Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Well I did say this part of the story had been partially done, sorry it took so long to finish it up, though.
So after reviewing my notes, I realized what a venture this is going to be. But from the activity, and the lovely review, I'm up for the challenge. Also, anyone up for the ride is welcome, of course! Addict to Fanfics, thank you for letting me know how you felt! It really makes me happy to know that people do enjoy this story. I started it knowing full well it would be a really niche subject, but it always helps to hear from someone that it catches their interest. Also, I'm always touched when someone likes my rendition of Bakura, I've always seen him as a bit tougher than most fanfics let on. Tough, but still very human. On that note: Everyone, please enjoy!
Chapter Twenty Six: No Rest
They had not been able to see the men that they needed to that day, or the day after. In fact, after the second week of being "Bakura-less" as Claire had proclaimed it to D one night as the woman who had been caring for them snored on just above them, D had come to realize that the chances were better in getting an audience with Kaiba, or his father…
The boy had ignored what he found to be an off-color joke on Claire's part, and had simply burrowed himself back into a corner of the closet he had wordlessly claimed his own. The girl thought his choice was perplexing as it was amusing, but had not changed her own previous sleeping conditions. He had made no response. The rest made him feel a little better each time, while Claire had no complaints, having the most pillows to surround herself with. They then had gone to sleep, only to be awoken the next day with cans of fruit salad and cups of water. Claire always ate her breakfast with gusto, while D tried to pass it off as if he were eating, only to secretly shovel his contents into either the girl's can or the woman's. It had become a pattern. Sleep. Wake up. Eat. Go to City Hall. Eat. Come "home". Eat. Sleep. The fact that things were beginning to take on a pattern alarmed D. He did not want to remain here, with the woman who he did not know or care to know, in a city that felt empty even with all of the members within it. It was not that Jessica was not a nice woman, but she did not know him, or his needs. Not to mention, there was something that nagged at the back of D's mind regarding their first meeting, but in his present state the particulars and their importance eluded him.
As the morning of the eighteenth day without Bakura dawned, D's eyes began to water. He had never missed anyone before, at least not like this. He wished that he could still have been friends with Amami, or Andy, but they had not been there as long, had not connected as well as Bakura and D had. He rubbed at his eyes and stood up from his little nest in the closet. Moving over to his bag, he pulled out something that Bakura had given him. It felt like years had passed since he had touched pen to paper.
November 16, 2003 (I think)
May this bring you comfort when you cannot speak, and I am nowhere to be found.
That is what you wrote to me, Bakura-sama…
I miss you.
Today we waited again, longer this time before the people who always tell us the same thing arrived to do the same. As they always do. We could not hold a meeting with any of the heads of the city. Although I am happy to note, one of the three is gone. They say it was an accident on the road; I say it was Bakura-sama. That might also mean that he is gone, my protector, my friend, my…
(D had to stop writing as he covered his mouth and let out a soft sob. The last thing he needed was for anyone to wake up. He had personal and dangerous information within these pages. The last thing he wanted was to have anyone else try to read over his shoulder. These thoughts calmed him with their rational tones and he continued.)
I have not been feeling myself as of late. Unfortunately, for the sake of seeming to be normal, I have had to silence my hand from his usual prattle. I almost miss it. Almost. If I am to return to the topic at hand, however, lately I feel less active, and tired. It is consistent, but it happens more often during the day. I believe it is due to the fact I have not had any sort of blood for some time. I worry for Claire's safety. I worry for that woman's. I do not know if I can handle myself, if this feeling gets any worse. I want to ask my hand for possible reasons behind this feeling, but I cannot risk it.
I just wish that we could find Bakura-sama, and leave this town. There is nothing for us here.
The boy closed the leather-bound book and returned it to its usual place. He sighed, and listened to the beginnings of rain as the droplets fell upon the roof. The sound was soothing, and he yawned. Soon Jessica would wake up, then Claire and they would begin again their pattern of the day. Just as always. He sighed dejectedly at the thought.
Curling up back into his little nest, he waited for the light of day to stretch its overcast dim into the room. The snoring from Claire's direction persisted, and D felt his eyes once again becoming heavy, not that anyone else would have noticed. Only when his eyes closed fully would someone gather that he was resting, unaware he was in a deep slumber.
