A/N Well, hi everyone, if there's anyone there. I bet you weren't expecting to hear from me ever again! I could give a million truthful reasons why I haven't been here, but they'll fall flat. Basically, I keep waiting for my life to settle down so I could write again. But life's never going to settle down, so I have to write anyway.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed in the interim and I'm sorry I did not respond, but know that I treasured them.
So here's a new chapter! Definitely not worth the wait, it's literally the first thing I've written in two years, but hopefully it's a start of more updates. I'm not making any promises, but I'm here and doing my best to write.
Anyway - on to the story!
Gemshipping. Modern AU.
Myths are clues to the spiritual potentialities of the human life ~ Joseph Campbel
Bakura's never had a conscience.
-0-
So that makes it all the more surprising when one day, one pops up.
He's in his World History class, when something catches his eye – a simple gold bracelet. It jiggles quite nicely when the girl in front of him raises her hand. But she's much too pale for it. It'll look better on his tan skin.
"Don't steal that," his conscience says, in a voice as soft as wind chimes.
Bakura hesitates, not because he's not going to steal it (he is), but because he's never had a voice in his head before.
"Why?" he asks back, genuinely curious, "I want it."
"But it's not yours," the voice counters.
"It should be. I'll make it be."
"You can't force ownership," says the voice gently, "Besides; this already belongs to someone else. How would you feel if someone took something precious to you?"
"I'd take it back."
He snatches the bracelet easily as the bell rings.
-0-
The voice returns almost every day after that, with its never-ending chorus of don'ts.
"Don't steal that. It's wrong."
"Don't touch that. It's sacred."
"Don't say that. It's cruel."
And so on and so on.
It's interesting at first, but eventually it just wears Bakura down.
"Just shut up!" he finally snaps, after arguing with the voice had made him miss his window of opportunity. (It's not easy to steal things from the Domino Museum.)
"I'm not going to do what you say!" he continues, voice dark with anger, "Not ever. So just shut up."
He can feel his conscience squirm around in his mind. Bakura's never regretted anything he's said, but he can't help but feel a little sorry for the voice. It's so weak and pathetic. There's no reason to yell at ants.
"You're annoying," the thief says, apologizing.
"I just want to help you be a better person." (Bakura can almost feel the voice's pleading breath on his ear.)
"Don't waste your time," Bakura says, "Haven't they already told you? I'm lost cause."
(He remembers suddenly, clearly, all the doctors standing around him. Looking down at him. His mother crying.)
"Someone like me can't ever be good," he says again, more to himself than the voice. (Even if the voice is himself.)
"It's hard to be good," the voice says wisely, "That's why we settle for better."
-0-
"You should do your school work."
"No," Bakura says and goes to sleep.
-0-
He trips Atemu in the hall. It's not a particularly clever or original plan, but it makes him laugh all the same.
"You should be nicer to him," his conscience says, unusually serious.
Bakura hisses. There are few people he hates in the world more than that spoiled brat Atemu Mutou. His parents own half of Domino (including the museum), so he always comes to school with the very best. He walks around with his nose stuck in the air and thinks that he's the closest thing to the Gods themselves. He's vain, arrogant and haughty and the whole school loves him just the same. They vote him student class president every year.
Nicer to Atemu? (He's seething now.) Never. He won't forgive that kind of betrayal from his own mind.
"I'm not betraying you," his conscience soothes, "I'm trying to help you."
"So you say."
"It's true! I have this feeling…" the voice trails off, "I just have this strong feeling that you two have the potential to be great friends."
Suddenly, Bakura laughs, louder than he has in years.
Foolish voice. Precious voice. Friends! What a naïve thought. Yet, he can't find the strength to scold his conscience; in truth, he finds it strangely endearing. He forgives it for betraying him.
"What's so naïve about friends?" his conscience asks timidly.
"I'll never have friends." Bakura says it with pride.
For the first time in a long time, there is silence in his mind.
Then, quietly, "Aren't we friends?"
Bakura blinks. Are they? He really doesn't know, no one asks him the kind of questions the voice does.
"If not," says the voice, still in a soft whisper, "I'd like us to be someday."
Friends. What a dumb thing for a conscience to want.
-0-
He's never had friends. Nor has he ever wanted them.
The people around him have always been afraid of him (which is fine with him, fear is a sign of respect). Besides, a thief has no need for friends. These are the things he tells himself.
-0-
He visits the museum the next day.
"You seem to like museums a lot," the voice notes and Bakura can tell it's pleased that something other than stealing makes him happy.
Oh, don't jump to conclusions so quickly, little voice.
"I like museums because they always have the prettiest treasure."
-0-
He hates school. Truthfully, he only attends because it makes for a good alibi. The trouble is attending is not enough; he must write papers and fill out workbooks and take exams. That bastard Atemu always gloats about having higher scores than he does, but Bakura knows his scores would be high too if he could just make sense of the words. On paper they just blur and bleed together.
Last year he failed chemistry twice, so now he's stuck taking a remedial science class to make up for it. But even in this class he can't make heads or tails of the words. Something about space, he gathers. (He's always been fond of space; at least, he's always been fond of the moon and the stars.)
Bakura glares at the words, trying to use all of his hatred to force them into a form he can understand. But it's no use. All he accomplishes is straining his eyes. He's about to rip the papers to shreds when a gentle presence falls upon him.
