Thanks to- Akayuki Sawada, dniweR, Painty the Majestic, xfallenangel13x, zozikoozy, LilacMemories, hey- For Reviewing!

Sorry how long this took, I've had writers block for like weeks now... ugh.


The big day was finally here, and Ryou was so bouncy Bakura was having to physically restrain himself from strangling the smaller boy. He spent half the morning drinking strong coffee and the other half cursing Mariku for booking afternoon flights, which meant Ryou had a whole five hours to panic over every little thing and unpack and repack several times. Of course, it also meant the Thief had far longer to think over the horribly vague details of his task, get through security without being caught. That was terrifying enough in itself, if, Ra forbid, they were caught, there was no way he could deny it. The most he would be able to do would be to try to prove Ryou's innocence so he could hopefully get off free without Mariku needing to fulfil his half of the bargain. There was also the small matter of getting the drugs to their buyers without Ryou becoming suspicious or noticing Bakura sneaking off unexplained in a strange country where he didn't know anyone. So of course, with all that on his mind, it was no wonder Bakura spent the morning in a state he could only describe as jumpy.

"'Kura! Are you even listening to me?" Ryou demanded from opposite Bakura at the table where he sat with what looked, bizarrely, like a dagger in one hand, and the other resting on his hip in what could only be annoyance.

"No." The Thief replied bluntly, lighting a fresh cigarette and feeling extremely grateful that Ryou hadn't noticed his excessive smoking.

"Bakuraaa!" Ryou whined, slumping into a vacant chair with a long-suffering expression and waving the dagger absently in the air. "Why was this in your hand luggage?"

"Just in case," Bakura shrugged absently.

Ryou rolled his eyes exasperatedly, dropping the heavy dagger to the table with a thump that made Bakura glare. He'd had that dagger for several thousand years, he wouldn't be best impressed if Ryou carelessly damaged it now.

"In case of what, we'll be on an aeroplane. What do you think's going to happen exactly?"

Taking a deep, and not as calming as he wished drag, Bakura sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples and taking the dagger from the table, spinning it with ease. "Fine, I'll put it in my suitcase instead then."

Thinking the problem was solved, Bakura returned to ignoring Ryou and counting the hours until his possible fall from notoriety and a twenty-five year prison sentence. He was snapped back to reality as a hand roughly whacked him in the side of the head, catching him off guard and making his cigarette fall to the floor.

"What? What is it this time?" He growled angrily, once again reminding himself that strangling Ryou just before their big trip might put a dampener on the holiday.

"What is up with you today?" Ryou asked, eyes narrowing in a horrible mixture of suspicion and concern as Bakura retrieved the still smoking cigarette and shoved it between cracked lips. "I said, you can't take knives on planes anymore."

This made Bakura's eyes snap to attention, focusing his attention onto Ryou fully as his brain tried to figure this out. "Seriously?"

"Yes Bakura, no knives." Now Ryou was the one who seemed irritated, enthusiasm fading under Bakura's gloomy mood.

"What am I meant to do when we get there then?" Bakura wondered quietly, he wasn't too keen on the idea of being in a foreign country without a weapon, let alone acting as a drug mule.

"You were planning something that needed a dagger?" Ryou asked incredulously, eyebrow raised in wonder.

Bakura fixed him with a steely glare, deliberately puffing smoke into his face. "Don't be stupid. I'll just have to get one over there I guess."

There was silence after this, which Bakura assumed meant he had won the argument and Ryou had no further rebukes. Of course, as was so often the case, he was wrong.

"What do you know about England?" Ryou asked, seemingly unrelated question coming from nowhere and making Bakura furrow his brows and shrug nonchalantly.

"Not much. It rains a lot, you all drink tea and eat fish and chips. Um, you've got a Queen and posh accents."

Ryou merely blinked at him in disbelief for a second before starting to giggle quietly at how utterly stereotypical that response had been.

"What's so funny?" Bakura demanded, glad at least that Ryou seemed to have gained some of his pep back, even if it was at his own expense.

"Nothing much, just.. did you pay no attention when we lived in England?"

Ryou was referring to the time when Bakura had inhabited the millennium ring, as Bakura well knew.

"Well it was only for about four years before you moved here and I spent them in the ring, so not really." Bakura reasoned, he'd spent most of that time trying to figure out a way of escaping from the ring, so taking in the scenery had never been his top priority. In fact he'd only begun possessing Ryou's body after they'd moved countries, so he'd never even been physically in England.

Ryou nodded slowly, "I guess you've got a point." He smiled a minute later, "you're mostly right about the rain though."

"Never liked rain much." Bakura remarked, "we didn't get any in Egypt."

Chestnut eyes flickered up to Bakura's face, which seemed almost nostalgic, keen to hear more about Bakura's life in Ancient Egypt as ever, Ryou stood to make himself a hot drink.

"Not even once?" He asked, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard and flicking on the kettle to boil.