His eyes opened and the uncomfortable nature of the darkness failed to press upon him again. In a sense, the lack of it was a fascinating prospect. Never previously had he ever figured that he would find comfort in such a terrible place. Yet, all of the lethargy and discomfort he was feeling in his waking moments had dissipated as the darkness had formed around him. He sighed in relief.
That sigh echoed into the deep pit of the void about him. He expected that he would not receive company and was content to lay there in the plain of inexistence until he heard the noise. His ears perked to it, a soft tapping of flesh upon stone. D could feel the cold sediment forming beneath him, and watched impassively as it formed walls and decorations. The boy eventually sat up when a small bit of light came into his view. It was a torchlight, held by a grimy hand of a small boy, one that D recognized as the young man who the friendlier (not kindly, even he could tell that thing had little concern for most) monster had called "the darkness." However, he seemed to have regressed in age. D did not care for that, for it reminded him of the night he had harmed Bakura. That time though, the eyes had been on the other side of a darkened pane. Now they looked at him curiously, as if the boy had something written on his face.
"Are you dead?" The "darkness" before him asked.
"No," D replied, with his own curiosity piqued. He wondered if he would be able to receive more information about the place he was in from this child. D could already tell that this one was blunter than the creature.
"You seem weak," the child said, coming closer. "I've never seen such a thing like this."
"Like what?" D asked, now standing. He did not feel weak, did he? He knew he felt better than he did when he was awake, but was that just because of the persistent pains that he was beginning to face when his eyes were open, and he was exposed to the sun?
"You aren't from here, but you are here a lot."
"Does that mean that you are dead?" D inquired, "May I also ask why you are called 'the darkness?'
The boy did not respond to the questions, but did swipe at the floor with his foot and seat himself across from D. The right side of his face had what looked like skin just beginning to heal. Whatever the boy had experienced, D surmised, he was going to have a scar there. As if the darkness had taken the look for a question rather than the other boy's words, he pointed to his face and grinned.
"It's nothing," he replied, "doesn't hurt at all anymore."
D could not pinpoint it at that moment, but something about the child was familiar to him, aside from meeting him prior. "Are you living for yourself now?"
At first, the boy looked at him in confusion, but his eyes widened in remembrance, the conversation that they had experienced in the previous dreams seeming to write themselves upon his face. "Really? You are that tall guy?"
"Tall guy?" D asked, absolutely confounded. "No, you were the older one."
Giving D a bemused grin, the boy shook his head. "Maybe I was tall to you, but you were tall to me. This place does funny things like that sometimes."
"This place…"D murmured, raising his evacuated left hand to his face in thought. "What is this place?"
The "darkness" shrugged. "A place where spirits reside," he replied, motioning around. "Most of the time the spirits here are sent here for some punishment or other."
"Punishment?" D's eyes widened. "Like that monster?"
The other's eyebrows furrowed. "Monster? What monster? You mean the spirits?"
D shook his head. "I haven't seen anyone here other than you, some weird thing that pretends to be other things, and that monster. The one with the big red eyes, and sharp teeth." He motioned fangs and bared his teeth, closing his mouth abruptly when he realized he might as well be expressing his own mouth. The other boy laughed.
"I don't know who you are talking about."
"Oh."
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours. D did not mind it however. It lent him a calmness he did not have when he was awake, and if it were not for his concerns for Claire and Bakura, or that monster he knew lay hiding somewhere in this swirl of existence, he would have chosen to remain there, at that moment, rather than face that world he lived in. A strange sort of tiredness came upon him, less painful than before, and he wondered if he was waking. The look on his companion's face said otherwise. This feeling must have been present on his face for it made the other boy speak.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Yes, I'm just tired."
"You don't look tired; you look like you are dying."
D glowered at the boy, unamused. "How would you know what that looks like?"
The boy then gave him a look that stopped all other thoughts D was having. Looking into those eyes looked like he was staring death in the face, or at least someone who was near at one with the abstract notion. He would have retracted the statement if the other had given him the time to, but now D was filled with a different concern. Was he dying? The other boy left him no time for answers for this question, however.
