Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

This was meant to be out by the beginning of the month, but illness decided that it got its turn first.

Anyway, to those reading, please, as always...

Enjoy!

Chapter Seventy: Crossing

It was only a matter of time. That was the thought that beat into Bakura's brain every meter that they travelled. Well, probably more than that—they were keeping an even faster pace than before now that they did not need to carry any fragile equipment. They had left the remnants of the crew of the now defunct facility (apparently computer troubles were just abounding), and he and Bertalan were now on the road to verify that a more distant facility had not been compromised. "They are containing valuable data, there," Greylancer had said.

"Data?" Bakura had asked. "If it's on the computer then—"

"It is of the more physical sort."

At the time he had given a grunt of understanding, that it was none of his business. Unfortunately, he could not dislodge the feeling in his throat, or forget the knowledge that even if this data was not one of his own the vampire was still talking about people. And if that were the case…

…then Dream Eater needed to be pulled from the equation.

His fingers flitted to his collar in the present, unnoticed by the man beside him. It was that—the complete removal of his persona—or at least the appearance of his demise for a time. He could not have the vampire faction connect the dots, not when whatever jumbled lines of false intel remained. However, two things were certain: Dream Eater was known to be devoted to the cause and would do no harm to the "Great One's" work, whereas Bakura actively defied the head vampire, and had vowed to his face that he would do what was needed to help D stop him. Visual similarities aside, having anyone question Dream Eater's allegiance would mean innocents would be investigated and put in the line of fire. Bakura could not stomach the thought that a wrong move on his part could end up killing others, or an entire underground city.

Not that he wished to stomach what he may have to do next, either.

Turning to Bertalan, he made one last attempt to reason with him. The scientist had not known why, so perhaps neither did the manservant. "Do you ever feel badly for the ones that are being imprisoned by your master?"

Not slowing the animatronic creatures that pulled them along, the other inquired, "Imprisoned?"

"The ones who were being held down there. I understand detaining those who were directly responsible for the loss of that…"Great One" guy's son, but the others? Surely, if they were so eager to bolt like that, they weren't willing participants like us two."

"Did you feel guilty for us holding our own as prisoners when they went against the law?"

"I guess that depends. What law did those people break, exactly?"

"Nature's law."

Bakura scoffed. "Nature's law? That's something we can uphold as a law—a reason strong enough to say we are exacting justice by helping vampires keep humans as prisoners?"

"Remember what I said before: we are incomplete. Many of us tainted versions of what we could be. Those who were in those cells were benefiting future generations for the price of their discomfort."

Discomfort?! He clenched his fists and steadied his voice before he asked, "Future generations? How?"

"It…is not for me to know the details. Yet. Nor you."

"You can't be serious," he cried. "That can't be enough to satisfy you. What does that even promise? You can't really think so lowly of your own kind that you find this behavior okay?!"

'Please, please rethink this,' he inwardly begged the man; for if he did not, Bakura would find he had the will to forgo any pity he had ever felt for him. He would find that he had the will to kill this man. It was a line he dreaded crossing.

"Really? I can't?" Bertalan practically snapped. "Look at what they do when they are set free! The unnecessary damage, the deaths…the millions if not billions of deaths in the recent past, out of pure spite and want. Nothing to aid us as a species, but only for selfishness. They're little more than animals. You've seen the benefits of working with the Nobility; what has been accomplished in such a short time. They're doing good work—fixing what we destroyed. We are shameful examples of what intellect can bring to this world, and we are lucky there is another intelligence that surpasses our own so that we won't go extinct from our own stupidity!"

"Not every human will see it that way," he countered darkly. "And just because we have dealt with the most honorable of the bunch doesn't mean that all vampires are good either. Have you ever thought of the ones who would let themselves fall to greed, and what that would mean for us? Just think of that sect that Greylancer had to wipe out! Why is all of this presented as so black and white?"

They were passing over some rocky road, nearly obliterated by a past attack. It was impossible to guess how long ago the damage had occurred, but that it was just long enough that grass grew between some of the more heinous cracks and created strange pockets amongst the persisting trees. They were bobbing up and down harshly enough that Bertalan had his full attention drawn to the path before them. He did not see Bakura start to maneuver his wakizashi out of its sheath.

"Lord Greylancer," Bertalan corrected. "Is this what you meant by having problem with authority?"

