The Assassin and The Thief

Chapter 10

(Marik's POV)

Bakura whimpers, drawing back into his seat. "You love me...?" He whispers, eyes glazed. His mind must be spanning galaxies far from here, mentally broken in his internal quest to analyse my motives. Good luck Kura, even I can't do that.

"The truth is," I admit, keeping my voice low and calm to bring him back to reality. "I don't know why I love you,"

I slide my hands across the table to lay atop his smaller ones, caressing his milky white skin. "I understand if you feel betrayed. If you never wish to see me again. I just beg you don't go to the police,"

He stays silent, not looking me in the eye. The temperature of the room rises and I squirm slightly, trying to conceal any vulnerability from him. "Well say something!" I hiss, eyes darting around in my paranoia. As if I only have a second with my Kura before hell breaks loose.

"I don't know..." Bakura admits, clicking his tongue curly against his teeth to search for the right words. "I'm so confused...I think I love you but..."

"But you don't even know me," I realise. "The person you do love is a personality, you don't know if you love me,"

"Yeah," he nods, pleased I finished so he didn't have to. I nod back, sipping my drink to stave off awkwardness.

"Is there anywhere you can go?" I ask sadly. I've ripped him from his home - he can't go back. "I'll drive you," it's the least I can do.

"Can I not...come with you?" He asks timidly, looking up at me with pleading eyes as of begging me to say yes. Of course it's a yes!

"Of course, my Kura," I nod, the giddy excitement filling me up like a balloon. "In that case, we set a coarse for Canada,"

*
(Third Person POV)

From the flaming wreckage of a helicopter rises Seto Kaiba, wiping the blood from his mouth. His charred clothes smoke off him, hanging with black cinders. He lightly rubs a hand over his face, feeling the deep gash in his forehead hidden under his fringe. His third degree burn forces his skin apart in patches over his face and limbs.

Knowing he must act fast before a satellite picks up on this, he stumbles blindly into one of the limousines, the farthest from the wreckage with the least damage, praying it works. It does and he speed pit, following faint tracks on the sandy road, heading deeper into the centre of the desert without regard for himself. He wants this fucking Millennium Ring despite any sacrifices.

(Marik's POV)

Driving with Bakura in the passenger seat spreads a kind of calm about me. He sleeps, leaning his head against my shoulder as I stare at the road ahead, mesmerised by the vast expanse of the American desert. There isn't anything like this in Japan - always a city in sight, or a building or some settlement. Helicopters flying around. Whatever. This is nothingness, and it's beautiful.

I almost feel sorry for my small companion that he doesn't see this. Although he was raised in Egypt, I guess this is nothing new to him.

It comes to mind that without Kaiba, it without that minuscule spec of knowledge, I wouldn't know anything about Bakura just as he knew nothing about me. Yet somehow I still fell in love with him, just from those small interactions we shared. How he treated me, and the warmth being around him made me feel. Either naivety on my part (which I doubt; I'm an assassin) or the innate concept we call true love.

I hope it's the second, otherwise I've been in the wrong career path for a long time.