Absolution

Chapter Three: Time Is Running Out.

"I wanted freedom, bound and restricted
I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted.
Now that you know I'm trapped, sense of elation,
You'd never dream of breaking this fixation."

He often liked to think that there was no explainable reason he was attracted to wealth but, in truth, he knew the reason all too well; it had been the sore point that had finally driven a permanent wedge between Ryou and his father. Instead of attention, the eldest Bakura had lavished his son with gifts, until Ryou's young mind had begun to confuse luxury with love. As a child, he had spent hours surrounded by presents from his father, falling deeper and deeper into the enchantment of what he had thought was love; it wasn't until many years later that he realized it was greed. He knew the difference between gifts and true adoration now, of course, but he still got that feeling deep in his soul—a warm combination of comfort, joy, and affection—whenever he was given something expensive. Which was exactly why, on his sixteenth birthday, he was facing a major dilemma.

Upon awakening from his forced slumber, Ryou came to face the very last thing he wanted to see. Clean-cut precious stones littered his living room coffee table, each one a different color that seemed to smolder in the dying light of the setting sun. Behind the stones, wrapped in coils like sleeping snakes, were small piles of silver bracelets and necklaces. And standing off to the side, looking quiet pleased with himself, was the ghostly, tanned stranger.

"What did—" Ryou shook his head, suddenly dizzy. His body felt like it had run a marathon, muscles sore and aching. "What did you do?"

The taller boy crouched down on the other side of the low table, spread his arms wide, and gave Ryou a wicked grin. "I got these for you," he replied, truly speaking for the first time. His tone was dark and velvety, yet there was a gruffness to it that was just as ominous as it was intriguing. It was insanity, reason, and seduction all wrapped up into one brilliant voice.

Ryou shivered, not looking at the spoils spread out before him. Who was this boy? He seemed so familiar, yet there was a brazenness about him that Ryou knew he had never encountered before. "I don't want them," he replied, his voice tight as he fought the pull of luxury.

The boy's smile widened. "Are you sure?" he purred. "Because you look awfully tempted to me." He held out a dark ruby the size of a large coin. "Take it," he coaxed quietly, "it's a gift."

Ryou's eyes zeroed in on the jewel. The weak light bounced around the well-cut stone, making it glow a fiery crimson. In that moment, as his gaze fixated on that one ruby, he felt the old compulsion call out to him. From the depths of his soul and the darkest corners of his mind, he felt the siren song of greed. "I can't," he denied quietly, but didn't look away.

"Why not?" the other asked. "They're yours. Consider it a token of my affection."

Distantly, the younger boy wondered how this tanned stranger knew exactly what buttons to push. "I…" he hesitated, slowly reaching out a shaky hand.

"It was the very best I could find," the dark boy told him, a strange glint in his eye. "The purest silver and the finest jewels, just for you."

Even as he berated himself for being a fool, even as he knew it was wrong, Ryou's fingers closed around the ruby, briefly brushing the cold static of the other boy's ghostly hand.

The boy's grin turned predatory. "It feels wonderful, doesn't it? It's such a simple lust to quench, and yet it's the most rewarding."

Ryou finally looked away from the gem in his hand, but his gaze got caught on the table where a prince's ransom spread out before him. "I feel—" he cut himself off, ashamed at what he'd almost admitted.

"Loved?" the ghost guessed knowingly. "Like you'll never have to suffer being alone, so long as you have that flash and sparkle for companionship?" He toyed with a stray sapphire as he watched the other like a hawk, then laughed a little. "I know the feeling. It's like a warm spring of water on a cold night, or the embrace of someone who cares." He shook his head, jostling his short silver locks. "People will tell you that wealth is indifferent, that treasure doesn't care who its master is, but they're wrong. Treasure always glitters for the hand that takes care of it, doesn't it?" He sighed contentedly. "Luxury is the purest form of love there is."

Ryou swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. It was happening again, he was falling into that personal abyss. Was he so starved for attention that he would let himself be hypnotized and ruled by gifts once more? "I can't," he answered himself aloud, carefully setting down the ruby. "I can't do this anymore; I promised myself I wouldn't."

"Oh?" the tanned boy cocked his head. "You love it, though, don't you?" His predatory look came back, replacing the lazy contentment that had been there a moment before. "Or is it a different sort of affection you're after?" He reached out a hand then, brushing his ghostly fingers down the smaller boy's jaw and across his throat.