"I don't like blindly following people," he said. "Especially, if they are unwilling to explain themselves when it comes to such an important question."

"Don't worry about your lack of say or any of the prisoners out there. Things will make sense in the end. Have faith in them. At the very least, in Lord Greylancer!"

"Having faith that Greylancer or Amelia Lupei are good people is one thing. I question having blind faith in the society of vampires as a whole just because they are better prepared than us—I mean, if they really wanted, they could hunt us like animals for food, and with our current position, there would be little we could do about it."

"Don't you think you are being a little overdramatic?"

"When blameless people were being experimented on against their own will?! For who knows what purpose?!"

"You don't know that they were!"

"And you don't know that they weren't!"

An aggrieved sigh passed through the driver's lips. "Most of those people were put under Lord Greylancer's watch by the Great One himself, and if they weren't, they were captured by my Lord's men for very good reasons."

"Reasons you know about?"

"No. It isn't my place to know yet."

"I'm sorry," Bakura said, his voice cracking between an unchecked wobble, readjusting the blade in his hand. "But I just don't think we are going to see eye to eye."

Bertalan finally glanced over to see Bakura slouched, his hands hanging between his knees. He did not see the danger hidden along the inner calf of the man that sat beside him. What he did see was the angry glint that welled along the rim of the man's one visible eye.

"Are…you crying?"

"How much farther?" he asked with a gruff snap.

The man cleared his throat. "In a few minutes we should be hitting the road that will take us the rest of the way. It's a straight shot that was recently dug out to bypass the mess that was the original road system and its destruction. It still needs to be paved appropriately, but that's nothing that we will need to worry about with what we have here." He motioned to the horse-like machines. "We are currently passing through the worst of it on this old road."

"Understood." Why did breathing hurt right now? Who was he kidding, it was not just breathing. Existing in that moment harkened back to the agony of when he was coherent enough to know that he was waiting for his turn to be wheeled out to be poked and prodded. Like those people had probably been. The thought of rows of teeth, one burst eye sliding down a screaming person's cheek as he naïvely glanced where a younger D implored him not to, twisted his stomach into knots and he knew that while he killed a part of himself with the choice he was to make, he would be saving another. Possibly even saving many other victims' lives in the process. Silence begat those complicit, which could be just as bad as those acting in monstrous ways. Silence when faced with a wrong could bring death just as quickly. "You know Bertalan, I am very sure that you are a good man, even if I think you are misguided."

"I appreciate that. Likewise, Dream Eater."

He laughed. His voice matched the mirth he tried to output, but the emotion reached no further expression than that. "Not to play off my name, but it made me think: your ideas, your ideals, the trust that you put into them…they sound like a lovely dream."

"One that will go beyond a dream one day," Bertalan replied. "Just wait."

Maybe he had been smiling there for a moment, for he felt his face fall beneath the mask. "I…I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" The quizzical notes hit his ears as Bakura stood suddenly, left hand pointing just over the other's head, the right holding the blade. Bertalan first glanced to see the face drained of blood, the one visible eye pinpricked in shock, and then turned to see where that pointed finger was aimed. As he turned, he must have heard—

"What is that?!"

—before he saw the semi-transparent head of a beast appear right before him, flanked by wings and the stony face attached to a massive body behind the length of its neck!

The cart rocked with the vicious force that slammed into it, causing it to careen upon two wheels and then collapse, tipping the animatronic horses into a metallic disarray, and launching the pair into the air. A second vibration of what could only be described as similar to the pressure of wind shoved them in two separate directions, flinging Bertalan hard against the trunk of a tree with a sickening crack, and sending Bakura rolling along the broken road.

When he finally came to a skidding stop, he was facing the smashed concrete. His gasps battered and echoed against his mask, the exposed part of his forearms burning as the air hit them. Pinpricks of blood pooled upwards upon the scratched and scraped skin. He saw the flash of his blade resting not too far from the origin point of his tumbling through his peripheral vision, resting unbroken a few paces away from the upturned cart. It was then that movement caught his eye from the opposite direction, and he followed it. The form of the creature that had attacked made its slow floating progress towards its prey, and Bakura let his forehead touch the warm earth as he prepared himself. There was no sound coming from the body beneath the tree.

