Yo. Long time no see. (dodges the tomatoes thrown at her) I'm sorry! I had two weeks of bad author's block, and then I went on vacation, so most all of this has actually been written in the past couple of days. It's shorter, but it'll have to do for now. So sorry, please forgive me! But now the going should be easier because I know exactly where I'm going with the story, and soon school will be out, so I'll have time to write! Yes! So, enjoy.

Oh, and just a reminder, Nintendo owns their peeps, I own mine.

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Sighing heavily to himself, Dark laid back down on the sheets that covered the floor. He remembered Yuki trying desperately to take the floor himself – something about not wanting to be a burden – but in the end Dark, with a shrug, snagged the sheets from the bed and tossed them on the floor. This way they were even. Besides, the bed wasn't much better then the floor. It was hard as a rock…

So he stretched out his long body, his arms extending out above his head so that he could practically feel the blood flowing again. And there he relaxed, his mind in a soft haze as things swirled and settled in his mind. Most of what he felt was renewed emotions and personality traits he hadn't had for ages. His confidence rose and his outlook a little brighter. Of course, he was still pessimistic, but not so much as he had been. Seemingly at once two thoughts passed through his mind:

This is what it's like to be Dark.

This is what it's like to be The Thief.

It was nice really. He didn't know why he was so anxious about this. If anything, The Thief held things that he greatly needed -- feelings and emotions that were helpful; encouraging.

But, of course, everything should be taken with a grain of salt.

Slowly, the gentle smile that had graced his lips in his moment of bliss unfurled, falling into a frown. His glowing skin turned an ashy pale. Dread fell over him and, with a sudden intensity, he felt terribly ill.

In a flash his hand was at his mouth as he sat up, gagging and shuddering with sudden chills. His back heaved and his body shook as he felt his stomach churn violently. Dark quickly got to his feet and stumbled to his bathroom, his knees giving out on him as he knelt in front of the toilet and retched. He hadn't eaten much, but what little he had was gone. His hands had the rim in a death grip as he gagged and sputtered. His breathing was ragged and inconsistent. His head felt like it was being split in half.

"Oh my God, Dark!" Yuki cried, being woken up by the sudden disruption. He stood in the doorway, watching with wide, panicked eyes before dropping to the floor, kneeling next to Dark. Yuki held back his own nausea – he never was good around people throwing up – as he placed what he hoped to be a calming hand on the man's shoulder. Nothing to do but wait.

It didn't take long though. Nothing was left, leaving Dark panting and dazed. He would gag, as if to retch again, but there simply wasn't anything to retch. Dark sat back, his hands resting on his knees for support. A cold sweat had broken out on his skin as it shook, covered with goose bumps. Yuki gulped as he gave the man's shoulder a gentle squeeze and murmured, "Dark? What's wrong?"

Dark looked up slowly, and suddenly Yuki was chilled to the bone. His expression was, to put it simply, the epitome of despair. Tears rushed down his blanched face, his eyes dark, as if hidden in shadows, with no hopes of escape. His lip trembled and his eyebrows furrowed as his hair stuck to the moisture on his face. Opening his mouth only the smallest bit, he just barely whispered, in a voice drenched in sorrow and between breaths, "I… I-I'm bad… I'm bad…"

"D-Dark, what are you talking about?" Yuki asked worriedly. Dark simply shook his head though, glancing down at his hands as he continued to say the words over and over; his own personal mantra.

Of course Yuki wouldn't understand. No one could understand. How could they, when even Dark could hardly comprehend it? This sudden rush of memories that were not his, yet horribly were. His mind was a whirlpool of emotion.

No one could understand what it was like. To go places, see and do things some people would never experience in their entire lives. And all in his young teens no less. To have his body ravaged and torn, toyed with and run raw. It was sickening to see such a thing happen to a child; but to feel it, to BE that child… no words could describe the horrors. Dark preferred when he only knew the results, only saw what was left of the events that had occurred; now though, he knew those events like they were his own. Hell, they were his own! His body, his shame, it was all him.

But had he ever fought back? Ever tried to tell them off? Even told them to be gentle? No, not him. What Dark found most repulsive, stomach churning and downright horrid was that he not only went along, but played it up! He would tilt his head, lick his lips, and even act as the aggressor if need be. And still other times feign innocence to the point of absurdity, looking and acting like he had never heard of such sexual acts. As much as he hoped, pleaded that that prostitute, that whore wasn't him, he knew deep down that it was. Yes, a part of him that separated and became its own self, but it came from him. It was a part of him.

