Going On

Disclaimer - Still don't own them.

Author's Notes - Here's the next chapter. And if you're in the holiday spirit, swing by and check out Twelve Days. You should find it amusing.

Chapter 5 – Darkness Rising


Crimson eyes opened slowly, staring up at the ceiling above in confusion before the events of the last twenty four hours were recalled. With a sigh, Yami rose from the bed, wincing as he pulled the skin across his ribs and put weight on his injured leg, but not letting it deter him from his course. Limping across the beige carpet slowly, he leaned against the wall next to the window, staring out at the approaching night absently as he thought.
The gods were surely laughing at him, he thought dryly. It hadn’t been enough for him to sacrifice his life to protect the world back in his time . . . instead of simply going on to the afterlife, they had trapped his soul within a piece of glittering, unique jewelry, only to bring him back to suffer five thousand years in the future. Having exiled himself, he’d hoped to gain some measure of peace, even if it was floating within a silent void instead of going on to the afterlife. Instead, his exile had been a tortured existence of nightmarish memories and fragmented dreams. But even that would have been preferable to this. Now he had been sent back to protect Yugi once again from his own demonic other self, forced to face the very things that had sent him into exile to begin with.
How was he supposed to face the boy he had come to love? The events that had transpired two years ago still lay like a dark ocean between them, full of darkness and pain, self-loathing and guilt. Simply saying he was sorry to his hikari would never be enough. There was nothing that would ever be enough to erase what had happened to Yugi, and the things his young aibou had witnessed about him.
He shivered as a memory of the fear in Yugi’s eyes surfaced within his mind. Yugi had every right to fear him . . . Kage was merely a part of himself, which meant that everything that demented fiend had done was something he was fully capable of doing as well. This was the heart of the dilemma . . . he was no longer sure of who he was, or what his purpose in this life was supposed to be. The questions constantly tormented him, making him wonder just how safe everyone was for him to be around. His confidence had been shattered by the fact that some part of him had enjoyed the things Kage had done to his friends, and he worried that if given the chance he would not have done the same.
There was also the matter of having no memories upon which to look back and say that he would not have done such things. He had no idea what he had been before Yugi had awakened him . . . no idea what type of person he had been before his soul was sealed into the Puzzle. True, the legends said he had been a good ruler, that he had sacrificed himself to save the world . . . but history was notoriously known for being written by the victors, who always put the best view upon things. What if he had sacrificed himself, not to save the world, but for his own selfish purposes? What if he had actually planned to destroy the world, only to have it backfire and end with him here, with no memory? There had to be a reason why Bakura hated him, didn’t there?
These were the questions that tormented him, and made him afraid. He did not want to be alive, did not want to face the aftermath of his greatest and most dangerous mistake. He did not want to face Yugi and the knowledge that what they could have had was forever beyond reach because of his foolishness.
Yami sighed, the crimson eyes closing wearily at the heartache that ripped through him. He would have to see Yugi at some point . . . his darkness certainly wouldn’t leave his aibou alone now that he was loose again. But could he truly face the one person he loved most in this world, and bear to see that fear still within those amethyst eyes?
So much had happened . . . and he’d never had the chance to tell Yugi just how much he loved him. That love was both a comfort and a pain, because nothing could ever come of it. Not now . . . not after what his shadow had done.
Leaning into the window, Yami rested his forehead against the cool glass, and in the silence of his isolation, wept for what had been lost and could never be regained.