"I can tell you the answer. There are nine planets in our solar system," his conscience says, "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto."
Bakura blinked. Was it normal for a person's conscience to help with homework? He decides to ask.
"I'm not sure," the voice admits, "I don't remember what normal is."
A pause.
"I don't think I'm your conscience though."
Bakura is taken aback for a second, but then shrugs it off. He's never had a conscience anyway.
"Then what are you?" he asks the voice.
"I think I might be a ghost."
"Oh."
…
"What's the answer to the next one?"
-0-
"If you're a ghost," Bakura asks, once all the homework is done, "how did you die?"
"I don't remember."
Bakura scoffs, "You don't remember your own death but you can remember the names of the planets?"
"It's not like I can control what I remember," the voice says, with a slight quiver to it. It's sad. (And that makes Bakura feel…something too.)
"Well, what can you remember?" he asks harshly.
"Nothing."
"Well, you must remember something. You can talk, at least."
"That's true," the voice says, just a tad brighter, "I remember a lot of non-consequential stuff: algebra, rainy days, creampuffs, and boards games. I remember feelings too."
"You remember feelings?" sneers Bakura.
"Yes. I remember this feeling that I was doing something very important when I…" the voice trails off, "well, I guess when I died."
Hmm. Maybe it's his turn to ask questions.
"What's it like being dead?"
"I'm not sure really," says the voice, "I don't remember being alive; I don't have much to compare it to."
"Can anyone else hear you?"
"No. You're the only one."
That pleases Bakura, though he doesn't know why.
"Why me?"
"There could be a lot of reasons," explains the spirit, "You could be psychic or some sort of medium. Perhaps I lived in this house before you and I only show myself to its residents."
Bakura looks around, acutely aware of how much he hates this place. It's dark and dirty, the water only works half the time, and he can hear the rats scurrying in the walls at night. But his parents abandoned him four years ago and this complex's landlord was the only one willing to rent to him under the table.
When he turns eighteen he'll have a palace.
The voice continues on, "Maybe you're a descendent of mine, though I'm pretty sure I never had children. Or maybe someone has cursed you with me? It could also be that you have something that houses my soul and I simply follow it."
Wow. He never knew there were so many reasons for being a ghost.
"I think I was very into the occult when I was alive," says the voice, almost guiltily, "Maybe that's why I'm like this."
"Which answer do you pick?" asks Bakura.
"I couldn't say. I don't even know for sure I'm a ghost."
"Well, what else could you be?"
"I could be a demon."
Bakura laughs.
-0-
In the morning, he asks the voice a question that had been writhing in his mind all night.
"What was it like before you met me?"
"Lonely."
-0-
"You lied to me!"
Bakura rages at the voice, on and on for the entirety of 5th period. It isn't until midway through 6th that the voice can get a word in edge wise.
"I didn't lie to you," the voice whispers to him gently, soothingly. Like he's a damn child.
"You didn't?" he sneers, "Then explain to me how I got the answer wrong, wise ghost of mine."
In his mind, he can feel the voice deflate.
"I don't know."
"Huh? Really? You don't know. Gee, that seems really familiar. You don't know much of anything, do you? Poor ghost," he taunts, "It must be so hard for you. All alone. You don't even have any memories to keep you company."
"Stop. You're being cruel."
"Cruel! I'm kinder to you than the whole rest of the world," Bakura snarls, "Only I hear you. Tell me, ghost, if I wasn't here to listen would you even exist at all?"
The voice exhales. (He can feel the breath on his neck.)
"You're only saying these things because you're cross with me," it rationalizes, "But it's not my fault."
Bakura glowers, but the voice continues on.
"I swear that Pluto was a planet when I was alive."
-0-
"I can prove to you I'm right," the voice says once school is finished.
Bakura snorts, "You don't deserve my trust."
"Though I think you're getting awfully hung up on one question out of thirty-five, I understand that trust is a fragile thing. Please let me prove myself."
Stupid silky voice, spinning its pretty web. He hates when it makes sense.
"Fine, we'll go to the library – and don't you dare say anything, I know what a library is," Bakura snaps, "and if you're lying I'm checking out books on exorcisms."
-0-
Bakura scrolls through the articles on the computer, not paying much attention to them. The words blur even faster on the stupid machine.
"Ah, see! Look at that line there," The voice says and Bakura lifts his hand off the mouse.
"Its planetary status was revoked in 2006. I must have died before then."
Died before then. He never really thought about that.
"How old do you think you are?" he asks, previously frustration at the voice forgotten.
"I don't know."
Bakura sighs, "Is that the only answer I'm ever going to get from you?"
-0-
Even though the voice can't sate Bakura's curiosity, it is useful for school work. (Disregarding current events, of course.)
The voice spends hours at his side, encouraging him to try and whispering the answers when he gives up. Slowly, his grades start to improve.
"Now you see, after we solve for x we can go back and plug it in and solve for y..."
Bakura zones the ghost out, focusing instead on the pleasant rhythm of his voice, how it rolls up and down like soft ocean waves…
He smiles lazily to himself, until he sees blur race across his room. Rats or thieves? Whatever it was it was going to die.
Unless it was already dead.
