As In Mine

I know I have been neglecting my writing, I’m sorry .__. This story is kind of like my baby, and with this chapter, it’s going to end, finally. Thank you for all your support, and check out my other fiction on the way, too!


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Malik woke, not even two hours after he had fallen asleep against Bakura’s side, his head pillowed on the broad chest.Well, not anymore now, because the thief had sat up like lightning had struck him, and Malik’s head had dropped…not on the cushion beneath them, but onto the somewhat hard floor in front of it. „Ow….“

„Shhh.“, Bakura shushed him, three fingertips gently pressing against lips; amazing how he had found them so clearly, even in the dark, and not even looking at him. The thief was staring at the plane of the tent that would come open and for a long time, nothing happened at all, so that Malik was sure his lover was hallucinating and made to sit up, when something…someone…screamed, and suddenly, there was light. Much like the light Malik had fallen asleep too, the subtle, orange flickering of the bonfire in the middle of the camp, comforting, exciting, somewhat faint and dim because their tent was in the second row going from the plaza and the tents in front of them were deluding the light as well as the sounds of celebrating and dancing, laughing people having fun, talking to their loved ones.

This was panic. Chaos.

„Get dressed.“, Bakura muttered, standing to do the same, in a speed Malik hadn’t seen him move in before, and tried to do the same…wincing and yelping when he actually did try to sit up. The pain shooting up his back was payback for the amorous time he had had with Bakura before, and it was limiting his movement right now. The look in the thief’s eyes was as tense as the way he held his body, scooping him up and more or less dressing him, urging him to hurry. Malik blinked as the white haired man pressed a kiss, unusually tender for the situation, to his forehead, above his brow…he could feel the desperation behind it. „Come.“

He yelped as he was scooped up as Bakura figured he would need too long to walk himself and they left the tent, a gasp stuck in Malik’s throat, a growl sounding from Bakura’s chest.


The camp was on fire.

And it was not the bonfire out of control, it was mere embers on the ground; burning arrows came from the borders to the desert. They hit the planes of tents, the dry fabric burning so easily, much faster than the arrow itself. Holes were appearing, gaping as if bitten away; Malik had to turn his face into Bakura’s chest when someone ran past them, screaming sounds that did not sound human anymore because there was an arrow stuck in his thigh and burned clothes and flesh alike. The stench made the blond cough and gag for a moment, then Bakura set him down.

„Malik….hey, look at me.“ Strong fingers were softly grasping his chin, turning his face back to stare Bakura in the eyes. „I need you to stay here. Right here.“, he pressed, until the boy nodded. „I will be right back for you, I have to find Marik. Don’t move.“ Another kiss, to his tense mouth this time, and he didn’t even have the time to return it before Bakura was gone again, from view because of the smoke slowly curling around the camp, obscuring everyone’s view, and from hearing even though he was shouting. Someone bumped into Malik, jostling him, and thin arms wound around him from behind to pull him back, into the shadow of one of the still intact tents. He struggled until he noticed Marik’s wife, pulling him into relative safety, and sat him down in the midst of a group of children. He recognized one or two faces from the group that had welcomed them yesterday. The little faces were dirty and there were streaks on their cheeks that made it easy to figure out that they were crying. He wrapped his arms around the closest child, who was whimpering, and pulled it close.

Slowly, the screams were replaced by shouts and yelled commands, in the strange language the camp people spoke in when among themselves and Malik realized that whoever it was attacking the camp, Marik knew what he was doing…somehow. The men of the camp were just as organized as the Pharaoh’s army, and…fuck.

They were here for him. Leaving the desert ruins with Bakura finally claimed ist price. He should have stayed where he was, the cold no matter, and now he had endangered all those people. People that had welcomed him. People that had treated him like family, even if he had just been here for a few hours. He had felt as if he belonged, finally. They were all going to die if he hid here and did nothing! Forgetting the pain, the fear that both wanted to lock his body up, to stay where he was relatively safe, he got up, raising a palm in a soothing motion as Marik’s wife started to grab him and pull him back, he walked into the smoke. It made him cough again, and it burned his eyes, but he walked on, following the yells in the language he understood.

*~*

Bakura meanwhile had found Marik, also following sounds only as seeing was almost impossible. Alongside him, the tall blond was glaring,and snarling under his breath.

„This is my fault.“, Bakura said, glancing at his friend, and blinked as the other merely waved his hand disquietingly. „But I…“

„Bakura, this is the wrong moment to be regretful.“, he growled, his large hand clapping onto Bakura’s shoulderand squeezed it. „You know the facts…what you find in the desert no one owns.“ He grinned over at him, and looked relieved when Bakura nodded. „And now, let’s go kick some moron ass.“ As if magically, their horses appeared out of the smoke, led by two of the younger men…teens, if even that, and not allowed to help fighting. They looked put off by that, too, sulking even as the camp leader and the thief king swung themselves up and kicked the animals into motion.

„There goes glory…“, one sighed. The other smacked the back of his head. „No, there goes fame. And you should be glad we don’t have to be there.“ The first nodded, looking after them, as far as he could see.

