A/N: aaaand it's the last chapter! Please please please review…I'd love to get loads for the very last chapter, just to sort of finish off my triumph at finishing this.

Warnings: language, lots of yaoi (I suppose this is a yaoi fic now. Weird. I never thought I'd write one of them.)

I only give warnings because I don't really want to give this an 'R' rating, as I don't feel this really is 'R' material (please correct me if you think otherwise) but I really don't want this fic or my account deleted because I haven't given it the right rating. I would be truly distraught if I ever had a fic deleted, especially if it was one of my favourite or had got lots of reviews (and this was one of my favourite fics to write.) If it changes to an R in the near future, you'll all know my paranoia has got the better of me.

Chapter Six: Obliterated

Looking back, Yami thought the morning had gone pretty well. That is, considering the disastrous incidents which could have taken place but for some miraculous reason chose not to. He decided he would pray to Ra tonight, just to say thanks. Unless anything else went wrong in the mean time, of course.

Yugi's grandpa had been fine about Ryou helping out; at least, he said 'sure,' without concern, but did look at the teenager twice when he saw him. Ryou had blushed and looked at the ground, and Yami had experienced an overwhelming desire to do some Mind Crushing. He had only held back because he knew Yugi would have been upset.

The shop hadn't been very busy, but they eventually managed to persuade Ryou to stand behind the counter with Yugi and showed him how to register purchases and issue receipts, and after a little while he seemed happy enough, half-hidden behind the till. No one from Domino High had come in, and Yami wasn't sure whether to feel frustrated or relieved. After all, they'd all have to find out at some point. But, like Ryou, he wasn't opposed to holding off that 'moment of truth' for as long as possible.

To be honest, Ryou's scars didn't look like much beside Yugi's colourful hair, and most people in Tokyo knew Yugi well enough to accept he kept strange company. Ryou seemed at one point to totally forget about his appearance, and had been laughing and joking with one of the regulars in an almost relaxed way. The long scars down his face shone silvery in the light, all too obvious against his pale skin, and yet he remained almost defiantly cheerful. Perhaps he was just blocking them out of his consciousness. There was nothing that resembled acceptation in his expression, anyway.

For lunch they made sandwiches, and munched them before the impassive gaze of the T.V, its square face stolid and blank, then Yugi switched it on and they watched Friends together. Melodious laughter rang through the apartment, as Yami locked himself into the Puzzle and tried to sleep.

"This is so fun," Yugi declared contentedly. "Ryou-kun, do you want to go out for a meal tonight? There's a good restaurant this side of town, called 'Sapporo.' Heard of it?"

"Vaguely, yes." His hesitation was barely noticeable. "Okay, I'd love to go."

"Cool." And that was that. It was a few minutes before Ryou had realised the full implications of what he had just agreed to do, but by then it was too late to protest.

……….

They watched television until about eight o'clock, when their stomachs began to growl threateningly and supper was starting to sound like a good idea. It was still light outside, and Yugi caught his friend's apprehensive look as he stared out of the window.

"Relax, Ryou-kun. We're only going into town."

"Mmm." Ryou fidgeted within his armchair, second thoughts gnawing at his mind. Maybe he could just ask if-

So you're just going to give up your life? Ryou, that's exactly what the Tomb Robber wants you to do. Are you going to give him the satisfaction of abandoning everything?

No-oo, the teenager mumbled reluctantly to himself. It's just that – oh, what the hell? I'll just go. It won't be such a big deal, after all. The worst people can do is stare…and giggle…and talk behind their hands…and- God, why am I so negative? He drew in a deep breath. I'm going out. That's all there is to it.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes, I think so. Just let me get my wallet-"

"No need. I'll treat you."

"Are you sure?"

"Course," Yugi assured him comfortably.

…………….

After shrugging on jackets they stepped outside, and were immediately assailed by an evening wind, the cool night air something that couldn't quite be described as chilly but still definitely made them grateful for the extra layers they had thought to put on. They wandered slowly through the town, taking their time, while Yugi filled the nervous silence with his usual babblings.

They met few people on the way, a fact that Ryou was extremely grateful for, even if it was too dark for anyone to clearly see his face. He wasn't aware that Yugi was deliberately leading them along paths that meant they would meet as few people as possible - just thankful that they didn't see anyone.

They were meandering slowly down a deserted alleyway, the far-off glow of streetlights at each end being the only source of light, when a delighted voice drifted out of the shadows.

