Literally finished this at 2 am. Took longer to write when I planned because i struggled with the end and finally accepted that I was gonna need more than one chapter to completely tell Bakura and Yami's side of the story ^^'

The song Necropolis of Former Lovers was a huge inspiration for both this chapter and the dynamics of Bakura and Yami/Atemu's relationship, but after posting this prompt I realized the song Anastasia fit this particular part better, so Necropolis of Former Lovers will be the next one.

Song: Anatasia-Aurelio Voltaire

Part III: Anastasia

I

There's a field of flowers and they smell like you

And I go walking through them when I feel you remember me

You know I'd love to pick one for my lapel, but you know

There are too many insects watching

I'm afraid they'd tell on me

— Anastasia, Aurelio Voltaire

Yami stared at the stranger, stunned beyond words. "How the fucking hell do you know my name?" None but Yugi knew his real name. "What are you doing in my house!" he demanded letting all his intimidation and rage bleed into his voice.

The stranger was not frightened, or even surprised. He looked...elated, euphoric . The way those dark burgundy eyes sparkled as they looked at him: like a blind man seeing for the first time, like a mad scientist who'd just discovered the true origin of the universe.

A smile slit his handsome face, revealing shiny white teeth and sharp, oh God help him, fangs ! Laughter exploded from his chest and gut, a burst of blissful euphoria so loud and so lyrical it made Yami's very bones shake-and his insides quiver was something that was not fear or anger.

"Oh…my God!" The man beamed. An impossible smile brightened the entire contour of his face making the burnt ocher skin shimmer like melted chocolate. It intensified every curve and sharp angle of those chiseled cheekbones and the glint in those burgundy eyes all but burst into flames. "I have certainly missed that look on your face!"

That voice: that deep, sartorial rasp, that low guttural rumble like thunder rolling in just before a storm, like the salacious promises of a whispering serpent. Yami knew that voice. Knew it as surely as he knew his own name. And yet he could not recall where he had heard it, nor could he recall a name for it or give it a face.

The man laughed so hard his body shook with it. Throwing back the long, rigid curtain of his spiky hair, white and wild as a winter storm, he collapsed against the railing. The moonlight reflected off every detail of his toned chest, the muscles of his arms, the low V of his hips that disappeared into his tight pants.

Dear God, the man was beautiful, so beautiful it terrified him and Yami found himself taking stumbling steps backward. The face he did not recognize and the voice he knew but not from where were so achingly familiar that it hurt to think.

And yet he steeled his expression: grit his teeth and hardened his eyes firing his expression and demanded. "I will not ask again. Who are you ?" Nothing could've stopped the desperate bleeding edge from creeping into that threat.

The man looked down at him, fanged smile curling at the corners, garnet eyes glittering with absolute desire. "Do you really not know?" He cocked his head to the side, playfully, absolutely adoring the sheer and absolute rage transforming the beautiful boy's face, the confused embers igniting in those ruby eyes, before they burst into raging flames of indignation.

By all the Gods, he had not changed a bit. Thank. God .

He shifted his expression towards the other end of the room, snickering at the two "younger" boys still together on that God Awful throne bringing shame to its memory and pissing off the ghost it belonged to who was no doubt rolling in his grave. "Making love in an open space?" He quirked a brow at Marik's frozen blink. "When did you become so bold, Marik. Or rather, when did the waif?"

Yugi's entire face suffused with color, a deep vermillion that transformed the horrified mask of his face just before he nose dived in Marik's chest. The vampire was quick to comfort the boy by wrapping his arms around him and shooting Bakura a murderous glare in defense of his beloved's honor.

Somewhere in the whispered threats, Yami heard the name that snapped the locks: Bakura .

The action spurred Yami back into attention and he spun on his heels, glaring at his brother's supposed kidnapper with a mixture of hate and murder, but his attention did not leave this new interloper for long. The interloper, the (dare he admit it to himself) vampire...this Bakura, pushed back from the banister and descended the balcony stairs with deliberately slow, swaggering steps. Each movement was a seduction: a shake of his hips, showing off that scandalous V, tempting the last of Yami's resolve and adding fuel to his rebellion.