There is a translucent boy floating in his living room. He's skinny. And kind of girlish, too. His hair falls a little passed his shoulders and he has a gentle expression on his face. He's wearing a t-shirt and jeans that fade into a swirl of mist. (He has white hair, even whiter than Bakura's own. He's never met another person like that.)
"Hey, voice," Bakura says.
The boy looks up with wide brown eyes.
"Yes?"
"You have a body."
The voice looks down at his hands and then back up.
"I guess I do," he shrugs, "Now, as I was saying…"
-0-
Bakura and Atemu's voices rise in outrage simultaneously.
"What!"
"Mr. Mutou, Mr. Inoue, calm yourselves! Or I'll send you both to detention –" what's-her-name teacher exclaims.
"I'd rather be in detention than have to work with that –"
The voice puts its ghostly hand on his shoulder. He stops himself.
Atemu looks like his just itching to say something, but doesn't as well.
"Thank you," teacher says, "As I was saying, the two of you will be assigned Greek and Roman mythology. Which leaves Egyptian mythology for Ms. Kiryuu and Ms. Shinohara."
Bakura is furious. His fists are shaking so badly he thinks he'll start an earthquake.
"It's okay," the voice says, "It'll be okay."
The boy wraps his transparent arms over Bakura's shoulders and even though he's dead, Bakura can feel his heart beat with his own. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
(And, for the first time, his stupid little conscience wins.)
They make no progress on their project. Instead, Bakura and Atemu spend the rest of class glaring at each other.
But, all things considered, it's a start.
-0-
"This is stupid!" Bakura yells and throws the book at the wall. The voice tries to pick it up, but his fingers just run through it.
"It's not so bad," says the voice, "It's actually pretty interesting when you have the right textbook."
"It doesn't make any sense," Bakura moans. He kicks the textbook (even though is already on the ground) and pretends that it's Atemu's face.
"Why do they all have so many names? I can't keep them straight," he grumbles.
"I'll help," the voice says, with a smile on his stupid face, "This book doesn't tell them right, anyway."
Bakura pursues his lips. He really doesn't want to learn this, but the thought of listening to the voice tell him stories is not a bad one.
"Alright," Bakura says and settles himself cross legged on the floor, "Go."
"Well, I guess we should start with the gods in the Pantheon; they're the most important. Don't worry," the voice smiles again, "We'll just start with the names. There's Zeus/ Jupiter and his wife Hera/Juno. There's Poseidon/Neptune along with Dionysus/Bacchus. Apollo is Apollo in both versions but his twin sister is called Artemis or Diana. Then, there's Hermes/Mercury and Athena /Minerva. And after that is Ares/Mars and his some-times lover Aphrodite/Venus. Finally there is Demeter/Ceres and Hephaestus/Vulcan."
Bakura just stares. He didn't understand a word of that, but doesn't tell the voice, since the poor thing seems out of breath.
"I know that's a lot, but those are the major ones," he stops for a moment, remembering something, "Except for Hades of course. He's a really important god, but he's not on the pantheon since he spends all his time ruling the underworld. The Romans called him Pluto."
"Pluto?" Bakura says, perking up, "You mean the not-planet Pluto?"
The voice blushes. Or rather, he makes a face that living humans make when they blush. There's no color to his cheeks. (Though Bakura imagines that it would look quite nice.)
"I told you," the voice says, pouting in his pretend body, "It really was a planet when I was alive."
-0-
Pluto is the Lord of the Underworld and Ruler of the Dead. He didn't get the job by choice; he just drew the shortest straw. He revels in his duties, regardless.
Bakura can relate.
-0-
Pluto is the God of Riches and Precious Metals.
Mining digs up wealth from underneath the earth. The voice says that's how he came to be associated with the underworld. The little ghost seems slightly perplexed about how the two relate, but they make perfect sense to Bakura.
Death and riches go hand in hand.
-0-
Pluto possesses a helmet that can make him invisible.
The voice looks at him disconcertingly when Bakura happily explains all the ways it would be useful.
-0-
The voice spends lifetimes reading to him. Bakura knows he can live in these moments forever.
-0-
A few days later, the teacher tells the class that next session they'll be meeting at the library. She informs them that it's the only class time they'll get for their stupid mythology project and that it's due in two weeks. It'll count as twenty percent of their final grade.
Bakura scowls all the way through fourth period.
"You're going to have to talk him," says the voice, once school is over, "You don't want to fail."
"I'd rather flunk that stupid class a million times than work with that pompous bastard."
The voice shakes his snowy head, "No, you don't want that – "
"Don't tell me what I want." Bakura crosses his arms and turns away from the ghost.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the voice smile. It's a really dumb looking smile. He scoffs.
"Bakura," says the voice.
Bakura looks up. It's the first time he's ever heard the voice say his name.
"You've been doing so well at school," the voice says proudly, "I don't want to see your temper ruin it for you. You're better than that."
Bakura glowers. The voice's words are making his cheeks hot and his stomach feel all queasy.
"Besides," the voice continues brightly, "if you and Atemu both fail than you'll just have to retake the class together. You don't want that, right?"
Bakura doesn't have anything to say to that.
-0-
He arrives at the library ten minutes after the bell.
The teacher doesn't notice him (he is a thief, after all, even if the voice has been weighing down his efforts) and he slides into one of the empty tables.
"I think they keep their mythology books in that section," says the voice, pointing at the left corner of the library. No one else but Bakura sees him.