Ryou jerked away instinctively, jostling the table as he scrambled backward; he had barely felt the caress at all, but his skin had jumped to eager attention at the slight touch. He had been alone for far too long. "Who are you?" he asked in a pinched tone, standing abruptly. "What do you want with me?"

"Who am I?" the other repeated. "There are so many ways I could answer that: I am the spirit of the Sennen Ring, the eternal Tomb Robber, and a dark reflection of your soul." He sighed at the other's confused look. "I'm a soul trapped within the Sennen Ring," he pointed a tanned finger at the golden pendant in question. "In life, I was a Tomb Robber and, within the flow of time, I'm a darker incarnation of you—or you're a lighter incarnation of me." The boy stood then, moving stealthily until he was mere inches from his counterpart. "I thought you were going to be just another boring host until I felt your soul, felt that familiar touch of unanswered desires."

"I don't understand," Ryou interjected, backing away from the stranger until his shoulders hit a wall.

"Three thousand years ago, I died," the boy murmured, drawing close enough to trap the other. "But my soul was bound within the Sennen Ring, so when it was time to be reincarnated the body was free but the soul had to be duplicated." His hand brushed the side of Ryou's face again. "In a different time, in a different place, I might have been more like you, or you might have been more like me. We're copies of each other, reflected through different mirrors—two souls, but the same person." His fingers wandered the plane of pale skin before him; though his touch wasn't solid, it was still tangible. "As to what I want with you… I don't think you can understand what it's like being passed from host to host—each one more ill-fitting than the last—before finally being given my body again. There might be three thousand years worth of differences between us, but you still feel better than anyone else has."

"Get away from me," Ryou panicked, trying to knock the ghostly body off of him.

"I don't think you understand," the tanned boy repeated. "Finding you, being able to talk to you thanks to the resonance of the Sennen Puzzle, is the best gift I've been given in millennia." His wicked smile turned dark, a hint of pointed fangs pulling at his lips. "You're a treasure to me, and I've never been one to let treasure go."

Over the course of his short sixteen years, Ryou's life had taken a lot of unexpected turns, but this twist was beyond anything he could have imagined. It wasn't that he didn't believe in ghosts—he did—but he had never truthfully believed in reincarnation, or that the same soul could present itself in two entirely different manners. More disturbing than that, his past self—and there were enough visual similarities between them that he was willing to believe what the spirit had told him—was completely amoral. There was a smoothness to him, an errant sense of refinement, but it couldn't even begin to mask his unprincipled attitude. After all, it was perfectly natural for a teenage boy to satisfy his own sexual desires, but to contemplate the quenching of that lust while in two separate bodies had to be the ultimate expression of narcissism. And the thought was appealing enough to terrify him.

In some ways, Ryou had always known that he was only lily-white on the surface, that beneath his skin he wasn't anywhere near as pure or noble as he presented himself to be. There was a dark restlessness that had plagued his soul for years, tempting him into complete abandonment, into wildness, but he had always been able to fight off its forceful call before. Now, that darkness had been given a form, and its temptations were much harder to resist. The tanned stranger spoke in words that were dripping with wrongness, yet they drew Ryou in, teased and seduced him, leaving him intrigued and horrified.

He could have material love, he could have companionship, and the spirit had not asked for anything in return. Yet. But Ryou knew he would—this act, it was just the enticement, a way to snare his compliance before the spirit went after what it truly wanted. He would become the ghost's accomplice, willing to turn a blind eye to anything the other did so long as the price of his silence was high enough to suppress his conscience; he would be no better than a slave or a puppet, dancing to his master's whims.

Making a split-second decision, his fingers jerked at the cord around his neck, intending to take the ring off. If the spirit was bound to the object, perhaps he wouldn't be able to haunt Ryou if the ring wasn't anywhere near him.

But his hand was immediately caught in a harsh grip as the tanned boy's body pressed closer, consuming what little space had existed between them, trapping the ring between their bodies. "Don't," he hissed harshly; his eyes narrowed dangerously, making the pale scar that ran under his eye and down his cheek stand out. "Don't you dare try to take it off!" He shifted, fully pinning the smaller boy against the wall. "I bring you silver and precious jewels, and this is how you thank me?" he rasped in Ryou's ear. A dark laugh bubbled up from between his lips. "I supposed three thousand years wasn't enough time to teach us any manners."

"Get off of me," Ryou snapped, struggling. It was unsettling to be pinned under the other boy. The spirit's body exerted pressure, it had a presence, but it felt as though a wall of static was keeping him in place, rather than another person.

