The Return

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

I read that in the manga, Pegasus was following Shadi because he saw him dragging away a man who tried to steal the Millennium Ring. When Shadi put the Ring over the thief's neck, it ki him him in the manner described below. I may be off, though--there was another version that said he burned to death from the inside out. But either way, the point is that if they weren't Ryou Bakura, they died brutally.

Exodus is the chapter of the Bible that deals with the slavery of the Israelites and their escape from Egypt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first warning he had that something was happening to Bakura was the burst of pain he felt through their mindlink. The boy had never been good at keeping his thoughts hidden, no matter how hard he tried, so he was mildly surprised he hadn't sensed anything sooner.

When he materialized, the scene before him wasn't particularly new. Bakura was curled up on concrete behind what looked like a row of shops; the boy had an arm clutching his waist, and blood was seeping through onto his uniform. A foot away, another teenager was gaping at him and holding a knife. And the Millennium Ring.

His eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed. Someone had managed to take the Ring from Bakura without him knowing it? A suspicion grew in his mind, and he decided the boy needed to learn a valuable lesson about the Ring's curse.

The teen--who didn't look much older than the boy himself--had taken a step back. "Where'd you come from?" the attacker demanded.

He ignored the question and stepped forward. "You wanted this, I assume?" he said, wrenching the Ring from the teen\andsands before he could move to stop him.

"Hey!" The attacker lunged forward n atn attempt to get it back, brandishing the bloodied knife threateningly. "Give it back, asshole, or you'll end up like him!"

"Here," he said, and threw the Ring's cord over the teenager's neck.

"That's right," the attacker grinned. One of his front teeth was broken, he noticed. "Now don't move...." The teen was cut os ths the Ring began to glow. He frowned. "What the hell?"

He watched Bakura out of the corner of his eye, not missing the glimmer of hope in the boy's eyes that eclipsed even the pain of his wounds. The Ring glowed brighter, and then the spikes that dangled loosely straightened and drove themselves through the attacker's chest.

Because he was listening for it, he caught Bakura's horrified gasp over the teen's strangled scream. The attacker fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground, and he casuapullpulled the Ring out of the teen's flesh and off of his neck.

He turned around and bent a knee in front of Bakura's white face, giving his other a small grin. "If you're ever in trouble and I'm too busy, just get them to take the Ring," he said in a mock-friendly voice. "It can only be worn by you, you know--so it'll take care of them quick." That wasn't the entire truth, but the boy didn't need any details.

Bakura stared dumbly at ttherther teenager, who was struggling to breathe. He judged from the attacker's wheezing that the Ring's points had punctured at least one lung, if not both. The boy swallowed hard, then bit down a whimper and looked away.

He eyed Bakura's hand where it pressed over his wound, disturbed by the amount of blood seeping from underneath it. He shifted and crouched, lifting the boy's hand, and Bakura flinched away from him.

"Hold still, idiot," he ordered, tossing the hand aside and opening the coat. The white shirt underneath looked even worse, and he was beginning to wonder how to get the boy home without attracting unwanted attention. He pulled up the shirt, gazing at the cut, and used the tail of Bakura's coat to wipe away the blood in order to have a better look. The boy laid limp, eyes closed.

Hm. I didn't realize it had a modicum of sense, he thought, sparing the unconscious delinquent another glance. The cut had been angled so that, though the wound was shallow, it would bleed profusely. A useful trick, if you knew it.

"Stop sniveling," he muttered. "You'll live." He stood up and peeled off the coat that matched Bakura's own before removing his shirt. He twirled the fabric several times, then tied it around Bakura's waist, creating a bandage that would hold the rest of the blood. Then he pulled his coat back on and righted the rest of the boy's clothing. "There. Now get up and go home."

The boy tried to obey, but his gaze fell again to the teenager who'd jumped him and he slipped, falling back to the concrete. "Aagh!" Bakura cried as his ribs hit the ground.

He growled. Damned weakling. He went back into the Ring, then threw Bakura into his soul room and took over. He grimaced at the pain in his side, ignored the ache in his palms where the concrete had scraped them, and stood up.

Aside from the knife wound, there didn't seem to be any other damage...which only added to his suspicion that Bakura had given the Ring over without a fight. The delinquent had most likely stabbed him in order to get away cleanly, explaining why he had no warning of this occurrence beforehand.

He glared down at the teenager and kicked him slightly, drawing a pained groan. Not dead, then. But it wouldn't be much longer. And left here he'd bleed out soon enough. You'll have to keep the Ring under your uniform for a while, he informed Bakura.

[You killed him.] The boy's voice should have been stronger since he was no longer feeling his body's pain, but the words were whispered anyway.

Exactly. Now he can't take revenge on you.

[You didn't have to kill him for that!] Bakura yelled, and the mercy in his other's voice set his teeth on edge.

Don't fool yourself, boy--you're the one who did this. You gave him the Ring, he thought darkly.

