Eternal Obsession

By:

Setalina Muro

Summary: It familiarity of it all was like a dream. The sands, the moon, his crimson eyes. That taunting voice…You can't run forever…but she sure as hell could try…Screamshipping…

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any places, people and/or other things you are familiar with from the show or anything else. The plot, however, is mine.

A/N: Hmm…Yes. So after almost two years, I actually picked this up and began work on it. I edited the last two chapters (nothing major. If nothing else, recap the last little bit of the final scene in the desert. I added some dialogue for Bakura. Anyway)

Part 3

It was the memories that were the most terrible part of becoming self-aware again. They filtered back one by one, each penetrating deeply and sharply into her burdened soul. There had been so many lives…And each memory brought a different kind of terror with them: sight. As the days passed, her vision gradually increased.

But somehow, more terrifying than her past lives was Bakura and the fact that she couldn't remember anything about her life with him in Egypt. He knew, of course, the tricks of Shizuka's spirit. This time, he vowed, she wouldn't escape.

He stalked outside her window at night and at school never took his gaze from her. Each glance, each twisted smile sent a shiver down her spine.

And she couldn't talk to anyone! Confiding in her brother or friends, she feared, would drag them into a conflict they had no part in and put them in danger. Yet somehow she still knew, even when Bakura had taken what he sought, someone other than her would die.

After all, they always did….

-Rome Fourteenth Century -

The first thing she was truly conscious of were the arms around her. One was draped languidly across her stomach, holding her close to a strong, warm body. She sat up, pulling away from the heat, a strange tightness in her chest. Behind her, her companion stirred, softly touching the small of her back as he rose.

"Isadora?" he whispered. "What's the matter, darling?" (Au1)

The sweet tenor of his voice brought calm over her. She remained characteristically silent and turned to face him, her emotional, honey-colored eyes melancholy.

He gazed at her, completely understanding as one hand reached out to brush her long, golden hair over her milky white shoulder.

"Were you dreaming about Egypt again, my love?"

Tears began to glisten in her eyes and he pulled her against him as she shuddered.

"Shhh," he cooed. "It's alright, my darling. I have you, Isadora. My sweet, you're perfectly safe."

She nodded and he smiled, his arm around her as they lay back down. He clapped his hands and a door opened at the end of the chamber. Two small boys bustled in, one moving to open the heavy curtains that obscured the window while the other paused by the side of the bed, bowing to the couple.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"What is the hour?" he asked lazily, toying with Isadora's long hair.

As the drape were drawn back, a strong blast of sunlight entered the room.

"It is a little past midday, my Lord," the boy said, blinking from the sudden onslaught of light.

"Good, good," the man murmured.

"Maelius" Isabella said, with some sense of urgency in her small voice. She gazed at him, her honey-colored eyes wide and he smiled.

"Oh, of course, my dear," he said before turning to the boy again. "How are the preparations for the celebration coming, Caius?"

The boy's face brightened with excitement. "Very well, my Lord. The wine arrived this morning and the decorations look very fine. The musicians have been by this morning to check their space. They've left their instruments until the evening."

"I'm glad to hear it," Maelius said, smiling broadly.

The boy's enthusiasm vanished for a moment and a perturbed look fell over him. "There is something that bothers me, my Lord."

Maelius's face contorted slightly and a cautious look crossed into his brown eyes. "Go on."

"There is a dark-haired stranger," the boy said. "He has stood outside the gates each hour and asked for Lady Isadora."

The woman in his arms started slightly. She sat up, glaring at the boy. "Who?" she demanded, anger filling her childish, un-used voice.

Caius blinked in surprise. Lady Isadora did not usually speak, especially to the servants. The combination of her soft beauty and broken language was foreign to the young boys that catered to Maelius.

"I-I d-don't know, m-my Lady," he sputtered, color painting his olive skin. "He has never given a name."

Her pretty little mouth formed into a scowl and Maelius touched her arm gently.

"Isadora, be calm please," he said. "Anger is not good for you, darling. You'll fall ill."

Her eyes lowered slightly and she sat back, arms wrapping around her stomach.

"Thank you." He smiled and kissed her forehead before standing up. The other boy rushed to bring him a robe of dark blue to drape across his shoulders. "Now," Maelius continued, tying it at the front. "The next time this man comes, tell him the master of the house will speak with him."

