Going On

Disclaimer – No, I don’t own them, and if I did, things would be a hell of a lot more interesting and twisted. And Bakura would play a much bigger part than he does now, and I’d bring Malik back, and . . . oh hell, I don’t own them.

Author’s Notes – Here you go folks. I’ll be in my bomb shelter. Don’t forget to review. Oh, and there are more AN’s at the bottom that you might want to read if you’re not too busy trying to kill me.


Chapter 18 - End


Bakura padded down the hallway, heading to check on Yugi before planning on drinking himself into oblivion.
He felt . . . lost. Empty. Even with Ryou, he felt an emptiness in his heart that bothered him.

Yami. They had failed to save the Pharaoh. Many would wonder why he even cared, but it was simple. He needed the damn Pharaoh.
He was alone here. Not in the sense of the word that many might consider . . . he had Ryou, and the people he’d come to call friends. But he was still a three thousand year old thief, caught outside of time and space in a world not his own . . . and Yami was the only one who could really understand that. And now he was gone.

The last two years had been full of revelations for the former spirit, not the least of which had been that he no longer hated his fellow spirit and Millennium Item prisoner. In fact, he’d come to find that there were quite a few disturbing discrepancies in things Yami had done to him.

For instance, the number of times the Pharaoh had sent him to the Shadow Realm. Each time, it had been a mild irritation, but otherwise an easy trip to get back out. And that should not have been the case. Yami had been more than capable of banishing him for eternity into that dark plane . . . so why hadn’t he? He’d begun to suspect that the Pharaoh had been trying to teach him something. Just another question that he would never have an answer to now.

Then there was the fact that he’d hated Yami for reasons that weren’t even the Pharaoh’s fault. After talking with Marik for a goodly number of hours, he’d come to realize that Yami had never known just what had been done to create the Millennium Items . . . and neither had his father. They’d had nothing to do with the slaughter of his village three thousand years ago. Everything he’d done . . . had been done to the wrong person.

Damn it, he’d wanted to have the chance to earn the Pharaoh’s friendship . . . and to make right everything he had done so horribly wrong. And now that chance was gone forever.

If it would have done any good to release his pain, he would have punched a wall. But that would only worry Ryou, and it wouldn’t bring Yami back. Nothing would. So he restrained himself, and slipped into Yugi’s room to check on the young hikari silently. It was the least that he could do now.

The scent of blood hit him like a hammer blow, taking his breath away in a sucker punch to the gut. Red-brown eyes widened as he spied the empty bed, and he threw himself across the room, bolting for the bathroom door. His heart clenched as he slid into the tiled room, falling to his knees with a cry of agony as he took in the scene that lay before him.

“Gods . . . no,” he whispered, crawling across the tile to take one pale, bloodless hand in his where it dangled from the edge of the tub. So much blood . . . gods, so very much blood, and none of it where it belonged. “Yugi, gods . . .”

He was shaking from head to foot as he gripped that lifeless hand in his. Not only had he failed Yami, but he’d failed Yugi as well.

“Yugi . . . I’m sorry . . .” he whispered, and broke down.

*-------*-------*-------*--------*


“NO!” Marik howled, throwing himself toward the bedroom as the paramedics slowly pulled a sheet over the still figure they had retrieved from the bathroom. “YUGI!” Malik barely caught his panicked hikari in his arms, pulling the young Egyptian against him tightly as the youth struggled to get free before breaking down into heart rending sobs. “We failed him,” he whispered brokenly. “Gods, we failed him and Yami both.”

“There was nothing we could do, Marik,” the yami murmured, holding onto his hikari as he sagged brokenly. “We never even thought he would do this. He’s at peace now, at least.”

“We should have been watching him, should have been protecting him!” Malik snapped, once again struggling to get loose and go to the body that was now being moved to a stretcher for transportation to the city morgue. “We failed him. Yugi’s dead, and it’s ALL MY FAULT!” He shouted this last, finally throwing off the arms holding him and scrambling away towards the body.

He threw himself at the stretcher, sobbing as he dragged that limp, lifeless form to his chest, rocking back and forth brokenly as he cradled Yugi’s body in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Yugi . . . I’m so sorry . . .” he whispered, over and over again, lavender eyes closed as he cradled the still wet body close. It took Seto and Malik to finally pull him away, and when he did let go, it was only to fling himself back into his dark’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Malik met the sapphire eyes over the blonde head, nodding slightly.