The boy didn't respond to that, and the silence confirmed his suspicions. You litbastbastard, he hissed. Did you think I wouldn't track you down even if you did manage to get rid of me?!

[I don't care,] Bakura replied dully. [At least I'd be free.] Then he curled up on himself and broke the conversation off.

He considered forcing the boy to take over and walk the rest of the way, but knew logically that he'd never make it. So he clenched his jaw and saved his anger for a later time.

~~~
It was a fifteen-block walk to the area where the boy lived. By the time he made his way home, blood had begun to soak through even the shirt and he was rattling off a continuous string of curses in his mind, the majority directed at Bakura who was still curled and incommunicable in his soul room.

Once he was inside the house and saw that the man was gone again, he separated, casting off the boy's body. Bakura sank to the ground, gasping and clutching his side at suddsudden return to pain. He gripped the boy's arm and forced him up the stairs, dumping him brusquely on the bed. Bakura tensed as he stripped off the bloodied coat and shirt, leaving on the makeshift bandage, but relaxed slightly once he turned away and left.

Down the hallway he rattled open the drawers of the bathroom and frowned at their contents. The medicines all looked similar to him, so he simply removed several tubes and began sniffing them. The third one smelled like something the boy used when hurt, so he snatched it and a handful of gauze bandages and re-entered the room.

Bakura was still lying on the bed, not having moved from where he'd been put. He frowned again as he took in his other's form, sweaty and paler than usual. The wound wasn't mortal; how could his other half be so weak as to be laid low?

Glaring, he wrenched the bandage/shirt off, tearing a small cry from Bakura. He swiped at the old drying blood and the fresh spurt that came from his rough ministrations, then smeared the cream over the stab wound, ignoring the pained whimpers of the boy. He wrapped the wound with a detached and precise motion and wiped his hands on the shirt, figuring any extra damage would not be noticed. Then he pulled the desk chair up to the bed and sat down, staring at Bakura.

The boy didn't move for a while, simply breathing hard as the pain ran up his side. Finally, Bakura opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to face him. "Why?"

"You have no worth broken," he said flatly.

The boy flinched at that. "No," he said more slowly, "the Ring, why did it...it...."

"Kill that garbage?" he finished, watching Bakura jerk and shut his eyes at the bluntness in his voice. "That's no concern of yours. Magic." He paused for a moment before lowering his voice. "Never do that again. Or you will regret it."

Bakura's eyes opened. "You can't hurt me any more than you have," he said in a quiet, dull voice.

It wouldn't do to have the weakling lose fear in him yet. He wasn't finished remaking him. He reached out and placed a finger on the hollow of the boy's throat, feeling the pulse jump under his touch. "Are you certain?" he chuckled. "I've been rather lenient to you, Bakura. Especially of late. Do you think you would last under my true anger?" he askedhe rhe ran the finger down the soft skin of his other's chest, following the path of the Millennium Ring's cord. He let the words linger in the air, knowing Bakura's imagination would fill in the details.

The boy shivered once as he traced the hollow spaces of the Ring's design on his other's chest, letting his nail press into the skin. There was another pause while the air in the room stretched thin between them, and then Bakura spoke. "I won't," he promised quietly, eyes closed.

He rewarded the boy's acquiescence by brushing his knuckles over his temple, pushing away some of the stray hairs that stuck damply to his face. Bakura pulled away, facing the ceiling again.

With a brief frown that turned into a stony expression, he sat back in the chair and watched the boy.

After another half-hour, he had not moved from his position. Bakura had fallen into a restless slumber, twitching every few minutes or so and occasionally mumbling sounds incoherent even to his sharp ears. When one of the restless movements put pressure on his side, Bakura moaned quietly, mouth staying parted after he unconsciously twisted away from the pain. The spirit's eyes lowered slightly, and he shifted.

Beautiful, he thought as he leaned forward and rubbed a thumb over his other's lower lip, dragging the soft flesh down slightly. Ryou had such an innocent and trustworthy face...it would be his perfect front. No one would be able to stand against him once he'd been won over; they would be so caught in Ryou's kind eyes and brilliant smile that they would never even notice as he came around back to slit their throats. The Millennium Items would be his in a matter of months, as soon as he taught Ryou how to seduce the bearers so they would not notice his thieving. The boy....

...had tried to betray him. He snatched his hand away as if scorched and settled back in the chair. That was unacceptable. It signified a failure on his part in drawing Bakura to his side, a fact which irritated him. He was tired of waiting and his patience was wearing thin from wandering through the boy's mind, pushing him to fall into line but never too hard. Bakura really would be no use to him broken.

But he was wearying of this fragile boy and his persistent hold to goodness. It was interfering with his plans. He let out a hiss of breath and stood up, shoving the chair back violently. He glared down at Bakura with a clenched jaw, raised his fist...and took in the boy's pallid, unconscious face.

He let the hand drop and returned to his soul room, slamming the door with an audible echo that woke Bakura up.

