A/N: Exoticshipping set during the Civil War. Why? Because I love that era and I can. Yes, Isis and Baku live in the South, because... well, duh. I'm from the South. Therefore, I know it. So this is where they will live. The South has reenactments of the war all the friggin time, but we do acknowledge that the North won. (Thank you Family Guy, for making people think that we don't. Also, thanks for making people think we're stupid! Sterotype much?) anyways, I've seen some, as my family owns Janney Furnace. It's a reenactment/historical place thing. Yeah. So anyways, this will have uncorrect grammar in it (ain't, shortened words, etc.) 'cause I tried to make it realistic. I don't really know how people talked back in the day. SO, I'm going off of how I talk. May you enjoy the Isis/Baku nonsense. OH YEAH, and I know it will seem like I'm trying to make the North out to be the bad guys-I'm not! It's just that yes, they burnt down plantations. Yes, the got drunk. Yes, they took advantage of women. But guess what? So did the South. Every side in every war does something to the place their in, every time. This one I dedicate to the person who will always have prettier eyes than mine. 3 (I WIN.)

~l~l~l~

Chapter Nine: Exoticshipping

Isis sighed wearily, lifting her muddy skirts. She absently fingered the silver locket hanging from her neck as she leaned against an ashy willow tree, the drooping branches hiding her from the view of the Union soilders running hither and thither on her front lawn.

Or what was left of it, anyways.

The bright white expansion of her once marvelous house was now something to be laughed at. She felt a pang of sorrow at the loss of her treasures, her home... Her family.

Anger took place of the fear and pain. They'd killed Marik as he stood in their paths so she could escape. She'd tried to return, only to be stopped by the collapsed doorway. She shivered at the memory of the harsh flames licking at her silk night skirt.

"How will I survive this?"

Her other hand tightened around the golden scarab in her hand, making the trinket dig painfully into her palm. She liked the pain in that moment, it kept her grounded. She glared at the soldiers as they danced and sang, wishing them all to drop dead. How dare this War target her! She wasn't even from this supposedly free country. Neither side of the War suited her. Not Confederate, not Union.

The amount of times she'd been mistaken for a slave only fed her haterd further. Both sides had hurt her. Both sides had stolen something from her. The South, her pride. The North, her sanctuary. Her sanity.

But they hadn't stolen her last remaining treasure, not as far as she knew anyways. Her white haired Thief.

She sighed softly, turning away from the sight before her. She parted the branches of the willow on the opposite side of her burning home, gently picking her way through the forest. Her skirts got caught several times. She was forced to rip them, making the silk spike to above her knee. Well above it. Tears no longer flowed. She'd lost feeling when Marik dropped in front of her.

A man burst through the trees to her left, obviously drunk out of his mind. He stood just in her way, blocking the path she'd been taking to the main road. From there, she'd plannd to head to a stream to bathe.

"Excuse me, mister. You seem to be in my way." she said, voice cold as steel. Much like the steel on the young man's gun. He smiled and swayed, but did not move.

"Mister, I won't ask you again. Please, get out a' my way." she snarled. The man took a single step forward.

"My, my. Aren't you just the prettiest thing?" he cooed. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, looking away.

"Sir. Just get outta' my way. I mean it when I say I ain't in the mood for you. Or nobody for that matter. Move!"

She stepped forward, trying to brush past him, when he caught her arm. She looked back at him, right hand raised, nails made into make-shift claws. "Look. Get your damned hands off of me, right now, you filthy excuse of a man. I don't want no part of you. I don't want no part of your war. Let. Me. Go."

She roughly slammed her right hand into the side of the man's face, drawing blood. He still did not drop her arm.

"Well, well. It seems like you've just pissed of the wrong guy, miss."

He roughly slammed her against the nearest tree, holding her hands above her head. She kicked and screamed, black hair falling from its previous holdings to conceal her slightly. The man looked on in amusement at her. Eyes wild, hair askew, breath coming in short, angered pants.