"Oooh! Weaklings!"

Recognising the voice, Yami instantly materialised protectively in front of the two omotes. "Touch them and you die, Psycho."

"Now that," the other spirit drawled, "was an unfortunate choice of words." He stepped out, and Ryou realised he had been leaning against the wall, body masked by darkness.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Pharaoh? Or was it just a random meeting?" A devious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I suspect the latter. And if you are here to decrease Tokyo's surplus population then I suggest you move elsewhere. This is my patch."

Yugi stared at him. Uncertainly: "Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill us?"

Yami Malik snorted with laughter. "Maybe." He saw the look on Yami's face and grinned. "You're lucky I've exhausted all my cravings for tonight."

Ryou shuddered and backed into the wall. The spirit looked at him in mild astonishment, seemingly noticing him for the first time. "Hmm. I may have to take that back. I could tolerate the presence of two weaklings, but not three." His grip tightened slightly on the Millennium Rod and the trio tensed. But Yami Malik merely smiled at this and started playing with it.

Remembering how Malik had threatened him the night before, Yami said slowly, "I thought Malik had that."

"Ah, but did you see it?"

"…No," Yami admitted grudgingly.

The other spirit's grin grew wider.

"Can we go?" Ryou whispered to Yugi. He nodded vigorously, obviously unnerved by Yami Malik.

The psychotic spirit's eyes roved over Ryou's face, and he raised an eyebrow. "So that's what the Tomb Robber did to you this time?" A disgusted note crept into his tone. "Are you totally incapable of standing up for yourself?"

Ryou clenched his fists. "No."

"It isn't like it matters anymore," Yami Malik continued in a dismissive fashion. "I doubt he'll waste further amounts of his time on you anyway, now he's got my lighter half to fuck."

Yami glowered at him. "You're so-"

"Blunt?"

"I was going to say crude, actually."

An unconcerned shrug. "Say what you like. But believe me when I say I really couldn't care less."

The Pharaoh looked at him with helpless disgust, before turning and saying, "Yugi? Ryou? I doubt there is anything we can achieve by staying here, so shall we go?"

"Yes, please do," Yami Malik murmured. "Loiter here much longer and I will remove you myself. And I will take great pleasure in doing so."

Ignoring him, contempt oozing from every pore, Yami ushered the two lights away.

………..

They reached the restaurant little more than ten minutes later. A mouth-watering aroma of herbs and spices wafted through the partially open door as they stepped in, and eyes widened at the wide array of delicious looking food. It is the custom for most restaurants in Japan to display plastic models of the food they serve in the windows and at the counter, so people can see what the place has to offer. The smooth, shiny moulds produced a slight sickly feeling in the stomach, but their edible counterparts seemed almost to have neon signs poked in them exclaiming, 'Eat me! I'm absolutely delicious and you know it!'

As well as the usual rigid, upright dining chairs, there were banquettes (like a sort of padded sofa seat that usually seats two people) with the tables in the corner. Yugi immediately homed in on these like a fly to shit, seeing as they were far more comfortable than dining chairs, and slightly less formal. Seizing the menus with slightly above-average gusto, the two lights began discussing what dishes to order.

…………

"You still asleep?"

Bakura waved a hand impatiently in front of Malik, who was staring morosely at the wall. Suppressing an irritated sigh, the spirit pulled him closer and kissed him. Malik responded in an absent sort of way, still not saying anything.

"'S up?"

"What? Oh. Nothing."

"Don't give me that. You're looking miserable. What's wrong?"

"Since when did you care?"

"…The hell?" Bakura peered at him suspiciously. "Of course I care about you, you arse."

No reply.

"You tired or something? Because you're acting really strangely."

"No, I'm not tired. Its…something else."

"What?" Then, as Malik was silent once more, he continued, "look, you can tell me, right? Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Come on then. Spill."

Malik opened his mouth, paused, and then shut it again. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"You sure?"

"Uh huh."

With a shrug, showing that he wasn't happy but willing to drop the situation if Malik really wanted him to, Bakura put both hands on the Egyptian's shoulders, pulling him closer. Feeling the sincerity of the long kiss that followed, Malik sighed to himself and replied with as much energy as he could summon.

Suddenly the Ring-spirit stopped and pushed him roughly away. "Ra, Malik, if it's affecting your kissing then it must be something big. Now tell me." The anger was building in his voice, along with indignation.