"I can see I'm going to have to use a much firmer hand with you than I had anticipated," the ghost whispered to him. "Perhaps we're not as different as I had thought," he added, satisfaction lacing his voice. "The Sennen Ring doesn't come off, Ryou," he commanded lowly. "Whether you're bathing, eating, or sleeping, you will wear that Ring."

"And if I don't?" Ryou rebelled, trying to inch his head away from the lips that were nearly teasing the sensitive shell of his ear.

"The consequences are more painful than you can guess," he murmured. "The Ring's design has a practical side to it, after all."

The golden pendant moved then, startling Ryou. The five cones that he had at first admired slowly began to press against his chest, piercing through his shirt to push against his skin threateningly. His eyes widened in alarm; would the spirit really be cruel enough to anchor himself into Ryou in such a violent way? Only moments ago, he had called the pale boy a treasure.

"Some treasures need to be altered before they can truly shine," the tanned boy said, seemingly reading Ryou's thoughts.

The cones pressed tighter, until Ryou was sure that five small wells of blood were dotting his skin. Wincing in pain, he stopped struggling. The odds were stacked against him; he would have to play along with the spirit for now.

"I don't have to be cruel," his dark reflection sighed, nuzzling the side of his head. "I can be as nice as you let me. If you make any effort to adjust to the situation, I'll give you whatever you want, whatever you need. Those jewels were just the beginning." His lips brushed a pale ear.

Ryou shivered. There was that offer again, a chance to sate his greed with nothing asked for in return. But he knew it was a trap, he knew the spirit would ask for something eventually.

"Your choice isn't that hard," the ghost purred. "Something you love versus something unimaginably painful." He laughed, the sound rumbling through both their bodies. "We both know which one you're going to choose in the end."
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Ryou sat on his bed, toying with an emerald. The harsh light of his desk lamp played across the well-cut stone, making some planes shine a brilliant green and others shine a dull black. It was enchanting, mesmerizing, and he found himself unable to look away. This was exactly why he'd tried so hard to resist the spirit earlier; once he completely gave in to his greed, he knew there was no saving him. He would have twinges of a guilty conscience for whatever was to come, but now that he had accepted the gift it would be nearly impossible to pull away.

His pale eyes followed the light as it glinted off his emerald, but his thoughts turned inward. The spirit had left him alone after giving Ryou his threatening ultimatum, disappearing with a suddenness that was disturbing. Not for the first time, Ryou had to wonder if he was merely imagining the other boy, but the jewels and the silver were a painful argument against that idea. If he was imagining the spirit, then he would have had to go out and procure his 'gift' on his own, which was unlikely. But it was still hard to wrap his mind around the thought that he was being haunted by a past incarnation of himself.

He shivered, his thoughts turning dark. The tanned stranger was a tempting mirror to look into. He was strong and lean, dangerous but enticing, and Ryou wasn't nearly as appalled at the thought of a physical relationship with the spirit as he should have been. It was wrong that they were the same person, but they were different enough to spark an interest. The fact that they were both male seemed irrelevant; Ryou had never been particularly interested in gender roles—if a man desired another man, it was no one else's business. He did worry that this attraction was outside the realm of his usual desires, though. From a young age, he had known that he had fairly relaxed views in terms of his own sexual preferences, but he'd always been attracted to people who were smaller than him, cuter than him—probably in an effort to make himself feel less girly than he knew he often appeared. The spirit was bigger, stronger, and more commanding than he was, but he'd still felt that electric thrill at the other's brief touch. Even now, his body hummed where the spirit had pressed against him.

"No," he grunted to himself, finally looking away from the emerald. "Stop thinking about it." He would sleep for now and hopefully in the morning, in the light of a new day, his desires would lose their darkness.

But even in his sleep, the spirit haunted him.

A hallway spread across Ryou's dream, with two doors on either side, the ghost leaning casually against a wall. Only, here he didn't look like a ghost; his form had acquired a worrying solidness. If his flickering, ethereal presence had been disturbing, this too-human, living body was downright threatening.

"What's going on?" Ryou groaned, wishing for some sort of reprieve from the spirit. How was he ever supposed to organize his thoughts if he was being constantly thrown off balance? "Where are we?"

"Your body is sleeping," the tanned boy answered nonchalantly. "And this is a bridge between our souls, forged by the Sennen Ring. But enough of that," he shook his head, moving away from the wall. "We have more important things to contemplate."