After a minute, Bakura stood. He did not bother to face the way of that silence at first; rather, he took inventory of the damage done to his person. Aside from his arms, the rest of his clothing had taken most of the hit—his jeans were scuffed and torn, leaving his lower half nothing more than sore and bruised. Thankfully, he had fallen in the way that Ewan had trained him. It had saved his head from any damage, although his neck was sore.

His blade was a bit scratched when he moved to retrieve it, but fine. He reached down with his free hand and felt that his walkie-talkie had faced damage in the same respect. Maybe a little worse since it had remained clipped to him, but he could tell with a shake it would still be serviceable. He lifted it to his lips, index finger at the ready to flick it on and thumb already settled against the dotted pad that would awaken the microphone, then thought against it. Lowered it. Turned.

The assailant was facing him.

Bakura sighed. Tugged at the strap that loosened the mask and removed it from his face. He took four deep breaths, exhaling through a bruised mouth before taking stock of what he had. In one hand, he held the mask and the device. In the other, the blade. He sheathed it. Moved the mask to his free hand. Without a word, he chucked the two-way into the air, and made his way to where Bertalan lay. This time the walkie-talkie burst into pieces as it was affected.

Knowing was never the same as seeing. Bakura placed the mask back on his face as he advanced, initially tempted to fling it behind him in the direction the mechanical creatures lay—not broken, but very confused in trying to follow their purposes on inefficient sides. He had had a plan but had changed it at the very last instant. Some may have thought it was cowardice, but Bakura had thought it was the only good death he could have offered a man like Bertalan. Swift. Painless—if death could be painless.

With the blade, he could have fought. If he could have fought, he could have alerted someone, maybe even overpowered him. And then what?

Bakura had replaced his mask for insurance. For now. He began limping for good measure as he approached. His face might be seen through dying eyes that just appeared dead, and that was something that could be relayed back to Greylancer and his men. He hoped the man was dead, and that Diabound, who followed behind him by a few paces now after the latest indiscriminate attack, had done a better job of it than he could have. If not, let the man believe that someone else had assaulted the pair, rather than Dream Eater. Was it selfishness that he had also wanted the man to be surprised, rather than feel betrayed by the last act he would be present for?

No…knowing was never the same as seeing. There Bertalan lay, partially wrapped about the base of the tree, his head resting against the root system that had peeked from its bed in the soil. Those half-lidded eyes did not befit the man. He looked as if he were trapped in a perpetual state of waking…or was it falling asleep?

Bakura did not know. He did not know when this sick feeling of his hands being forever unclean would leave him. If it would ever leave him. It was not as if he ever became okay with the fact that people like Miho had died in his arms, or that he had been perfectly fine with killing the attackers of either city he had been welcomed into. His mind rationalized that those people had not given him much of a choice, or that the warped nature that they existed in now would cause accidental and unnecessary deaths. But this was different. Here, he alone had been the judge. He had decided this man's fate based on a night and a day of knowing him. A big part of him wondered if it had been enough time to make such a call—if it had been fair?

This man had wanted to do good in the way that he knew how. His way had been wrong. Bakura knew it was wrong. Being a vampire inherently was not wrong, nor being one's friend or ally, but willing to sacrifice his humanity, willing to damn a whole array of people to experimentation for what? For what? Bertalan had not even known!

And Bakura felt bad for what he had done. Horrible. Even though he knew what lay at the end of experimentation. He had experienced it firsthand. He felt bad because Bertalan had believed so wholeheartedly that whatever hidden motive that had been there would always be good. That somehow these vampires held all of the solutions. Bakura had not had time to talk it over with the man ad nauseum—he was being pursued!—but he could not bear to let that kind of thought process flourish. Blindly following someone just because they were kind to you, never once questioning them, was just an invitation for them to discard you when they no longer had need of you. In the meantime, they caused untold suffering that those that bowed down to them just ignored or applauded. They invited hell upon innocent people who had suffered and died, who had suffered and survived, who continued to suffer…these innocents deserved justice. At the very least, they deserved some type of retribution.

He felt terrible. He felt like the worst human being in existence, standing there, closing Bertalan's eyelids, tears running down both his exposed and unexposed cheeks. As he thought this, he pinched off a nearby flower and placed it upon the man's chest, knowing a breeze would pluck it from the still figure in an instant. He felt dirty. Alone. Like a liar…

Regardless, he straightened himself. Straightened his mostly ruined shirt. Walked over to the remains of the cart and unchained the confused robotic horses. He used each one's movement and leverage from the destroyed wood around the pair to right both of them. The first immediately bolted, and Bakura cocked his head at the display. Where it was off to, he had not a clue. As for the other, he was careful to catch the rope that had bound it so that he could at least attempt to make use of it. It whirred in place of a whinny and took much of the man's guidance to not do the exact same thing as its brethren.

