Going On | By : DracOnyx Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 4902 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer – Nope, I still don’t own them. But I continue to
hold out hope.
Author’s Notes – I apologize greatly for the fact that it’s
taken SOOO damn long to write this. With everything that’s been going on in my
life . . . well, let’s just say my poor muses, Marik and Sephiroth, even ran
away from the hell I’ve been living in.
It has been difficult to write, facing a divorce from a man
I care about deeply, while carrying our third child and trying to find ways to
care for our two sons. The stress was enormous, and added to the fact that he
was seeing other women . . . well, I really can’t blame my muses for heading
for the hills.
I’m still writing this, and it is unfortunately slow going .
. . I’ve erased and rewritten whole chapters several times over because I
didn’t like the way things were going, but I seem to be on the right track now.
So, here is the first chapter, and I will try to update regularly. I hope you
all enjoy this as much as you enjoyed Giving In.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Giving In, you can
find it on my website – www.geocities.com/draconyx1/Index.html,
or it is also posted at AFF.Net along with a couple other stories of mine.
Enjoy, and thank you for being so patient. I hope you find
it well worth the wait.
DracOnyx and her beloved muses, Marik and Sephiroth
*blurb* - Dark talking to Light through link
**blurb** - Light talking to Dark through link
‘b’ –b’ – thoughts
Going On
Sequel to Giving In
By DracOnyx
Chapter 1 - Shadows of the Past
Yugi awoke, breath gasping out in
harsh pants, sheets twisted and soaked with sweat as amethyst eyes stared in
wide-eyed horror and agony at the ceiling. After several panicked moments, the
gem-like eyes closed, a sigh escaping the tormented teenager before he slid
from the bed, slipping a pair of sweat-pants over his lithe frame and making
his way to the kitchen.
With a cup of coffee firmly in hand
several minutes later, the tri-haired teen settled into the semi-comforting
darkness of the living room of his three bedroom apartment, his haunted and
agonized gaze going painfully to the slight glint of gold at the top of the
book shelf across the room. The box . . . the box that had once held the most
important item in his life, and which now held only the remnants of what had
once been his joy . . . his love.
“Yami,” he whispered, biting back a
choked sob as the name brought to the forefront of his mind all the memories,
both painful and happy, of his other self, his one and only love.
Two years . . . two whole, agonized
years had passed since that fateful day. Even though he had not been there,
having been restrained in his Soul Room by his own yami, his friends had
reluctantly told him enough that he could still picture the events in his mind.
Yami’s abrupt regain of control . . . his panic and fear as he struggled to
maintain that control against the darkness that was a part of himself . . . and
the final, soul-wrenching act that had banished him and his shadow into the
eternal void of the Puzzle.
Amethyst eyes drifted to the
reflection in the glass door of the entertainment center, and once again he had
to restrain himself from putting his fist through it. He hated seeing himself .
. . hated seeing the dim reflection of Yami in the height he had acquired, the
elegance his features had smoothed into. His hair was the only thing that
remained the same . . . only Yami had the gold streaks that extended up into
the natural spikes of unruly crimson and black. They alone were something he
had yet to acquire . . . and he had no wish to do so.
“Nightmares again?” a quiet voice
asked behind him. He nodded, a jerky movement of head that bespoke of the still
unstable roil of emotions going on within the slim form. There was a soft sigh,
the briefest touch of a hand, and then the soft rustle of silk as his guardian
walked around him to settle in a chair nearby, blonde hair tousled with sleep
as lavender eyes regarded him steadily. “Yugi . . .”
“Don’t say it, Marik,” the youth
said harshly, and then paused to take a deep breath. “I know I have to get over
what happened . . . over him . . . but I just can’t! Don’t you understand . . .
he was the other half of my soul! We never . . .” The young tenor voice trailed
into a bare hint of a whisper. “We never had a chance.”