"I suggest you two make yourselves scarce." The vampire spoke, all casual calm. " Princess , here, and I have a lot to catch up on." He fixed Yami with a sultry grin. Fury boiled Yami's blood: the nickname causing a rise of irritation that seemed both annoyingly familiar and surprising in its impact, as it rolled off the man's tongue with all the casual familiarity of an old friend. He could not understand why exactly the nickname had bothered him so much, he'd been called far worse due his open sexuality. Yet the way Bakura spoke it, had said it, awoke a familiarity in Yami that was more than just basic irritation or annoyance, something that was almost...exciting and...arousing?

The hell was wrong with his treacherous body.

"Good idea," the other vampire spoke breaking Yami of his stupor. He spun around just in time to witness the man scoop Yugi up like a bride and disappear in a whirl of shadows. Yami gasped with horror as the two evaporated into thin air and made a mad dive to grab his brother but his long fingers only caught air and he crashed over the arm of a chair with a sharp hiss of pain.

He ignored it and shot up, darting about the room, panic stricken and dumb struck screaming "Yugi! YUGI! What the?"

Hearing a snort, Yami whirled on him and exploded "Where the Hell did that bastard take my brother!"

The force of his fury sent a few of Bakura's stray hairs fluttering backward but he did not flinch. His smile was that of a snake with a bird in its mouth.

"Well," he sang, gesturing absentmindedly with his fingers. "Knowing Marik as well as I do and given that your little brother is the reincarnation of his long lost dead lover, I imagine their going back to Marik's...well, his and Yugi's old room, to, you know, fuck each other's brains out, as I believe they're calling it now."

Yami exploded. "What!?"

"Oh, don't feel jealous, kitten," the vampire chucked with a leering smirk.

Yami shivered, not liking that look-or that glimmer-in his sparkling eyes: like fresh split blood. It was his only warning before the vampire appeared in front of him, their faces close, their lips a whisper's breath apart, and as those burning eyes bore into his own, Yami immediately recognized the emotion blazing those eyes bright.

Hunger.

Rather, Hunger for him. "We'll be putting them to shame soon enough."

Red exploded behind Yami's eyes and he reeled back his fist charging. "You fucking asshole!" A well-aimed punch headed straight for the vampire's unflinching smirk, furry guiding its accuracy.

The vampire dodged it easily and slipped between it. His smirk widening as his arrogant eyes burned into Yami's stunned ones. Anger quickly replaced it: that smug snicker knowing exactly how to push his buttons and wound up for another punch, but Bakura was quicker and caught this one easily, then squeezed. Yami hissed in pain but did not surrender.

An impressed brow arched above one slender, sparkling russet eye and without warning Yami found himself yanked forward. His other wrist grabbed, he let out a startled yelp as his back slammed against the wall—the vampire pinning him with his much larger body, wrists pinioned uselessly above his head. Shock more than the pain knocked the breath from Yami's lungs.

A shiver of heat raced up his spine at the new position. His treacherous body suddenly becoming complaint as those hard hot muscles pressed against him and Yami could feel the man's heat even through the material of his shirt. With a herculean effort, Yami swallowed his moan, but the vampire's knowing, curling smile made it clear he had not hidden the act.

It spurred the boy's temper into action and Yami refused to surrender quietly. He thrashed, furiously yanking at his hands, bucking his hips and attempting to kick with his feet but those strong hips pinned him in place. Yami expelled a bestial hiss that morphed into a furious, frustrated growl, but the grip was like steel.

Still, he thrashed.

All the while the russet-eyed vampire triumphantly grinned, like a cat with a bowl of cream—and Yami was that cream. The look made Yami shiver and his stomach twisted with a vicious shock of hunger that left him temporarily immobile. Paralyzed, the vampire advanced on him, massaged his trapped wrists and whispered in his ear, low and salacious. "A man isn't defeated when you have his neck, but when you have his hands." It was like warm velvet caressing his ear: intimate and carnal. Yami had never felt so confused and terrified and turned-on in all his life, and yet the sudden arousal felt familiar. The rapid beating of his heart was not the rhythm of terror but of anticipation, arousal—and the familiarity of it terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Long fingers suddenly tucked under his chin, sharp little nails teasing him to lift his face and Yami found himself staring into bright, blood red eyes. Though the smugness remained it was but a mask for the primary emotion something deeper, kinder, almost like….affection?

That didn't make any sense?

And then that voice returned, no longer arrogant but gentle…soft…admiring. " You taught me that," The words rolled off his tongue, thick with admiration and adoration. His face leaning so close Yami could feel his breath brush against his skin, and the phantom touch was like a ghostly hand cupping his cheek.

He shivered.

