The Return

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

I made up timelines like crazy in this chapter. The Friday-Tuesday span for Duelist Kingdom is based on the episodes that showed the group spending one night on the boat, two nights sleeping outside, and one night sleeping in the castle. The timeline for the Monster World/Millennium Ring deal is my attempt to explain Yami Bakura's ability to materialize, and is set in the gap between series one and series two of YGO. I'm working on my assumption that Ryou has had the Millennium Ring less than a year--approximately nine months--and it's been a little less than three months that he and Yami Bakura have been having sex.

The full title is Some Comfort Gained from the Acceptance of the Inherent Lies in Everything. It's from an artwork by Damien Hirst, which is basically a cow chopped up into sixteen or so pieces and hung around so you can walk through them.

The cow has nothing to do with the story, but I thought the title was cool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ryou opened the door to his house quietly, even though he knew that there was no one inside he might wake up. As he walked through the living room, he set his deck on the coffee table.

In the kitchen, the number on the answering machine said 'six.' Uh-oh.

They were almost all from his father. The first message was just his father calling to say hello, the second informed Ryou that the site was more extensive than had been originally thought and that his father was staying over another week, the third asked why Ryou wasn't picking up when he should be home, the fourth and fifth were from Domino High's office saying that he had missed school, and the sixth said that Ryou should call back the instant he heard the message. His father seemed exceptionally upset in the last one.

Wincing, he picked up the phone and checked the sticky note that held the mess of numbers that made up his father's location. After four rings, Ryou realized that he didn't have a good excuse, and he hadn't even stopped to figure out what the change in the time zones was, so it might be way too late/early to be calling. Before he could subtract the hours, the phone was picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hello?" his father asked in a drowsy voice.

"Hello, father. I just got your message--"

"Ryou! Where have you been?!" the man interrupted.

"Huh?" Ryou asked.

"When I checked the answering machine, it said you skipped school today and yesterday. What is going on?"

Ryou chewed his lip and tried to come up with an explanation in under three seconds. "Yes," he said, "I...was invited to Duelist Kingdom Friday. I just got back."

And now his father sounded more confused than upset. "Duelist Kingdom?"

"Yes. It was a Duel Monsters contest, hosted by Pegasus. Mr. Pegasus," he corrected himself. "I didn't get to the finals, but I stayed to watch Yugi duel. Yugi Mutou, one of my school friends? He won!"

"That's great," his father said. Then his tone got a little firmer. "Still, invitation or no, I can't believe you cut school like that."

"I'm sorry," Ryou said. "But I won't have too much homework to make up. I'll get everything done."

There was a pause, where he suspected his father nodded. "You're in high school now. These unexcused absences will go down on your permanent record."

"I know," Ryou said. "It won't happen again."

There was a pause. "Ryou, are you all right? You sound...tired."

"It was a long ride back home," he replied. "I'm a little sleepy." Then he remembered the time. "Oh, I'm sorry about calling you so late. But your message said to--"

"Call as soon as you heard it. I'm glad you did; I was worried," his father answered. There was a background noise. "I had to get up in an hour anyway, so it's fine. Make sure to get enough rest, Ryou."

"I will," he promised. "Goodbye, Father."

"Good night." There was a pause, and then Ryou hung up the phone. He was tired, but he was hungry too. He opened the fridge and looked around. There were sandwich makings, and some leftover meatloaf and pizza that were probably about to go bad, and a couple bottles of his father's root beer....

He was debating the amount of time it would take to make a sandwich when he felt the same old pulling sensation. With a jerk, Ryou spun around and stared at the kitchen. The spirit wasn't there. He looked at both the doorways and peered through the living room at the stairs, but it was gone already.

Ryou stood still for a minute. When there was no sound anywhere in the house, he turned around and pulled a piece of pizza out of the Ziploc bag it had been in. Ryou ate it absently, keeping his back to the small corner created by the juncture he rhe refrigerator and the counter, and watched both of the entrances to the kitchen. When he was finished, he stepped away long enough to pour a glass of water to get rid of the cold, doughy aftertaste. Then he set the glass on the counter and watched the doorways again.

