Disclaimer: Plain and simple. I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

A/N: Hello all! This story is a compilation of several mini-plots that have been floating around in my head for over a year. I decided it was time to give them a voice, and I've been looking forward to writing another long story to go along with Fly Away Home. I hope you enjoy it. I welcome all feedback, and I will respond personally to each review I receive. I will do my best to update every Saturday.

Ocean

Carry On
By Ocean

Chapter One – Going Up?

Yuugi was standing in an elevator. His evening hadn't exactly panned out as he had thought it would, and he couldn't decide if the deviation should be welcome or not. It really all depended on his perspective of the matter, and he hadn't decided on that yet. His nerves were scratching at him as though he should be excited or ill at ease, neither of which he felt. His anxiety usually wasn't a player in his day to day life but tonight it had apparently decided to become his chaperone. He hadn't felt this strong presence of his nerves since he was thirteen and asked to step to the front of the class and give a speech on his homework assignment that he had neglected to complete.

A young man of twenty-four, Yuugi Motou was a proud Japanese citizen, born in the city of Domino. He had been an adequate student in school despite his mother's best efforts. Average in both stature and personality he had never stood separate from his classmates, except perhaps in the school's Go club where he was able to work his way to first chair. Noticeable improvement only occurred after he left home – an apartment that he shared with his mother and grandfather, above a gaming business that his grandfather owned and worked – when Yuugi entered college and discovered his passion for mathematics.

Yuugi scratched at his wrist absently. He'd learned far more in college than what the textbooks had offered. He also hadn't gone home after graduation as planned because of his newfound knowledge that life did not, in fact, have to revolve around his family and their wishes. This was a decision that had not been well supported by his mother. One errant phone call home to alert his mom to his continued absence was so loudly objected to that the man in the next phone booth had turned to him in surprise at the volume.

A musical chime alerted Yuugi to the opening of the doors of the elevator. He stepped aside so that the two women standing beside him could exit the small space and walk down the hallway. He stole a peek at the beautiful golden walls and the hallway table with a single white Cala-lily, and then looked down at the worn Victorian carpet. The elevator attendant to his right was a Western-looking teenager named George, according to his nametag, who wore pressed black pants and a loud red jacket. Refined elegance versus the cheap motel on the highway. It all sort of melded into a middleclass atmosphere that was welcoming without being ostentatious.

It wasn't until the doors closed and the elevator resumed its climb that Yuugi noticed the two women had gotten off on his floor. He pursed his lips thoughtfully at this. He hadn't intended on remaining in the elevator. He slowly turned his eyes in reflection, lengthening the look until he could see past George to the only other passenger in the car.

The man shuffled his feet lightly, allowing his hip to lean against the rail. Yuugi continued to stare impolitely for a few moments more before returning his attention back in front of him.

Yes… the other man was an inquiry, wasn't he? Short for a man, no more than five feet and six inches in height, lightly built with an athlete's body but without the tone. His hair was a red so deep that in poor lighting it reflected black. It hung long around his face and over his ears before shortening towards the back, though not enough for it to be considered a short haircut. And his eyes. Eyes that reflected the light in such a way as to make them appear a burning red in color and slanted in such a manner as to reveal that he was not of Western descent and that, when added to the olive of his skin, announced his Middle East heritage.

He had met him downstairs in the lounge. Yuugi had taken pity on the lonely bartender and had offered to play a little piano for her to help ease the pain of the evening. Though no concerto, Yuugi was able to play a few pleasing melodies. He'd be better if he would only put in the time, but strenuous study had never been Yuugi's forte. It always left him bitter.

He'd played for an hour or so before someone had come and sat on the piano bench beside him. He was joined in such a quiet manner that Yuugi only noticed the other presence when he had to reach across the man to touch the keys. The low, warm, breathy chuckle that resulted from the action had been genuine, and Yuugi had been happy to have the audience.

"You seem to enjoy it," the other man had said.

"Somewhat," Yuugi had answered. "I prefer listening, actually. Sometimes you have to provide your own music though." The man had been amused and had proceeded to enjoy Yuugi's playing in silence.