Isadora's eyes widened in horror. "Maelius, no!"

He sighed. "Go and prepare our baths," he ordered the boys before turning to his lover. When the doors had shut behind him, he returned to the bed. "Isadora," he began, pronouncing the syllables distinctly. "Be reasonable, darling. I must send this man away. Neither of us wants him at our celebration. When the guests arrive tonight I want him as far away as possible. It is a special night, after all. And Isadora, you must have your feet beneath you. You-"

"I know," she interrupted, attempting to find the words she wished to speak. "Maelius, I sense…danger."

Sympathetically, he took her quivering form into his arms. "I love you, Isadora. You know this. Nothing will befall you," he whispered to her. "Or me. Or our child." He stroked her stomach momentarily. "Nothing," he vowed.

It was a deep bond. Deeper than the proposal that would bind them in name, deeper than the child that grew within her, and deeper still than the adoration she felt for him, her rescuer.

She could still remember the temple, the dark room where they had kept her so meticulously preened. Attended only by women, so no man could be tempted to take that which belonged to the goddess. She had been taught silence and obedience, awaiting the day she could be called a woman, the day she could leave the dark room and join her goddess.

The day came. The knives were sharpened, the fire stroked. Sometimes, she could still see that fire; those saffron flames almost begging to lick at her legs, devour her flesh. Sometimes, she could hear the violent crackle of it, prepared to consume her. She was frightened, and the voices of the priests and faithful, chanting and howling, echoed from the temple walls…

Until a door fell open heavily, ringing through the hall, all falling into a shocked silence as a tall, elegant man strode into their presence. He was adorned in a rich blue fabric and the high priest began yelling at him angrily.

"Calm your bantering," the rich stranger had ordered. His gaze swept the commons, stopping only to lock with her own. "Let me take the girl," he said.

The priest was outraged. "You come to our temple to demand possession of our sacrifice? A pure virgin, raised and sheltered from birth as a chosen of the goddess and you would take her from us?! Pah!" he spat.

"Ask her what she wants," he retorted, smiling as he ran a hand through his thick brown hair. "I will pay any price your goddess demands, if she…" and here he paused to nod toward Isadora, "wishes to leave."

"What do you do with them?" the priest barked, disgusted. "These ones you pay us for?" But in his mind he was haggling the price of the girl before the alter. "You know we need resources. At first, I thought the Goddess had sent you to fund our cause. But each time you offer us money, you take one of our prepared in return and will have nothing else. What do you do with them, rich man, that you come here so often to steal them?"

The man moved forward, still smiling, speaking only to Isadora, and compelling her with his soft chocolate eyes. "I give them a chance at life," he said. "Money if they don't wish to stay in Italy. But they are always welcome in my home. They have good food, steady pay. And I offer them something they have never had: Freedom."

It was strange, the chorus that very word struck in her. So long in her life had she wondered what lay outside the walls of her dark room. She took a hesitant step toward him, eyes mirroring confusion.

"Come with me," he said softly, offering her his hand. "You don't have to die here today."

It was those words that spurred her to move down the steps and take his hand; those words that made her realize, with a sudden jolt of fear: she didn't want to die. She cowered against him and he pulled her close, covering her with his cloak.

The priest was flabbergasted. "M-Maelius! Stop!" he exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

Maelius laughed and raised a hand behind him in farewell. "You know where to send for the payment. Good day."

The day remained embedded in her mind, the very image of Maelius as he stood in the entranceway of the temple. It was one night, some months later that she picked up a paintbrush and began to coat a blank canvas with his form.

There was no set account as to how Isadora came to live with Maelius. She didn't gain the courage to join in his almost nightly gatherings for several months. It was after one such night, ages later, that she consented to him and he shattered the final bond that held her to her Goddess.

And now she stood, adorned in an elegant white robe, beside Maelius as he announced their union to the mass of associates. She scanned the crowd nervously, waiting for some judgement or condemnation that she be the one Maelius would take for his wife.

After a large amount of praise, Maelius was swept off by a group of his most frequent patrons, leaving Isadora to loiter where she would. It was very sudden when a dark-haired figure in red swept her into his arms and directed her to the dance floor.

"Good evening, my Lady," he said, a dark voice issuing forth from his lips.