There was nothing through them, and no noises anywhere in the house. For all intents and purposes, Ryou could have imagined himself to be alone.

...If he wanted to be an idiot. Ryou clenched his fists and glared at the doorway that led to the living room. Then, on an impulse, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen set and hid it next to his leg. Ryou almost took a step forward, but stopped himself.

What did he think he was going to do? Attack the spirit? It would just heal, and then it would be angrier than ever. That was useless. And it wasn't like...he could kill....

Ryou set the knife on the counter, next to the glass. So...now what? Did he just give up again and wander around like a passive thing, cringing every time his back wasn't against a wall until the spirit found him and did whatever it was planning to do?

Well, wasn't that what he always did? In the end....

Ryou pressed his hands to his temples and leaned against the counter. Why, why, why, why, why? Why was it always like this? Why was he always like this? Why couldn't he fight and win for once?!

Ryou let his hands drop, brushing his face as he did so. Then he paused. He rubbed a hand across his cheek again, thinking.

Maybe....

He was crazy. It wouldn't work. He'd see through it in an instant. How many times had the spirit reminded Ryou that he couldn't lie to it?

And even if it did work, it would make him nothing but....

Then again, he already was a slut. What did it matter how much he acted like it? And if the spirit was going to hurt him for it, well, it was already probably going to hurt him for betraying it again anyway. At least he would have tried.

Ryou pushed away from the counter and went upstairs.

It didn't try to strangle him on the steps, so Ryou went through his usual routine, waiting for the spirit to make the first move.

He was just coming out of the bathroom when he saw a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, someone grabbed the collar of his shirt. The fabric cut into his throat, but Ryou was too busy trying not to trip over his feet as he was pushed forward, away from the door. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and Ryou could tell that he was about to be shoved against the wall. He brought his arms up to take the impact, and then the hand on his shoulder yanked him around and slammed his back against the wall. Ryou kept his head down until there was no risk of hitting it on the plaster, then looked up.

The spirit glared at him, looking horribly angry. Ryou stared at its eyes for a moment, then looked away with a shiver.