Yuugi turned his head to look in the mirror to his side, shifting his gaze to covertly watch his companion. Though he didn't know much about him, not even a first name, there was something that kept his interest. He wasn't sure what it was, but he would be hard pressed to ignore a man who enjoyed piano music and had the patience to listen.

The attendant was having the evening of his life if Yuugi could tell by the eagerness in his eyes. George couldn't seem to keep the grin off his face and kept looking between the two men in the elevator with expectation. Yuugi politely ignored him while his companion remained relaxed and unconcerned.

"I wonder when the front desk opens tomorrow," Yuugi heard his interest say. Apparently it was an unimportant question as he shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. Yuugi found it fascinating that he was just standing there with his eyes lowered, not reacting to either of the two men in the elevator with him. Yuugi knew from experience that the bouncy hair that fell to his companion's shoulders was extremely soft. They had sat so close together on the bench that his hair had brushed against Yuugi's cheek. He appeared to be so at ease. His presence was almost tangible. It was completely baffling.

"Hey," Yuugi said, motioning with his head to get his attention. Once he had it, Yuugi turned to face him fully and leaned back against the rail himself, his arms crossed comfortably on his stomach. "What's your name?"

A raised eyebrow was his first answer. It was a curious gesture that was accompanied by a blank stare. Perhaps that's what it was about him that captured Yuugi's interest as few things did. A question as simple as "What is your name?" was complicated enough to require a moment of consideration before answering. He smiled lightly. If that were true, then what would the reaction be to a complicated inquiry? It might be fun to find out.

"Atemu."

"Huh?" Yuugi blinked out of his thoughts before remembering himself. "Oh. I haven't heard that one before. What is it? Arabian?"

Atemu leaned his head against the wall and watched Yuugi for a moment. "It's Egyptian," he finally said. "A family name, actually."

"Really?" Yuugi tried to hide the boredom he felt. He never had understood the fascination the world seemed to have with Egypt. It was all Napoleon's doing, allocating his resources to the discovery and excavation of ancient tombs for profit and self-promotion. It didn't seem to matter who you talked too, but almost everyone considered themselves to be an amateur Egyptologist. So much was already known about the ancient culture, and the modern one was unstable and foreign to outsiders, that Yuugi sincerely felt that resources would be much better spent in medical research than on old bodies and pottery sherds that, in his opinion, had nothing more to tell.

Yuugi looked at the poster for sushi at his side. Maybe Atemu wasn't as interesting as he had initially thought. He was disappointed to have expended so much effort with seemingly little gain. It was a shame, really. Tomorrow he had to return home, and he was going to have to do so without finding anything exciting in the world to bring with him. He turned back to Atemu to gain what little entertainment he could.

"Your accent," Yuugi said. His voice appeared to startle Atemu, but Yuugi wasn't sure if it was an act or not for the attendant's sake.

As Atemu was about to answer the lights in the elevator flickered and the car jerked to a halt. Everyone was thrown towards the middle of the cable car and entangled in arms and heads. George managed to hide his panic only moderately well as he opened the cover to the emergency phone a little forcefully and began to call for help before someone picked up on the other end. In his free hand he fished out a small but powerful flashlight and turned it on, the precision beam of light shaking with George's nerves. Yuugi and Atemu simply reverted to their positions, leaning against the rail on opposite sides of the car.

"Your accent," Yuugi repeated once they were settled.

"What about it?"

Yuugi shrugged. "I dunno. It's different." Atemu rolled his eyes at this obvious fact, which made Yuugi smirk in triumph. "Wouldn't expect an Egyptian to know Japanese."

"You find your language exceptional?" Atemu asked.

With narrowed eyes Yuugi gave a pointed glare. He was rather high and mighty, wasn't he? Quick to judge what lay beneath the surface. Yuugi wondered if it was a practiced habit or just some annoying innate ability. Those quick to judge were never friendly people in Yuugi's experience.