She pulled away from him roughly, eyes wide and staring, as it rang a familiar tone in her mind. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Who am I? You waste your breath on a question you already know the answer to," he taunted. He watched the fear rise in her face and leaned closer. "My name now is of no consequence. You would know me by the name Bakura."

Every muscle in her body tensed and a flash of understanding spread through her honey-colored eyes. "Why can't you just let me be happy?" she hissed, finding the words her life had never provided her with.

He raised a brow. "You are mine," he said. "And you always have been. This life you've made will burn like the lie it is."

Her breath caught as the first whiff of smoke came to her. Bakura began to laugh darkly as she turned from him, forcing her way through the crowd.

"Maelius!" she screamed as she began to feel tears in her eyes. "Maelius!!"

He turned toward her, eyes alighting with worry. The rest of the crowd began to fall silent as he took her into his arms.

"Maelius," she cried hysterically. "Maelius, the west side of the villa is on fire! We have to get out!"

Maelius was as bemused by her proclamation as he was by her speaking. But her eyes were alight with a desperate fear that made him not question her.

"Make certain every guest leaves," he told his servants before taking Isadora's hand and dragging her out.

They huddled together by the river, watching as smoke began to billow from the house. Then he turned to her.

"You…speak," he said.

Tears were flowing freely down her face. "The silence was bound with my ties to this life and they have been shattered. Bakura has come for me."

"Bakura?"

"The man from Egypt. He has come to kill me, as was his vow." She gazed up at him, her hands quivering as she touched his face. "I loved you," she said. "Every part of you and everything you gave me in this life."

"Isadora, you sound as if you're saying goodbye."

"I've become self-aware. I can't live in a world where I have knowledge of him. Not even with you."

"How very sweet," Bakura's voice suddenly echoed. "So you've 'accepted' your fate? Isadora," he taunted. "Do you know what I'm going to do?"

She took a step back as he drew near to them.

"I'm going to kill your lover," he continued. "And then take your soul as it should have been centuries ago."

He had a long blade in his hands and brought it down across Maelius's chest, leaving a bloody, gaping slash there. Maelius gasped and responded by pulling his own sword from a scabbard by his side. He lunged toward Bakura. Blades clashing, the two dove into the burning house.

Isadora stood in shock for a moment before tearing after them. She found Maelius lying prostrate on the ground and fell by his side, tears pouring from her eyes.

"Funny," Maelius coughed pathetically. "These are the very flames I tried to save you from." He crushed her to his chest. "Don't be afraid, Isadora."

She felt the first flame catch on her robe. This was the end. Her eyes squeezed shut and a single thought came to her.

"Oh god," she choked out, clinging to Maelius's robe. "My baby…"

Shizuka felt a screaming sob escaping her throat as she sat up. One arm wound around her stomach and she began to rock back and forth sobbing into her free hand.

"Oh the baby," she cried in a muffled voice. "He killed my baby…"

School came irritably early that day. Shizuka sat in her desk, brooding on the terror of the dream. The class sat quietly pencils moving steadily across paper as they worked.

"Do you remember Rome, Shizuka?"

She felt herself stiffen at the immaculate silence of the room. Her eyes closed as she composed herself, forcing back the tears that threatened. She jerked around in her seat, glaring dangerously at Bakura.

"And what the hell am I supposed to remember about Rome?" she snapped.

He smiled. "Why, the villa, my dear. That darling master of yours. The one that stole you from the priests."

She choked down a sob that rose in her throat as he continued.

"Who was it you served?" he asked. "To what pagan god were they sacrificing you to?" Bakura tapped his pencil against the desk, gazing out the window. "You had very light hair," he murmured. "Like gold actually. And how it shone in that fire."

He smiled as he stood up, moving around the classroom, ghosting past their prone classmates, figures frozen in time.

"Why do you enjoy torturing me?" she hissed. "I don't want these memories or lives! And I hate you. I wish I had never laid eyes on you!"

Bakura chuckled to himself, pausing behind Kaiba, who had his computer on his desk, fingers splayed in typing position. A thought struck Bakura and he grabbed the other boy's wrists, adjusting their position on the keyboard. Kaiba now sat poised over the incorrect keys.

"Do you really enjoy this?" Shizuka snapped. "Stop this spell and leave me alone."