How could he be so certain?

Because those very things he did he learned from his mother. From the woman who gave birth to him, and brought him into the world. The woman who treated him well, gave him an education and a nice home. Nice clothes, good food, everything any child would need, he had. He had loved his mother for that, right? Of course, he had no right to say otherwise.

But there were always those "guests" that she would bring home, those nights that she would send him to spend the night with his grandparents. She always said they were having "adult discussions," but Dark had never been fooled. He knew what went on during those "discussions." How many times had he come home from school to find someone else's car in his garage? To find some stranger's coat and shoes by the door? To find said stranger in the arms of his mother, whispering sweet nothings? How many times had his mother laughed sheepishly as she pulled her robe tightly around her naked body, shooing the strange man out the door while telling Dark to put his things in his room?

No, Dark knew from as far back as he could remember what went on. At first he never cared much, but as years went by he grew more and more bitter. He soon recognized the strangers, knew who they were and what they did. Doctors, teachers, husbands… all of these and more he would find. Every year he had a male teacher he would worry and fret that they too would end up in his house. And half of them did. He hated them all.

And it only grew worse as he soon realized that outside his little world his mother would be seen as a "slut" or "whore." She was disgraceful and looked down on by all; even by the men she slept with. What she did was disgusting and wrong, but she had no shame, no worry. Soon she didn't even care when her son caught her in the act; "He would learn someday anyway," was a common excuse. And learn he had.

He knew her every trick, her favorite lines, her flirtatious moves… he knew them all and it tormented him. But his mother took good care of him, so he had no right to complain. He would never admit to hating his mother. No, he hated what she did, but never her. He loved his mother… right? Of course. He would never allow himself to say otherwise.

But now, remembering the things The Thief had done… it was all his mother. He tilted his head the same way, used the same lines; it was like watching a miniature, male version of his mother. It was sickening. The part of Dark he so disapproved of, felt so ashamed of and despised, was in truth the small part of his mother that he had somehow kept with him all this time. He had hated The Thief for so long; did that mean he in fact hated his mother? No, it couldn't be. He was her son, so he couldn't hate her. He couldn't hate her! He couldn't!

Dark's back shuddered as he retched up nothing again, whimpering between gags, "I'm bad… I'm so bad…" Over time his stomach settled some, allowing him to keep down the liquid that Yuki gave him. The detective gently rubbed his back, handing him the glass of water every so often, telling Dark that he needed to get something back in his stomach. The man would only nod and take small sips from the cup.

After what must have been more then a half hour, Dark's breathing had slowed to a normal pace and his body had stopped shaking. He was still a little pale and felt ill though, so Yuki was careful as he helped the man up and moved him over to the bed. Dark didn't even mention how he would be fine on the floor.

Next thing he knew, it was noon the next day. Dark was curled up on his bed, wrapped in a thin cocoon of blankets and jackets. He sat up slowly, glancing over to see Yuki sitting against the wall opposite the bed, the detective's head tilted to the side and his eyes lightly closed. Letting out a slow sigh, Dark stretched out his body before swinging his legs over the side of the bed as if intending to get out of it. But no, he just sort of sat there, staring down at his hands. They no longer shook, nor showed any signs that they ever had. Dark no longer felt ill, but he wasn't in the best of moods. Surely no one would blame him, considering the previous night.

But, with the bad came good, and with his new found strength Dark felt he could actually move on. What happened, happened. Nothing would, or ever could, change the events of the past, but that was alright. It was a new day.

Though, perhaps a new day that he would have rather not go through.

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Another sigh escaped him as he stood, grabbing one of the jackets from discarded sheets and pulling it on. And, silent as the dead, he snuck out of the room without waking Yuki and traveled down the hallway.

"Damn it," Dark cursed bitterly some hours later, tugging his black leather jacket closer to himself. The sun had set now, its lingering rays glistening on the slushy streets. With the sun went what little warmth was left in the cold asphalt corridors. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and grew colder as the light trickled away. "Damn it." There went the last of the light, hidden beyond the horizon. The streets were now lit by artificial lights, showing wonderers the path, but giving no heat to aid them in their troubles. As if on cue, a sneeze erupted from behind Dark, causing him to stiffen and scowl. "God-fucking-damn it!"

"Huh?" Yuki inquired, glancing up at Dark's back. The man's hands were in fists. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," he stammered quickly, not even stopping to think that surely a sneeze wouldn't cause Dark to snap. "I didn't mean to!"