"They say it'll just be a minute!" George said rather suddenly, some moments after he had placed the phone back onto its receiver. "A blown circuit, or something." He gave a nervous laugh. "Gives us all a chance to get to know each other!" The light from his flashlight danced around the car creating a spotlight effect that lit each passenger in turn.

"Great," Yuugi drawled. Stuck in an elevator with two people he really had no curiosity in knowing. Such was his life.

"George?"

Yuugi brought himself back from his flight of self-pity at the sound of Atemu's voice. He followed his gaze over to George, who had noticeable sweat dripping down his temples. The kid was working himself up, ready to jump out of his skin with the slightest provocation. And so Yuugi was surprised when Atemu reached out with his hand and clamped it firmly onto George's shoulder.

"Steady yourself, George," Atemu said quietly, but with authority lacing the edge of his voice. "They won't leave us here to rot."

George gulped a breath of air and nodded his head, a shaky smile appearing on his face. He tightened his grip around his flashlight and steadied the beam. The corner of Atemu's mouth twitched upward, but disappeared before it could truly be called a smile. Atemu removed his hand from George's shoulder and let it fall to his side. His eyes hardened when they looked on Yuugi, who was looking on him with an air of discovery. Glaring a warning Atemu jerked his head to the side.

Yuugi's expression turned cunning; his smile only meeting his eyes half-way to reveal that he was quite pleased with himself for finding a piece to the puzzle that stood across from him. So the tough-guy, disinterested persona was just that, was it? There was softness in that heart somewhere. And even though he hadn't wanted to reveal it to Yuugi, Atemu hadn't been able to stop himself from reaching out to poor, suffering George. Yuugi found his interest peaked again, if only for the fact that Atemu was fascinating one minute and absurdly dull the next.

The loud, electric buzzing of a thousand kilowatts of electricity filled the car, followed by the return of the lights and the cable car continuing its ascent. The elevator smoothly guided itself to a stop upon reaching the twenty-eighth floor, and the inlaid doors opened slowly with a soft chime.

Atemu immediately exited the car without so much as a backwards glance and stepped into the little lobby area, where his next step hesitated and caused him to stumble lightly into a halt. He stood as though contemplating a deep secret before relaxing his posture and tilting his head towards his shoulder.

Yuugi recognized the gesture for what it was; an invitation to follow without the presumption that it would be accepted. It made Yuugi furrow his brows in thought. So perhaps Atemu was even softer than he had thought?

"Hey mister," George said quietly, poking Yuugi in the ribs. "Aren't ya gonna go with him?"

Yuugi looked over at George. "Why should I?" he asked in his normal tone. There was no possibility of Atemu not hearing the conversation. Yuugi didn't really see the need to hide it considering it was about Atemu anyway.

George was confused by Yuugi's question and kept his voice quiet. "But," he began, "you rode up here with him, didn't you? I mean, why else would you?"

"I don't know," Yuugi said as he turned his head to watch Atemu's reaction. Even if he didn't know any better, which he didn't because he didn't know Atemu at all, he could have sworn that Atemu appeared deflated and almost… beaten down, somehow. That didn't make sense to him. "It's not like I owe him anything," he said, perhaps more to himself than to George.

"Oh," George said.

Yuugi looked at him quickly before looking back at Atemu, whom had chuckled at Yuugi's last comment.

"That is true," Atemu said. "No one owes me anything." He gathered himself and walked out of sight around the corner, down the hall to his room.

Whoa whoa whoa, Yuugi thought. This isn't right. Something isn't right here. What did he mean by that? That no one owed him anything? The way he said it was so much heavier than just the words he had spoken. It was almost like… almost like it was something he had been told rather than a statement about debt. But why would anyone say something that cruel? Yuugi wasn't the most giving person around, but he would never stoop so low as to attack someone on such a personal level. His mind raced to put the pieces together and he almost missed the elevator doors closing before him.