The former Tomb Guardian sighed,
one tanned hand running through his hair in agitation, making it stand up in an
almost eery resemblance to Malik. Lavender eyes closed for a moment, their
shade deepening to an almost violet color as memories of his own darkness
flitted through his mind.
“I do understand, Yugi,” he
murmured finally. “You know I do. But at the same time, Yami did not want this
for you . . . he wanted you to live your life free of worry and fear. Unless
you do that, his sacrifice was in vain.” He held up a hand to forestall the
angry outburst that nearly passed through Yugi’s lips. “No, don’t get angry.
You know what I’m saying is true, Yugi. You’ve practically withdrawn from
nearly everyone that had anything to do with your time with Yami . . . the only
reason you still tolerate me is because I DO understand. They worry about you
Yugi . . . as do I.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t be around
them without remembering HIM,” Yugi said brokenly. “Everything we went through together
. . . all the dangers we faced . . . why did it have to end that way?” He
sobbed, setting his cup down before slim arms wrapped around his shivering
frame, trying to hold in the agony that threatened to shake him apart. “It’s
not fair . . .”
A second set of arms wrapped around
him, drawing him into the slim, silk covered chest of his guardian as Marik sat
on the arm of his chair, offering the only comfort he could, his own heart
aching with the wish that there was something else he could do to protect his
charge . . . from himself.
*-------*-------*-------*-------*
Marik sighed as loselosed the door
to Yugi’s bedroom, having finally gotten the smaller youth back to bed and into
some semblance of a peaceful slumber. Grabbing the forgotteffeeffee cup, he
retreated to the kitchen, emptying the cooled liquid into the sink before
washing the cup and it’s accompanying spoon. As he settled into a chair at the
table, his eyes caught on the calender near the door.
It was always harder at this time
of year . . . the anniversary of the day that Yami had sacrificed himself to
save all of them from a horror born of his own desire to protect his aibou.
That fateful day was only four days away . . .
Hesitantly, he picked up the phone,
dialing the number slowly from memory.
“At this early in the morning, this
had better be good . . .” the voice at the other end growled when the ringing
stopped.
“Bakura,” Marik said softly. In
response, the tone of voice at the other end suddenly changed.
“Marik . . . he’s having dreams
again, isn’t he?” the former Tomb Robber asked just as softly. The answering
sigh was all he needed in answer.
Beyond Marik’s sight, on the other
side of town, Bakura moved quickly and quietly out of bed, using all his
trademark stealth to avoid waking Ryou, who slept soundly by his side. Sliding
into a pair of black jeans, he padded softly into the living room of the two
story house Ryou and he had bought, sinking into a padded armchair.
“Okay, speak to me,” he said
finally as he settled. “How bad is it?”
“About the same. Bakura, I’m
worried . . . he doesn’t seem to be getting any better as the months go by. I
thought he was, for a while th but but . . . I just don’t know anymore. If what
we did was right.” Bakura nodded firmly, even though he knew Marik couldn’t see
him.
“Yami made the decision . . . who
are we to go against his wishes? He feared for everyone . . . even you and I .
. . his darkness was too powerful. This was the only to pto protect us all . .
. he knew what he was doing. We have to trust in that.” He sighed as Marik
chuckled. “What’s so damn funny?” he growled.
“You and me,” the blonde Egyptian
replied. “Talking about Yami like this . . . I seem to remember we used to hate
his guts.” Even Bakura had to chuckle at the wry tone in the blonde’s voice.
“Even I have to at least admire a
person who sacrifice’s himself to save those he loves . . . and those who were
his enemies. I’m not that much of a bastard.” There was silence on the other
end of the line. “Oh, thanks,” he mred red sarcastically. Marik chuckled before
sobering.
“I just have to wonder . . . if
we’re doing the right thing,” he said finally. “He misses Yami so much . . .
and it’s been two years, Bakura. Shouldn’t it be safe by now?” Pale fingers ran
through even paler hair for a moment, a slight snarl crossing the former tomb
robber’s features as he hit a snag.
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