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters under his breath and trudges toward them. Fifteen minutes of looking through titles and skimming pages later, Atemu still hasn't shown up. For whatever reason, this enrages Bakura. Far more than if Atemu had just shown up in the first place.
What, did that bastard think he was too good to work on a project with him?
"Maybe he just fell ill," the voice chirps in.
Bakura snorts. He grabs about five different books and slams down on his table. If Atemu wants to fail, that's more than fine with him.
"That's the spirit!" The voice settles above his shoulder. Bakura buries his head in the books, taking his time, trying to decipher the words as best he can. Suddenly, he hears laughter.
His head snaps up and he finds Atemu looming over him. The red eyed boy chuckles again.
"Just what is so funny?" Bakura snarls as he stands up.
"Nothing," Atemu says, smirking, "I just didn't know you could re – "
Suddenly, he stops himself.
"Finish your damn sentence," Bakura growls, voice low and deep. (His fists are shaking again.)
Atemu glares at the bookshelf next to him, refusing to meet Bakura's eyes.
"Just nevermind," he says and wanders away into the books.
Bakura is about to pummel the answer out of him (voice be damned) but then the bell rings. The voice, with his little ghostly hands, nudges him along.
-0-
Pluto has a wife named Proserpina. He stole her (but didn't do a very good job of it). Proserpina's mother took revenge by laying waste to all the vegetation, knowing that Jupiter would have to rule that Prosperina be returned to her. Pluto then tricked the maiden into eating some pomegranate seeds, so she would always have to spend part of the year with him. That's why we have seasons, or something.
"In some versions, she fell in love him and ate the seeds herself," the voice says, with a faraway look in his eyes, "Isn't that interesting?"
"No," Bakura states.
"Why not?"
"He's powerful; of course she'd fall in love with him."
"I don't think that's it," the voice says, with a thoughtful look on his face. He always has that look on his face.
"What else would it be?"
"Empathy."
"Empathy?" Bakura repeats, incredulous.
The voice nods.
"Proserpina's mother completely isolated her. I'm sure she must have had a lot of lonely days. When she was brought to the underworld, maybe she saw how lonely Pluto was and empathized with him."
Bakura just stares.
"Who would be stupid enough to empathize with the God of the Dead?"
The voice touches a finger to his lips.
"Well I guess that would depend on which God of the Dead we're talking about."
-0-
The voice is reading Bakura's literature homework to him, when all of a sudden he freezes.
"That's my name," he says, and there are no hints of wind chimes in his voice now.
"What?"
"That's my name!" the voice repeats with more urgency.
Bakura gapes at him, trying to recall the last passage they read.
"You're name is Sakura Arisugawa?"
"No," the voice says with a great sigh. (He's trembling slightly.)
"My name is Ryou."
-0-
Two days pass and nothing changes.
"You have a name now," snipes Bakura, "Aren't you going to do something with it?"
"Like what?" the voice says with great melancholy, "It's just a first name. Though I guess it could be my last name…"
The voice glares at the floor.
"I still don't know anything."
-0-
"We should go the museum, tomorrow," the voice says, not as bright as he used to be, but getting better, "to help with your project. It's almost due."
"Heh. Really?" Bakura teases, "I thought you hated it when I go to the museum."
"I don't hate it," the voice says, exasperated, "I just I prefer it when you don't steal ancient artifacts."
-0-
Pluto, the thing that used to be a planet, has a moon named Charon. Charon is so named after the Greek figure who ferried souls to the land of the dead.
"It's interesting isn't?" the voice says, not really talking to Bakura at all, "How it all comes back around?
-0-
Bakura and his ghost are walking to the museum when a woman screams.
"Thief!" she shouts, "Someone stop him! Thief!"
Bakura spots the 'thief' immediately in the crowd. He has no skill or artistry and his feet are practically tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to escape. All it takes is a jet of his leg for the wannabe thief to crumble.
Bakura seizes the red purse out of his grimy hands.
"Oh, thank you!" the woman cries, "Thank you."
Bakura grimaces.
"Just take it," he says, offering her the purse, "And try not to be so careless next time."
The woman makes a move to thank him again, but he disappears quickly into the crowd. Bakura's sure that if he had to listen to her for another moment he'd hurl. Sighing, he turns around and heads back towards the museum, thinking that's the worst of it.
It's only when he looks up at the voice that he realizes he's wrong. He hasn't even started to grasp what he's done.
"Bakur –" the voice says, but he cuts him off.
"Don't. Don't you dare," he warns, already seeing that stupid smile start to break out on the voice's face.
"I'm still a thief and you're stupid Pluto still isn't a damn planet so don't you dare – "
The voice – Ryou – just laughs and throws himself into Bakura's arms.
It's like being hugged by a freezer. (Or the farthest not-planet from the sun.)
-0-
The museum has two new exhibits, one on Ancient Egypt and the other on the Iron Age of Mesopotami. While they both hold very pretty treasure, neither of them have anything do with his project.
"Can we go home now?" Bakura asks, dreadfully bored. Not even pickpocketing seems appealing to him now. He just wants to go home and maybe have the voice read to him some more.
"Let's keep looking," the voice urges him, "My intuition is telling me that there is something important here."
Bakura narrows his eyes, "We're not here for my project at all, are we?"