A million thoughts raced through Bakura’s head as his horse followed Marik’s to the border of the camp. Mostly, they were laced with worry…about the camp, about the people living here, about himself, because he knew if the guards got their hands on him, he wouldn’t live to see dawn, and mostly about Malik. Even if he hadn’t known the boy for very long, he was desperate to keep the slender blond with him at all times, and especially out of the clutches of the damn royal brat. It wasn’t even the fact that Malik could get hurt, even be killed in this; he would gladly follow him into oblivion if this last terrible option came true. That thought, more a decision really, scared him more than the arrows making whizzing sounds in the air too close for his liking, more than the flames engulfing his second home; even more than his own death close by the hands of another without him really getting any glory, fame…a small part of the country thought him infamous, but that was only a small part. When he had been younger, he set his mind to becoming feared by the whole country, upper and lower Egypt should tremble at the thought of him. Now he trembled at the thought of losing Malik. It was the level of dedication to another person that terrified him, the decision to follow him into death that was so clear and easily decided. It was something he had never felt before.

As they had figured, the Pharaoh’s guards were here to reclaim what was supposedly the brat’s. And behind the lines of archers, behind men that were double his size and strength, the royal brat was high on a pure white steed, ominously glowing in the pale light the moon supplied to their battle scene. He was too far away to be affected by the fury the fire supplied. Coward, Bakura thought with a grimace. Figures, hiding behind capable men. It only fueled his own rage.

There was a flash of molten gold at the corner of his eye. His head whipped around and he stared as Malik walked through the border of the camp, incredulously, eyes widening.

„No…“

Instead of holding the line next to Marik, he yanked his horse around, a small part of his mind feeling sorry for what his animal had to put up with tonight, and forced it to dash the four, maybe five tent lengths towards the boy, and stopped it between him and the archers. „What are you doing?! I told you to stay where you were safe!“

„I don’t have to do anything you say!“,Malik spit back, glaring up at him, angry to be treated like one of the children back in the camp village. „This is my fault, they will stop if I just go back with them!“ The white haired one rolled his eyes before glaring down at him. „Listen to me, you idiot, they will burn the camp to the ground anyways, whether you come out alive or not, whether he gets you back or not…this is about revenge, not about you, not even about me!“ He scowled as the blond still tried to push on, and dismounted his horse, grabbing the slender upper arm to pull him back, behind the nervous animal, for a minute shelter. „Malik, please, this is idiotic.“

„Did you just call me an idiot?“, he hissed, smacking the hand away, only to have it return, wrapped around his waist with a desperation that surprised him long enough to be pulled back. Lavender met dark blue, gazes locked in one another for a moment that seemed to last for an eternity, and Bakura’s free hand came up to cup his cheek, stroking the apple of it. „Malik, please…you have to stay inside the camp. You’re safer there.“

„The camp is burning to the ground right now! How am I safe in there?“

The boy had a good point. Another swipe of the rough pad of his thumb over the soft, tanned skin, he pulled him closer to himself, his mouth at the boy’s ear. „I just want you safe. That is all.“ Malik opened his mouth to protest, cut short as an arrow came to stick in the sand, right next to his ankle. „Oh, shit…“ He yelped as he was swung up onto the horse before it really had embedded itself in the grains, Bakura behind him in less than a blink, reaching around him to grasp the reigns. The blond hadn’t much time to get used being on a horse again, and damn, his behind hurt like hell, but he clung to the strong forearms. „What about the camp?!“

„The camp has enough capable men protecting it, Marik is a good leader. Don’t worry. I have to get you out of here.“ A soft kiss was pressed against the back of his ear. „Trust me.“ Taking the reigns into one hand, he wrapped the other around the small waist. Making sure no one followed them yet, he leaned forth again. „Are you alright?“

Malik nodded with a small sigh. „Sure, I’m alright…but I’m worried about everyone back there. Well, and my ass hurts.“ The short laugh Bakura coughed out was soothing to the both of them. Malik leaned back against the broad chest behind him. The arm tightened around him. Idly, he noticed the frantic pace Bakura was forcing his horse into, even as he held him as if still in the tent, still in safety. The hand that laid at his waist gently stroked the bare skin there. „Are you cold?“ The blond shook his head. Sand was kicked up and settled slowly behind them again like a cloud.

Bakura knew, the only way to get Malik into safety was getting him into the city. Both of them. Not that is was very far; usually it took him about a halfday to get back and forth between the camp and the next town. The blond was silent for now, so he could let his mind wander…how had they found them? How had they found the way to the camp? He had always thought, always ever since stumbling into it as a mere ten-year-old after he had gotten lost in the desert. His parents had not found him there, and Marik had told him that only people who had been here before would find the camp again. Marik had been a mere prince back then…his father had been leader, a tall, dark man with a full beard that hid most of his face; the only way he could tell the man was smiling had been the wrinkles around his eyes deepening merrily. When Bakura had returned to his village, years later, it had been…gone. Just like that, as if no one had ever lived there. Only ruins had greeted him, and it took another year until he had found someone that could tell him what had happened.