"Look, it doesn't matter, okay?" Malik could feel himself growing annoyed as well.

"Then you could still tell me! If you loved me you wouldn't keep secrets from me!" The spirit's mouth was set in a sulky pout, and it was this and the sheer childishness of the outburst which tugged at Malik's heart.

"You look so adorable when you pout like that." He reached out for him, but Bakura pushed him away.

"Stop trying to suck up to me." There was a sulky silence, in which the moody expression on his face grew, and Malik yearned to hold him and hug him tightly while pouring out his feelings.

But instead he replied simply, "I'm not."

"Humph."

But despite the disgruntled sound, he deigned to let Malik move a bit closer to him. The next noise which came from Bakura was definitely not a disgruntled one, as Malik moved his head to one side and began to kiss the spirit's neck, working his way up. The exquisite sensation of Malik's lips softly travelling up his skin was enough for the spirit to close his eyes and give a shudder.

"If this is sucking up then bring it on." The words were uttered between slight gasps.

"Mmm." The journey continued, mouth moving lightly over Bakura's face, both of them preparing themselves for the moment when their lips would meet. Then they touched, a soft brushing sensation that rapidly intensified as they brought tongues into it. The kiss lasted several moments, during which time seemed to slow down and, just for a fraction of a second, stop.

Tanned hands slipped almost sneakily to Bakura's waist, then began to rove downwards. Bakura felt a moment's exhilaration as they touched the leather belt, before suddenly hesitating. In the previously confident, fluid moments this stutter was far too clear.

"I…" Malik almost desperately tried to continue what he was doing but couldn't; in his mind Ryou's face was staring at him, hauntingly, innocently sensual…in his mind this was Ryou who lay defenceless beneath him, trusting him… With real despair this time he tried vainly to thrust the image out of his consciousness, but it wouldn't be dislodged.

"Oh shit," he mumbled, pulling his hands back and burying his face in the spirit's chest. After a moment slender hands, white as those of a corpse, came up and gently stroked his hair. He could almost feel the emotion in Bakura's fingers alone, in the way they moved through the blond strands, conveying their wordless hurt at how Malik wouldn't confide in him.

"It isn't you," Malik whispered hopelessly. "It's me…"

The hands continued their soothing movements; one gently coming up his shirt in a movement that was so obviously comforting, not sensual. But Bakura didn't ask what it was this time, and in a way this hurt even more. Showing that he had given up, wasn't going to pester him if he didn't want to talk…and if hearing this thought the spirit's grip tightened and he pulled him closer, so his body was entwined with Malik's.

The Egyptian hugged him soundlessly, letting Bakura feel and absorb his body's relentless shaking. Eventually he wriggled, signalling he wanted to come up, and Bakura gently loosened his grip. A thought suddenly crossed Malik's mind, idiotic in its triviality – that his eyeliner might be smudged. Mumbling this incoherently as an excuse, he fled to the bathroom, leaving a slightly bemused Bakura sitting on the bed.

As soon as he reached the temporary haven he locked the door and half-collapsed against it, ragged breathing echoing hollowly off the smooth tiled walls. What was happening to him? He had Bakura, loved him almost more than he could say, and yet why did he want to…want to…

"No," Malik whispered to himself. He tried to say it firmly, but there was a strangled sound to it, and he could hear the hysterical note in his voice. "Not that. I don't want that. I want Bakura. No one else." There was no conviction in his tone. He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the flustered seventeen-year-old, the wild, hopeless expression in his eyes like a bolting horse. Plucking the eyeliner pencil he always carried around with him from his pocket, he tried to re-apply eyeliner, but his hand was shaking too much and the result was a jagged line.

"Damn…" His voice was almost as jittery as his hands. Eventually he managed, just about, the consequence a barely passable attempt. He swallowed hard, reading this as another failure, and rubbed it all off so he could start again.

…………

"You took a while," Bakura commented as he finally walked back over.

"I-I know, I just…" Ra, he was actually beginning to stammer. He'd never stammered before in his life. He'd thought being on his own for a few minutes would be enough to sort out his tangled thoughts, but instead the silence seemed to make it even worse.

He took a deep breath. "Never mind." He sat down, not quite managing to hide the troubled look haunting his eyes. Bakura noticed, and his gaze turned slightly concerned.