"Why do you keep coming here?" The darkness asked, "Is it because my friend asked you to?"
"Your friend?" D questioned. "That creature?"
"Everything here is a creature," came the reply, "could you be more specific?"
"That shape shifting thing. The one that DID ask me to talk to you."
The boy shrugged. "I guess? So that is why you are here?"
D shook his head. "I don't know why I'm here, or still really know what 'here' is. But I don't think I'm really 'here' because I'm asleep. Or at least my body is. I am assuming it is, at least."
The "darkness" nodded, looked as if he were about to ask another question (the boy before him seemed even more curious about D than D himself was interested in the strange world around him) and then froze. There was a rippling feeling in the air, so faint that D had hardly noticed it. It seemed like the other was more in tune with this world, however, and there was now an odd look in the other's eyes.
"I don't have much time," he said, his eyes now burning into his, "Where are you?" It was an odd question, considering.
"I don't know, here? Or…Asleep?" D replied, confused.
"No, where you are when you aren't here?" The "darkness" looked around and began to converse with something in the shadows. It may have even been the shadows themselves that he spoke to, D could not tell. He could not understand him, at least, not until he turned back to him with that same look on his face. "I am getting a bad sense from you. I can see it on your face, and in your eyes. That is a way to see into the mind, you know? There is something wrong in your eyes, and it's not just because this world isn't yours. And my intuition is pretty good. You are in trouble. That must be why you are here…"
As if I know, D thought to himself, I've been wondering that since I first came upon this land of nothingness. "I don't know why I'm here, I just know that weird thing…your friend…told me to talk to you…"
"Creature…weird thing…I still don't understand." The boy bit his lip, as if he wanted to ask something else. He shook his head, "Never mind. We can talk about that later, if there is a later. Listen." Hands gripped at his face and suddenly the boy was larger, older than even the teen had been before. There was something so familiar, so fearful, yet comforting in those purple eyes. "You can't stay here long, remember that. You aren't made for this world, not really. But you need to tell me about your situation, fast. That bad feeling is getting worse, but I think I can help you."
The world around them was shifting again, and as D told his story, he wondered if the troubled world around them was not the issue that the young man was feeling. He did not press it however, since the other was more concerned about his tale of losing the person who he lived for. D had to give a very abridged version, for he could feel the intent to rush him coming from the "darkness" as well as the darkness around them. When he was done, the young man looked to the side, concerned.
"You can't stay where you are. What about the person who you live for?"
D tried to shake his head. "I can't find him…"
"You have to, or if you can't, you still have to go. You have to run. Trust me."
The whole thing was jumbled, but for the moment he did trust this being. It seemed to be aware of things he was not. In addition, D knew this; he could feel the monster's returning presence. He nodded to the being before trying to wake himself. It was like trying to wake from a nightmare. He felt as if it were impossible to wake, until he felt comforting hands rest upon his shoulders. If he had had time to register the familiarity, he might have cried.
He heard the "darkness'" voice again.
"Aren't there two of you?" He wanted to respond, to ask the being what it meant, but his mouth would no longer move. Then there was a press on his spine, and a word sprung to his mind, making a mosaic of memories melt into the miasma as he woke. In the instance of his waking, he forgot what word it was, what answers it had about the years he could not recall, being so young, too young to do so. A word that would eat at him thousands of years later, once he was reminded, and at that time he would know what the being meant. A word translated, meaning NIGHTMARE.
Bakura would have recognized it instantly; not the word, but the question of duality, as he was one himself.
D's eyes snapped open and suddenly it was as if his hearing had amplified. This was not so, in fact it was just his usual hearing, but having been in that darkness, where all was dead, of that he was sure, all was too much alive and bright out here. It was whispers he heard. From the roof. He strained to listen, to catch everything. He could hear Claire snoring still. She was obviously unaware of what was transpiring.
"What are you going to tell them?" he heard an unfamiliar voice ask.
"Nothing," the other voice hissed. It belonged to Jessica.
"You know kids aren't stupid, right? Why don't you at least say they said they found a body, and just take them in like that?"