Ever since then, he wished nothing but misery to the royal brat and his family.

And now that he had found the greatest prize he could have found, ever, in his whole career, the damn bastard once again stepped him and was about to ruin his life. In front of him, Malik made a soft, choked sound, and he realized he had tightened his grip on him as if the blond would be ripped away from him any moment. „Sorry.“, he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into the soft blond hair. „I…“ He didn’t have the chance to continue his statement, a choked cough coming from him as an arrowhead nestled firmly into the back of his shoulder. „Oh…fuck.“

Malik blinked at the strange sounds, turned around at the waist…and gasped. „No…“ There was already a thin trail of blood trickling from the corner of the white haired’s mouth, but he pressed on, faster, a harder gallop, his larger body shielding the smaller inf ront of him from any harm. „Mal…I…“

„You have to stop, Bakura, you will…“ He groaned in agitation as a hand slid over his mouth to silence him. More whizzing sounds, as well as those of something solid embedding into pliant flesh. And suddenly, Malik felt himself falling, the arm around his waist did not let go as Bakura fell off the horse and into the sand, groaning as he landed on his back,forcing the arrows deeper into him. In the distance, a sand cloud announced the riders. „See, they are after me!“, Malik grumbled before focusing on what was important…bringing Bakura’s head into his lap, against his chest, leaning against him for balance. „Bakura….open your eyes, please…“ The thief groaned and did, just a little, and smiled up at him. „This is heaven enough already…I can’t ask for more.“

The blond scowled, but brushed the white bangs away from the captivating eyes. „Don’t talk like that…they’re almost here, you have to get up.“ He swallowed thickly, on Bakura’s bare chest, he could see the point of one arrow beneath the skin, pressing it up, but hadn’t broken it yet. „Please get up…“ His mind surely knew that Bakura would not get up anymore though.

„I love you…“

„You have to get up, Kura.“ Even Malik himself could hear that his voice was choked, barely registered the tears running down his face though. „They’re coming closer, Kura, we have to…“ The white haired nodded, though no matter how hard he did try, his body wouldn’t move anymore. „I love you, Malik. You won’t forget, right?“ Still in tears, the blond shook his head. „No,I won’t…“

Bakura smiled, raising a hand and brushed it over the boy’s cheek. „Say it back?“

„I love you too…“

Lips met in midair, Malik’s head awkwardly bent, Bakura’s lips bloody, but neither cared much…the slender blond was still holding the body when the guards had already rounded them, and the Pharaoh rode up and broke through the lines.

„That’s what you get for denying me, boy.“, he snarled, dark crimson eyes looking down distastefully at the pair. „Let go of that and come home with me. All that chase was so unnecessary…“ He closed his mouth at the glare he got from the jewel eyes. „Malik…give him up.“ All the blond did was hold his beloved tighter. „Oh for the Gods‘ sake, get him away from the corpse, you morons.“

„I am not going back with you. I’d rather die right here!“

„Be reasonable, Malik, you could have a great life in the palace…luxury…anything you want at your fingertips…I’ll be good to you, and I won’t punish you for running away. Let that go.“

Shifting, Malik pulled the lifeless body tighter against himself still, and a little higher. His hand brushed one of the arrows still in Bakura’s back, warm and slick with blood. He looked around himself, at the faces of the guards, ranging from smug to uncomfortably watching him, the face of the man he hated most…a trait he shared with his beloved…and he thought his statement over. Without Bakura, the night suddenly seemed even darker, even colder….his days unbearable from now on. Empty. He didn’t need an empty body, he figured. Bakura had taken his heart with him when he…left…so it was dead already anyways, was it? Sighing, Malik nodded as if complying, let the body very gently slide to the ground, and got up. With a quickness he didn’t know in himself, as if his body was being led by someone else, he grabbed the sword hanging at the side of the nearest guard. „Before I spend my life with you, I will gladly end it.“

Before the guards could make a grab at him, before the Pharaoh could spit out another of his lies, the blade had found a temporary home in the slender body. Malik gasped…fuck, it hurt more than he would have. For the fact that he had thought his heart dead, it was surprisingly hard trying to pump the blood through his body suddenly. He knew he was falling, but he didn’t feel the impact. He did notice Bakura’s scent though, something he loved, and he smiled, curling against the thief’s side. Around him, commands were yelled, he was jostled, the sword was reclaimed after all. But everything was perfect…he would be with Bakura again. Forever, this time.

From atop his horse, the Pharaoh sneered, unwillingly watching the pretty eyes close, a slender hand grasp at the crimson cloak the damn thief wore. „Damn it all to hell.“, he gruffed, turning his face away. Then he sighed…and gave a command.

„Bury them together, if they love each other so much.“ He turned the horse, and in the distance, the sun rose over the horizon, dousing the desert in a fresh, rosy color. It seemed fitting, he thought.

Fitting for an ending like this.


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Aww….my baby is over. Thank you all for your support,and I’d still like to know what you think.