~~~~~
Two weeks later, Ryou was able to move around normally again. School had been a problem, but he'd managed to melt into the scenery and keep anyone from noticing his discomfort. Well, actually, Joey had asked if anything was wrong while he'd been tutoring him, but before he could stumble his way through a denial the blond glanced at his watch and said he had to run. Ryou suspected he had a part-time job, even though Domino High didn't allow them, but he kept his tone light and called good-bye as Joey raced out of the library.

That had only been a few days ago, however, so he had still been doing fine. He didn't have to wear the bandages anymore now, which was good because he was almost failing PE from his lack of participation.

Ryou was currently picking through the living room of his house, looking for something of his mother's that had mistakenly come to the new house with them. His English mother had ties with the Anglican Church, and after the divorce when he and his father moved here, he remembered seeing a Bible among the contents of the unpacked boxes. He knew it had been put on a bookshelf somewhere in the living room, but he couldn't find it.

His father wasn't a particularly religious man, and Ryou hadn't been to a church since the move. He had actually stopped going earlier--much to his mother's chagrin, he was sure, if she had happened to know--sometime after he had been given the Ring. He couldn't explain the obvious conflict between the religion and the magic of his Millennium Ring, and had therefore given up the one that didn't directly interfere in his life. He hadn't regretted the decision much.

But now someone had...someone had died because of him. Died. He'd seen other things like it--his friends in the hospital, in comas, all because they'd agreed to play a game with him, but....He couldn't take any more nightmares about that teenager's face as the Ring killed him. Ryou would look to anything that could help him at the moment. And so he was standing on a chair in the living room, scanning the top shelf of the bookcase for a Bible that had been misplaced during the flurry of moving away.

He finally found it in the top left shelf, underneath an old cookbook that looked as if it had absorbed most of the dust in the house. He tugged the Book free and brushed haphazardly at the cover, succeeding only in getting dust in his face and sneezing.

He scrambled off the chair and sat down carefully on the couch, holding the Bible as if it might find him unclean and bite. After a second, Ryou opened the Book randomly and glanced at the page. It was the first page of Exodus.

"...so the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites and worked them ruthlessly. They made their lives bitter with hard labor in brick and mortar and with all kinds of work in the fields; in all their hard labor the Egyptians used them ruthlessly."

Something in Ryou broke. He shoved the Bible aside blindly and slid to the floor, not even acknowledging the pain the movement caused in his side as he curled up with a shaking arm over his eyes. He wasn't crying, though. He hadn't been able to cry for a long time; his other had wrung too many tears out of him for any to be left.

Soon he felt the same splitting sensation in his chest that signified his other was separating. A foot prodded his leg, avoiding the still sore spot on his side. The spirit snorted in dissatisfaction. "Pathetic."

Then it sat down beside him. Ryou blinked as he was pulled up to a sitting position and then cradled between his other's legs. The spirit wrapped its arms around his chest, holding Ryou in place. He kept his eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge the presence he could never escape.

"Are you still dwelling on that, boy?" the spirit asked condescendingly. "Time's passed. Move on."

Ryou's hands clenched into fists. "You stood there as he died!" he accused, his voice shaking.

"Actually," the spirit smirked, "the wounds weren't enough for him to die that quickly. He was still breathing when I walked away. Not for long, of course."

Ryou felt his blood run cold. No...he was...he must have been...it wouldn't have....

Of course it would. Why should the spirit show any mercy to a stranger when he was so cruel to him?

"How could you?" Ryou forced the words out, even though his voice was so thick he was surprised that it was audible. He was too horrified to care about the trouble his insolence would get him into.

One of the spirit's hands dropped from its place around his chest and dug into his side, almost ripping the scab open again.

"Aaunh!" Ryou yelled. Tears of pain blurred his gaze as he bent over instinctively.

"He didn't share your high morals," his other hissed. "If it weren't for me, that would have been you."

"If it weren't for you," Ryou gritted out, "it never would have happened." Then he bit his tongue as he realized what he'd said.

He expected some kind of painful retribution, only to be surprised when his other started chuckling instead. The arm around his chest tightened, pulling him flush against the spirit's chest.

"Really?" his other asked. "Perhaps not the exact details. But still, someday, someone would have pulled you into an alley, made good use of that pretty body of yours, cleaned out your pockets and left you for dead." The words were murmured softly next to his ear, conveying a sense of intimacy that made his stomach clench. "How would you stop them if I wasn't there?"

Ryou bowed his head. I couldn't. I couldn't and I know it and you know it and I know you do.

[Indeed,] the spirit answered smugly. He slid an arm up Ryou's chest to his neck, tilting his head to nip at the skin on his jaw.

Don't... Ryou thought, even as he let his head fall back to rest on his other's shoulder.

[Quiet.] The hand on his waist slid beneath his shirt, wandering along the skin of his stomach. Then the spirit pushed Ryou onto the floor, pinning his wrists in a bruising grip.

~~~
An hour later, Ryou placed the Bible back on the shelf, under the cookbook. No one could have noticed it had been moved.


~