"Remember?" The sudden change in mood loosened his grip and he released Yami's hip, but the boy remained frozen. His eyes locked on the vampire's as one hand rose up to ghost over his hips, over the rim of his non-belted jeans where his tee-shirt rode up, the touch, freezing fire upon Yami's skin.

His heart thundered so loud he thought it might burst out of his ribcage. His legs subconsciously rose to brace his foot against the wall, steading him, giving him more balance.

The vampire chuckled, pleased and parted his smile. His lips hovering just above his.

Yami ceased the opportunity and, using the wall for momentum, slammed his knee straight into the vampire's unprotected gut. Yami's height and the position got in the way and he missed the man's vulnerable groan but it was enough. The shock more than the pain sent Bakura whirling back. The opening was all the distraction Yami needed and he delivered a swift punch across the man's jaw.

Bakura reeled backward, groaning in pain with a loud, furious "Fuck!" as he hit the ground, coughed hard and struggled to steady himself against the wall. He shot up, growling—and looked right into Yami's victoriously smirking face.

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" The teenager snorted as if in challenge and took off like a shot out of the ballroom, leaving the stunned vampire behind.

Needing a moment to process what just happened, Bakura's snicker morphed into a swallowed snort then a full blown burst of triumphant, glorious laughter followed by a choked coughing fit and groan when the pain flared up his struck side. "Ugh, every time." He dragged himself off the floor, rolling his eyes at his own weakness and his own pride that even after all these centuries his Princess could still catch him off guard.

Still irk him with his stubbornness and pride.

Still seduce him with his temper and fiery eyes.

Still ignite a challenge that set his blood on fire.

The look of sheer confidence burning in his violet eyes spiked Bakura's blood with arousal, the heat of it like a roaring dragon starving for a mate. Who was he to deny them both their hunger…

But not yet.

Something else had to be done first.

Shadows swirled at his feet, tendrils of darkness rising like writhing serpents eager to do his bidding. "Wake them up." He commanded. "Have everything ready. We won't be long."

The shadows writhed and transformed, silent serpents snaking through the manor in obedience, eagerly tracking the movements of their master's desired target.

A smile slit Bakura's face, shadows curling all around him. "Soon, kitten. Very soon…" The promise was a declaration and a vow. "And no one will ever take you away from me again!"

II

Anastasia

Your disappearance is the thorn in my side

Anastasia

You know your absence is the thorn in my side

I think about you every night and every day

Every moment since you left here

You were the one that got away, as they say

Everyone has an Anastasia

—Aurelio Voltaire, Anastasia

Yami burst out of the ballroom with a gasp of freedom and relief so strong he could've wept from it. The grand entrance doors glittered in the moonlight and shadows at the end of the foyer hall like the pearly gates of heaven.

Instead, he bolted up the steps. No way in hell was he leaving Yugi here alone with these psychos. They'd have a long talk about his choice in one night stands later.

He grabbed the banister post, took the steps two at a time, clearing the first floor, and swung his weight into the sharp turn of the third-floor landing, a gulp of air prepared to yell out Yugi's name.

Instead, a scream exploded silently from his throat and it took all his strength to not to stumble in his haste to stop, nearly slipping and falling on his ass as he did. Bakura lounged at the top of the landing, lazy as a predatory cat and grinning. The fucking bastard even had the audacity to wave. Red exploded behind Yami's eyes and he lunged like a hunting lion: claws and teeth outstretched, ready to tear the bastard apart.

He didn't see the shadows slithering beneath the man's fingers. Or feel them swirl around his ankles until the ground gave out from under him. Or rather the steps flattened into a slide. Yami barely had time to grasp the phenomenon before he hit the ground and started sliding in a roller coaster like rush. His anger vanished and transformed into a sceam of confusion and fear. Bakura burst out laughing and leapt after him, surfing the shadows with all the grace and elegance of a master.

Never one to be outdone, Yami rolled himself over and grabbed one of the banister beams and managed to swing his weight, projecting himself off the shadow slide and onto the second steps at the base of the landing. Despite the pain jolting up his spine when his back crashed into the steps, he didn't hesitate. Rolling over, he bolted up the stairs, arms pumping at his sides and disappeared around the corner of the second floor, just as Bakura reached the ground level, half-heartedly cursing and still laughing that frustratingly seductive maniacal laugh.

Yami turned around and screeched when the vampire literally flew through the air: his long hair fanned all around him like terrifying devil wings, his arms outstretched like a lover's.