The voice looks away guiltily.
"Forgive me," he says, "But I must find out who I am."
"Of course, Ryou." (He sneers the name like a curse.)
"Please don't be cross with me," Ryou says, hovering closer to him, "It has nothing to do with you."
"Oh, it doesn't?" Bakura chuckles darkly, "What happens when you do find the answers to all your questions? Ghosts only remain ghosts because they have unfinished business. What will happen to you once you've finished yours?"
Ryou drops. He floats shoulder to shoulder with Bakura now, instead of above him.
"I don't know," Ryou mumbles, "I don't even know if I am a ghost."
"Do you want to leave?" Bakura turns his eyes away, "Move on to the Underworld?"
Ryou shakes his head, "Not really."
"Then why are you doing this!" Bakura shouts, eyes flashing, "Things are fine just the way they are! You're fine like this."
"Things are not fine," Ryou says firmly, "I can sense its presence. Every day it grows a little bit stronger, biding its time before it's powerful again."
"What does?"
Ryou's eyes are somber. "The thing that killed me."
Bakura relaxes, "So it that what you are? A spirit of revenge?"
"No," Ryou says, again uncharacteristically certain.
"It's fine; you can tell me," Bakura smirks, "I'm sure if I was ever murdered I would come back and seek my revenge as well."
"No," Ryou repeats, "It's not like that. The thing I've been feeling…it's not human."
"My, my," Bakura says, with no hint of humor, "You were messing with some dark things."
"If I did," Ryou stares at his translucent hands, "I certainly paid the price."
Bakura watches him and feelings that he doesn't know what to do with at all whirl through him. Finally, he speaks.
"Alright, we can have one more look around."
(Ryou only looks a little surprised.)
"Thank you," he says.
"Yeah, yeah. Lead the way."
-0-
They wind up in the basement. Bakura's has been there a couple times, it's where the museum stores a few of the exhibits they have when they're not showing them upstairs. Occasionally, it'll have something interesting, but most of the good stuff is in other, more protected rooms.
Bakura walks towards the center of the room, where all the boxes and cases are.
"No, I have a feeling we should go left."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Fine," Bakura says with a sigh and turns left. They walk about ten yards before a filing cabinet blocks their path.
"There's something behind it," says Ryou.
"Obviously," Bakura replies. He shoves the cabinet to the side and in its place is a wooden door.
"Still want your answers, ghost?"
Ryou nods. He places his hand over Bakura's as he opens the door.
-0-
Pluto the not-planet, at its coldest, is -250 degrees Celsius. Because it is so cold, most artistic depictions of it color it blue or purple. In reality, it is reddish brown.
Bakura respects that. Red has always been a good color to him.
-0-
Honestly, when Bakura opens the door he half expects the Furies themselves to lash out at him. Nothing of the sort happens. Instead, the door only leads to a bigger and even more empty room. There is no light. They can only see because Ryou's body has a slight glow to it.
"This feels so familiar," Ryou mutters, floating deeper into the room, "I feel like I've been here a thousand times."
Bakura frowns. His stomach does flips at the thought of Ryou existing without him.
"This way," says Ryou and Bakura follows him.
The ghost leads him down another hallway until they come to yet another door. This one isn't block half as well as the last one. It only has a small pathetic crate guarding it. Bakura easily pushes it aside with his foot.
"Are you sure you want to open that?" he asks dryly, "Is it just going to lead to more doors?"
"I don't know," Ryou admits, "But my heart tells me that I should open this door."
"Your heart?"
A nod.
"You say the strangest things," Bakura says as he twists the doorknob, "Aren't ghosts supposed to be scary?"
Ryou doesn't say anything back; he's too busy staring at the contents of the room. Bakura, too, is aghast.
Inside the room is some kind of game board ("It's a tabletop RPG!" Ryou says in amazement) that is at least two yards in length. There are two throne-like seats at each end and by the board's four corners are lit torches. Little figurines, a deck of cards and ten-sided die are all scattered across the board. Someone's been playing it.
"Ba-Bakura!" barks an ungodly arrogant, but very familiar, voice.
Shit.
"What are you doing here?" Bakura shouts, before Atemu can have a chance.
"What am I doing here?" Atemu rages, "My parent's own the museum! What are you doing here?"
Bakura crosses his arms. "I got lost."
Atemu glares, "Do you think I'll fall for that?"
"Yeah, well, prove I was doing anything other than looking for the bathroom, Mr. President."
Atemu lets out a frustrated snarl. "Bakura! I don't have time for your games! Get out of here now before I call security!"
Bakura looks towards down at the spectacle before them. "It seems to me like you're the one playing games."
Atemu steps forward threateningly.
"Fine, fine, I'll go," Bakura says, putting his hands up, "I don't want to be around anyway when the guards ask you what you were doing playing this elaborate game all by yourself."
Atemu glowers. "What do you know, Bakura?"
"What do you know?" Bakura shoots back. What the hell kind of question was that? Did Atemu know more about that RPG game and the non-human power than he did? The nerve of that bastard!
"Let's go," Ryou whispers into his ear, "Let's go while he's still giving us the chance."
Bakura snorts. As much as he hates leaving a battle, Ryou was right. Better to flee and live to fight another day.
"I'll see you at school tomorrow," he sneers and exits the room.