Angry...but not blank, not like he had looked earlier. Thanks to Tristan, Ryou understood what the spirit had been talking about that afternoon. But if it was still here, for whatever reason, then maybe...maybe he could...it was worth a try....

~~~~~
After Bakura looked away, he dug his fingers deeper into the boy's shoulders, making sure to stay only where any bruises could be easily covered. "You nearly ruined everything, you little bastard. Why, exactly, did you think it would be a good idea to try and get rid of me again?"

Bakura didn't answer, and he resisted the urge to slam the boy into the wall until he started fighting back. He squeezed harder instead, and hissed, "Did you really think you would succeed?"

The boy was still refusing to look at him, so he tightened his grip moret tht that, Bakura whimpered slightly and lifted a hand to his chest. Irritated by the attempt to push him away, he growled and leaned forward slightly. Bakura's fingers slid underneath his collar and brushed lightly against his shoulder.

He stopped.

Bakura froze at that, but a second later the boy continued to rub a finger against his skin. He stood still, forward just enough that he was out of Bakura's line of view, and the boy managed to work his hand further inside the shirt. Then Bakura leaned forward and kissed the edge of his jawbone, sliding his lips along the skin and kissing his cheek.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, then buried a hand in Bakura's hair, using it to drag the boy back enough to see his face. Bakura gave him a startled look, and then he kissed him, hard enough to push the boy's head back against the wall. After a pause, Bakura opened his mouth and he entered, knocking a leg between the boy's. Bakura shifted enough to let him stand comfortably between his legs, but not without that same brief hesitation. The boy was trying to distract him, but was blatantly scared at the same time.

He smirked against the boy's mouth as he realized that he could take him now, against the wall, because Bakura would think it better than any other punishment he was planning. It was useful to be able to play on his other's active imagination.

He rocked his hips against Bakura and the boy made a small noise in the back of his thromakimaking him smirk widen. Then his expression went cold, and he tugged on the boy's hair, changing the angle of the kiss so that he could catch Bakura's bottom lip between his teeth. He glared at Bakura as he ran his tongue across the flesh, noting that the boy still had his eyes closed.

It was an irritating irony--Bakura had finally begun to act the way he wanted him to, but at the one time he was ready to hurt the weakling without regard to the consequences.

However, now was the time for delicacy--he had to make the experience pleasant, because he wanted his other to seduce the Item bearers and help him in his quest. So, now that Bakura was making moves in that direction, he had to tread carefully. The fact that he could take advantage of the boy was the very reason why he could not. Bakura had to trust him before the boy would come to have no qualms about being his beautiful distraction.

It vexed him that he had to reward the boy's behavior when he was still angry, but the long-term outcwoulwould be worth it. He had many times to be angry with Bakura, but few chances to remold him. The first opportunity had been butchered when the boy dove unexpectedly into his mind and found his plans concerning Yugi, but it looked as if he could salvage that, too.

He doubted that Bakura would ever accept him hurting his friends, but Yugi was only one of five bearers. He could be patient and keep track of the Puzzle, and once he had the other four Items, it would not matter whether the boy would aid him in Yugi's death or not.

Bakura began to squirm and he realized that the boy would need to breathe soon, so he let go of his hair and pulled away. Bakura sucked in a breath and finally opened his eyes.

He was not certain what look he was giving the boy, but whatever it was, it made Bakura instinctively press against the wall. Then the boy drew a breath and moved forward, throwing arms around his waist.

For an instant he thought Bakura was vainly going for the Eye he had hidden and he stiffened, but the boy only stood there, kissing his jaw and cheek again. He twisted his face slightly to meet Bakura's lips again, sliding his hands to the boy's waist and pulling up his sweater. Bakura let go and took a step back so he could tug the sweater over his head. The boy made an instinctive gesture to smooth down his hair while he began opening Bakura's shirt. He glared at the amount of buttons, but Bakura undid several from the bottom, making it go faster. He pushed the ends of the shirt open and ran a hand down the boy's chest, making him shiver. Then Bakura pulled away and took a step to the side.

He turned his head and watched the boy go, and Bakura stopped looking in his eyes again. He turned and stepped forward, and Bakura moved back again. They repeated the motions once more, and a small smirk curved his li His His other was surprisingly good at this game.

When they reached the door to Bakura's bedroom, the boy reached behind him and turned the doorknob. Then his other paused and started rattling the door, a panicked look beginning to form on his features. He chuckled as he stripped off his own sweater. Ungraceful little thing....He a n a note to fix that, but then changed his mind. After all, it was charming in its fashion; and the clumsiness would reinforce Bakura's act of innocence.