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

Marik propped his motorcycle onto it’s kickstand, approaching the soft blue ranch house Bakura and Ryou had made their home with a great deal of trepidation. What in the world was he supposed to say to Yami? ‘Oh yeah, Malik says your strong enough to handle this, but only if Yugi is with you’? Not damn likely.
Knocking on the door, he grinned as he heard swearing and Ryou giggling insanely. As he’d suspected, he’d interrupted something in the works. They’d all learned, rather to Ryou’s embarrassment, that Bakura was quite happily making up for five thousand years of celibacy with an appetite that was all but insatiable.
“This had better be important Marik,” the yami growled as he opened the door, his eyes more red than brown as he glared at the blonde Egyptian who had interrupted his fun.
“Sorry Bakura,” he murmured, sliding past the frustrated former spirit easily. “I need to speak with Yami.” He nodded and smiled at Ryou when the hikari appeared in the doorway to the living room, somewhat rumpled but grinning at his yami’s back before returning the silent greeting.
“Hi Marik,” Ryou said, walking up behind Bakura and sliding his arms around his agitated other comfortingly. “Yami’s in the last bedroom on the right side . . . we figured he’d want to be as far away from any stray noise as he could.”
“Considering you have this tendancy to scream . . .” Bakura added. Ryou blushed red, which only served to amuse his yami further. “I’m not sure if he is conscious yet, Marik, but you might as well wake him up if he’s not. He can’t sleep this problem away, as much as he might want to.” Marik nodded, blonde hair waving slightly with the movement and moved off down the hallway, trying to ignore the gaze that he knew was pinned onto his backside. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.
As insatiable as he was, Bakura had taken a rather keen interest in his once partner in crime’s lack of a sex life. With that in mind, the former Tomb Robber, enlisting the aid of his hikari in the process, had been trying for the past year to get him to join them. But he was far too busy with his duty to Yami, trying to keep Yugi sane and help him continue with his life, to even consider it. Besides which, the thief had a penchant for blood, which he would never satisfy with Ryou . . . and Marik was not even going to think of what that would mean if he joined in the ‘festivities’.
Coming to the closed door, he centered himself and extended his senses, trying to sense whether the Pharaoh within was awake or no . . . and staggered as a wave of desolation swept through him. He gasped, his back thudding into the wall, heart pounding in his throat as he stared at the door, stunned by the magnitude of what he had felt. Was that . . . could that truly have been Yami? He’d never thought to feel such a strong, dark emotion from the former Pharaoh. If this was how Yami was on the inside, than he’d been right to come here . . . the Pharaoh needed help, whether he chose to admit it or not. Such emotions would destroy him as surely as Kage.
Pushing himself off the wall, he stepped across the hallway and opened the door, not bothering to knock. He highly doubted Yami would have answered anyway. He was stunned to find the Pharaoh on his knees before the window, huddled in upon himself, the narrow shoulders shaking with the force of the quiet sobs that echoed softly through the room.
“Yami,” Marik whispered, walking softly across the carpeted floor and falling to his knees besides the shivering form. “My Pharaoh, you must not do this to yourself.” He saw the mask begin to fall back into place, the crimson eyes rising to meet his, and reached out to brush one golden bang away. “Don’t hide behind your game face, Yami,” he said softly. “You have to let someone in to help you deal with this. You can’t do it alone.”
“I cannot expect anyone to help me either, Marik,” Yami replied quietly. “Not after what I did to them.” Marik growled under his breath, reaching out to force the crimson eyes to meet his gaze.
“You . . . did not . . . do . . . anything . . . to them,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word carefully. “They know that . . . why don’t you?”
“Because I know better, Marik,” Yami said.
“Yami, you need them! And they need you. They care about you, and they’re worried about you. Yugi . . .” He paused as Yami winced at Yugi’s name. He continued on in a softer voice. “He misses you desperately, Yami. He still loves you . . . he never stopped loving you. And I know you still love him. He needs you beside him now . . . especially now.”
“I cannot face them, Marik,” Yami whispered. “Not like this.”
“You cannot heal without them.”
“Give up, Marik,” Bakura growled from the doorway, drawing both sets of eyes to him. “He’s too damn stubborn to admit something so obvious.” One pale blonde eyebrow rose at the strange statement before understanding dawned and he smiled slightly. Leave it to Bakura to figure out how to get a fire lit under his former nemesis.
“I only speak the truth, Tomb Robber,” Yami snapped, rising to his feet. “The fault is solely my own for what happened . . . no one else can be held accountable for what was done.” Bakura snorted, stepping further into the room.
“I know you simply love to beat yourself up over mistakes, Pharaoh, but we all make them,” he said. “Get over it, and get your head out of your ass. Your shadow is loose and getting ready to go on the rampage again, and you’re the only one who can stop him. But you can’t do it the way you are now.” Marik smirked as he saw Yami’s fist clench at his sides.
‘Go for it, Bakura . . . you’re the only one who can get away with it . . . well, you and Yugi,’ he thought dryly, watching as his Pharaoh struggled against the natural pride in him that cried out for him to prove Bakura wrong. He’d tried his way . . . by understanding and talking. But if Bakura could shame the Pharaoh into facing his own fear, so much the better.
“You are pressing your luck, thief,” the Pharaoh snarled, the golden Eye of Horus beginning to glow faintly on his forehead. Bakura chuckled coldly.
“Thinking about sending me to the Shadow Realm for telling you the truth?” he asked wryly. “Go right ahead, Pharaoh. I’ve escaped that place more times than I can count . . . and unlike you, I have my hikari by my side. I will find my way out again.” Just about then, Ryou stepped through the door.
“I heard raised voices . . .” he murmured softly, and then spied Yami . . . and the Eye. Chocolate eyes widened in horror, and he rushed into the room, flinging himself in front of his yami, protecting him. “Send him to the Shadow Realm, Yami, and I swear I will never forgive you!” he shouted.
“You will not be the first,” Yami growled, but the light began to fade in the face of the innocent hikari. He sighed, leaning back against the wall wearily, his head dropping until his eyes were on the floor. “I am sorry, Ryou. For ever so much more than you know.” Ryou smiled slightly, seeing that the danger had passed, and approached the Pharaoh slowly.
“I know, Yami,” he murmured, his British accent pleasant in the tense air. “But you’re sorry for things that weren’t your fault. Please, you must see them . . . at least see them. You don’t have to confront them . . . but at least go see that they are okay.” He reached out, pale fingers gently raising the lowered face until the crimson eyes met his solemnly. “For me . . . and for them. We need you, Yami. We always have.” He was gratified to see the mask crack, showing a glimpse of the wounded soul within.
“I will try,” the spirit whispered. “That is all I can promise.” Ryou smiled.
“That is all we can really ask of you, Yami,” the youth replied. “Thank you.”