"You know what your problem is? You think about things too much. You should try not thinking about anything for a change. Or, failing that, just one thing. Something you like."

Seeing where this might be going, Malik shook his head. "…That's enough for tonight."

"Okay." Bakura leaned against him very slightly, and Malik put an arm around him.

"Malik?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do. We've said it to each other what, three times today?"

"I know. And like everything else, it does get a bit clichéd after a while. I just like hearing you say it, that's all."

"I love you, 'Kura." The words felt dirty in his mouth. How could he love him when there was-

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Bakura gave his rare smile, and leaned further against him.

They slept together in the bed again that night, naked so to be free to feel the warmth of each other's bodies (at least of Malik's), although there was no sex this time. Bakura fell asleep almost immediately, and Malik lay awake with the spirit's head resting on his chest for a long time, thinking.

…………

Ryou had to admit it had been a truly delicious meal. After they had polished off the last of their food - tempuratori with wasabi and sashimi (lightly battered and deep fried chicken with Japanese horse radish and fish slices – they taste gorgeous, by the way) the two lights sat back, hands clasped to their swollen stomachs.

"More chicken, Ryou?"

"I couldn't. I think I'd burst if I so much as look at another piece of poultry again."

From his corner, Yami smiled to himself before drowning another glass of saké (rice wine). The meal had been a universal success. After ordering their meal, the two omotes had gone to watch it being cooked on the teppanyaki (an iron plate grill where the food is cooked). It had been delightful to watch the food sizzle away, the rich aromas wafting over to their nostrils almost innocently. They'd both been hungry, but even so there was so much food it was almost beyond even Yugi's capabilities to demolish all of it. Yami had refused any food and left them to it, not being in an eating mood. Spirits didn't have a need for food anyway, and only ever ate if they could actually be bothered and there was something interesting on offer.

The walk back was quiet and uneventful, which was just as well seeing as Yami had decided that any psychos that they just 'happened' to stumble upon would be sent to the Shadow Realm before they got a chance to announce how they proposed to kill them. He also shot wary looks over his shoulder whenever Yugi and Ryou weren't looking, just in case they were being followed. Slightly paranoid, yes, but with good reason. He wasn't sure if he could beat Yami Malik in a fight and didn't want to find out.

They reached Yugi's house without any incidents, although the Puzzle-spirit was visibly jumpy from the amount of people they had passed, and the generally late hour (it was nearly half past ten and the streets around them were practically invisible). Despite himself, Yami couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he made sure the two lights were safely tucked up in bed. Bakura would have scorned at this, but Yami had been on edge all evening, and seeing them asleep was the only thing finally set his mind at rest. The phrase 'the calm before the storm' appeared insistently in his mind and, try as he might, he couldn't quite get it to dissipate.

………

Long cut-out shapes of darkness licked like fingers around the room, resembling claws that were trying to pull you under and join them in their shadowy existence. Malik switched on a lamp, and instantly they recoiled almost to nothing, vague patches of shadows under the table and wardrobe. He got up slowly, feeling the bed creak a little under his weight, carefully arranging the sheets back over the sleeping Bakura so he wouldn't get cold.

"Forgive me."

………

Ryou woke with the last vestiges of his dream lingering in his mind like a persistent headache, which was unusual because he didn't often remember his dreams. In this one he had simply seen his yami, far away, mouth open and moving as if calling to him. It filled him with faint traces of unease, although he wasn't sure why.

Today was Sunday, the last non-school day, and the prospect of Monday, where he would have to put up with the staring and whispering of his fellow students as they found out about what had happened to him, was starting to seem horribly near. He hadn't mentioned any more of his fears to Yugi or Yami, although sometimes he thought he saw a worried expression briefly flit across the latter's face that suggested he too was thinking about it.

Ryou wanted to do something constructive during the day, something to distract him from thinking about the moment when he would have to go back to school or, almost as bad – go back to his house, where his yami and Malik were, but somehow he couldn't someone the energy or enthusiasm to do anything more strenuous than watch television. Going out shopping in town during broad daylight was something which he didn't have nearly enough courage to do (or at least he didn't think he could summon the courage for). And, although a part of his mind niggled uncomfortably at odd moments about how, if he couldn't even go out to town then how the hell was he going to face school (let alone his yami and Malik), he was more than happy to ignore it and bask, albeit uncomfortably, in his self-denial.