Ryou sat on the floor tiredly. "Are you ever going to leave me alone?"

The spirit ignored his question, crouching down until they were facing each other eye to eye. "I need a name," he told the smaller boy. "It's oddly fitting that you have more than one, seeing as there are two of us now." He smiled as the joy of acquisition burned in his blue gaze. "Which name aren't you using?"

Ryou blinked. "Excuse me?"

The tanned boy cocked his head to the side. "You can't expect me to believe that you're using both names," he responded critically. "You don't need two of them. I, on the other hand, have no name at all and since I am you, only a little different, I figured I would take whichever name you weren't using."

"It doesn't work like that," Ryou shook his head. "Bakura is my family name—something to identify my house and bloodline—and Ryou is my given name—something for friends and family to call me," he explained. "I have to use both of them."

"That seems peculiarly excessive to me," the spirit raised a brow, "but I suppose it makes a small amount of sense in this ever-growing world of yours. Still, necessity breeds compromise; you're going to learn how to share."

"First you take my peace of mind, now you're taking one of my names—I can't wait to see what you take next," the pale boy grumbled darkly. After a moment, he responded, "Ryou is personal; it's my name. Bakura, on the other hand, is a family name and, in some twisted way, I guess you're family."

"So I'm Bakura now, hm?" the spirit hummed. "I like the sound of that." He threw his arms wide, gesturing grandly. "Bakura, King of Thieves," he announced importantly. "You have to admit, it's got a certain ring to it."

King of Thieves? A horrible thought struck Ryou at the other boy's words, and a suspicion began to boil deep in his gut. "Where did you get those jewels?"

Bakura grinned widely, but didn't answer.

"Oh god," Ryou groaned, his head slumping into his hands.

"You really needn't worry," the thief soothed, laying a warm hand on his shoulder. "No one will be able to tell it was you."

Ryou's head shot up, his eyes rounded in horror. "What?" he snapped instantly.

"Well," Bakura replied, drumming his fingers on the pale boy's shoulder, "much like with the names, I don't have a body of my own—so I borrowed yours."

"My life is over," Ryou whispered to himself. "I'll be locked in a jail cell by morning."

Bakura rolled his eyes at the smaller boy's dramatics. "I was unfailingly careful about the whole thing," he said plainly. "So as long as you don't go shouting it from the rooftops, there's no reason anyone should connect you to the robbery."

"I don't have that kind of luck," Ryou shook his head.

"You make your own luck," Bakura told him, a strange note lacing his voice, "and you take whatever risks are necessary."

The smaller boy frowned, saying nothing.

With a sigh, Bakura stood, turning to one of the doors. "Come with me," he commanded over his shoulder. "There's something I want you to see."

Curious now, Ryou stood and followed the ghost. The room on the other side of the door was like a great hall—a marble ceiling soared high above the stone floor, giant pillars supporting its heavy weight. Oil basins were liberally scattered throughout the room, burning hotly and casting their flickering light. From the murky shadows that lined the walls, something wavered, showing off hints of gold.

"This way," Bakura directed, leading the pale boy toward where he had seen the movement.

Once they drew close enough, the tanned ghost reached out a hand, pulling back a dark curtain to reveal another room. This room was much smaller in scale, but completely packed from wall to wall. A mountain of riches rose from the floor, claiming the room. Gold statuettes mingled with jewelry of the finest craftsmanship, bolts of delicate cloth peeked out from piles of precious stones, and endless scrolls littered beautiful furniture.

Ryou's eyes darted from left to right, unsure where to look, or which little treasure held his interest the most. Somewhere, deep in his soul, that misdirected love began to burn.

"The greater the risk," Bakura whispered in his ear from behind, "the greater the reward. Sometimes, you just have to chance it to get what you really want."
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A/N: A lot of Bakura's dialog is heavy with innuendo—this was on purpose. When Viz and Shonen Jump translated the scene in the manga where Ryou and his Yami first meet, Bakura's lines ended up being so easily misconstrued that I still laugh when I think about it. As a tribute to that moment where B/R was perfectly canon, I've decided to write a lot of Bakura's lines after the same fashion.

Props go to Ergott for this story (because she instigated this whole thing, and I'm blatantly ripping off her style) and Metanaito-Sama (for all her help and encouragement).

Please review!

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Time Is Running Out belongs to the band Muse. I am not making any money off of this story.