Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh, or A Christmas Carol, which this story is loosely based on.

A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on Unwilling Thief, but my mind was invaded by a plot bunny before I fell asleep, and I fleshed it out while I was in my music class. It's just another weird fic from my twisted mind.

Ghosts of Egypt Past

Yami Bakura reclined easily against the wall of his soul room. His host was sleeping, and it seemed to hold the same appeal for the darkness. The strain on Bakura's body was affecting him as well; he could tell as he let out a huge yawn. As a spirit, Yami Bakura didn't need to sleep, but it felt good to rest and it helped pass the time.

He pried his aching body off of the floor and sauntered to the bed against the opposite wall. It was the same colors as the rest of the soul room: completely black outlined in blood red and pure gold. A purple haze floated through the empty spaces, a reminder of the shadow magic at work. Groaning as he stretched, he flopped down on it fully dressed, only taking the time to pry off his shoes as he lay eagle-sprawled on the comforter.

The thief stared straight at the ceiling for a while, not that it was distinguishable from the rest of the room, but he was fighting off the wayward thoughts that always invade a person's mind before falling asleep. As his eyes finally began to slide shut, one last fragment crossed his mind, one about his past. It wasn't the most original of thoughts; it was a question about who he should have become as opposed to who he was.

It nearly startled him awake. He would be the last person to doubt what like had thrown his way when he had spent the last few millennia coming to terms with it. However, his mind quickly discarded the question and allowed the yami his rest.

--

The thief wasn't exactly sure what was bothering him as he slept. It was a feeling as though someone was watching him, but that was clearly impossible. No one else could have possibly invaded his soul room while he occupied it. Slowly, his dark brown eyes opened to see a mixture of silver and lavender staring back at him only a few inches away.

He failed to stop himself from flinching back against the pillows at his back, and the intruder hopped off the bed and scurried away, barely making a sound during the retreat. Completely perplexed, Yami Bakura also slid from the bed, instantly noticing a strange texture beneath his sock-clad feet. The floor was grainy, and he heard it crunch as he lowered his weight onto it. He bent to touch it, disbelieving as he scooped the sand up and let it cascade back down.

His surroundings had changed slightly, the colors inverted as he beheld the bright gold room surrounded in crimson and violet. 'Like a pyramid…' he thought, feeling distinctly uneasy. A sudden pattering caused his head to snap toward the source of the sound, and he saw an archway in the wall where he had previously lain. He took a hesitant step toward it, wondering why he no longer had absolute control over his domain. Instincts taking over, he crept across the sand as silently as a ghost, shifting up against the frame of the arch and peering carefully into it.

An unexpected pain in his chest brought him to his knees as he gazed into the new room. At first he didn't understand the ache, why it struck so suddenly. Then, as he looked again, he understood. Grief, fresh and raw, flooded him with its intensity as his past stared him in the face.

Beyond the doorway, Kul Elna was smoldering, smoke filtering into the air to be trapped by the unseen barrier of the soul room. And there, in the middle, a lone child sat crying behind the destruction. Five thousand years couldn't erase the memory from Yami Bakura's mind, and he immediately recognized the carnage, and himself, sitting broken in the middle.

Before he could move, the child turned his tear-streaked gaze to the teenager. "Why?" he asked, futilely brushing at the tracks in the dirt on his face.

"Why…what?" Yami Bakura wondered, speaking almost against his will. The whole situation was causing so much stress to his system his head felt detached from the rest of his body. He was frozen in place as he awaited an answer.

"Why do you doubt yourself? Why are you questioning what has happened and cannot change?" Yami Bakura's younger self pleaded. "You cannot change the past."

The child's words struck a nerve in the thief. "You think I don't know that? I didn't stay here so long to change the past. It is the future I am concerned with."

"You are wrong. I can see your soul. You are filled with doubt about your goals and what you have lost along the way to accomplish them." Young Bakura tilted his head to the side. "Tell me I am wrong," he dared.

Yami Bakura had forgotten how stubborn he was as a child, and the truth in his own words unnerved him further still. "I know what I must do," he replied, avoiding the young one's actual statement. "Nothing will stop that."

The child nodded solemnly. "Just remember that. You cannot forget what you…what we lost. Do not question yourself; it will only hurt your resolve. And lastly, get revenge for us…" he finished.

Yami Bakura found himself nodding as well. "I will," he told himself, in more ways than one. Young Bakura stood, walking into the flaming wreckage of one of the homes and vanishing. The whole scene disappeared from the thief's view, dissolving into fine black mist. Sighing and shaking his head in disbelief, he turned from the empty room fully prepared to go back to bed.

He wasn't expecting to collide with the large mirror that had sealed the exit to the main room of his soul room.

He slowly rubbed at the bump on his head, staring in confusion at the barricade to his safe haven. Running his hand over the smooth surface, he felt how cold it was and also realized breaking it would be the only way through. He shrugged; he couldn't die here, so there was no harm in busting straight through the glass wall.

