I finished this is November and recently found it again. There's not much to say except that this pure sibling cuteness, perhaps one of the fluffiest things I have ever written.

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Right Here

Bakura stared down at the picture in his hands. The frame was a simple gold, nothing special at all to the casual observer. But in Bakura's eyes it was more valuable than any treasure in the world. Because to him, it was the greatest treasure in the world.

He brushed the picture frame gently, fixing it into his mind, though he had long since memorized its every detail. His eyes were lost and sad as they gazed down at the photograph's occupants. A young woman smiled back at him, her neat white hair falling down around her shoulders. She was dressed in a light blue blouse and had an arm around a much smaller figure. The little girl at her side couldn't have been more than six years old, her face positively glowing with laughter. Her eyes shone, bright and happy, full of the light and wonder with which a child invariably views the world. They were a dazzling chocolate, reflecting with a strange similarity the brown pools of longing that looked down on them. She was so cute and innocent, just as she had been right up until…

Bakura's chest constricted as pain stabbed through his heart. Part of him longed to push aside the memory, shove it away and hide it where he could forget, where it would no longer hurt. But a larger part of him didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget a single word, a single scent, a single moment of them. In his mind it was far better to remember and suffer the pain than to forget and never see that smile, those eyes, ever again…

But that didn't make the stabs any easier. He missed the young woman, the little girl. With all his mind and heart and soul he missed them.

Bakura rose quietly from the sofa and placed the picture of his mother and sister back on the mantle. He blinked and turned his head to the ceiling, holding back the water tickling behind his eyes. Cautiously, he tested a faint feeling in the back of his mind, the mental link that connected him to the spirit residing inside the Millennium Ring. Nothing came back to him through the link.

Bakura let out a soft breath and climbed the stairs to his room. He hadn't felt a thing from Yami Bakura for a long time. Recently the spirit had locked himself in his soul room, and it had been days since he had said a single word. Now of all times his host missed hearing the low voice in the back of his mind. The silence only increased the feeling of loneliness that filled him tonight, making it seem like he was confined, shut off from the rest of the world. And with the pain in his heart at the moment, the last thing he wanted was to be alone. He missed them so much…

Bakura paused again to keep back tears before he climbed into his bed, not bothering to take off his clothes. Snow built up on the windowsill outside, blending with the bleak winter sky. It seemed so much like that day, so many years ago…

He tried to push aside that thought. He didn't think he could take another reminder. He closed his eyes and let out another breath. After a time, drowsiness reached up and tugged at him, leading his awareness down…down…away where he knew nothing…

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Bakura drifted among hazy feelings and bits of sound. Slowly, very slowly, sensation floated back to him until he was dimly aware of a presence nearby. A quiet voice hummed behind him, low and familiar. "Mum?" he murmured, turning a little on his side to look at the young woman. She smiled softly and sat on the bed beside him, touching his shoulder.

"Hello, baby," she whispered back.

Bakura moved back to his side, relaxing at the well-known touch. "It's been so long," he breathed.

"It has." She moved her hand to rub his back gently, and he closed his eyes in silent enjoyment. "What's the matter Bakura?" It didn't seem so much like a question as an offer to help.

Bakura's eyes burned fiercely. Quiet tears streamed down his cheeks as the terrible ache gripped him again. "I miss you so much," he whispered, voice breaking and full of pain, "You and Amane…"

The bed next to him sank a little and he looked up into a pair of beautiful chocolate eyes. "Amane?"

She smiled at him, then tilted her head in slight puzzlement. "How can you miss us if we're not gone?"

Not…gone? Then what was this awful breaking inside of him? "What…?"

"We're right here, silly." She poked his chest lightly, where his heart was. Where the breaking was. And the breaking eased. "We've always been here, 'Kura. We get to watch over you. And Daddy too." She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, giggling slightly. "Mummy's really proud of you."

Bakura tried to say something, anything, but his throat had caught. "A-Amane…"

"Don't cry."

"W-what?"

She frowned and reached out to brush the tears off his face. "I don't like it when you cry. It makes me sad."

He made a small sound somewhere between a tiny laugh and a sob. Slowly, his hand moved up to touch hers. It felt soft and warm. "I'll – I'll try to stop – for you, Amane…"

Her smile came back and she moved to snuggle up against him, cuddling into his chest. Bakura put his arms around her and held her close to him, never wanting to let go. "This is what I miss," he whispered, "just hugging you and…and hearing your voice and…"

He choked.

"You're still crying," she said softly.

"I…I'm sorry, I…I…"

"'Kura, shh. Just shh."

She curled deeper into him and he buried his face in her hair. His mother ran a hand through his hair and brushed gentle circles on his back. Bakura took a deep breath and let it out. He didn't want to lose this moment.

He closed his eyes and existed in sensation alone, fixing it into his memory. The sound of his mother's voice, his sister's quiet breathing, the smell of her hair…

It felt so good, all of it, to have them here again. He relaxed into it.

For a long time he was aware of nothing but a deep sense of contentment. How long he lay there he didn't know, didn't care. He was here and so were they. It was a long time later when he stirred to kiss Amane's forehead gently. She stirred too.

"Thanks for the letters, 'Kura. I like reading over your shoulder when you write them."

"Mmm…"

"'Kura?"

"Mmm?"

"Take care of Daddy. He's getting lonely."

"Sure…"

His mother's voice sounded soft and distant behind him. "And the spirit of your Ring, sweetheart. He needs your help. Take care of him too."

"I will…"

"I love you baby."

"I love you too, Mum. So much…"

Bakura could feel them slipping away. But strangely, he felt calm. There was no unease or concern at all. Amane kissed him back, cutely, like the little girl he remembered, and poked his chest.

"Right here."

And then there was only calm.

Bakura lay quiet for a long time before opening his eyes. The wall of his room stared back at him. He rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. He'd been asleep for two hours.

Asleep? Had he been asleep?

He sat up quietly, searching the room for a sign of their presence. He saw nothing to prove that there had been anyone in the room other than him. But he also saw nothing to prove that there hadn't.

The white-haired boy made his way downstairs to the mantle again, picking up the old picture frame. It didn't really matter if it had been a dream or not. Because it didn't hurt anymore. Yes, he missed them, and yes, it ached, but it didn't hurt.

He sat back on the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. Something stirred within the Millennium Ring.

The spirit of your Ring, sweetheart. He needs your help. Take care of him too.

Perhaps the thief would be willing to talk with him this time.

"Thank you," he whispered to the air before closing his eyes and fading his consciousness back into his soul room.

Just before his mind left the mortal world he thought he heard a faint giggle, like a little girl who was watching from somewhere invisible.

End

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Awww. n_n

~Sword^-^