Bakura got the door ajar, and then the boy jumped when he stepped forward and slammed it open hard enough that it bounced off the wall. He kicked a foot out to keep it from banging into them as he grabbed Bakura's shirt collar and yanked him into another kiss. Bakura's breath hitched at that, and he took advantage of the action to flick his tongue over the roof of the boy's mouth, a thing that always made his other start. Bakura reached out and began fumbling with the buttons on his own shirt.

He shrugged out of the shirt as soon as it was undone and pushed off the boy's as well. When Bakura pulled back to breathe, he turned the boy around and undid his jeans. Bakura started to tense again, so he drew his fingers away from the material and trailed themoverover the boy's pelvic bones, before gripping his hips and holding him in place.

He leaned forward and sniffed the boy's hair before chuckling. "It's a shame Pegasus didn't offer shampoo as part of his hospitality," he said, drawling the last word. "You still smell like grass and dirt."

When Bakura didn't react to the mention of Pegasus, he frowned. The boy's mind had gone blank with that same disturbing emptiness from earlier this evening after he brought up the American.

Instead of responding, Bakura just toed off hisakerakers. His frown deepened at the action, and he debated going through his other's mind to find the root of the problem.

It could wait. If anything were irreparably wrong with the boy, he would have noticed. He brushed his mouth over Bakura's shoulder and hooked his fingers in the jeans and boxers, pushing the material down. Bakura kicked the jeans away without being told, then tried to push off his socks without bending over and using his hands.

He smirked at that and ran his fingers back up Bakura's legs, making the boy shiver again. Then he pushed Bakura forward slightly against the bed and the boy took the hint, sitting down and pulling off his socks. He kicked off his own set of shoes and got rid of the rest of his clothes, chuckling when he noticed that Bakura was looking away again. He cupped the boy's chin in one hand and turned his face slowly, deliberately twisting it so Bakura would get a full view of him. He half-grinned at the sight of Bakura's flushed face before leaning down and kissing him again, pressing him back into the bed. There was a metallic clash when the Ring and the replica he wore collided.

He threw a leg over Bakura's waist and climbed upon the mattress. After some twisting around, Bakura's head was lying on the pillow and he was comfortably straddling the boy's waist, rocking his hips and rubbing their erections together. He'd already kicked the covers down and partially off the bed.

His smirk widened when Bakura reached up and wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to pull him closer and into more contact. He pushed himself up a moment later and waited for Bakura's panting to slow down. The boy was still moving against him, and he couldn't prevent the fact that his eyes were hooded.

After a moment, Bakura seemed to catch on. The boy opened his eyes and gave him a hazy look. He waited until he was sure he had Bakura's attention, then asked, "Why are you doing this, Ryou?"

Bakura blinked at him, and the corner of his mouth curled up at that. "You're doing it because you don't want to be hurt," he said conversationally. "You're trying to use your body to distract me." He ran his fingers through the boy's bangs.

Bakura's shoulders sank, and the boy stared up at him with a mixture of resignation and fear. When he leaned down again Bakura flinched, closing his eyes and starting to pull his arms away.

He pressed his lips gently against the boy's and whispered, "Good."

Bakura's eyes opened again and looked into his. Staring back down, he tilted his chin up res rested his forehead on the boy's. He felt Bakura's hands clench into fists where they lay upon his back. Then his palms flattened out again, and the boy slid his hands up his back until they were resting on his shoulder blades. Bakura pulled himself up slightly and pressed his lips against his own, eyes still open.

He smiled in satisfaction, then narrowed his eyes. "Don't try it too often," he warned.

Bakura just shut his eyes and darted a tongue against his lower lip. He slipped inside the boy's mouth again, shifting his weight until Bakura was pressed against the mattress once more. He resumed rocking his hips, and Bakura sighed and thrust up against him.

He pulled away from the boy's mouth and moved to his neck, pushing aside the Ring's cord. Bakura tilted his head to the side to give him better access, and he dug his hand into the sheet and reminded himself to move slowly. If Bakura would stop making those damned little noises in the back of his throat....

One of the boy's hands dropped away from his back as Bakura shifted to the right, throwing off his rhythm. He was about to lift his head and ask what the hell Bakura was doing, when he heard thend ond of the drawer opening. He smirked and bit down on the muscle connecting the boy's shoulder and neck, making Bakura cry out and thrust blindly against him.

While the boy was trying to concentrate on a task behind his back, he continued nipping at his shoulder. Then he pushed back slightly and moved down to Bakura's chest. When he darted a tongue over the boy's nipple, Bakura's breath hitched and his body froze underneath him. He blew on it, and the flesh immediately tightened. Then he closed his teeth lightly over the nub.

