Casket For My Tears

By: Neko-chan

A/N: Story inspired by Poe's song, "Haunted." (The title of this story is actually a line from her song.) Just... Randomly musing and then this came to me. Hope you like! ^_^

DISCLAIMER: Neko-chan doesn't own. You don't sue. And they all lived happily ever after.

He's crying again.

I don't know where he is, but I can still hear him.

I've been looking for him for the past several hours. But... I still can't find him. I've tried and tried and tried; this time he's hidden himself so well that I can't find him no matter how hard I look, or even where I look. Mazes upon mazes with no ending and no beginning.

I know that he's lost.

He's lost within himself and within his own hazy memories, things barely remembered, but yearned for with a passion so bright it's blinding in its intensity.

I've offered him my own memories. I know that he's grateful. And yet... They're still not his own memories. How can he ever accept himself if he doesn't even know who he _is_ and _was_? I try and tell him that that doesn't matter--who he _will be_ is the most important thing. That's the only thing that should matter.

He's still crying.

* * *

Who am I? Where am I? Who was I--who will I be? I can't answer these questions. And that frightens me more than anything else. It's not the questions that frighten me so, it's the lack of answers. In the end--I don't know.

I don't know.

I reach and strain and beg and plead for memories sealed away, terrified of what those memories will reveal, but still needing them because they would provide the answers that I _can't_. That's the important thing--I'll finally have answers. I'll finally know who I am and who I was. Who I will be is important, but does it really matter?

I just need to know.

I mourn for the person who I was--but can't remember. I mourn for the person I am--lost and alone and wandering through mind, through darkness, through a barren wasteland full of thorns and skeletons of once-living things. I mourn for the person who I'll never be, for I am too lost in the past to care about the future. I live in the past because I am a creature of the past.

I am called Yami.

I am called spirit.

I am called Pharaoh.

And I am called mou no hitori Yuugi.

But who am I really?

Questions, questions, none of which I can answer. And so I mourn and cry and cry and cry.

* * *

He's still crying.

I've looked and looked and looked; and I still can't find him.

Once again, I've come to a dead end. I don't know where I'll continue from here. I'm lost and alone. For the very first time, I now know how he feels. And... I still need to find him, to tell him that he isn't alone. How could he ever think himself alone when he is one half of a whole?

But he doesn't understand that.

* * *

Who am I???

* * *

Sometimes I wish he had never found that tablet filled with hieroglyphics. Sometimes I wish that he _wasn't_ a creature of the past. Sometimes I wish he wasn't so obsessed with the tick of the clock--a golden pendulum with crimson eyes swinging to and fro, to and fro.

Sometimes I wish I could shatter his dreams.

Shatter his hazy almost-remembered memories.

Shatter this maze and show him--make him realize--that he is not alone. Never alone.

I'll gather up all of his tears, all of his pain, and of his indistinct memories and yearnings and need for knowing who he _was_... And I'll build a casket for his tears.

He's crying again.

~Owari~