Avatar the Last Airbender meets the story of Bakura. Bakura wants the items, the Avatar wants to stop the Fire Lord, and Ryou just wants to find out why he's attracted to Bakura. But when all of them end up traveling together, who knows what will happen? Tendershipping. Half follows Avatar canon, the other half... twists it just a little. It'll make sense, I promise.

Cold... It was so very cold. Every step pricked the icy needles further into his veins. Snow froze the blood faster than it could flow, and he knew in his heart that this, this was where he would die. It was ironic. Everything he'd done, and it was all going to be for naught now. Now, when he had finally found it...

His foot caught a chink in the icy tundra and sent him stumbling, sprawling into a snowdrift that cut like so many knives. His body throbbed, and the furious red ache that filled his lacerated limbs refused to allow him the movement he so desperately wished he could produce. He was weak. Too weak to do anything to help himself.

He never had liked the cold. Now he could only thank his lucky stars for that same cold, because the damp couldn't bother him anymore. His internal temperature had already dropped enough that it could no longer melt the snow and frost that so willingly clung to him. Being wet had always been an unimaginable torture, even when compared to the cold. He supposed that this was another of those ironies. The inner spark that had always fueled him, pushed him beyond his limits to do anything he set his mind to, was being snuffed out by all of this snow after such a narrow, hard-won victory.

He clutched the large golden ring closer to his chest. The only comfort left to him was that, if his body was ever found, they would have to pry the ring from his cold, dead fingers. Frostbite and rigor mortis would irrevocably weld the metal to his flesh. Of course, that depended completely on his body being found in the first place. In all honesty, he thoroughly doubted something like that would happen. This frosty world was so utterly desolate, and snow was already layering itself in thick sheets along his thin-clad back. He'd never be found.

The world was growing so muddled, so dark and yet so very, very white. All of this white. He was blinded by it. Everything blurred, and he almost missed the gleam of brilliant blue that was the only color for miles. He clenched his fist, blinking rapidly as he pushed himself up far enough to look around. Ice clung to his lashes and crusted his eyes like diamonds, but he ignored it. There was no ignoring the blue eyes that stared down at him, especially as they turned black as pitch. Black as soot that stains the snow. Such familiar black eyes...

The whiteness overcame all of the black that had filled his vision. He had just enough time to see those locks of pure, snow-white hair whipping in the wind, see the tender look on the soft, feminine face, before everything went blank.