"They'd want to see it. I'm doing what Jerry told me to do last night. Keep the kids feeling safe, keep them comfortable. They'll forget about their dad, or uncle, or whatever he is."
"Weren't you listening to me? Randall is DEAD. If you want them to stick around, you gotta tell them something! It isn't safe out there!" The voice paused before tentatively stating, "Especially if things are going down the shitter like I think they are. You think Jerry and Aaron are going to be able to protect us? Both of those two say they don't even know where the guy who killed Randall is. Aaron just keeps going on about this new guy who popped up, who he's taking care of because the guy is injured, but Jerry says that there's no one they are taking care of, and to not listen to Aaron's shit."
"What?"
"Yeah! And I don't know, but Aaron doesn't seem okay in the head any more. Not like he was a shining pillar of intellect or anything before, but something's up. That would make sense if Jerry is telling the truth. That or he's scared shitless. I have half a mind to think that the same guy who killed Randall is the 'new guy'."
"What makes you think that?"
"It doesn't matter," the other voice snapped, "What's important is the fact that the two guys who are taking care of us are now telling at least me two different stories. I can't tell who's telling the truth or lying, but if they are disagreeing about something like that, it might affect the way we are living. And if that happens I don't want to think about –"
There was a soft rumbling noise that came from somewhere distant, and D heard an unnatural breeze blow past the house. The voices above went silent. D rose quietly from his position, and spent the silent moments grabbing their meager provisions, repacking their packs, and devising the best way to sneak past the two outside who were sitting in the drizzle.
Whatever they were going on about, he wanted no part of it. He would take the word of the "darkness" before anyone who might lie to him about Bakura's whereabouts. They would take a chance and find Bakura on their own.
He paused, letting the information actually connect in his mind. What if that injured or dangerous person was Bakura? There was a chance it was not, but the chance it could have been was too great for him to ignore. He had to be certain he was doing the right thing; their lives were now his responsibility. Once content with his plan, D placed a hand over Claire's mouth before shaking her awake.
Bakura felt the rain hit his face as he stood outside of the building, in an alleyway still littered with half soggy papers from the world that had moved on. His legs shook beneath him as if they recognized the absurdity that they just performed, but his countenance was calm. Even when his legs buckled, and he found himself sitting in a puddle, he only looked at his hands with lazy disinterest.
The action of calling forth his new ally, or perhaps it was better called a remembered friend, had exhausted him. He instinctively knew that it would be some time before he could call him out again, and even longer still before he would have full control over when and where Diabound would appear. As it was, here he sat, drained, and without a weapon to traverse the hostile city. For he had no doubt that they would eventually become hostile to him. It was now he that was the monster in the sewers, only Bakura walked in the daylight. Weeks ago, he would have agonized over this revelation, but as he pushed himself back up to his feet he felt relief. When he found his group, he would be better able to protect them.
Perhaps he was also being melodramatic, as from around the corner came a man enraptured with Bakura's existence, holding the weapon that had been procured from the man weeks before, as if it were an offering. Bakura took the gun, feeling its weight. He remembered how Matt had taught him to check for the safety before holstering it anywhere. Thankfully, the penitent Aaron had also brought the holster, meaning Bakura would not have to recall any disappointed looks for shoving it in his waistband. Now that he was not weaponless, he felt he could begin his search in earnest, and this woke him from his stupor.
"Has there been any mention of travelers, aside from myself?" Bakura asked, pulling off the remnants of useless gauze and bandages from his face.
"No one your age, no."
"That was not my question."
Aaron paused, and his eyes pleaded for forgiveness while he searched for his words. It was a strange change for Bakura, indeed. If it were not for the fact that two children were out there waiting for him in the wilderness of a bygone world, he might have even dropped the attitude in his voice. Yet, this was what the man responded to, and Bakura had little time, or want, to be polite.
"Well?"
"There were…Recently, I mean…"
"Spit it out," Bakura snapped, his glare a more frightening sight with the scabbed wounds surrounding his eye.