Once more, he sighed. Maybe he would never feel clean again, but observing how brightly Diabound shone in the light of the afternoon sun as it faded back into transparency, moving to wherever it was when he had yet to call it, Bakura felt something like satisfaction. It was grim, and unnatural to him, but his woes would have to be put on hold. He knew where he had to go.

In another time and place, Jounochi gasped in great noisy bursts of exhalations as he staggered to a stop. It finally felt safe enough to slow their retreat. How far had they gone? Miles? He did not know. The memory of the run was hazy, with the only vivid factor being the moment they had dipped into the building where they had hidden their belongings. His fists clenched the padded straps of his dual backpack carry as he did his best not to fall over from exhaustion—the current huddled and rolling positions that Claire, Amami, and Albert were taking. For an instant, he watched them writhe on the ground in reaction to the pain throughout their chests and muscles, still unused to such a degree of exertion. Then his eyes travelled to those they had saved.

Dark circles underlined the purple of his friend's irises as he clung to his child, his cheeks wet with tears that seemed unending. Even after all the hell that they had been part of, this was the worst state Jounochi thought he had ever seen Yugi in. He muttered soft soothing words to Etsu amidst attempts to breathe and to stifle sobs, who hugged him and patted him on the back as the rest of them had done for her so many times in her distress. She seemed happy to see him, but a small twinge of annoyance graced her face by way of a scrunched nose and pursed lips when Yugi hugged her closer still.

Jounochi's focus turned to Mai. There was a distant, hollow, and discomforted look punctuated by a lack of light in her eyes as she came off her adrenaline rush, but when she turned to acknowledge his notice, that expression changed to one of familiar determination. He could not help but examine the rest of her appearance, afraid that she and Yugi had been more physically affected than by what he had first noticed.

"Your feet!" he exclaimed, finally realizing the damage that the pair had taken in their escape. Neither had had on anything more than slippers—and those had been discarded when it was clear they were impeding their flight. It was a wonder that they had managed to keep up at all.

"Better than our lives," she said, heaving. "Or whatever else they had planned for us."

Jounochi swallowed hard. "Planned?"

"Yes, planned."

"Did they…?" he asked, once more looking into her haunted eyes.

"Did they what?" she snapped back sharply.

"They took blood," Yugi ventured, his back turned to the pair, still holding a now squirming Etsu. Everyone turned from their positions to look at him. "We weren't bitten, but more like how a blood donation works. They asked questions—stunned me to strap me back down if I fought back too hard. Not much else. It was like they were waiting for something."

"Yeah…" Mai corroborated, although her eyes flicked to Yugi as if some piece of information lay incomplete. "Same here. I'm not sure how, but they found out, or had a really good idea, that I—I guess we—knew Bakura."

"They mentioned that. Guard became tighter after that," Yugi said.

"However, I don't know if you heard what they had in mind for us—"

"I didn't, not for me."

"I did," she said. "It wasn't going to be good. But nothing more happened…to me." Mai gave Jounochi a meaningful look.

Yugi went silent once more.

Jounochi's mouth twitched. "Yugi—was that all—"

Mai shook her head. "Let him say hello to his daughter. He's been beating himself up about all of this ever since. Give him time."

"Okay, give him time," Theo said, finally having caught his breath. "But we all need to come up with a plan of some kind. We don't know how many of them in there were vampires—"

"We don't need to worry about that right now," Mai said, facing the east. The faintest baby blue colored the sky currently, shining a soft but very clear blanket of daylight upon them. "Arthur is well aware, and wherever he has hidden himself, he'll be there to sound the alarm if necessary."

"That doesn't stop the human guards from following."

"It doesn't," she agreed, "but I don't hear anyone following us right now."

Everyone quieted. The sound of the still morning was filled with birdsong and the errant cricket that had yet to gather the hint that it was time to hide once more. There was no sound of pursuers of any kind, just the slowing of muffled ragged breath from their own party.

"I'll agree that they're distracted now, but when they are able to regroup?"

"Do you really think we will be first priority? When a certain someone else was there?" Mai asked, leveling another meaningful stare at Theo.