Despite him doing as little as possible, the day still passed horrifically quickly. When evening came and Yami suggested to him gently that perhaps he'd better think about home at some point, he couldn't prevent the look of terror leaping across his face.

"We'll walk you back, if you want."

"Mmm." Ryou was glad of the offer, but couldn't help his reluctance. Yugi was bursting his bubble of self-denial with an unnecessarily loud bang, and Ryou was eager to seize even a few more minutes of reprieve.

"And kick out the Tomb Robber and Malik, if necessary," Yami added. He was pretty aware of how Ryou must be feeling, and part of him really didn't like making Ryou leave the relative safety of Yugi's house, but he did have a life to get back to. Even if, thanks to the Tomb Robber, it was a pretty messed up one.

………

Ryou took out his house-keys and, with a deep breath, unlocked the door. Yugi and Yami stood right behind him. Yami's face was impassive, but Ryou knew he was tense enough to send people to the Shadow Realm almost on reflex.

The door creaked open, announcing Ryou's presence very much against his will. (…Yami?)

No reply.

(Yami?)

Still no answer.

The light sighed, and said over his shoulder, "He's not replying. I guess he might be asleep or something."

A shrug from Yugi.

Tentatively, Ryou stepped into the hallway. When no one leapt out at him, he made his way slowly over to the lounge door, with the air of someone walking through a Haunted House, where the next step may mean a ghost or worse leaps out at you, screaming, "Boo!"

"They could be out," Yugi suggested nervously. Ryou turned to look at him, and just caught the way the Puzzle-holder's eyes flicked briefly around his face, before meeting his eyes. It was like in Harry Potter – the almost involuntary upwards flick to the scar. He had sympathised vaguely with Harry for this, in the way people always looked at that before looking you in the eyes, and even more so now because he knew what it was like on the receiving end.

Nonetheless he ignored it, replying to Yugi's offer with a small shake of the head. "No, they're here. I can feel him nearby."

He looked around slowly, feeling for the sensation of his other half. Downstairs, quite near…he reached out, touched the handle of the lounge door, hesitated briefly, and then turned it.

At first he though there was no one in the room, then he could just made out the top of spiky white hair poking over the side of the sofa arm – an instant give-away. He stepped forward, then suddenly stopped as his eyes took in the semi-dried pools of blood around the sofa. His stomach turned over.

"Y-Yami?" Afraid of what he would see, he swallowed hard and crossed over to the furniture. The white spikes twitched and moved slightly. Relieved, Ryou walked round until he could clearly view the occupant.

Bakura was draped across the sofa like a fur throw. The source of the blood was now clear – dripping in a lacklustre way from his wrists. There were deep, precise slashes along his wrist and up his arms that could only have been done with a knife. The instrument in question lay on the carpet.

The Ring-spirit put out a hand (although his wrists were lacerated almost to the point where the skin hung in shreds, his hands were still perfectly clean) and used it to push himself up into a sitting position. The knife was carefully picked up and placed next to him. Only then did he acknowledge Ryou.

"Back so soon, hikari?" His voice was dull, uninterested.

"I…I have to go to school tomorrow," the light said uncertainly. "I had to get my uniform and things."

"Moving in with them then?"

"No."

"Just as well. I could do with some company some of the time. Even if it is with someone like you."

"…Yami, what happened?" Frustrated with his yami's casual sentences, Ryou delivered the sentence with some impatience, as well as a certain curiosity. What could possibly have happened to cause his other to do this to himself? Ryou had only seen him self-harm twice before. Once, when he had tried to hit him and Ryou had fought him, really fought him, the spirit had simply sat on top of him and methodically slit his wrists until Ryou gave in, frozen by the sight of the blood running down his, their wrists. The other time had been when Ryou was at school: he had come home to find that his yami, almost driven insane by sudden cravings and with no one else to take the blood from, had used the knife on himself and was sucking at his fingers with an intensity that was nauseating to watch.

Bakura looked at him, eyes boring into him like lasers, and Ryou fought the urge to look away.

"What happened?"

A bitter laugh, shocking in its raw hysteria. "You really want to know?"

"…Yes." Ryou faltered, voice becoming more uncertain by the minute.

"Fine. Last night, when I was asleep, Malik hanged himself."

Ringing silence.

"…No," Ryou whispered. "He couldn't have."

"Why not?" Bakura laughed even harder, eyes wild.

