Chapter 2

Bakura groaned as the ringing of Ryou's alarm clock echoed through every corner of his skull, and he stuffed his pillow over his ears, trying to fall back asleep. His head was pounding, and he felt like something had battered him as he slept that night. He would have given anything to just lie in bed, especially once Ryou remind him of what they had to do that day.

'Hey, Bakura! Wake up; we have to get Malik from the airport today!' he said in the back of the disgruntled spirit's mind.

"Do we 'have' to…?" he moaned back, his voice raspy. Sensing Ryou's less than enthusiastic emotions at his reply, he slowly dragged himself over to the alarm, shutting it off none-too-gently with his fist. Amazingly, it survived the assault, though it would be permanently dented for the rest of its existence.

Bakura stared balefully into the mirror as he tried to get the worst of the tangles out of his wild hair. The person staring back was nothing like he was used to. Sharp features were dulled and tired circles lingered under his eyes. Today would not be fun…eventually, he gave up on his hair and threw the brush down, making his way out of the apartment.

"Hikari, how are we getting there?" the thief asked.

'We're taking the bus. It's easier than trying to find our way there." Sighing, Bakura sat down on the bench around the corner from Ryou's home and waited. The bus came around every fifteen minutes, so the spirit didn't have to wait long, and once he was on it, he crashed into a seat and rested his head on the window. He didn't even realize he had dozed off until something jabbed him hard in the ribs.

"Hey, mister…you alive?" a small, annoyingly high-pitched voice said.

"He looks dead to me. Even his hair's white, and he doesn't look that old!" concluded another.

Another poke in the side sent Bakura bolting upright and snarling, causing the two boys that were bothering him scurrying away, but only temporarily. They crept up towards him again.

"Mister, why's your hair white if you aren't dead? Are you a zombie…?" the first wondered.

"With the way he looks, it wouldn't surprise me," said the other.

Bakura glared with all the malice he could muster and growled again. "My hair is this color naturally. I am not a zombie, but if you continue to bother me, I might be tempted to kill you!"

That made the two flee, squealing all the way as they ran to the front of the bus to escape at the next stop.

'Spirit, that wasn't very nice,' Ryou chastised, disappointment emanating from his thoughts.

Bakura scoffed. 'They were bothering me. Why couldn't they have just left me alone? Then they wouldn't have had to worry about anything.'

Ryou just sighed and remained silent, while Bakura leaned against the window again and drifted off again.

--

Once they had arrived at the airport, the spirit paced impatiently up and down the aisles in the terminal, waiting for the plane from Egypt to arrive. Even with his body stiff and sore, Bakura couldn't sit still. The people he would have been next to kept throwing him sympathetic looks every time he sniffed or coughed, and if there was one thing he didn't need, it was pity. Finally, he heard what he wanted:

"Flight 1165 is now arriving from Cairo."

The thief watched the people departing from the plane and eventually saw a flaxen blonde mess of hair bobbing through the crowd. He couldn't help sniffing again, partly due to allergies and somewhat in disdain. Sooner than he'd hoped, the young Egyptian man was standing in front of him, dragging a heavy suitcase.

"Hello, Ryou! I know you missed me, but that's no reason to cry!" he said happily, eager to see the white-haired boy.

"I'm not Ryou," the thief grumbled, "and I'm not crying…"

Malik's eyes went wide. "Really? Bakura…um, don't get mad, but if you aren't crying, what's on your cheek?"

Bakura glared before raising the back of his hand to wipe at his cheek. Sure enough, when he pulled it away it was wet. "What the…?" He gaped in bewilderment at the water drop on his skin, knowing there was no reason for it to be there. "How?"

Ryou chuckled in his mind. 'It's a side effect of allergies. They make your eyes water.'

"Are you sick, tomb robber?" Malik asked, unable to believe how miserable the thief appeared.

"Of course I'm not sick! It's…" Bakura hesitated for a moment, deciding there was no point in denying the obvious anymore. "It's allergies…"

Malik looked like his birthday had come early. It seemed the saying was right: Karma did suck! That was better than anything Malik could have possibly planned for his stay there. He didn't even have to do anything, and Bakura was already frayed and irritated. What luck!

"Don't give me that look," the thief snapped. "Say a single word and your stay here will be far less than enjoyable."

The tanned Egyptian contemplated that for a little bit. Ishizu had told him to behave before crawling in the car that would take her to the museum, but he didn't think she had taken something as monumental as this into consideration. But, Ryou was offering him a place to stay, and without it, he would have had to stay home.

"Alright…" he mumbled. "I'll be good."

"That's a very wise decision on your part," Bakura sneered, and then turned around and start walking. Malik, being temporarily surprised, had to jog a little to catch up.

"Where are you going?" he yelped.

Bakura didn't slow down any, but shouted over his shoulder, "The bus. That's how we're getting home."

Malik remained at Bakura's side in case the tomb-robber wanted to say anything else, but he seemed somewhat subdued and didn't say another word during the entire walk to the bus terminal. Once again, Bakura crashed against the side of the bus as soon as he collapsed into the seat. Malik couldn't hold in his chuckle, but he was lucky the thief was too far gone to notice.

The tomb-keeper couldn't believe he was back in Domino again, and he sat watching the familiar scenery go by. Every time the bus stopped, he would twist and turn, trying to see everything around him.

'Bakura, you're going to miss our stop,' Ryou warned, as Bakura slipped in and out of his slumber.

"Mmm…okay…" Bakura moaned, rousing himself and catching their stop just in time. He shoved Malik out of the seat to get him moving and followed suit. Bakura then lead Malik to his new home for the next couple of days. Pushing open the door, he let Malik enter first, muttering, "Welcome home," in the most sarcastic tone he could manage. The tanned boy smirked, throwing down his luggage and falling into a sofa.

"Thanks," he replied in the same voice, and smiled. This was going to be such a fun trip…

--

Thanks to all my reviewers from last chapter! Random trivia: Malik's birthday is December 23, if I remember correctly. I hope you liked this one, but next chapter will be the fun one, because Malik is out for a little bit of payback for battle city.