-0-
Once they are a good distance away from the museum, Ryou speaks again.
"That game houses all of my secrets. I'm completely certain of it now."
He looks at Bakura pleadingly, "I have to see it again."
"Don't worry, little ghost," Bakura smirks, running a finger across Ryou's nonexistent cheek. (The touch is cold.)
"We'll be back after hours."
-0-
At home, Bakura prepares for war.
He keeps his treasure hidden under the floorboards of his apartment and tonight it has all resurfaced. Bakura weeds through piles of things that had caught his eye: bracelets, necklaces, statues and brooches. Anything that looks like it could be even remotely mystical he places on his body. By the end his arms covered with bracelets all the way up to his elbows and his pockets full of statuettes.
Ryou eyes him up and down. "Is all that necessary?"
"Yes," huffs Bakura, "Whatever this thing is, last time you fought it – it killed you."
He slips an ornate dagger into the pocket of his red sweatshirt, "I'd rather not have the same thing happen to me."
"Fair enough," Ryou says and floats towards the window.
"It's a full moon," he notes, "Do you think it means anything?"
Bakura snorts, "Aren't you the one who should be telling me?"
Ryou's bangs fall over his eyes and he turns away from the thief.
"It could be very dangerous to go tonight," Ryou confesses, "And yet I can't shake this feeling that I must…"
Ryou wraps his arms around his semi-visible body.
"I'm sorry, this is all so selfish. I shouldn't be putting you in danger like this."
Bakura, grunting, swats his hand through Ryou. Literally through. The boy's mid-section turns to mist for a second.
"You're not putting me through anything," Bakura says, "I'm doing this because I chose. I want to help you find the answers you seek."
Ryou looks up at him. He smiles, ever so slightly.
Bakura scowls, "Don't look at me like that. It's only so that you'll be less annoying when I ask you stuff. Now come on, let's go. It's midnight."
-0-
No one worships Pluto, because they know death cannot be swayed.
When Proserpina is Queen of the Underworld, she is so feared that people only speak her name in curses.
"You see," the voice says, "she understands Pluto's loneliness better than anyone."
-0-
Bakura breaks into the museum with ease; he must have done it a thousand times by now.
"There's still time to turn back," Ryou says as they enter the basement.
"Stop bothering me!" Bakura barks, "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm going to do this?"
Ryou deflates, floating closer to the ground, "I'm just saying that if you want to go back there's still –"
"Shut. Up. Ghost."
Ryou does, but he still has that little concerned look on his face. It's annoying. They reach the second door faster than before and just before Bakura opens it, he pauses.
"What's wrong?" Ryou asks.
"Shh…" Bakura says, "There's someone talking."
He presses his ear against the door.
"Partner…all I want to do is help you…"
Bakura's mouth drops open. Atemu, again? Just what the hell is that guy up to?
"I know that, I know that," Atemu says, "But how can you expect me to do this if it might hurt you?"
"Can you hear this?" Bakura whispers. Ryou nods and purses his lips into a tight frown.
"Go inside," the ghost says.
"What!" Bakura hisses, still trying to keep his voice a whisper, "You were the one who told me to leave just a few hours ago!"
"It's different now."
"How? If that bastard sees that I'm here he'll call the cops for sure!"
"Bakura," Ryou says, with fire in his eyes, "I know who he's talking to."
Bakura stops, stunned.
"Go inside," Ryou repeats, turning his head towards the door, "Go inside and tell him everything I tell you to."
Bakura winces, internally struggling between his instincts as a thief and his duty to his ghost. He growls.
"If you're wrong about this –"
"I'm not."
Sighing, Bakura pushes the door open. There is Atemu, standing in the same spot Bakura last saw him in, talking to air. Atemu's eyes bulge.
"Ba-Bakura! What are you doing here?"
(Bakura didn't even know the answer to that himself.)
He shrugs, "Doesn't it feel like we just had this conversation?"
Atemu looks like he could strangle Bakura with his bare hands.
"I'm calling the cops!" he says, storming to the door.
"Ask what he knows about Zorc," Ryou says, glaring daggers at Atemu. (He'd never seen the ghost look so mad. He didn't even know the ghost could get mad.)
"Oi! Mr. President, before you go, I want you to tell me something."
Atemu stops dead in his tracks.
"What do you know about Zorc?"
The whole room freezes. Then, slowly, Atemu turns around.
"I should have known you would have something to do with this with this Game of Darkness, Bakura."
Game of darkness? What the hell was a game of darkness? But Bakura doesn't dare ask; he can't stand the thought that Atemu knows more than him.
So he fakes a laugh, "Maybe, maybe not. Why don't you tell me what you know before you start making accusations?"
Atemu clenches his fist and holds his head higher.
"I'll make you pay for what you did to my partner."
"You're 'partner'?" Bakura restates, trying to figure out who he meant, "You mean that girl who's always hanging out with you in History? I didn't do anything to her."
"Anzu's not my – what are you even talking about?" Atemu asks, just as perplexed as Bakura.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the other me who lives inside of me! The one whose soul you sealed away!"
"Sealed away his soul?" Bakura echoes, voice thick with disbelief, "Who the hell do you think I am, Pluto?"
"Who?" Atemu says, gaping at him, "Are you Zorc or not?"