"D," Claire muttered into her hands.

"Okay, like that changes that we need to have a plan. Now we doubly need one. We have to go back for him."

"I'm not arguing with that. I was just saying our focus needed to be elsewhere."

"Who's to say that he is still there?" Albert asked from his prone position. He lifted himself onto his elbows and pointed at the pair, part in warning against bickering, part to make his point. "He may have escaped even before we left the building."

"Then why isn't he here with us?" Mai pressed.

"Maybe he needed to hide? He'll find us. He's smart and resourceful."

"If we stay put, I'm sure he definitely will!" Amami called out, more to soothe herself than any of the adults there.

"We can't go banking our hopes on that. Think of what was planned for Bakura—"

At that, they all saw Yugi flinch.

"—which brings me to my next topic. Where is Bakura? Weren't you two," Mai pointed to Jounochi and Albert, "traveling with him?"

"Uh…" the three adults and two older children all looked to each other at that.

Mai sniffed and crossed her arms. "Great. So, am I to assume you all thankfully found each other, but Bakura is not with D currently?"

"Yeah," Claire pipped up.

"That's about right," Albert confirmed.

"Great…" she repeated, now rubbing her eyes.

"We do have an idea of where Bakura might be," Theo noted. "He had been out scouting when we got word of your capture. Albert left a note so he should stay put until we return."

Mai scoffed. "You really think that's Bakura's style?"

"Maybe, so long as we return at a reasonable time."

Jounochi raised his hand to get everyone's attention. "I think we should still try to find D first. He might be technically tougher, but he's a kid."

"Also, I think Bakura would flip his lid if he found out we all went for him before making sure D was safe," Claire said.

Mai tilted her head at the girl, who offered a shrug in return. She then turned to the others, straightening her posture. Hands rested against her hips clothed in flimsy pajama wear, but somehow, she still seemed more dignified than those pulling themselves from their positions on the ground. "First, we find D-kun. Then we will search for Bakura. Is everyone in agreeance with that?"

"What if D is backtracking to Bakura?" Albert asked. "And all we end up doing is getting ourselves lost?"

"To be honest, and I hate to say it, I think the only place for certain we know where to go, is to go back," Theo interjected, pressing the bridge of his nose. "Our map is useless, but I think I can remember where to go if I needed to retrace our steps from that point. So, if we really aren't going to try to find a way to get away, that would be something we can do."

"There's a chance we could find D that way."

"Or Bakura."

"Or," Yugi blurted, startling those entrenched in their conversation, "We do something else."

Everyone turned their attention to him. His face was tight with some emotion, pale, and resolute. He gently set down Etsu, who ran over to Amami. The man watched her for a moment as she demanded a handmade toy that the girl procured from her bag, before he faced them again. He balled his hands into fists to stop the shaking that he could not seem to rid himself of.

"We haven't had time to go over the months we've been apart, and we've plenty of time to do that on the road, but what that has taught me, is that my trust was well placed. Everything went to hell, but at least the children were safe. You all cared for them and stuck together. Thinking I had unintentionally caused the death of so many of you, of my own child, killed me inside—but here you are, and in better condition than I ever could have expected.

We have people out there that don't have that," he took a shaky breath before announcing, "They have Kaiba-kun's group. That's what I heard. You know what that means."

Shock and horror slackened the jaws of those unaware.

"I can't stand by and let them do what they did to us, or worse. I know I'm being vague…but the things that they had time to do, the things that they threatened me with, the things they promised to do to Kaiba-kun, to the women with him—no. That's where we need to go first. All we need to do is find a road. Any road that has a sign. I'll know where to go. I have that path etched into my mind. Etched. Because they were confident in us being trapped enough to tell me of the place, and before they took all of my things, I made sure to memorize that path on the map. I made sure of it, before I destroyed it."

"Destroyed it?" Claire gawped. "How? What did you do? Eat it?"

"That's unimportant," Mai sniffed. "But the fact of the matter is, they didn't learn of our end goal from us."

"Where'd our first map go?"

She smiled ruefully. "It started snowing. We needed a fire for the night."

"Wasn't the fire that got us caught, though," Yugi muttered. It had been low enough that it probably had not been meant for anyone's ears, but Jounochi had heard it and it hurt. He wondered to himself if somehow, they had been the ones to have an easier time. It was hard to imagine, nevertheless, a lot could be said for having months of freedom versus however long they had been trapped at any one facility.