Instead of outrunning him, Yami skidded to a stop and surprised the vampire once again by turning around and sprinting towards his embrace. The man;s hope lasted only a second before his lover flashed a toothy, all-too-familiar grin and nose dived and rolled underneath Bakura and onto the safety of the opposite hall. The little brat even had the boldness to tap two fingers to his forehead, that wide impish smile, all teeth.

Caught completely off guard, Bakura's gravitational flight veered off course in his shock and he was propelled into the floor and rolled until he crashed against the wall with a loud, fiery curse.

A string of colorful language followed.

Yami snickered, triumphantly and took off again, calling out Yugi's name and pushing open rooms, ignoring ones he knew were not bed rooms. Descending the steps back to the second floor, a cold realization suddenly hit him. How did he know which rooms were not bed rooms? How had he known the second staircase in the landing's fork would take him to the third floor and that there was a third set at the end of the hall back to the second? He'd only seen blue prints of this place, he'd never actually stepped inside of it before this point? So how ?

And yet…he knew. He knew ! He knew the rooms and the furnishings. He knew which towers were used for study and which ones he and Yugi used as quiet places to read and write and draw and try on clothes. Which ones were the most successful at hiding from their father on one of his rare trips here—and yet the stern, unscrupulous man he saw in his memory was not the loving, kind-hearted man who'd raised them and adored them all their lives. And yet he saw both men so clearly in his mind. The onslaught of it all was so fierce and powerful, the pain of it, like a hot iron spike and a cold spear piercing his mind over and over forced him to stop. He clutched his head, the duel memories splitting his mind and he grit his teeth in an effort to make it stop.

"Stop it!" he commanded, shaking. His eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Each memory was a needle ripping through his skin and there were thousands of them. The hallway spun around him. The chairs, the furnishing, the paintings, the doors and windows: all shimmered with vivid clarity, polished and colorful instead of dusted with age.

He knew them. He knew them.

Yami tore at his hair and screamed.

Overcome, he forgot everything else and ran down the stairs for the front doors. He needed to get out of this house, away from this place and away from here. Away from the ghosts and phantoms chasing him and bombarding him with memories of someone else's life.

Someone who was not him.

He was Atemu Yami Sennen, he was not the boy who'd lived here. Not the boy who apparently liked being chased by a vampire.

The front doors came blessedly into being and he nearly wept as his hand enclosed over the locks and pulled.

The door remained stubbornly shut. He yanked again. Harder. Nothing. He screamed, cursed and kicked when the handle did not budge. With a desperate shout, he threw his weight against it but the wood was strong, the bolts stubborn and the doors firm in their fortitude. He punched the ancient wood and it creaked under his knuckles but didn't move.

The hiss of shadows swooped behind him and he whirled around. Swallowed another scream as he sensed them coming, slithering like snakes about the walls and floor like serpents tasting the air and searching. Knowing exactly what or rather who they were searching for, Yami panicked, head swirling around before he dove into the first room he could find and locked the door.

III

I kept your room just how you left it

There's not a toy out of place

Just in case the fates are kind and you come back someday

I don't want to live without my little Anastasia

—Voltaire, Anastasia

Relaxing back against the door, he gasped as he took in the room: it was a small study or reading room, too small to be a library and yet the fireplace on the other side of the room sported two built-in bookshelves loaded with worn leather bound volumes of different sizes and subjects. The wear of their spines proved they had been well loved and well used. A small couch beneath the windows created the illusion of a window seat, and a large, plush Victorian armchair facing the fire with a small table to the side and burning braziers on the wall invoked a feeling of warmth and familiarity, a sense of comfort that blanketed the coldness that had seeped into his bones ever since their grandfather had died.

Yami imagined himself in this room: saw a cheery fire burning in that hearth, the soft flicking glows of the braziers like fireflies. Saw Yugi asleep on that couch curled up in one of his coats. Imagined himself sitting by that fire, in that chair, his favorite book in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other, or whisky or a cup of strong tea until he fell asleep with that book in his lap. Imagined that very image so many times. Saw it so clearly…

When the memory disappeared and the world rearranged itself back into the dimly lit room, Yami gasped, backed up and whirled around to run—and landed smack against a wall of warm muscle and solid flesh. No, not a wall, a chest—the chest of the vampire Bakura who was looking at him with eyes so warm and so familiar, it sent a shiver down Yami's spine. He leapt way from him and to his surprise the vampire did nothing to stop him. Yami backed away slowly, and Bakura took a step towards him, matching his retreat step for step, unwilling to let the short distance between them increase.