Again, she was met with a twisted smile. "You say that like it would be fun," he mused. "Now remind me about Rome."

Echoes of flames flickered across her conscious. She put her hands to her head. "I will not remember Rome," she whispered.

"The villa was always full of music," he taunted. "And you were such wonderful hosts. The master and his pretty toy."

"Not a toy," she murmured before glancing up at him. "Why so eager to torment me, Bakura? You have all of eternity."

His hand ghosted her hair and she pulled away, listening to his devious chuckle. "It's no where near enough time," he murmured.

There was silence then, deep and penetrating. Shizuka sat with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, awaiting Bakura's next antic.

"I never knew the full tale," he said after a few more minutes. "About when he became your lover." He returned to his desk, steepling his fingers. "Tell me. Were you pregnant when I lured you to your death in that burning building?"

"Go to hell!!" she screamed.

"Kawai-san!"

Shizuka rotated quickly in her seat, wiping at the tears on her face as color flooded it. "I-I'm sorry, Sensei."

Naoki-sensei eyed her curiously, a look of shock etched on his features. "See me after class, please, Kawai-san."

She nodded silently as he returned to the lesson. It seemed like forever until the bell finally rang. Bakura smirked at her as he followed the rest of the class out of the classroom. She stood up, slowly, not nearing Naoki-sensei's desk until all the students had gone.

He made no movement to speak to her as his hands made quick work of sorting papers neatly into several piles. She watched him in silence, waiting until he sighed and removed the black frames from his eyes and glanced at her.

"Kawai-san-"

"Naoki-sensei, I am very sorry for my outburst in class. I-"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand, shaking his head.

"That's not what this is about, Kawai-san," he said. "Something is troubling you greatly. That was not your first outburst and your grades have been slipping. I'm worried about you."

Shizuka paused and bit her lower lip. "Do…do you believe in past lives?" she asked slowly. "Or spirit possession?"

"I can't say I'm well-versed in it, but I've heard of them both," he replied, slightly puzzled.

She moved and sat in the desk behind her. "I'm having dreams…nightmares, really, about these lives. The most prominent is about being a girl in Ancient Egypt. She's being chased by this man…and he attacks and kills her. But her soul escapes her body before he finishes and he doesn't feel…complete. So he chases her soul through the centuries, each possessing different bodies. She escapes every time he kills her and keeps going."

"And you are this girl?" Naoki-sensei still looked concerned. His face showed no trace of him doubting her or believing she was insane.

"Yes," she said softly.

"And the man?"

"Bakura…" she whispered.

Naoki-sensei did not appear shocked by this revelation. He bit the stem of his glasses and gazed at a spot above her head. "It makes sense…"

"Naoki-sensei," Shizuka said in a terrified whisper. "I don't know what to do. Someone will get hurt again because he can't leave me alone."

"I don't know either, Kawai-san." His gaze moved back to her, a small frown on his lips. "I really don't know…"

Dark clouds rolled slowly across the sky, altering the path of moonlight as it dappled across the room. It was a study, coolly decorated with oak bookshelves standing proudly along the wall. Several large, square windows, with tied curtains of a dark velvet green on the sides, allowed the light access. In the center was a desk, also made of oak, scattered with papers. It was lighted by the dull glow of a single lamp. The only sounds in the room were the turning of pages and the occasional scratch of a pencil, executed by the lone male occupant.

Naoki-sensei was looking back through the centuries, picking up clues and sorting the stories Shizuka had told him. He was intrigued by the entire paradox of the wandering spirits and wholly concerned for the safety of Shizuka.

The idea of the malevolent spirits frightened him, that much he knew for certain. But it also brought forth the perplexed fascination that many people adopt when they encounter an oddity. For the same way the enigma of a seduction by vampire can obsess the mind, Naoki-sensei had taken to the mystery of Bakura and Shizuka.

He turned another page, eyes scanning pictures of Roman villas and temples. Among the myriad of ancient art illustrated there, his eyes narrowed as he focused on one in particular.

The piece was scorched along the edges, the lower right hand completely scalded. It was hand painted and depicted a man in a sweeping cloak. His face was thin, cheekbones set high. His eyes were kind and a small, gallant smile adorned his lips. The caption below it read: 'A painting of a Roman man in the mid-1300s, damaged by a fire. Artists unknown."