Dark let out a heavy breath as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Then, without any word of recognition, he continued down the street. Yuki blinked in surprise, the expression turning a little sour. He hated being disregarded. "I said I didn't mean to." Still nothing. He frowned as he quickened his step, coming just a little in front of Dark. "I said I didn't mean it."

"I'm not deaf," Dark replied coldly, looking up at the detective bitterly. "And I don't care what it is you're doing – I just don't want you here, period."

Yuki gave him a resentful glance. "And you think I want to be here? It's not my fault I was put in charge of being your hostage. If it were up to me I wouldn't be here." Dark stopped, the slush settling around his feet.

"Then why are you still here?"

"…What?" Yuki asked confusedly. The man only looked down at the ground though, as if to refuse eye contact.

"Why are you still here? I've given you plenty of space you know," Dark said. "Hell, I've hardly even glanced at you once since we left. Any normal person in your situation would have split by now. So, tell me," – Dark looked Yuki straight in the eye now, his expression unreadable – "why are you still here?"

Yuki gulped lightly, looking even more confused and bewildered. But, as if to try to hide any weakness, he straightened his back and said evenly, "Don't act like it's any surprise. You know just as well as I that I'd be risking both our necks. He said himself that if you came back without me he'd kill you--"

"So?" The simple, two-letter word stopped Yuki in his tracks. He looked at Dark as if he were mad.

"Wha… what do you mean 'so'?"

"It's not really our necks on the chopping block; just mine. If you got out now, you could contact someone. Hell, flee the country if you feel the need."

"But you'd still be here! You'd still be murdered!" Yuki cried. Dark only shrugged, glancing away. The uncaring gesture infuriated the detective. Quickly, and without warning, his hand swung out, the palm hitting Dark squarely across the face. "Don't give me that! This is your life we're talking about! You're life!"

"…And what do you care? I ruined yours, mine…" He looked off sadly. "And Link's."

"And you think dying is going to fix that? Because if you do, you're wrong! If you really regret it, then fix it yourself, with your own living hands!"

And the argument ended there, the words settling into the moist slush before it started to freeze over. It crunched noisily under their feet, but neither listened. Neither wanted to listen.

The cruel truth of the matter was Dark's life was in Yuki's hands. If the detective left on his own accord, the thief would be killed. But if he stayed, then he would live. Of course, this brings up the idea that they could both run. But Dark could never do that. Yuki's face would be forgotten over time. But Dark Link, well-known thief nationwide, would be found easily. With a simple snap of his fingers The Boss could send out the word and have Dark at his feet by morning, whether from fellow underworld scum, or the NYPD itself. How you ask?

Never doubt The Boss's far-reaching power.

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It was surreal really, seeing the precinct again. True, it had only been three days, but it seemed more like weeks; months even. Yuki's mouth lay half open as he took in the façade of the tall building. The geometric architecture of the rectangle prism with simple square window wasn't as comforting as he thought it would be. No, in the night light and eerie reflection of the moon off the slush, the angles seemed sharper and fiercer. It was like a fortress. Or, perhaps, a tomb. This last thought sent shivers down Yuki's spine.

It was fairly late out – surely eleven something – when Dark finally stood up. They had arrived at the precinct a couple hours earlier, but for reasons unbeknownst to Yuki, they had to wait. Now though, for seemingly no reason at all, Dark tilted his head towards the doors. The detective merely nodded sullenly as they started walking. In the few hours they sat in the cold, Yuki suddenly found himself with cold feet, no pun intended. Really, here he was, about to go in with a thief and steal illegal substances from his own police building! This went against everything he believed!

What's more, he was terrified that they would get caught. He tried to tell himself it was fine, and really, it was a sound plan. Under Dark's jacket he had a nice, clean button-down shirt and nicely pressed black slacks, his hair again dyed a brilliant ebony and brown contacts in his eyes. Even Yuki would have difficulty recognizing him.

It was simple really; they walk in casually and take the elevator to the second floor. From there they were going to take the stairs down to the basement (the only way to get to the storage room was from the second floor since it had a separate staircase from the one from the bottom to the top of the building. Yuki didn't even bother to ask how Dark knew such a thing). The keys to the caged-in drugs were to be waiting on a rung of the handrail, hidden where no one would spot it unless they were looking for it. Finally, they reach the storage room, and… well, take out the officers there. The Boss made it clear they weren't to live. Once they're out of the way Dark grabs the drugs, they run back up the stairs and slip out a window on the left side, dropping two stories onto a mattress (it was next to a dumpster, so it was incognito). Then what? Well, they book it back to The Boss's.