"Don't ask me stupid questions! You were the one who was talking to Zorc earlier!"
"I was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not – ugh!" Atemu let out a strangled cry, "What are you even doing here, Bakura? Have you come here just to be a thorn in my side?"
"Oh please. Don't flatter yourself! I came here to help my ghost."
"Your…ghost," Atemu states flatly.
Bakura glares. "You're the one who just admitted to having a split personality a second ago!"
"It can't be…" Ryou blanches. Trembling, he buries his face in his hands.
"What is it?" Bakura asks.
"What's what?" Atemu shouts, "I didn't say anything!"
"Could it really be?" Ryou mutters to himself. Suddenly, his head shoots up.
"Is it you, Yuugi-kun?"
"Who's Yuugi?" Bakura yells, beyond exasperated.
"How do you know my partner's name?"
"What's with you and this partner thing?"
"I remember now," Ryou says softly, so softly it could be mistaken as the summer breeze.
Then, a hundred times stronger, "Bakura, I remember now!"
"Great! Does that mean we can get the hell out of here now?"
"Who are you talking to?" Atemu asks, throwing his hands up in the air.
Ryou shakes his head urgently.
"No, no, I have to finish the game of darkness I started."
"You mean you're Zorc?" Bakura questions, feeling a brain tumor coming on.
"I already told you I'm not!" Atemu yells.
"No. But I did summon him. By accident, of course, not that it matters. I was such a fool…" Ryou's hair falls over his eyes.
"Ghost," Bakura says, stepping closer to Ryou, "Tell me how you died."
"I give up," Atemu mutters to himself and walks back to the game board.
"Yuugi, my most precious friend, he and I we're avid gamers. We were always trying out the latest ones and looking for ways to make the old ones more interesting. In my foolishness, I turned to the occult for our amusement. It was supposed to be a simple spell."
Ryou fidgets and grabs his arm.
"It would temporarily transfer our minds into our game pieces so we could act out the story for real. I built that huge diorama and my father let me keep it down here. He used to be the owner of the museum."
Ryou still couldn't bear to look up at Bakura.
"But I did the spell wrong," Ryou says, voice cracking, "I transferred our souls instead. More than that, I breathed life into the antagonist of our game, Zorc."
Bakura inhales. He's never be good understanding others emotion. He's never wanted too. He has plenty emotions of his own to experience. But right now, all he wants is for Ryou to tell him everything – to tell him how he feels.
"Keep going," Bakura says. (Softly.)
"Yuugi and I tried to defeat him as best we could; we fought long and hard. But it was pointless; in the game Zorc has infinite power. And I knew that if we lost, Zorc would be able to use our bodies to get into the real world. So I did the only thing I could think of."
Ryou looks up at Bakura now; there are dark tears in his eyes.
"I split our souls," he moans, "I used the darkness in our hearts to power a spell that would bind him to his game piece forever. It worked, but at a terrible price. I was only half a soul now, so I couldn't move on. I was doomed to wait in limbo until either Zorc freed himself or the darkness in my soul returned to me."
"Me," Bakura says, "You mean me. I'm your darkness."
Ryou nods. He closes his eyes tightly together, trying not to cry.
"And it's the same for him, too isn't?" Bakura says, jerking his thumb towards Atemu who was talking to himself. Probably saying the same things Bakura was saying now.
"I believe so, yes."
Bakura blinks, letting the truth that he'd spent his whole life with just half a soul wash over him. To be honest, it actually explains a lot. He shrugs.
"If that's all this is, what's the big deal?" He yawns, "Let's go home."
Ryou just stares, "Don't you hate me? For the horrible fate I've cursed us with?"
"No. It doesn't bother me that much. Can we go now?"
"B-bbut I," Ryou stutters, "I have to destroy Zorc once and for all. I can feel him getting stronger."
"Okay."
Bakura marches over to the table and scans all the different figurines. His eyes stop on a black demon/dragon hybrid.
"This the guy?" Bakura says, picking up the small piece.
"Yes," says Ryou, "What are you going – "
Bakura crushes Zorc in the palm of his hand.
"What did you just do?" Atemu shouts, rushing over towards them.
"I killed Zorc," Bakura says simply, wiping the little bits of wood on his jeans, "What does it look I did?"
"Can he do that?" Atemu asks the air next to him.
A dark scream pierces the room. Out of nowhere, a swift gust of wind extinguishes all the torches simultaneously. The room shakes as if Pluto's great horses Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nyctaeus and Alastor might break through the ground at any moment.
Then, slowly, as if nothing had happened, the torches flicker back to life.
Atemu is the first to speak.
"I can't believe that worked."
Ryou frowns, "That was very…anti-climactic."
"What are you guys complaining about?" responds Bakura, "I thought you wanted him dead."
"It's just," Atemu says, staring at the game board, "shouldn't it be a bit harder than that?"
Bakura ignores him. A spoiled brat like him would always find something to complain about.
"We're going home," Bakura tells Ryou.
"Wait!" Atemu says, "What about our other halves?"
"What about them?"
"We have to lay them to rest," Atemu says, placing his hand over his heart, "It's our duty to help them cross over."
-0-
Orpheus was a fool who let his lover die.