Aaron shivered and bowed his head low in apology. For how else was someone to act when another performed such a feat as Bakura had done, had survived as much as Bakura had survived? Only time would return the man to his former senses. "Some kids showed up, looking for their dad or their uncle or somethi—"
"Where are they?"
The man before Bakura gasped. "You can't be leaving?! Not already!" Aaron lunged for him, as if to hold him there, to keep him there. Bakura stepped to the side and let the man fall into the puddle below him. His face contorted into a grimace.
"You are done telling me what to do, or do you not remember what I can do?" He hissed down at the groveling man. The man that had held him captive for so long. The man that had invaded his privacy, as he lay chained and unable to do anything. The audacity of Aaron's pleas sickened him, and he pressed his foot on the man's back to keep him down.
The man floundered on the ground and only stopped when Bakura pressed the barrel of the gun to his head. Bakura took in a deep breath, aware that he was acting as they had done when they had attacked him, but told himself that it was worth it to protect the children. To protect his children.
He would destroy their world, if only to protect what was his.
"If you and yours want to live, you will take me to my children…"
The town once had boasted its grandeur as a small city of approximately 80,000 people. Now, the houses lay empty, save for the sparsely populated downtown area. This area had become the hub of the town, and all areas that were considered the outskirts were occupied for offensive reasons. Bakura learned this as he passed by dismal and broken homes, some sagging due to past sackings of the town, some because they had belonged to those with less means to fix it. The trees still stood, but in the rain their colors were muted, and only added to the picture of this dejected area. Most of the people he passed were old, or injured. Some spoke softly to themselves, carrying on conversations with friends long gone. Those people, he felt the most compassion for. Who else would understand his own sorrows as well as he did, and how he understood theirs. Touching the injured side of his face, he wondered if he was even recognizable. If those he was looking for would even know him enough to come to him. At that instant, his cheek itched terribly. He groaned and pressed at the offending injury, as if that would alleviate the irritation.
"It's infected," Aaron offered, half-statement, half-question.
"If it is, it is your fault," Bakura replied. His temper was short, as the walk to the center had taken longer than he had wanted, and he was soaking from the rain. He almost wanted to apologize, but he assessed his brashness to be a necessity. He would need to be as menacing as possible until he arrived at his destination. Many of these people may have been helpless, as he did not think those he passed were faking it, but it would only make sense if there were more people like the three who had captured him, waiting. How else would they all have survived so long?
"Well, we are almost there," the other man offered, completely cowed for the moment. Some of those with wits about them eyed the pair curiously. Obvious concern graced their faces. They had never seen the man called Aaron in such a state. Nor had they ever seen the likes of the other individual. Bakura could not see himself, but he knew that he looked a mess. No doubt it was the reason the others were shrinking away. He did not care, however. He just wanted to go to this "City Hall" and finish his business in this town.
"And I just need to find Cindy, who has been taking care of them for a while now?"
"Yeah, but don't call her Cindy, call her Jessica."
Bakura stopped. A few of the curious leaned forward to get a better look, while others hurried inside their dilapidated shacks. A few blocks away one could see the well-kept houses. They stood neat and strong amongst the remains of the city. Even the leaves that had fallen from the trees had been brushed aside into piles. Bakura assumed that Aaron had claimed one of these for himself, considering his station in the town, but that was not why he turned to face the man.
"Call her Jessica? She goes by two names?" Bakura asked. He would not have cared if the woman chose to go by another name, but the warning, and the fact that Aaron had mentioned her by Cindy first, confused him. Why would he have bothered with her other name in the first place?
"Yeah, it's sort of complicated." With a shrug, Aaron pointed to a building that looked to be important. "She's been coming to City Hall to look for this person the kids are looking for. Guess that was you." Bakura could tell by the downcast look that this revelation had occurred to the man before. Perhaps it was this strange change in their relationship that made him wish it had not been so. It was even possible that Aaron had wanted the lost father figure and Bakura to be separate individuals before, just to keep him as 'his'. Bakura repressed another shudder. "I haven't seen her around today, but I am sure she'll be here again. It's been like that all week at least. Please, try to reconsider leaving though."
Ah, there it was. "What do I have to look forward to here?" Bakura turned and provided a sardonic smile. "I mean, what was I missing out on?"
