Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. ~ Father Flynn, Doubt


The sky is black.

For once Ryou is not sure if that is his or the spirit's doing. That thought frightens more than anything else, more than thought of being a slave forever, more than thought of Yuugi dying. If those things were to happen, no one would blame him – not wholly at least. Most of their hate would be directed onto the spirit and in turn he would receive some compassion. Because poor Ryou had no chance against something as strong and dark like the spirit of the ring, because Ryou was innocent and unstained and there was never any blood on his hands –

He used to be certain of that fact. There was the evil spirit of the ring and there was him, innocent Ryou Bakura. (Different, separate.) But now, when he looks down at his hands it doesn't seem to matter that the blood on them was spilled when he wasn't in control.

So when he looks up at the black sky, he is unsure of whose darkness caused it.

But, nevertheless, it is familiar.

The sky is black, the screaming of the villagers is loud and horrendous, the sand beneath his feet is cold (there was no sun here, wherever here was), the rubble of a village long ago destroyed is buried in the sand, and there is a breeze that is gentle but strong enough to reshape the sand dunes around him.

And of course there is the blood.

Most of it is coated onto the remnants of pots and vases, like paint. Some of it is mixed with the sand at his feet. And a tiny, minuscule amount is smeared on his hands. Ryou raises his hand to his face, and despite the fact that there is no light (except for an eternal fire burning ninety nine souls in the far off distance) he can see his hand perfectly.

(There is more blood on it this time around.)

Ryou walks inside the footprints he left from the last time he was here. This too frightens him. He, however small it may be, has left his mark on the spirit. (He doesn't want any part of him to be with the spirit.)The trail twists and turns around the chucks of huts and burnt remains of Kul Elna. He wonders if this was the same path the spirit took when he was on the run from the Pharaoh's guards –

No.

He would feel no sympathy. The spirit made his own decisions, and the tragedy in his life did not excuse his actions. The spirit was cruel, conniving and wicked – and he was not, not, a scared little child in need of rescuing. The spirit was something malevolent and irredeemable (even though he had always been taught forgiveness and there always was a little good in someone, the spirit was the exception) – always the exception… And no! He could not allow himself doubt. It was a privilege he did not have. If there was even a shred of doubt, a tiny seed buried deep inside his heart the spirit would find it and use it against him.

The spirit had taken everything from Ryou – his friends, his body, he could not allow him to take his sympathies.

So Ryou, unfaltering and standing as straight as a liar like him can manage presses on through the deserted town. Another gust of winds blows past him and more of the ruins of the ancient village emerge through the sand. Clothes, some jewelry (all of course, soaked in blood) a few small clay pots. No skeletons though. Never. It was if all the residents of this place had just vanished one day, as if the wind had just blown them away like the sand around them.

(He knows better of course, but he needs to pretend. For the sake of his certainty.)

Ryou kicks the sand away and looks up into the dark, starless sky. He supposes he is as ready (and as sure) as he'll ever be.

"I know you're there!" he calls out to the sky.

You're always there. But that goes without saying.

To most it was seem as if nothing had happened. Not to Ryou. His eyes are trained for the subtleties, it is his ability to notice the subtleties that keeps him sane. The dark sky pulses a bit and for a split second the endless screaming of Kul Elna pauses.

Ryou's body, by instinct, tenses.

"Hello yadonushi."

Ryou doesn't respond. It's impolite not to respond to someone when they address you. He knows this; and by disregarding the spirit it fills his heart with something that diminishes his fear. Subtleties, small rebellions. Anything to keep him sane.

(He's not sure how much more of this he can take, he needs even small victories.)

The spirit chuckles slightly, because he knows Ryou so well; inside and out. Ryou's fist clenches in another one of his small rebellion; there is nothing he hates more in the world than that laugh.

He walks in front of Ryou, this time taking his distorted form of Ryou's body. Last time it was the form of a thief, the spirit's forms are the only thing in these meetings that changes for certain. The spirit stares at Ryou (looks down on him) and Ryou can feel himself cringing away.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asks, because the silence is killing him, "Again."

Another small laugh.

"You really should be more polite, my dear host – I am letting you into my very soul, it is the least you can do."

"You don't have a soul." he tries to say the words as if they were simple fact, but Ryou's voice wavers at the end and his doubt is revealed.