"Do you remember this room, Princess?" His voice was deep, warm, whisky by the fire.

Yami backed away, the affection in that voice terrifying him more than anything else. The back of his legs hit the side and he dropped into the armchair. Hands slammed down on the arm rests pinning him. The vampire looming over him, leering into Yami's frightened eyes, his lips a whisper's breath away. "This is where we first met."

Visions exploded behind Yami's eyes: images and shadows visible only by moonlight, but the colors were muted and dulled, the faces shadowy and unreadable, like looking through muddy water. His eyes squeezed shut, desperate to both fight the onslaught of memory and for some form of clarity: the two warring in his mind.

A warm hand cupped the side of his face. His eyes popped open, the fog of uncertainty clearing completely. Yami starred up into deep russet red eyes so deep and achingly familiar that Yami's heart wanted to weep, and he had no idea why.

And then the vampire leaned forward and kissed him.

Kissed him so tenderly that it broke his heart. Yami's resolve shattered. He exhaled into the kiss and melted into the warm embrace. The vampire caught him, deepened the kiss, pulled away gently only to encompass Yami's lips completely, tasted honey and spice and fire. Yami tasted salt and earth and finely-aged wine. Despite the actual gentleness of it, it was the most intense kiss he'd ever experienced.

Hands found his hips and wrapped around his lower back. Slide up his sides, cup the back of his head and wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The touch was so heartbreakingly warm, so achingly familiar, so intensely real…

Yami screamed and shoved him away, overcome with shock and terror. Tears of pure shock and overwhelming emotion stung his eyes but this time he did nothing to starch their flow. With one last terrified glance at the vampire who only stared at him, she shoved past him and ran.

IV

And here the skies are neither day nor night

In this place where I close my eyes

It's like my skin would try so hard to hold it back

There's an explosion, it comes raining down

You smiled, you smiled at me

—Voltaire, Anastasia

Blinded by tears, he ran through the anguish-hazed manor with no idea of his destination, yet his feet knew the way. Then he tripped, stumbled but he caught himself and landed on his knees. Air expelled from his lungs in thick, heavy hyperventilating pants like a drowning man surfacing.

Subconsciously, he wiped away his tears with the back of his hands, his eyes clearing enough to recognize the checker patterned floor of the ballroom.

The room had changed. It was darker, shadowed. Candelabras and pyramids of candles gave the room an eerie glow that danced off the windows like a world of dancing flames. That ghastly chair had been removed, replaced with what he could only describe as an altar covered by a white cloth and a fury of rich, red rose petals. As he stood, he saw a strange pattern drawn on the floor around the altar—a pentagram inside the circle with all manner of strange shapes and runes.

Terror paralyzing him in place, Yami took a hesitant step back.

The doors behind him slammed shut. Yami spun on his heel, dread and terror burning a hole in his stomach. Before he could move a loud swooping sound redirected his attention, he shot towards it and swallowed a scream. A group of hooded figures in black robes emerged from the shadows, of various heights and sizes, their faces obscured by long black hoods trimmed with red. Yami's mind screamed at him to run but he was frozen. His skin erupted with gooseflesh and fear had become a living thing holding him still with sharp frozen claws.

He took another step back, intending to run.

He did not get far.

Shadows shot from the ground, ensnared his wrists, slithered around his ankles and waist and torso like roots or snakes trapping him in a net of shadows. Survival instincts merged with adrenaline and panic and he struck out like a wild animal trapped in a bramble bush but the shadows were strong. More shot out rendering him immobile until he was encased in a cocoon of shadows. Just when he thought this was the end, the cocoon unfurled and like a butterfly he burst free from it. He landec with a thud—and gasped in absolute bewildered horror: his clothes had disappeared, replaced with the most beautiful black dress Yami had ever seen.

He didn't care for dresses and drag than way Yugi did, but even he could not deny the loveliness of the ball gown: multiple layers of shimmering onyx satin and black lace pinned with cloth roses the deepest of reds formed the skirt, ripples of satin pulled tight around the bodice was pinned with a cloth rose at the heart with black lace forming the collar and trimming the boat neck. Long black bell sleeves were also trimmed with beautiful black lace with a rose embroidery, and the crown was a black veil with deep dark burgundy rose brocade. Beneath the skirt, Yami saw his sneakers had been replaced with long black velvet boots laced from anklet to mid-thigh and—just as he'd arrive having thrown on whatever he could grab in his desperate flight to find Yugi—nothing underneath. The whole thing invoked a regal gothic look, a Queen of Darkness who bowed to no one.