Yes, she truly was something to be marveled at.

"Now you just hold still. This shouldn't take long."

As the man reached for his belt buckle, Isis let out another ear-splitting scream. The tree line to her left tore open once again, revealing a man moving so quickly, he looked like a white blur. Before she could process anything that was happening, he had the man cut down. The soldier landed with a thud on the damp earth, dead eyes wide and unseeing.

The white shadow returned again, hoisting Isis up.

"Bakura?" she whimpered against the course grey fabric of his uniform. He nodded gently, holding her until her shivering stopped.

She pulled away, though her hands never left his chest, to look him in the face. He was dirty, extremely so, and his eyes were a bit dulled from the last time she'd seen him. A large scar ran under his right eye, with two smaller one cris-crossing it. In addition to that, several more cuts ran up his arms where the uniform had been cut away. Her eyes misted over at the mistreated man in front of her and she once again threw herself into his arms. He winced, though she didn't know why, and groaned lowly. She looked up at him with a questioning glance.

"Bakura... Are you okay? You're hurt, aren't you?"

Bakura smiled and shook his head.

You'll find out soon enough, Isis.

He took her hand and boosted her up onto his horse before following behind. As he reached around her waist for the reigns, he looked down.

"Nice wardrobe, Miss. Ishtar."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

~l~l~l~

"I promise. I ain't lookin'!" Bakura protested, face only half turned from Isis' form. She was waist deep in the water of Coldwater Springs, black hair soaked and clinging to her bared body, all the way down to her waist.

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause you're the perfect Southern gentleman." she scoffed. Isis had caught him staring six different times, each time leading to the same argument.

"Of course, Miss. Isis." he purred, purposely making his accent that much thicker. She scowled and turned away, wading further into the water.

"Good Lord! This is cold..." she shrieked. But she'd been dirty, and wanted to get the touch of that soldier off of her skin. She heard splashing behind her and looked back. She immediately blushed.

"Bakura! It's highly innapropriate for you to be in here with me!" Isis teased, turning away and folding her arms over her chest. He snorted.

"Because I haven't seen you naked before right?"

Isis turned just to stick her tongue out at him, arms falling back by her sides. She shivered at the way that his eyes raked over her bronze form.

"Come here, Little Miss Egypt." he commanded. She was all to happy to oblige.

He winced lightly and groaned as she dove into his arms. She frowned. Yes, he was definitely hurt.

"Baku-"

He pressed his lips to hers, cutting off all she had to say. He wouldn't waste a moment with her. He'd promised himself that on the way back from his battle. He'd left the War.

And Karma was seeking out her revenge in the most painful of ways.

"Isis. Do you believe that I love you?" he asked, all teasing gone now. This worried her more than anything. Bakura had sounded like this before he left, when he wasn't sure if he'd be back.

"Bakura... I know you do. Please, tell me what's wrong!" she begged, arms wrapping around his neck. She was well aware of her body against his, with nothing between. He smiled, back to himself, and nibbled on her shoulder.

"Nothing you should worry about, neferet(1)." he murmured against her neck, kissing the skin softly. She let go of her worry. If Bakura said not to... then she wouldn't. Something told her it wasn't worth it, not this time. So she let him pull her to the shore and lay her down, his lips meeting hers again softly.

"My Isis... If I had died... Would you have forgotten me?"

Isis sucked in a breath and wound her fingers into his white hair. "Never, not in this life time or the next, would I forget you. I don't think I could."

He hummed and nodded, hands tracing her sides lovingly before cupping a breast and softly kneading the flesh. He lips once again danced across her collar bone, making her shiver lightly. The sun was beginning to set. What were they to do? She was homeless. Bakura couldn't be seen.

As a deserter, he'd be shot. Or worse.

"We don't have that much time left, Bakura."

Of course, she was referring to the soldiers. But to Bakura... It meant something else entirely.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss. Isis..." he whispered, voice cracking at the pain that repeatedly shot up through his back. She couldn't see it. He wouldn't let her... Not as long as he was alive.

