most constructive use of my time." Bakura fingered one of the Ring's tines, and Ryou thought how he wanted to grab the cord and throttle him with it.

"Fuck you." The words were delivered in an uncharacteristic hiss.

"You've said that already. When are you going to stop screaming, and just generally deluding yourself? Are you trying to project your self-denial onto me?"

"No shit." Ryou's voice was low and hoarse.

"Don't swear, host. You're too pretty to swear."

"Well thanks to you, no one's going to be saying that again to me for a while."

"Self-pity this time. How amusing."

"Aren't you the one who's in denial? You've finally gone too far this time. This isn't the sort of thing I can cover up. What do you think mou hitori no Yugi will say when he sees me?"

"Nothing whatsoever. Because he isn't going to find out." Then, as Ryou opened his mouth, he continued, "host, how were you planning to tell him? Planning to just walk into school like that, are you?"

Silence. He could tell this attack had scored.

Ryou's face had turned papery-white, the look of disbelief still in his eyes. "I…no…" He could almost hear them whispering, debating, gossiping amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands, and staring at him… "Fine, I'll…phone him up."

"No you won't," his yami stated calmly.

"No," Ryou whispered. "I won't." He swallowed hard. "I'll just take a few days off school. I haven't been off sick in months. I'll just not come to school until they heal…" His voice grew desperate. "They'll be gone within a few days…or a week…won't they?"

"A few months would be more accurate."

"No," Ryou repeated. He was struggling to steady his voice. "You…you're lying."

Bakura laughed quietly. "Not had much experience with scars, I see." He watched in satisfaction as his light walked back into the bathroom, and could tell from the way his thin shoulders were shaking that he was close to tears.

Ryou took a deep breath and switched the light back on. The harsh, unfiltered brightness threw every little detail into retrospect, highlighting the blood filled hollows around his throat and cheekbones. Trying to calm his racing breathing, he dampened a flannel with warm water then wrung it out, twisting the material as if he were somehow wringing out the fragments of his old life, his old appearance. He mopped cautiously at his face. The pain made him wince, and he kept his eyes averted from the mirror whenever possible. Soon some of the scabs peeled away, protective crusts torn off to reveal livid, flaming skin underneath. Accidentally catching another glance of himself in the mirror, he was forcibly reminded of a sunburnt zebra, face alternatively decked out in white and bloody stripes. The image seemed too humorous for the occasion, but he couldn't get it out of his head. In any case, it was better than the other words which popped in: Freak. Disfigured. Scarred for life.

Trembling now, he wrung out the used flannel, forcing himself to watch the pink water trickle reluctantly down the sink. Then he crept out of the bathroom, while avoiding meeting his yami's eyes.

"So, how were you planning to get to school?" came that cool, hated voice.

"I don't know." Ryou's tone was quieter now, subdued by the fresh images in the mirror, and the slow, unwelcome realisation that this was now him.

His yami laughed. "It's a good thing that I do then. Now go to bed, yadonushi. I'll tell you in the morning."

…………..

The next day Ryou arose with care. He'd had to sleep on his back during the night, due to the throbbing in his face and neck. Donning his school uniform with even less enthusiasm than usual, he said uncertainly, "Now what?"

Bakura, who had actually been half-dozing in his soul room, jolted awake. ((What? Oh.)) He gave a yawn. ((Go over to the mirror.))

Meekly Ryou obeyed. He was careful to avoid looking up at his reflection.

His yami took control, and Ryou watched as his features changed; his hair flaring outwards into those infamous devil horns and his eyes narrowing. More importantly, the scars vanished, melting away as if they had never been there.

(That's not good enough. You don't look enough like me.)

((Its not your place to tell me what's good enough and what isn't,)) Bakura shot back.

Painstakingly, he smoothed his hair down as if his hands were coated with an invisible gel, while making sure his eyes were suitably wide. The Ring was tucked unnoticeably under his shirt. ((There. I will go into school, and everyone will think I am you. Happy?))

Silence. Ryou knew his yami was offering him a choice, of sorts: his dignity, in return for obedience.

((I asked if you were happy, ya-do-nu-shi. Unless you would prefer everyone saw you like this?))

For a moment the disguise slipped away, and Ryou saw his face in the mirror. The deep slashes down his neck looked even worse in the morning light.

(Y-yes. I'm happy.)

……………

The day crawled painfully by, with Ryou sitting in his dungeon of a soul room and watching as his yami fooled everyone with depressing little trouble: Yugi, Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu. It was all too obvious they suspected nothing.

A soul room is a good place to think, and so Ryou reflected on his actions, and whether they'd been the right thing to do. Several times, especially as he watched his yami plot more ways of stealing the Puzzle and then carry them out, the answer seemed to be 'no.' He was betraying Yugi, watching helplessly as his other half spied on him the entire day, noting when he took his Item off (rarely) and when he was on his own (frequently). He did, however, make no attempts to take control, or even distract his yami, for if this was done he would inevitably be revealed, and people would know. Then the stares would come, the whispers, the gossip, perhaps even a summon to the headmaster's office, and then the answer to his tortuous, unanswerable question was always yes.

After school had finished and Bakura had walked home, Ryou was finally allowed back in control. Already he was certain that he wouldn't be able to stand this again tomorrow. It had been hard enough for one day, but the prospect of living in his soul room, a virtual prisoner in his own body, for months and months into the far distant future, was unbelievable. Worse than that, it was inconceivable. He simply couldn't envision carrying it on. But the alternative was so much worse.

Bakura, on the other hand, was almost content. He had carried out four different plans to steal the Millennium Puzzle today, and even though they had all failed the last one had been so close he was certain he would have it by the end of the week. He had succeeded in undoing the chain that the Puzzle hung on, and it had dropped unnoticed onto the floor behind Yugi. But Honda, being the exasperating bastard that he was, had very infuriating pointed out that "Yugi-kun" had dropped something, and hadn't he better pick it up? Bakura had had to choke back a growl of frustration as Yugi picked the Puzzle back up, a look of utmost surprise on his chubby face. If it had just been the three of them he would have killed Honda. But Jounouchi had been with them, and Kaiba, and Ra-knows-how-many teachers. It hadn't been the right time. But no matter. The right time would come, eventually, and he would seize it at once.

…………

And thus the week passed. The disco had been on Saturday night, and it was now five days later when Ryou sat listlessly on the sofa, looking up briefly when his other half came in from the kitchen. The slashes on his face and neck were beginning to heal, albeit slowly, leaving behind angry pink scars that would eventually pale and fade to silver. Despite the fact that Ryou himself never did anything at school now, his yami still made him come. Ryou suspected this was so that he could witness his other's attempts to steal the Millennium Puzzle, and so be steeped in feelings of guilt and despair.

In a way this had happened, but not quite how one might expect. At the beginning there had been the predicted feelings of guilt, yes. But Ryou's attitude seemed to be one of "fuck it, I have nothing left to lose, therefore I'll be the most rebellious little host I can, just to annoy you."

Actually, Bakura found this more irritating than anything else. It was as if his vessel didn't respect him. As if he didn't even care. He didn't even acknowledge when he came into a room anymore, for Ra's sake. And when Bakura ordered him to do something, there would be a sullen, almost sulky silence before he complied.

The spirit was beginning to wonder if a less extreme repeat of Friday's activities was needed, to re-install the necessary amount of respect and fear into his landlord. Though at the moment his yadonushi's attitude problems weren't his chief concern. He really wanted to steal that Puzzle before the weekend, which left only tomorrow. He had come tantalisingly close today; tomorrow he was bound to succeed.