The skinny man's shoulders slumped. "I didn't know. I didn't know you were like that, and that you could do that…I knew you were special, though. Especially to me. You—You'd be a god here."
Bakura raised his eyebrow. It was not what he wanted, nor was this place one where he felt he could raise D and Claire in peace. He could not help but feel pity for this man, however. A pity somewhere deep within him, that he would never truly be rid of, no matter the terrible consequence. He even pitied D's father for the path he was taking. It did not mean he forgave, however, and the rage was still fresh within him. So, all he offered the man was a hand on his shoulder, and a swift glance that had no malice in it, before he walked up the steps of City Hall.
The floor was slick due to the rain, and Bakura had to get his footing on the tile before moving forward. The last thing he wanted was to lose this ominous sense about him, especially in front of the man he had just frightened into submission. He had always been clumsy though, and he nearly ate it as he made his way to the only occupied window. He gripped at the counter to steady himself, and glanced back. Aaron had not joined him in coming inside, so his floundering was left between him and the attendant at the window. Not much better, but it would at least keep most of the illusion for those outside that he was in control of the situation.
The person behind the bullet proof glass looked at him with a fatigued expression. No doubt they were overworked, considering the situation. Bakura glanced around again, just to make sure there was no one else around, and sighed. The person continued to stare at them with their exhausted brown eyes, waiting for him to speak. They wore faded blue jeans and a bulky gray sweater, and Bakura was jealous of the perceived warmth. Remaining silently envious would do him no good, however. The young man stood tall, but did not exert the same forceful tone he had taken earlier.
"I am looking for someone," he began simply.
"You sure what you're looking for isn't a bath?" The person questioned, and Bakura could not help but laugh. This seemed to lighten the individual's mood. Feasibly, they were also used to agony most days.
"I'm sorry, I must look like a mess," Bakura replied.
"To put it simply," the person said, "but who doesn't these days?"
"I guess."
"You said you were looking for someone? You aren't from here, so did you lose someone outside of our city limits? If that's the case, I'm sorry, but that is out of our jurisdiction."
"No, no…I am looking for a person named Cindy, or Jessica?"
"Ah," the person nodded, and pulled out a clipboard. Flipping a strand of dark hair behind their ear, they nodded at him. "Do you know what your business is?"
Bakura blinked in confusion, and touched at his face again. It still itched, but it did not feel as raw as before. "I do not understand. English is not my first language, could you please rephrase that?"
"Why are you calling on her," they replied, a pen raised. "That will tell me who to contact."
He frowned. "That changes who you contact?"
The person sighed. With a roll of their eyes they replied. "Listen, not everyone is perfect, okay? And some people don't like mixing the nitty gritty with their perceived self. So yeah, for her, it changes. Happy now?"
"I guess?" He could understand in a sense, as he did not really want to admit to a lot of the destruction that had come from his hands. He was not longing to discuss the recent changes in his abilities with D either, especially considering the boy had been cautious around him with all the accidental summons. Nevertheless, he still used his name.
"So? What business do you have?"
"I'm looking for my children…"
The person had begun writing, but stopped when he said the word children. The person before him set down the clipboard and rubbed at the bridge of their nose. Bakura noticed that whoever this person was, this exasperation was a part of their nature. Exacerbated, no doubt, by the circumstances.
"Seriously, you are finally here, then?" They groaned. "Jessica's going to be none too happy about that…"
"Wha—why?"
"I have a few questions first, before I explain that. What is your name?"
"Bakura Ryou, I mean Ryou Bakura," he provided, "and yours is?"
"Wasn't an introduction, but fine, name's…Albert," they replied, shifting through some papers on the counter next to them.
"Albert?"
"Albert," They looked up, eyeing him. "What's so hard about that?"
"You just—"
"And you just, so drop it."
"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. It was true. D and Bakura were usually confused for the opposite sex, so it would not be so odd for someone else to have the same issue. Still, Bakura was pretty sure this name was a new development, but he would leave it be. Many people in this town seemed to choose their name. So long as D and Claire could find him, he did not care if someone had fifteen names. "You had other questions?"
"Tell me what these children look like, and their names."