Yami fought the urge to blush.

He shot up noticing the robbed figures approaching and leapt to his feet, spun on the heel of the boots with surprising speed, and lunged with so much strength he could not have stopped the force of it even if he'd wanted to-and right into Bakura's awaiting arms. Bakura caught him easily, as Yami crashed against his chest. Gone was his earlier flaunted arrogance and crass flirting. The warmth of earlier fled from his face, now stoic and unreadable. His russet eyes betrayed no emotion, not a flicker of thought.

That terrified Yami more than anything else. So much so that his paralyzed body did nothing to stop Bakura from enveloping him in his arms, from slipping his arm beneath his knees, and scooping him up like a newlywed bride to her nuptial bed. Shadows curled around them both swallowing all of Yami's screams before they unfroze and exited his body as sound.

"Don't be afraid," the vampire spoke at last, setting the petrified boy who clung to his arms with shaking hands upon the stone. His eyes silent and desperate for answers but receiving none. That final flicker of dying hope nearly broke the vampire's resolve and he kissed the boy's forehead. "We're not going to hurt you. No one will ever hurt you. Not as long as I breathe ."

The force of that single declaration was so strong, so powerful, so chilling in its pure and absolute promise that in that moment, Yami was certain Bakura would set the entire world on fire and watch it burn all for his sake. That single fact sent a shiver down his spine, but not one of fear.

Bakura stroked his cheek and whispered. "Now."

From nowhere two of the robed figures came forward and seized Yami by the arms, pinning them to the stone table. Yami screeched and fought them wildly kicking out with his boots but their grip was too strong and his legs became tangled in the skirts. It did not stop him, he hissed and growled, cursed at Bakura, his face a furious mask of rage and betrayal.

Bakura did not flinch and instead barked an order in a language the boy did not understand.

Suddenly the other members began chanting, speaking terrifying words in some foreign language unknown to him. Yami turned to Bakura, his eyes begging for an explanation and this time the vampire smiled, a promise and a prayer. "All this will make sense soon," he assured him, as flames of shadows danced and roses around him, tongues of black and purple fire licking at the air around him and the pentagram began to glow white and hot like a devouring star.

Bakura's fingers suddenly traced strange symbols over his face and Yami felt a hot burning sensation from their touch, cooled by another press to his forehead. The chanting around them grew louder, the candles roaring to life like infernos exploding from hell, and Yami wanted so much to scream but he could not. The chanting grew louder. Shadows and flames danced over Yami's skin and his forehead burned from Bakura's kiss.

Light. Heat. Shadow. Light. Darkness. All of it surrounded him at once, spiraled together, shot into him and then…

"No one will ever take you away from me again." Then Bakura kissed him.

V

Anastasia

Little Anastasia

(I know you're out there, ah)

Your disappearance is the thorn in my side

Little Anastasia

(I know you're out there, ah)

And only you can take the thorn from my side

—Voltaire, Anastasia

Yami's eyes popped open.

And just like that, all the locks snapped. The cage of his memory imprisoned in the darkest corners of his mind shattered and the birds within it burst free filling his mind with clarity and color: images and faces that before he'd only seen through moonlight and shadow and only in his dreams.

He remembered this place.

He remembered this world.

He remembered…

"Bakura," the name came shakily to his lips and with it a flood of tears burst out of him. His captures released him and leapt back. Bakura was at his side in a moment, catching him as he sat up and all but collapsed, crying in the man's arms.

"Atemu?" Bakura asked hesitantly, unsure if the boy still used that name.

"Yes," Yami said, his voice shaking: a mixture of shock and relief. He cried out with a roar, loud with laughter and choked with tears. A roar of recognition and remembrance and joy and grief and heartbreaking love. "Yes, that's my name. I haven't used it for so long in this life, but that's my name…I remember…" he wept and the tears spilt, rhinestone gems of joyful relief and rising hope. "Oh God, Bakura…I remember everything!"

Necropolis of Former Lovers will be the next one, so check out how Yami and Bakura met, and for those of you disappointed this one wasn't as steamy as the libra ones, well...we'll get there ;)