He shifted until he was hovering over her on his forearms, nose inches from hers.

"Miss. Isis. You look rather flushed."

Even now he was teasing her. He had to. This was.. He would never..

"Shut up, Bakura! Gods."

But she was smiling. He committed it to memory, praying that nothing would ever remove it from memory. Not even... death.

"Would you rather I busy myself with something else?" he asked, tilting his head. He was trying to embarass her of course. But Isis saw her way around it.

"Yeah, actually." she replied, lips clashing with his. Her body rolled up to meet his making him hiss and claw at the sand. So she wanted to play that way.

He positioned himself and looked to her face. The anticipation and desire, all layed out like a book. Mixed in with it all was undying love.

Undying.

He entered her then, wet heat making him moan and drop his head so that it was laying in the crook of her neck. She gasped and rolled once again to meet him. His lips latched onto her neck as he continued to move, rocking in and out at whatever pace she chose. Always. He let her have control.

When her hand shoved his downwards, he didn't protest. His fingers worked her womanhood with practiced precision. She moaned and writhed beneath him, soft gasps of his name falling from her lips. He forced himself to keep his eyes open even as she closed hers.

"Hah! Bakura!" she cried, back arching off the sand in a beautiful display of pleasure. His own climax slammed into him then, as he softly said her name and coated her insides with his seed. She whimpered, body twitching from the powerful orgasm.

As he pulled out and lay beside her, the sun finally falling from the sky.

"Isis..." he croaked. Yes, his strength was just about gone. He'd timed it perfectly.

"Yes, Kura?" she mumbled. She was half asleep, laying on top of his chest.

"I'll always love you. This life. The next. Through Heaven, Hell, whatever. Remember that. No matter what.. happens... Remember."

She mistook his vague voice for him just being sleepy. "I won't, Bakura. I love you too. This life and the next."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around. There was nothing more he could do now. His vision was fading, pain dying away, giving to numbness. He inhaled her scent one last time, memorized her breathing, the way the swells of her breasts were pressed to his chest...

And then let go.

~l~l~l~

Isis awoke so cold that she thought Bakura had left. But that wasn't right. He was beneath her, still. But he was cold. His lips were blue.

His chest didn't rise and falll. His skin was too pale... No.

"No!" she shrieked. He was asleep! He had to be! No, oh Goddess. No, please...

She shook his shoulders, his head lolling around. She wept, cold bitter tears at the sight before her, and roughly turned him when she spotted blood behind his shoulder.

There. The pale skin was torn and mauled, an obvious bullet entry...

With no exit wound. He'd known. That's why he was so...

"Bakura, you idiot! Why!"

Sorrow engulfed her. Nothing left to live for. Marik. Dead. Bakura. Dead. No home. No life.

No life...

Her eyes drifted to Bakura's discarded uniform and the knife it concealed. She dug around until she found it, returning to Bakura's side.

"There, darlin'. I won't ever forget you. I suppose we're both going to hell for everything we've done."

She spoke casually. Not like a woman about to die.

She plunged the knife through her chest, into her heart. Pain was immediate. She doubled over, face falling onto Bakura's chest.

"Now..." she choked. "Now you'll never have to leave again."

As her breath faded, the sky cracked open, rain falling with such a force that no battles were fought. No lives were stolen.

And it seemed right, somehow. At least to those who came upon the two in a desperate search for shelter.

A/N: Well... Shit. Alright, sorry for the short sex. My bad. But I hope y'all enjoyed anyways. Remember: Next up is Puppyshipping then Heartshipping then Shrimpshipping THEN another Puppyshipping. I know that wasn't the original line up, but I wanted to seperate the Puppies more. So, I will totally do both Blind and Puzzleshipping just for you... Uh.. Person who requested them. Cause Atem is sexy and I've been stuck on Puzzle porn lately.

Review, my readers, I love you all!

(1)- Neferet, Egpytian for beautiful woman.

~Nightingale.