"Maelius…"

And Naoki-sensei knew he was staring at the man who had been Shizuka's Roman lover.

"A bit late for light reading, don't you believe, Sensei?"

Naoki jumped at the dark voice, the book falling from his hands. His eyes locked on the direction the voice had come from and he watched a silver-haired man emerged from the shadows. Moonlight glinted from his red-tinted eyes and Naoki-sensei felt a shudder race down his spine.

In the dark, secluded study, the form of Bakura Ryou was unnaturally menacing, and Naoki felt a trill of fear as he stepped closer.

"Bakura," he murmured, rising from his chair cautiously. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Bakura cocked his head and a coy smile spread over his lips. "Ah, Sensei, playing dumb does not become you," he replied, turning his attention to a small trinket on one of the bookshelves.

Naoki watched him carefully, the curio was two inches of carved glass in the shape of a castle. It was reminiscent of a chess piece, and Naoki suddenly found himself wondering where it had come from.

The possessed youth began to hold the chess piece daintily between his thumb and forefinger. He shook it slightly and then let it fall to the floor, grinning manically toward his teacher. The sound of it shattering reverberated around the room.

"I suppose you don't understand what it is you're meddling in, Sensei," Bakura said. "But then again, I suppose you couldn't really. There's a myriad of complexity involved in why it is I chase Shizuka across the centuries."

Naoki merely stared dumbly as Bakura strode forward and jumped over the desk, sitting on the finished surface.

"I suppose you can compare it to chess," he continued. "You play, I assume?" Bakura's eyes darted to the terrified man as he nodded mutely, and then returned to staring off reminiscently. "Then you would understand what it would be like to constantly find yourself in a stalemate with your opponent. You see, what most people fail to understand when they attempt to analyze our situation, is that she's playing too. She strikes you as a victim, doesn't she? Helpless and disadvantaged. But she's not really. And she uses pawns just as readily as I would. That Maelius fellow. You." He laughed loudly for a moment before returning to his sober ponderings.

"You see, I'm tired of this. It's been nearly five thousand years. Not to say it hasn't been fun at times. Quite the contrary. But you can only imagine what it is to die a thousand deaths and return, fully conscious of your purpose. To come into a fresh body, newly born, and know that you had to find and kill this creature of devious nature that was running from her fate as surely as it pursued her."

Dark eyes turned upon Naoki again, who stood, frozen, staring and his head shook. "I am sorry that you had to be caught up," Bakura said after a moment of silent contemplation. "It was enjoyable to kill the others that Shizuka manipulated. They were idiots. But you aren't."

Naoki-sensei suddenly became aware of himself again as Bakura stood up. He stumbled backwards, staring at the ancient spirit with wide, frightened eyes.

"I'm ending it," Bakura whispered as Naoki fell to the ground, still staring at him with terrified eyes. He pulled a long, thin knife from his back pocket and crouched down beside the teacher. "I am. I'm going to look at her this time and do you know what I'm going to say to her?"

Naoki was trembling this time, but he knew the answer. He watched the glint in Bakura's red eyes; saw the silver knife poised above his chest. He took a painful, quivering breath and barely managed to say, "Checkmate."

Bakura's smile grew. "Exactly."

-To Be Continued...-

Au 1: Isadora - gift of the moon. Maelius – no known translation. The original names of these characters were Isabella and Marcos. I didn't really like them.

A/N: (blink) what's this?? Compassion for the villain? He gets to tell his side? Can I really feel distain for him stabbing and/or possibly killing Naoki-sensei? What the hell??

I don't know, honestly. The portion with Bakura's story was neither pre-meditated nor thought out. Mainly, it wrote itself when I sat down on the computer, having not finished that part. Anyway.

Yes, this has been a long while in coming. I apologize for that. I hope that the length somewhat makes up for it. This should be finished soon (ish). I can't put a timeline on it, of course. But there's only two parts left. The fourth should be relatively shorter than the others and I'm still hinging on what to call the fifth.

Part 4: Fate

In other news, my recent MIA actions were caused by a surgery to remove my appendix, or else I really would have had this done in August. After that, school began in a rush and everything else just piled on. Next projects are on my profile.

Please R&R.

Lina