Tilting back, he first kicked at it, jarring his leg when it didn't budge. The pain was tolerable, but he decided it would be more productive to rush it instead. Stepping away a few paces, he ran toward his reflection, lowering his shoulder and ramming the mirror. He rebounded again, glaring in anger at his inability to bust through.

He shook his head again, turning from the solid mirror to search for a different way when he was met by the exact same sight from all sides. Yami Bakura was completely enclosed by his own reflection. No matter where he looked, he was staring back at himself and it made him uneasy to be constantly watched, even by himself. But then, the more he looked, the more he realized it wasn't his reflection. There was something odd about it. Although he still thought of himself as he was in Egypt, he had since taken on the guise of his host.

His mirror image was still tan and sleek, even though it was without the scar that marked him since he was a teenager. The features were softer and less angled, especially the eyes. The eyes reminded him of his vessel's, wide and full of light, so much different than his own. He paced over to the closest wall, not entirely surprised that it didn't mirror his movement.

"What do you want?" he demanded, quickly becoming frustrated by the game taking place in his soul room.

"Isn't it obvious? You wanted to know," his reflection answered, the voice echoing around the smooth surfaces.

"I didn't care to know anything, especially not when it involved playing some twisted game inside my own mind!" Yami Bakura denied, angrily pounding against the mirror. His "reflection" didn't flinch.

"I am the person you should have become. Had you forgiven yourself and those that took your home…if you hadn't fallen to the anger you could have lived peacefully and not been hunted for your whole life. You could have passed into the afterlife…"

Yami Bakura bristled at his mirror's words. "Why would I want to go to the afterlife?! Why would I want to forgive those who ruined my future?" he yelled, once again furious at his inability to completely ignore the truth in the words.

"I didn't say you wanted to, and I don't think they ruined your life for you. But you wanted to know who you would have become had you not made the choices you did. You could have lived in peace. You could have become me." The reflection smiled and tilted its head.

The thief's eyes narrowed in rage. "I would never want to become you! You're weak, just like my hikari!"

The voice in the room laughed. "Really? I still reside in the deepest chasm of your soul. No matter how much you deny it, I'm there. I've survived as long as you. And you stand there as a mere spirit and tell me your hikari and I are the weak ones."

"You ARE!" Yami Bakura screamed, throwing all his weight into the mirror in an attempt to silence his reflection. A crack ran entirely around the wall of glass, and the thief barely had time to cover his head before the entire thing shattered around him, sprinkling him with tiny shards and fragments.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the fragments settled, leaving him in blessed silence. Dusting glass off of himself, he backtracked out of the room, watching as it too dissolved into the black mist and the wall stretched out to seal the doorway into it. Sighing again, he turned to his bed, eager to drop onto it and forget the events of his memories.

The only problem was, he was already laying on it.

He stopped cold in his tracks, staring at the person lying on his bed, reclining on the pillows and gazing up with an amused expression.

"You!" Yami Bakura gasped at the tanned, scarred version of himself soaking up the attention he was being given.

The Thief King chuckled. "No…you," he corrected, pointing accusingly at the pale yami. "And me. We are one and the same."

"So, why are you…here?"

"To show you that we have no choice but to follow through with our plans. There is no changing what destiny has dealt us."

Yami Bakura finally grinned. "I'm glad someone finally agrees with me."

The Egyptian soul smirked. "I'm glad you agree with yourself"

"But…what are you?" the pale one asked, confused with the inner workings of his mind. He looked out of the corner of his eye at the one still resting on his bed.

The Thief King laughed outright at the spirit's inquiry. "Confused? I guess in most cases, I would be a portion of your soul. What do the mortals in this age call it…I could be called a snapshot of your past soul, a projection of your memory, just like the other two of 'yourself' you encountered tonight."

"So, you're my soul broken into different times of my past life? How are you appearing to me? How did you manipulate the greater part of my soul room?"

Once again, the tanned spirit laughed. "I said 'in most cases'." He pulled himself up off the bed, circling the shorter yami and whispering in his ear. "In this case, I'm just a dream…"

Yami Bakura whipped around, finding himself completely alone and more disturbed than he had been in the past five millennia. It didn't feel like a dream, yet completely exhausted and fed up, he collapsed on his bed and passed out.

--

What seemed like only five seconds later, his eyes snapped open. Through the mind-link, he detected his hikari moving, going through the motions of getting ready for school. The dream was still fresh in his mind as he jolted up from the bed and stepped on the solid and soft floor of his soul room. The colors were all in their correct paces and patterns and the typical purple haze flowed through the room.

He stretched and groaned, questioning his sanity as he thought about the images that had invaded from his past. Why had that dream seemed so real? As he wandered about the room, he found his answer, in the form of a high giggle and a low chuckle that once again echoed through his mind.

--

A/N: Whoo! Sorry if that was terribly confusing and weird, but it was a lot of fun to write! Thank you for reading it, and please, if you see something I could improve upon, please tell me. Now, I'm going back to Unwilling Thief. See you later. Also, Happy Holidays to everyone!