"…I…oh God, yami, I'm really sorry for you-"

"Get the fuck away from me!"

His light flinched.

"Why the fuck do you care? He was mine for one night! One! Fucking! Night! And then he has to go kill himself and-and-" His voice broke, and Ryou realised in a sort of detached horror that he was on the verge of crying.

"Just…just go away." He sounded ashamed now, even angry, his grief locked safely back inside him. For a moment he seemed about to say something else, then his body trembled and he slumped back against the sofa. It wasn't until then that Ryou realised just how much blood his yami had lost. It wouldn't kill him though – once his shadow powers surfaced the blood would slowly be replenished.

Hesitantly he sat down next to his yami. Their gazes locked, and for a moment the full weight of Bakura's helpless suffering was visible in his eyes, then the spirit made an angry noise and looked away.

"…Why did he do it?"

"I don't know!" The sentence was spat out in a barely intelligible snarl, pain and that awful unknowing vibrating in every syllable. Then he broke, clutching blindly at his lighter half as the sobs issued from his throat. "I don't know why I did it and I'm sure it's something I've done, but I can't even know! He didn't even tell me about it; after we hugged and everything he just went really quiet and wouldn't tell me what was wrong!"

Ryou held him tightly, forgetting for the moment all the reasons why he hated him, all the times he'd hit him; just holding him close to his body and letting him feel the warmth beating there.

The spirit's skinny body shook violently in his arms, breathing coming in those bubbling, hiccup-like gasps which always happen when you cry.

Eventually he quietened, still clinging to his host. After a moment he trembled again and pulled away, sitting upright again.

"I can see there's no way you're going to respect me like before, huh hikari?" His pale face was blanched almost white from blood-loss, and the words sounded disorientated, almost drunken.

A shrug. He didn't know how he felt anymore. Part of him felt slightly pleased at his yami's grief, saying, ha, about time he suffered for a change. But this voice was quiet, drowned out by the sympathetic one that was finding it odd how human his yami suddenly seemed.

"Though not." He didn't sound as if he particularly cared. But then why should he? There was nothing left for him to care about.

He moved towards Ryou, leaning forward a little. The light pulled back instinctively, and a cynical smile appeared on Bakura's face.

"Ha, still afraid." He reached out slowly, and began to run his hand over Ryou's face, fingers light and probing. The teenager shivered at his touch.

"I know – I'm cold. Not much I can do about that." He surveyed his host's face, eyes following the paths of the scars. "You never did come up with an idea to do about school on Monday, did you?"

A soundless shake of the head.

"Have some backbone, light. I'm not that scary."

Ryou blinked.

"So cute when you do that. He was right, you know. You are good looking. Even I can see that. I could slash your face open and you'd still pull the girls in flocks."

"Are you going to test that theory?" his light whispered.

"Mmm. Maybe some other time." A single finger began to move like an icicle over the teenager's face, tracing the scars. Shadow-power oozed from the digit like blood.

The finger drifted away and Ryou put a hand up to his face. "…Did you…just…?"

"Heal you? It seems so. I wonder how that happened." He managed a smile, his body no more than a husk, completely drained of his shadow-powers. Then, still smiling, he passed out.

Ryou stared as his yami fell limply sideways, then sighed and tried to prop him into a more comfortable position. He'd be okay. Probably. It would take a day or two for his powers to fully renew, less if he went back into his soul room, although he'd be weaker than usual for the next few days.

"What happened?" Tired of waiting, Yami came in, closely followed by Yugi. His eyes took in the form of Bakura, already starting to flicker; and Ryou, sitting next to him.

Ryou informed him in as few words as possible.

"…My Ra."

"…I don't understand why," Yugi whispered. "They were happy…"

Ryou shrugged.

Looking at him properly for the first time, Yugi exclaimed in loud and obvious delight – "Ryou! Your scars are gone!"

"My yami healed them."

"…Oh." He looked more confused then ever, and Ryou didn't blame him.

Yami sighed, eyes carefully averted. "…Who's going to tell Isis?"

Silence as it sunk in. "Oh God," Ryou said in an undertone.

"What are we going to say?" Yugi mumbled.

"The Tomb Robber should tell her and Rishid. After all, he was the one who was last with him."

They were already using the past tense for Malik, Ryou thought with a shudder. "Okay. I'll tell him when he comes round."

Yami nodded, now gazing at him. "Will you be all right here on your own?"