There was a muted 'thump' of something hitting the carpet, and then his boy's hands were on him, smearing lube where he touched. Aah...those hands....

He reached over and caught Bakura's other nipple, twisting hard.

"Aaaa!" the boy cried out. Bakura's hands dropped away, and he lay there panting heavily. He started laving the abused flesh with his tongue, and Bakura's fingers clutched his arms, grip still slippery with lube.

He sat up, pulling Bakura with him. He pushed the boy back slightly and moved so he was no longer straddling him. "Turn around." He had no desire to watch Bakura's face this time.

The boy did as he was told, scooting around to kneel and face the headboard. He shoved Bakura's shoulders, and the boy dropped to all fours. He rubbed one hand along himself, spreading the excess lube onto his palm, while running the other hand down his boy's back.

Bakura's voice came out strained: "I can't keep my arms up."

He just chuckled, and pushed two fingers inside. Bakura moaned and pressed the heels of his palms into the mattress, trying to keep from falling.

"Spread your legs wider," he murmured. Bakura made a pleading noise, but obeyed, stretching out as far as he could while keeping his balance.

He pulled his fingers out to the tips, then placed the thumb of his other hand over the area just behind Bakura's balls. When he pushed his fingers back in, he pressed hard on the spot, and Bakura screamed as his arms collapsed out from under him. ontiontinued to massage as he withdrew his fingers, watching Bakura buck forward.

Enough was enough. He pulled his hand away and gripped Bakura's hip, his other arm wrapping around the boy's stomach. "Now, get up."

Bakura's breathing was harsh enough to sound like pain, and he could feel the boy's stomach clenching beneath his arm. When Bakura managed to force himself up on his arms again, he positioned himself and pushed forward carefully.

Once he was past the initial resistance, he leaned forward and sank in completely, bracing one hand next to Bakura's while the other supported the boy. Bakura had locked his elbows, but was leaning heavily into his arm, which couldn't be comfortable. The boy's head had dropped, and his breathing was ragged and interspersed with wordless noises.

With a clenched jaw, he pulled back and pressed forward again, controlling his actions so that his boy's sounds wouldn't cause him to just slam him into the mattress.

He could get used to this. He leaned down and licked partway up Bakura's spine, savoring the salty taste of his skin.

Bakura's arms were shaking badly, and he sank down abruptly and braced himself on his forearms. The sudden change in angle threw him off, and Bakura whimpered when one of the thrusts was painful. However, he shifted and adjusted, and wrapped a second arm around Bakura's chest, pressing close to the boy's back.

He rubbed his nose against Bakura's neck until he managed to get most of the hair out of the way, and ran his teeth over the nape of the boy's neck. Bakura stretched out slightly at that, and began to push forward with each thrust, causing him to slide down further as he moved. At first he was too preoccupied with the heat and taste to pay attention to the change, but when he noticed that Bakura's breathing was getting more constricted, he caught on.

When he pulled back this time, he used the arm around Bakura's stomach to bring the boy up with him, preventing him from rubbing against the mattress.

"No!" Bakura cried. "Please, please touch me, please! I--" The boy snapped his mouth shut and buried his face in the pillow, still moving in vain.

He noted with approval that Bakura had stopped himself before saying 'need,' and slid a hand down to grip his boy. Bakura moaned and jerked in his palm, mumbling nonsense into the pillow. The timing and pace was erratic, because he couldn't keep track anymore.

He thrust forward again, and Bakura clenched his muscles down, and he fell over the edge.

He blinked back a moment later, and Bakura had collapsed under his weight. His arms were still trapped underneath the boy, so he pulled out and pushed away just enough to lie partially on the bed. He listened to Bakura's breathing asslowslowed and eased.

Time passed, and he almost thought his other had fallen asleep when suddenly Bakura began to squirm and twisted around. He shot the boy a glare, but Bakura rubbed a hand along his side, looking at his eyes. He smirked callously. "What, bradaj?"

Bakura didn't pull his hand away, surprisingly; instead he just stared at him with those dark, despising eyes. He leaned forward and caught Bakura's bottom lip in his teeth, tugging on the flesh while he groped over the edge of the bed for the dropped tube.

This time, he whispered into the boy's ear as he moved and let Bakura dig his hands into his sides.

Afterward, he pushed himself away and onto his side, then grimaced at the sting from the marks and situated himself on his stomach. Bakura's eyes were closed, and his breathing was the shallowness of exhaustion. He reached out and lazily traced the outline of the Ring on the boy's chest. Bakura mumbled at that, but couldn't keep from falling asleep.

He tapped the spot on Bakura's chest where the iris of the eye would have gone and paused. It was a good plan; with a few modifications--just cutting lightly enough to break the skin, so that the scars would fade in a month or more--he could use it anyway.

He threw an arm over his boy's stomach and allowed himself to fall asleep.