Feeling his memories of Egypt flooding back, Bakura sank into his chair, thinking hard about the good times before the massacre, which had become blurry over the long years.

"I think it did once." He muttered uncertainly, vague images of damp tanned skin filled his vision, laughing with other children in their soaked sandals. Dancing in damp sand and feeling the droplets hit his skin refreshingly for the first time. "The locals said it was a blessing from Ra."

Ryou just listened silently, Bakura almost never talked about Egypt, before or after the Kul Elna massacre, and he felt honoured to be able to know more about the Thief's past before he came twisted and bent on revenge.

"My mother," here Bakura's voice hitched momentarily, but if either boy noticed they didn't mention it. "She brought all the cooking pots out of the house to fill them. She said the water was sent because of the bad harvest the year before, as an apology from the God's for our suffering."

The Thief could remember that year all too well, words coming from his mouth unbidden and almost unnoticed as he lost himself in the past. "The stretch of the Nile a few miles from the village dried up. The crops failed and the cattle died. I learnt to pick pocket that year. One of the men would take me to the markets and send me out to steal from people while they were distracted looking at the goods."

"Did you ever get caught?" Ryou asked, returning to the table with two mugs, peach tea for him and black coffee for Bakura.

"Just once. I tried to get a jade bracelet off someone and her husband noticed." He chuckled slightly, taking his coffee absently. "I got one hell of a beating. I could barely walk for a week after he was finished. My mother was so angry, she said the God's had been right to punish me."

Bakura's happy face fell and with a rush he returned to the present, in his small kitchen, full of technology that would have baffled everyone he'd known, drinking coffee with his Hikari. His mothers words that day had stayed with him through everything, through his years as the Thief King, through all the years scheming against the Pharaoh and his brat, through getting a body, everything. He'd often wondered what she would have said about his lifestyle if she could see it, he would be a huge disappointment no doubt. If his mother had gotten so angry over a little petty theft, what would she think of the murders he had committed? The people whose lives he had ruined? It was rather pathetic, he supposed, a fully grown man feeling guilty for disappointing his mother, not very like his usual self at all.

"'Kura?" A small hand on his own broke him from his thoughts and he blinked away any pictures of the past, realising suddenly he couldn't remember his mothers face. "Are you okay? You looked upset."

"I'm fine." He replied coldly, though he didn't remove Ryou's hand, nor complain when the whitette interlocked their fingers.


"Bakura! The taxi's here!"

"Coming!" Said Thief yelled back down the stairs, wondering why on earth all the curtains were closed and nearly falling down the stairs at the lack of light. "Why the bloody hell are all the curtains shut?"

Heaving a suitcase probably twice his weight through the hall, Ryou didn't even look up as he answered, "so we won't get burgled while we're away."

The logic behind this sentence evaded the Thief, who merely shrugged and wondered who'd want to rob them anyway. "Right, of course." He muttered sarcastically, moving to take the suitcase from Ryou, lifting it with little trouble and earning an irritated pout from the tired Hikari. "You get the hand luggage and lock up, I'll get the suitcases. I don't fancy you dislocating an arm."

The smaller whitette didn't reply but rolled his eyes and followed Bakura's instructions, collecting the two small rucksacks and swinging them over his shoulders, giving one last look around the empty entrance hall before swinging the door shut behind him.


The taxi zoomed through icy streets at a speed Bakura was certain was neither legal nor safe, not that he'd ever complain though. Ryou had his face pressed against the window like a small child, waiting for the sight of aeroplanes setting off from the huge building they were approaching.

"You boys off on holiday?" The taxi driver asked, friendly tone relaxing Ryou, who fell away from the window with a pleased giggle as he saw Bakura's raised eyebrows at his childish behaviour.

"Yep!" Ryou answered happily, "We're going to England."

"Bit young to be going all that way by yourselves aren't you? You got family over there?"

Bakura bit back his retort about being a three thousand-year old spirit, figuring it would just worry the taxi driver more, besides, his body looked older than it technically was, so the man shouldn't have been worried in the first place.

Ryou took a while to reply, seeming almost uncertain, "yeah, my father."

The taxi driver nodded in understanding, seeming to have decided to drop the subject. "Meant to be cold over there, hope you packed lots of warm clothing."

The small talk continued like that for a while, Ryou wittering happily about England and how excited he was, and the taxi driver asking questions and laughing at Ryou's endless enthusiasm. Bakura just watched with cold crimson eyes, unable to ignore the taxi driver's suspicious eyes meeting his frequently in the rear view mirror.

When they finally reached the airport, a building so huge Bakura was almost intimidated, the taxi driver, Ralph apparently, helped them unload their suitcases and fetched them a trolley.

"Well, have a good holiday boys." He smiled, waving as he drove off into the distance.

"Bye!" Ryou trilled, waving back until the car was out of sight before finally turning to look at Bakura. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, course I am." Bakura responded quickly, taking Ryou's rucksack and placing it atop the pile of suitcases on the trolley. "Let's go."