"…I think so," Ryou said slowly. "My yami will probably stay in the Ring for a few days until he's stronger, anyway. And I don't think he's interested in hurting me anymore. Actually, I…I don't think he's interested in anything. I know this sounds stupid, but I do sort of feel sorry for him."

"Me too," Yugi murmured. "I mean, they really loved each other and everything. Even if they were a bit…evil." He hugged his yami possessively. Yami gave a vague sort of smile and half returned it, looking distracted.

(Love you aibou.)

((Mmm? Oh. Yes. I love you too.))

(Why do you sound so uncertain?)

((I was just…thinking.))

(What of?) Suspiciously, Yugi started reading his thoughts. (…Aibou! You were thinking about-)

((I know. I think I'm getting withdrawal.))

(You're so kinky.)

((Kinky is good. How much sleep were you planning on having tonight?))

(Not very much.)

((Good.))

"We're going to go now," Yugi announced with typical straightforward simplicity. "Unless you want us to stay a bit longer?"

"No, its okay. I'm sure you both have other things you want to do."

Yugi beamed. "Oh, definitely. Ow! Aibou! You kicked me!"

"No I didn't. See you tomorrow, Ryou." The spirit half-dragged his light over to the door before he could say anything else incriminating.

Ryou smiled at this, before going upstairs. Changing his bed-sheets was now his highest priority.

The smile vanished as he pushed open the door. Malik's body lay in a bag in the corner and he really didn't want to look at it. Inside his head he felt his yami shudder at this thought, waking from his half-sleep.

(It wasn't your fault.)

((Yes, it was. I don't know what I did, but it was because of me that he killed himself.)) The mental voice was shaky, but the harsh note betrayed his inner self-hatred. ((I know one thing, though. Or at least I think I do.))

(What?)

((He felt guilty about the stuff I made him do to you. I think maybe he wanted to apologise.)) Bakura split off and sat on the bed.

"I thought you were going to sleep for a few days. You know, to recover your strength."

"I'll be fine," his yami snapped. His body was slightly transparent, openly contradicting his words. If he didn't have the strength even to become properly physical than he was in a bad state. Ryou was pretty sure from his tone that his yami was ashamed of breaking down earlier, and was hiding the fact with temper, like a wolf trying to reassert its place as leader of the pack.

"...Thank you for healing my scars."

"I don't really know why I bothered." Bakura flopped down sullenly on the bed. "And don't you even think about changing these sheets. I want to…to…"

"Yami, he isn't there," Ryou said quietly.

"Ra dammit,I know! Can't you humour me or something? Just this once?"

Ryou shrugged uncertainly.

"Now go away. I want to sleep."

"Okay." Respecting his wish to be alone, the light got up. "Sleep well, yami."

"Yeah, whatever." His words were harsher than his tone, which something dangerously approaching grateful.

Ryou went downstairs, stopping to swipe a magazine lying on the landing as he went. He read it as he walked, feet moving automatically down the stairs. There was a slight bump as he tried to descend to a lower step, only to find he had reached the floor. Still reading, he made his way slowly to the sofa. Patches of carpet were stiff and dark from dried blood, and he made a mental note to wash them off tomorrow.

Settling himself down, he turned the page and found himself staring at the events list for the next month. There was another disco on, same place. Perhaps he would go.

He smiled to himself and started to read the agony aunt column – his favourite part.

Outside, the muted pitter-patter of tiny raindrops could be heard tapping gently in the window; increasing with a sudden roar to a full fledged-rainstorm as water droplets the size of fists battered like bullets against the window pane, while the gale let out its desolate howl like a challenge.

Face me. Battle me.

But its summons went unanswered, as the skinny white haired figure in the house three from the corner shook his head very slightly and picked up another magazine. Ryou thought maybe he would go to bed in an hour or two, depending on what extent he lost track of time, so as to be up early tomorrow for school. These thoughts turned hazy as his attention switched to an interesting article, and his liquid brown eyes began to rove softly across the page.

Outside, the wind hammered on the house door, demanding to be acknowledged.

………

A/N: And there you go. The End. Ra, it's so nice to say that after writing a long story. You HAVE to tell me what you thought of this! I loved writing this particular story, so it feels a bit weird to think it's now finished. I really want to know what everyone thinks of it, especially the ending, and all reviews will be appreciated more than I can possibly say.