He is certain that this is not the spirit's soul room, though. It is not complex enough, not fitting enough for the vastness of the spirit. Perhaps it could be a memory, but to Ryou it has always reminded him of one of his RPG sets. Everything was too perfectly in place to be real.

"Perhaps I don't," the spirit seems more amused than thoughtful, "But I did once."

He takes a step towards Ryou, but Ryou stands his ground. Firm, he needs to be firm. No doubt, only certainty.

The spirit looks at Ryou with mild disgust. "So did you."

He pretends he doesn't know what that means.

(But he is, of course, just pretending.)

With courage born out of a flash of insanity or a lifetime of fear, Ryou looks directly at the spirit.

"You didn't answer my question," he accuses and he holds the spirit's cold gaze for at least a whole second. Longer than he ever has before.

When Ryou breaks the intense stare, the spirit throws his head back and laughs.

"I brought you here to show what happened – the truth."

The spirit tugs a clay pot from out of the sand and thrusts it into Ryou's arm. Ryou looks down on it with repugnance. He already knows what happened here. He had seen it, many, many times. When he closes his eyes the images are burned to the back of his eyelids.

The spirit leans in closer to Ryou, their noses almost touch.

"I brought you here to grant your wish, yadonushi. If you would cease with your pointless resistance – you have always and will always belong to me – and help me, I would in turn help you."

He pries Ryou's chin up with his finger and Ryou refuses to look the spirit in the eyes. Not because he knows it's rude (and it would be another small rebellion), but because he is sure his resolve will collapse if he looks into the spirit's eyes and sees that he is being honest.

"Now tell me, what is that you want?"

Ryou yanks his chin away from the spirit hands and retreats back several steps. He can't, he can't trust the spirit – all of this could easily be staged, be a lie, something to make Ryou believe him and turn against Yuugi. No! He would not be swayed!

"I just want you to go away!" he yells and his voice sounds as cracked and sore as if he has been crying for hours, "I want to be alone!"

The spirit smirks.

"Liar."

A breeze descends unto them now, and the spirit blows away into the darkness.

Ryou stares, confounded and turns around searching for where the spirit went too. He doesn't want to be left alone again with the screaming.

"You think what I'm doing is wrong."

The voice of the spirit, echoing and booming across the desert hills, says. Ryou finds that fitting. The spirit was never more (will never be more) than a voice in the back of his head.

"But I'm right!" the spirit practically snarls, the sound rumbling around Ryou, "Perhaps one day you will finally understand that. All I want is justice for my village."

The voice changes, a soft whisper by Ryou's ear. He can almost feel the other's breath on his neck.

"Will you not grant me that much, yadonushi?"

The pot turns to ashes in his hands and blows away.

Laughter erupts from the sky like thunder and the sand rises slowly from the deserts floor. A flash of lightning follows (all while being engulfed by that horrendous laughter) and the sand swirls around him, encaging him, consuming him("You'll always be mine, yadonushi, forever.") faster and faster it spins around him. The world blurs and Ryou feels the oxygen being sucked out of him; he closes his eyes and hopes that he will not die crying.

He takes in a deep breath and opens his eyes to find himself staring at familiar (and hated, oh so hated) picture frames. Trembling, he sucks in another breath and another, savoring each gulp of oxygen even if he technically has no body, he needs air. Ryou runs his fingers through his hair and plenty of sand falls to the floor of his soul room.

It stays there with the rest of the sand accumulated from whatever that place was. He can barely see his floor anymore.

(This hurts him more than it should.)

Ryou pulls his knees close to his chest and waits for a second attack. There never is and for that he is thankful. He knows if there ever was he would break completely, shatter beyond repair.

Maybe he already has.

Lifetimes tick away and everything remains unchanged. Especially Ryou, he does not move in fear of disturbing the spirit, in fear of the spirit acknowledging him again. Only when he feels a sharp pang in his chest, the pang that always comes when Yuugi is around, is he sure the spirit is preoccupied. Positive there is nothing with him in his room but dust and picture frames, he crawls into a small corner of his soul room.

Still shaking, he stares at his unstained hands until he regains his certainty.


A/N Formatting is being a little weird, so I apologize for any eyesores. As you've probably noticed updates have not been as frequent, will my summer vaction is ending in a couple of days and I'm starting a brand new school so they will be probably be even more infrequent. But I assure you that I will update at least once a week, always.

Hoped you enjoyed the chapter and please review!