With a gesture, Kaiba sent the paramedics on their way with their burden, and turned to comfort his friends.

Bakura was a wreck, and Ryou wasn’t in much better shape. This struck far too close to home for both of them, considering how close Ryou had been to doing this very thing two years ago after Bakura had disappeared. That time, the former Spirit had been in time to stop his hikari from such an act. But this time, there had been no yami to save the hikari, no darkness to preserve the light . . . because the darkness had already gone ahead into death.

The two white haired men were huddled together down the hall a short distance. Ryou was sobbing, but his sobbing was less eerie than the terrible stillness of his dark. Bakura hadn’t said more than two words since having found Yugi’s body, and had barely made it to Ryou before he’d simply collapsed, still so very silent.

Even now, the image stayed frozen in Kaiba’s head of what he’d found when he’d heard Bakura’s cry. The thief had been covered in Yugi’s blood, cradling the soaked body to his chest, crying silently. The water in the tub still sloshed, thick and red against the white porcelain behind him as he smoothed the golden bangs away from the forever closed eyes over and over again, seemingly unable to stop.

The Puzzle lay on the closed toilet lid not far away, still glittering faintly in the harsh light, completely free of blood and water. But then, that wasn’t entirely the case, was it? It had been soaked in blood . . . spiritual blood, the blood of two men who had wanted nothing more than to love each other. Kaiba’d wanted nothing more than to throw it at a wall at that point, but he’d restrained himself and turned to more important matters.

Thinking of the Puzzle, he retrieved it quietly, carrying it with him as he went to call their friends. There was nothing more they could do here. The horror of the past two years had ended for Yugi . . . but it was only beginning for the rest of them.


*-------*-------*-------*-------*


The pale body lay against the silken lining of the dark wood casket, the Puzzle resting between the still chest and the delicate hands that lay atop it. One last glimpse, before Yugi rested in darkness forever. Red roses littered the still form, the offerings from friends and duelists, acquaintances and complete strangers.

None outside of the close circle of friends knew why Yugi had committed suicide, and none of the friends would speak of it. To the news, Yugi was just another distraught teen with no other way out. If only they knew the truth . . . that love had killed the diminutive former King of Games. Love . . . and heartbreak.

Huddled in groups, trying to stay strong for their small friend, they watched as the casket was lowered into the waiting grave.

Yugi was at peace now. It was the only hope they could hold onto. Bakura had informed them brokenly that there was no way Yugi and Yami could be reunited now . . . the Pharaoh had either gone on to the Egyptian Afterlife or somewhere else entirely. Yugi wasn’t Egyptian . . . his soul belonged to the Christian God, so he would go to the Christian Afterlife. There would be no reunion, no happy ending, no happily dead ever after. They were forever separated.

In silence, they mourned what had ended in tragedy, and hoped that they could move on. Many of them doubted it would be possible. They would always carry the scars of the events upon them, in their minds, hearts, and souls. To them, it was simply another step upon broken glass, another chapter in a history frought with too many trials and torments. Some considered Yugi the lucky one.

Turning away from the now silent grave, they moved on with their lives, leaving Yugi behind, although they knew he would never be far from their hearts.

Only Bakura lingered, running his fingers over the fresh cut tombstone sadly before turning away to join the others.

----Yugi Motou. Duelist, friend, and compatriot. May you find the peace in death that you were denied in life. Darkness and Light . . . one cannot live without the other.---

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Author’s Notes – GOT YOU! MUAHAHAHA! Did you HONESTLY think I was going to end this like THAT!? Yes, in case your shock and horror fogged mind hasn’t figure it out . . . THIS ISN’T THE REAL END! Not even a true part of the story! Due to all the death threats and horrified reviews . . . I decided to be a sadistic bitch (with Bakura’s help, of course) and write this for all of you before I give you the real ending. So, the true ending will be coming soon, and you can all come after me with nooses and pitchforks if you like. I’m sure Bakura would enjoy the bloodshed : ) Ja ne, all, and huggles to you for being so loveable to torture!