"There is a boy named D, and he has black hair and eyes, and he's about this tall," Bakura motioned to D's height, which was becoming taller than average for someone his age. "There is a girl named Claire, and she has blondish hair that has a little pink in it, green eyes, and she is this tall." Again, he motioned to her height, which was just a little shorter than D. "She dresses oddly."
"Can say that again," Albert harrumphed. "Their relation to you?"
"D is my son and Claire," Bakura paused briefly, remembering how Aaron had mentioned the term father or uncle, "is my niece."
"Uh huh," a check was left on the paper they held, "Where were you?"
"Where was I?"
"I'm comparing notes, if you haven't noticed," Albert waved at the paperwork in front of him. "I'm not about to tell you where these kids are if you aren't who you say you are."
"Because of Jessica?"
"Because it's common sense."
Bakura nodded. This Albert took his job seriously. He could respect that. "There was a misunderstanding. I was taken here by force, and Aaron has been kind enough to clear it up for me."
"Aaron cleared it up for you?" From behind the counter, Albert tapped his pen on the glass. "You can get him here to attest to that?"
Bakura swallowed, and it was at least audible to himself. "He's outside, if you want to speak to him." He pointed past the door, as unassuming as possible.
"I'll do that, but I'm sure, as you can see from the likes of that guy, he's not exactly the one who 'clears stuff up'."
His cheeks flushed. He had to come up with something. "We came to an understanding," he replied, rubbing at his arm. His cheeks reddened further as he thought of how that sounded, but it seemed to be what Albert would believe and expected to hear. From behind the counter, he provided an apologetic nod. Bakura opened his mouth as if to elaborate and the other raised their hand.
"No need to go further," Albert mumbled, "The main guys do their best to help us all out, but I'm not stupid. They aren't the best of guys. At least you're alive, right?"
"Yeah," he managed to reply. It felt like he was lying, but was it not a fact, as well? Could Bakura not recall that what he had half described would have been the actual answer if he had not called upon Diabound? He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. He just wanted to leave those thoughts behind. They would do him no good in finding the two children in his charge.
"Well," Albert exhaled, "Everything checks out. Jessica is due to check in soon. Do you want to wait here?"
"Sure, if you'll allow me to. It's raining outside."
"No shit, Sherlock. But yeah, stick around, it'd be better than going out there to get them."
Bakura eyed Albert with curiosity. The person who stood there with such a tired expression seemed the cranky sort, but really had been nothing but helpful. How many people in this town that held any agency lived with the knowledge of their leaders' actions, yet stayed? Why did they stay? Why was Aaron so keen on becoming leader, anyway? Bakura opened his mouth to ask the first question, when the door swung open with a bang. Both Bakura and Albert turned to see a soaked, brown-haired woman with a half-crazed expression on her face, and another man who sported a grizzled beard and looked alarmed. Aaron could be seen behind them, eyeing the situation, his face expressing he was slowly coming down from the shock of Bakura's past actions. Bakura had little time to consider this information, however, as the woman stormed to the window and spat at Albert –
"THE KIDS ARE MISSING!"
Bakura's heart sank, as, in the distance, Aaron's eyes lit up. Turning away from the situation, which Albert was attempting to gather intel on from the distressed woman, the young man leaned against the wall. The bearded individual stood impotent, looking back from Albert and what Bakura assumed was Jessica. He also assumed the children had left of their own accord, probably to find him. Little did they know that they were going to make his job ten times harder now. Worry, concern, and sadness spread through his mind, until all he could think of was how close they had been to seeing one another again. His mind agonized, and the phrase that repeated in his brain was none other than 'Where are you, D? Where'd you both go?'
As he felt a now familiar hand grip at his shoulder, Bakura felt an exhaustion that rivaled the look on the worker's face. He placed a hand on Aaron's, aware of what dangerous and addled devotion was behind the gentle grasp, aware of what the others would assume. He would have pushed his hand away, but at that moment his focus was not on the immediate vicinity. In fact, his focus was quite muddled. This was a mess of astronomical proportions and yet, at that moment, all Bakura could think, all he could feel…
…all he wanted, was a nap.