Well, certainly Yuki was terribly upset that he would have to watch his fellow officers be shot (Dark had a gun hidden in his shirt). He wasn't honestly sure he could just stand by and watch. Near the back of his mind he was already planning their rescue, knowing that when the moment came it would likely all go down the drain.

But, even beyond that, he wasn't sure they would even make it to the elevator. He could only imagine the chaos if Link or, heaven forbid, Rikuo spotted him in the lobby or elevator. It would be full out war.

Despite the brawl he could only imagine, he found himself focused on Rikuo. What if he was in the building? Rikuo, his Rikuo, sitting at his desk, his mouth tight in the scowl he always wore when he was worried. They might be in the same building, only a few floors separating them. Feelings like that of homesickness rushed over him, and he wished for nothing more then to race up those stairs and burst though his office door, all but throwing himself into Rikuo's arms. The mere thought had his throat tightening, but he forced those thoughts from his mind and kept his eyes forward.

If Dark felt any similar feelings, it wasn't obvious to Yuki. The thief deftly removed his jacket, slinging it over his arm and casually straightening out his shirt. They walked through the swinging glass doors and Yuki was hit with another wave of nostalgia. There were his fellow officers, laughing and talking, many of them familiar to him. He felt as if he was going to be sick, but took a deep breath and followed Dark. There were some waves to him, but for the most part the officers were tired and ready to go home. No one thought on the fact that they hadn't seen Yuki for some time now.

Neither Link nor Rikuo were in the crowd though. Yuki almost laughed at his own insolence; of course they weren't there. They had surely gone home earlier. It certainly made things easier, but deep down Yuki felt his heart sink. He would have given anything to see Rikuo again. Anything.

The two easily made it into the elevator since most everyone was going down to the first level to leave, not going back up. There was one other girl in the small space, her eyes focused on the papers in her hands. Whether she knew they were there or not, neither of them knew, but she certainly paid them no heed.

So without a word they got off seconds later on the second level, nonchalantly glancing around. Of all the floors in the building, the second was in truth the busiest. It was there that all the 911 calls were picked up, so it was always abuzz with operators talking with people. While in theory, putting the entrance to the storage room here should have made it harder for someone to sneak in since there were so many people; but in actuality it was flawed. Because of its being so noisy, no one would hear a struggle going on down there. But to be certain, the firearm that Dark had in his possession was set up with a silencer. No one would know that such a deed was done until morning when the next shift came to relieve them.

So down the small staircase the duo walked, feeling more like a death march then anything. The reality of what Dark was about to do was finally starting to sink in, causing his even lip to curl down into a deep frown. His muscles were tensed, and he felt as if he would break out in a cold sweat any second now. There was no way he could do this. He couldn't kill someone. He couldn't! But he also couldn't let them live, because then it would be Yuki's neck on the line. He would simply have to choose the lesser of two evils. Yes, that was it. He was choosing the better of the two. Dark silently repeated his mantra in his head.

In his daze he almost missed the key, but luckily his sharp eyes spotted its gleam and he snatched it up, placing it in his pocket. They were now only a few steps from the bottom, the floor of the storage room visible – it was dark cement. If there were guards, they would be to the left since there was a wall on the right. So, swallowing the last of his hesitation, he pulled the handgun out of his shirt, slowly undid the safety, and held it close to his chest. He then signaled to Yuki, motioning for him to stay where he was. The detective only nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. He was too dizzy by the situation to move so much as his pinkie toe without falling to the ground.

Alright, Dark thought to himself, this is it. I'm going to turn this corner and pull the trigger. I'm going to shoot him. His hands were shaking now. Stop that! I'm going to do this, I have to do this. I'm going to step out and shoot, that's all. I will shoot the first guy I see. His hands steadied only a little as he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and forced his body forward, moving quickly around the corner and pointing his gun straight ahead.

And it just so happened that straight ahead was Link.

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Whew, it's been a while since we've had an all Dark chapter. But what can I say, I had to get in the bit about his mom, and had to get him to the job, so there wasn't any place to add anything else. Besides, I didn't want you guys to know what Link was up to. Makes it more shock-worthy when he just pops up. XD And yes, I suck, because I leave you with the cliffy. But I must go, because I have a dance to attend. And comment please, for they feed my soul!

Oh, and on a separate note, OMFG THIS STORY HAS OVER 12,000 VIEWS O.O Thank you all so much! I love you guys!