"The fact of the matter is," Yugi pushed, "is that we have no direct way of knowing where Bakura-kun and D-kun are. We do know where the others are, and that they need our help. We have each other—and Arthur, apparently—we can devise a plan to sneak in, rescue them, and then do something like what you guys did here. Maybe not in the same way, but something. And…

If we cause enough havoc, then those two will show up. I know it."

Once D had found what he had been looking for, he had applied the command to unlock all the carded doors, releasing all the veritable prisoners from their cells. Everyone that had been trapped there had deserved a chance for freedom, not just his friends. Then, he had turned his attention to the whole system's demise with renewed interest. A single forgotten file listed in quarantine…and all he had to do was adjust it and open it.

Pandemonium had ensued. Pushing, shoving, screaming. The sounds of breaking machinery. The scent of burning—someone must have set a fire, but with the way the vents worked, he had been unable to immediately pinpoint the source at the time. All he had known was that he had needed to get out of there before he was captured, and that when that chaos had threatened to ruin his own escape, he had stepped in and had directed the disorganized mob to an exit.

He had not thought that they would follow him past that.

With such a large number of people, it was difficult to balance tracking where his friends were running off to, and maintaining enough cover that any remaining guards did not find those that trailed behind him. There had already been too many casualties on either side to his liking so he had done what he could to guide "his" group to another road they could escape down. He doubted pulling prisoners from distant lands was the M.O. of that particular fortress so he had felt there was a chance that many would recognize the road and move on with their lives in freedom. Yet…they still had followed him.

Up until this point, everyone had been running with their minds on autopilot. No one had gotten a good look at each other, or at the one who was leading them down the road, but when they did, oh was that a tonal shift.

First, as D had felt it was safe enough, not sensing any immediate pursuers, he had reduced their pace. Several had begun murmuring to each other now that their lungs could take it. The boy never caught anyone's name, no, everyone had focused on where they were, where they had been captured from, and places that they had felt might be safest to go. Maybe, some had said after a time of following like so many ducks in a line, they should talk to the one that gotten them out of that hell.

To all of this, D had understood. What had been done to them was awful. They deserved a moment of camaraderie, and to assess what moves would be best to make. The family they thought that might remain, and so on. What was he but some random individual that had by happenstance assisted in their escape? He had slowed his step just a bit further after hearing this offhanded remark, waiting for someone to approach him.

And someone had.

The surprise had been instantaneous. Whatever the man who came up to him was going to say had died on his lips when D had glanced over his shoulder to indicate he was paying attention. What instead had come blurting out was, "A child?!"

Confusion had passed to those nearby that had heard or seen what the man had been talking about.

"A child?"

"Yes, that's a child!"

"No, impossible."

"Someone got us out."

"The only one who is not dressed like us is that one right there."

"I thought that it had been a woman!"

"But how?"

"Hey, kid. Was it really you that led us out?"

D had not wanted to say anything, rather, he had just wanted to point them on their way and to begin his search for his friends, but having been afraid of how loud the discussion amongst the escapees was getting, it was imperative that he had to reply with something. "Yes. I did advise you to the escape route as you were crowding the stairway."

"But who was the one that opened the doors?"

D had felt his face heat up a touch. "I did. Some of my friends were being held there. I figured you all would want to escape, too."

There had been some talk, some shouted praise, some shushing. Then more questions had come.

"Are they here?"

"Where are they?"

"Do they know you did this?"

"No. I need to go find them," D had said, and had felt it was a perfect opening to let them know about how they could go wherever they wished. At that moment, though, he had lifted his hat a little to tuck in a stray bit of hair that had kept tickling his nose to a better place behind his ear, then froze after he dropped the rim. The look on the face of the freed prisoners' impromptu mouthpiece had fallen. Eyes had bulged to a worrying degree, circled by the dark bags of stress and sleep deprivation.

"You?" had come the accusatory inquisition.

"Wait!" someone else had shouted and had run up beside the man. "I've seen that face. I've seen that look!"

D had taken a step back then. His own shock had not shown to the extent as the dawning expressions before him, but he felt it no less. Some visages had narrowed and soured in recognition after the exclamation of that fact. 'No…' D had bemoaned to himself in horrified silence. 'He's been here before!'