~~~
He woke up when he felt someone breathing against his arm. That bastard, thinking he can stay this close....He opened his eyes and glared down at hair several shades too light.

It was just Bakura. Sometime in the night the boy had curled up on his side, and was now resting a forehead against his arm. He continued to frown for a moment, before lifting a hand and pushing aside Bakura's bangs. He pressed two fingers to his temple, then slipped into the boy's mind.

He bypassed his other's soul room and started sifting through Bakura's memories. The boy's attitude regarding Pegasus bothered him, and he intended to fix it before it had an adverse effect.

Just as he'd suspected. Bakura had been unable to deal with what he had done to Pegasus, and had simply shut his mind down.

...His speech in the bathroom hadn't helped, either. Damn. Once he convinced Bakura that his morals were drifting, subjective things, he would have knocked down the strongest of the boy's arguments against him, making it that much easier to draw his other over. Fog Bag Bakura to deal with the fact that he had subconsciously accepted Pegasus' injury since none of his friends had been hurt had left the boy rattled as he'd wanted, but he had forgotten to account for his other's squeamishness. That would take extra effort to repair.

Then he frowned. Pegasus was not the beginning of the boy's damage, however. The fracture went deeper. He knitted his brows and followed it.

He moved past his return to the Ring in the tower, past the game with Seth-Peribsen, past the dead teenager. He paused when he reached the night he'd broken Bakura's defenses, using the boy's protectiveness of his father. The fracture had widened there, butre wre was still a splinter that went further.

This was nearing the impossible to repair. He clenched his jaw and kept moving through Bakura's memories, slid over the first time in the kitchen, and went back another three months. Then he came across a cloudy area, a sign that Bakura himself didn't recall this well--or perhaps at all--but he searched anyway, and finally hit the beginning of the fracture.

The day Bakura came back from the hospital, a mass of stitches on his palm and the back of his hand, the boy had taken the Millennium Ring and buried it under some boxes in the back of the attic. However, his other didn't realize that the two of them now shared a body permanently. After his soul had made a home inside Bakura, being separated from the boy with only the Ring to support his existence for any extended period of time was, to put it simply, agony. Bakura felt it less, but felt it all the same. But the boy had attributed it to his hand, taken more of the painkillers that had been prescribed for him than he should have needed, and left him to rot.

Nearly a week passed before he made a desperate attempt to get back. He had used the faint connection that still remained between he and Bakura to wrench as much of the boy's energy to himself as he could. Then he had gathered all the ngthngth that he had as well, and forced himself to separate from the Ring, thinking that the action was impossible.

He had nearly killed the both of them, but he had done it. Necessity was the mother of invention, after all. He made it down to Bakura's bedroom, where the boy had fallen out of the bed and was curled in on himself, crying in pain. When Bakura saw him, the boy's eyes had gone wide and his breathing had stopped for a moment.

He had sunk down to the floor and hissed, "Get the Ring, now." Bakura obeyed, falling over his feet as he tried to climb into the attic and crawling to the box that held the Millennium Ring. The boy had dug the Ring out and put it on, and when the connection between them was complete again Bakura had fallen unconscious while he retreated into his other where he belonged.

He had wiped Bakura's memory of the incident, not wanting the boy to realize that he held a weapon against him. Bakura would suffer with the removal of the Ring, but he would lose mobility in the outside world in addition to the pain. He knew that the erasure had worked, because the next time he decided to try separating Bakura had jumped in shock and broken the g he he was washing. Even the fact that these memories were so indistinct was another sign that boy had forgotten.

And yet...when Bakura had first looked at him, the boy's thoughts remained clear: I can never get free. That was the start of the cut that had only become deeper and wider as time passed. Despite the fact that he had erased the boy's mind, the damage had remained; Bakura had been walking around with this...this open wound for nearly as long as he'd worn the Millennium Ring. And he had not noticed.

Disgusting.

He pulled out of the boy's mind and glared down for a moment. He smacked Bakura on the ear, then draped his arm over the boy's waist again and shut his eyes.

The boy jerked and pulled his head back, blinking rapidly. "Uh?"

"You have school," he said.

He felt the boy give an obligatory glance at thock ock over his shoulder. "I have more time," he mumbled, once again pressing his face against his forearm.

He didn't bother to open his eyes. "I assumed you'd want to shower first."

There was a slow, quiet pause.

Bakura pushed out from under his arm and slid off the bed. There was a creak and a shift in the mattress as the boy stood up, and then the sound of footsteps padding down the hallway toward the bathroom.
en ten the water began to run, he returned to the Ring and cut off his attention until Bakura reached school.


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