"But," the voice tells him, "He went to the Underworld to rescue her. When he came to Proserpina and Pluto's thrones he played a song of their love. It was so gorgeous and tender and bittersweet that it made Proserpina weep. And no one else had even seen Pluto's eyes shine as brilliantly as they did that day. They allowed him to return with Eurydice on one condition."
"What's that?"
"He could not turn around and look at her as he walked back to Earth."
"Well how was he supposed to know she was there?" Bakura asks, "You can't trust the God of the Dead."
"No," the voice agrees, "But he could trust his love for her."
Trust his love for her?
The voice says such stupid things.
And, anyway, Orpheus turned around.
-0-
Bakura clenches his fist. The moment his voice stopped being his conscience and started being Ryou, he knew he'd have to face this someday. His ghost was a ghost after all. He was all dead and stuff.
He lowers his voice so Atemu can't hear him.
"Is that what you want?" he asks. His mouth is dry and his voice is hoarse and his insides feel trampled on.
"Now that you have your memories, do you want to move on?"
Ryou smiles at him, so softly, so tenderly. (Who else but Ryou could ever look at him like that?) Slowly, he cups his hand around Bakura's cheek. It's a pseudo touch, but Bakura can still feel its cold chill.
"It wouldn't be fair for me to haunt you the rest of your life," Ryou says, stroking Bakura's scar, "You deserve autonomy. And for my sins, I deserve to be dead."
"Are you talking to him?" Atemu asks, almost politely. Bakura growls as a response.
"Yuugi thinks the way to freedom is to smash their game pieces too."
Ryou kisses his forehead.
"Come on, let's go."
-0-
Pluto, in an attempt to entice Proserpina, planted narcissuses. Narcissus was a boy who fell in love with his own reflection.
"She was very beautiful," says the voice, "but he also saw himself in her."
-0-
Bakura holds Ryou's little model in his hand. He's some kind of white wizard, with a big floppy hat and a staff that sort of looks like an ankh. (Bakura can't bring himself to close his fist around it.)
Neither, it seems, can Atemu. Both boys just stare at the little figurines, unsure of what they can and cannot do.
"It's alright," Ryou whispers (always whispers), "It can't hurt me anymore than last time."
All of the gold on Bakura's chest begins to choke him. His bracelets weigh a thousand tons and he can't move his arms. Why did he bring so much accursed jewelry?
Ryou places his hand over his little mage.
"It's okay. I'm right here," Ryou says, with wind chimes in his voice, "And since we're sort of the same, I'll always be right here."
Without thinking, without breathing, Bakura crushes in his hand.
His conscience is splinters of wood; there is no more voice.
Then (because Bakura gets the feeling Atemu is too much of a coward to do it himself) he snatches Yuugi's statue and crushes it as well.
Atemu looks indignantly at him, but says nothing. Bakura thinks a part of him is relieved.
"W-what's going on?" says a voice that is neither Atemu nor Ryou.
Bakura whips his head around. Slouched in one of the giant chairs, is a boy who looks like a smaller, paler version of Atemu.
"Yuugi-kun?" says another voice. The only voice Bakura's ever heard.
Ryou is slumped in the opposite chair, just starting to slowly open his eyes.
"Ryou-kun?" says Yuugi as he opens his eyes. Then he shouts, "Ryou-kun!"
Before Bakura or Atemu can properly process what has happened, Ryou and Yuugi are out of their seats and running towards each other. Ryou sweeps Yuugi up into a big hug and the other boy laughs wildly into his shoulder.
They might be saying things to each other, Bakura can't tell. All he sees is them holding each other and sobbing.
"I guess we should just let them have this moment," Atemu says, his voice strained.
Bakura folds his arms. "Yeah, I guess."
-0-
One of the bracelets Bakura had been wearing was enchanted. Ryou thinks that's part of the reason why Zork was so easily destroyed. (Bakura just thinks they were making a big deal out of nothing.) And it's definitely the reason Ryou and Yuugi were given back their bodies.
"You see?" Bakura says to Ryou, "And you told me nothing good would come from being a thief."
-0-
"I'm glad you were going to let me die," Ryou says, a thousand days after that night in the museum. He is sprawled out on the rooftop of their new apartment, looking at the moon. Bakura lies next to him. The night air is so chilly, when Bakura closes his eyes he can almost imagine they're on Pluto.
"Yeah, well don't get used to it," he says, stroking Ryou's face. It's so warm, almost unnaturally so. He doesn't know when he'll ever get used to it, but he keeps caressing it all the same.
"What do you mean?" Ryou asks, rolling over.
"I'm never going to let you die again."
"That's an awful thing to say."
Bakura has to laugh, even though his ghost is no longer a ghost he is still just as strange.
"Why is that?"
"Everyone is supposed to die eventually, Bakura. It's not natural when they don't," Ryou says, "Believe me, I'd know."
Bakura just smirks. "What is natural about life anyway? If anything ever happened to you I'd just steal you back again."
"Don't talk like that, it's dangerous," says Ryou, wearing that look of concern again, "Life and death is so much than we could ever possibly understand. They're not meant to be taken lightly. I've…I've crossed those lines before and I don't want you to ever do the same."
Ryou lightly touches Bakura's check.
"Despite what you may think," he says with a knowing smile, "you're not the God of the Underworld."
Bakura, grinning, pulls Ryou even closer. (He can feel Ryou's breath on his lips.)
"But I am the King of Thieves."