'Are we really that surprised?' the voice of his left hand had filtered through his thoughts. If he could have, if his symbiont had had a body, he would have punched him. Strangled him, really.

"I can—" he had begun. His right hand had been up in a show of peace. He had no weapon drawn. His left had been clutched close to his chest. Unfortunately, his nails, the bloodlessness of his skin, the points to his ears, and the silent way he could backstep even as he tried to look as small as possible all had worked against him. No matter what he had said at that moment, the interest in listening had stopped. These were not his friends. They would not understand. To these people…they had only seen his father in miniature. Their enemy.

That was when they had left him. Or rather, when he had left them at a running pace as they had pelted him with rocks and anything else that had not been nailed down around them. Some had tried to give chase, but he had been faster, and they had given up to also throw things his way. Various debris had whizzed past him, had battered his shoulders, his back, his head when they had been able to reach him. If it had not been for his hat, he was certain some would have actually hit their mark.

He had not raised a finger. Only ran as far and as fast as his legs could carry him.

When it had been safe to stop, he had. He had taken five deep breaths to calm himself, and immediately afterwards had burst into tears. Logic and prior experience be damned, that had still hurt.

That was where he was now. Alone in some forsaken part of the countryside, hunched against a tree, bawling into its rough bark like it would somehow morph into Bakura and soothe him.

"I didn't do anything!" he howled impotently into his palms. "I didn't do anything to them! I just wanted to help!"

His hand was remarkably (or more like unremarkably) unhelpful. "That's just how these people are. I mean, take a look around," it said. "It's all they've got left. Get used to it. If you keep sticking your neck out for them, this is what you are going to get."

"Shut up," the sullen boy spit back.

"Maybe, if this is something you don't want…you should go home?"

"I'm trying to go home," came a more vitriolic response. "Do you really think that vampires are going to look at me any more favorably, anyway? I'm only half. The only thing really protecting me there is my father's existence. Even I know that. And I don't want it. I don't want to live under his shadow, doing everything he wants just because he says so."

"You'd probably be less stressed out."

"No."

"Is it really so bad to follow his lead?"

"It's wrong!"

"Wrong? Wrong? What does wrong have to do with the fact that once again you are shit out of luck, lost, and have no idea where to go next? Think about it! Even your friends on the human side think you are some kind of monster."

"You're—" Wrong. He wanted to say wrong. However, Claire's most recent words reverberated through him and cut the word down faster than anything that the moving mouth on his palm could say. She might not have said that exact phrase or meant anything by it—as unintentionally heartless she could sometimes be—but the connotation was plain as day. He was not human; he was not normal. "Just shut up," he grumbled instead.

"I'll shut up when I damn well want to," it instead continued. "Let's get this straight. I'll say it a million times if I have to so that it gets through your thick skull. Your human buddies, they're too squishy for you. Too fragile. You have to watch yourself too much around them. Hell, you are starving yourself for their comfort! And for what? So that you can get hurt again and again for their sakes. What is wrong with you?! You could find plenty of 'friends' on the vampire side if you really wanted something like that."

"Those people are making life worse for everyone!"

"Like the humans were doing any better—are doing any better?!"

D shook his head and balled both fists painfully. "It's going to be okay" and "You did your best"…those were things Bakura would say at this moment. That was what he wanted to hear. Things had not gone right, but it was not because of anything he had or had not done. He did not know if he could tell it to himself and believe it. So instead, he sniffled, blocked out the rantings of something that understood his physical needs but would never understand his emotional ones, curled into himself, and imagined the soft voice of the one he wanted to be there. Oh, he hoped he wasn't mad at him. Everything was such a mess.

"Bakura-sama," D whispered to the air. He saw a beam of light filtered through the tree branches above him and wished that it could carry his words to the one he wanted to speak them to. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I hope you're okay out there. I'll find you. I promise."

He must have fallen asleep slumped against that tree because what seemed like only moments later, he snapped to attention and became cognizant that the beam of sunlight had shifted significantly from where he had seen it last. By his estimation, several hours had passed. What had awoken him was the sound of a distant rumbling, like some kind of gate rolling down in the distance. The boy cocked his head in confusion at this. A mechanical gate? He jumped to his feet, and observing that he was already lost, figured it would not hurt to see what was going on.

What else, after all, was he to do? Tamping down the sadness with his curiosity, he dusted off his coat and pants, and followed where he thought the sound had come from.