Yuugi thrust his shoulder into the small space remaining between the doors and grunted as they closed on him before reopening. He ignored George's outcry and proceeded to trace Atemu's footsteps until he found him, five doors down, still standing in front of his door with his back towards the elevator. Yuugi walked around him so they were standing face to face and studied him, though it was difficult to do because Atemu's eyes were trained on the carpet by his door. Getting frustrated Yuugi reached forward and shoved his hand down Atemu's pocket to procure the key and inserted it into the computerized lock. He held the door open, pocketing the key, and a few moments later Atemu relented and went inside. Not once did he protest Yuugi's invasion of his personal space.

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The hotel room was dark; the burgundy curtains drawn together with only the hazy, mellow light of the bedside lamp offering any visibility. The bedcovers were wrinkled but made, indicating that whoever had slept in the bed was not, despite appearances to the contrary, a neat freak. A green suitcase lay closed on a luggage rack that had been set up next to the TV stand and effectively cut the already small walkway in half. There was a small picture frame on the dresser beside the queen sized bed. A quick glance into the bathroom immediately off the minimal entryway revealed only a single toothbrush, an open travel-sized toothpaste, and a stick of deodorant. Even for a travel destination, the room appeared empty and unvisited.

Yuugi stopped beside the suitcase and watched Atemu walk around the bed and sit on the edge furthest from him. He may as well not be in the room for all the attention Atemu was giving him. Yuugi wasn't insulted by this otherwise deliberate rudeness. He didn't allow trivialities to bother him. But it was interesting that he wasn't being given even a little bit of attention considering all of the previous interaction that had already occurred between him and Atemu.

Atemu bent his leg over his knee and pulled off his shoe, repeating the action before standing and walking back around the bed towards the bathroom. He had to stop beside Yuugi for there was simply no room for him until the other man moved. Yuugi debated whether or not to let him pass without comment. None of this was making sense. The silence, the darkness, the air of defeat, none of it. Above all, Yuugi's gut was telling him that hanging around a little longer might be a good idea. And Yuugi always followed his gut no matter how farfetched the notion appeared to be.

Yuugi decided against trying to catch Atemu's eye and opted for words instead. "You do realize I'm leaving tomorrow," he said. "I know I mentioned it earlier."

Atemu looked at Yuugi with pained features. "I'm tired," he said quietly. "You're free to do what you like." He leaned forward just enough to allow his temple to brush against Yuugi's, at which point Yuugi pushed his back flush against the wall and allowed Atemu to go by.

The touch had been deliberate, and had been unexpected enough to allow Atemu to pass into the bathroom without further questions from Yuugi. The quiet click of the lock catching in its latch and the sound of running water focused Yuugi onto the present situation and he took the opportunity to stroll around the room. The lack of any personal effects made him frown. It wasn't usual for someone to appear so not there, especially in their own room. Yuugi sat on the edge of the bed where Atemu had been and clasped his hands between his knees. Why should he be this interested - or concerned, if he was being honest with himself, about someone like Atemu? It wasn't like he feared Atemu was going to take his own life. As little as he knew about the man, he knew enough to believe suicide was not a possibility.

Sighing out his frustration and taking a deep breath, Yuugi hesitated when the acrid smell of alcohol registered in his nose. He crinkled his brows at the odor, lifting his hand in front of his face and curving his fingers, capturing his breath and breathing it in. His breath didn't smell of alcohol so the fragrance wasn't coming from him. It must have come from Atemu, though Yuugi couldn't remember smelling it on him. Then again, he thought, being down in a bar where the aroma of alcohol was prevalent wasn't exactly a good test. And his attention had been diverted in the elevator. The fragrance was slight, but it did offer an explanation for Atemu's inconsistent behavior. The corner of Yuugi's mouth lifted upwards in a soft smile. If his suspicions were correct, which he knew they were, then the sincere Atemu who had reached out to George was the real Atemu, and the one who had scowled at him was simply the result of a little too much drink.

Satisfied with himself, Yuugi was about to leave and never think of Atemu again when he took a second look at the picture on the desk beside the bed. Curious, he reached over and brought it into his lap for closer study. It was an old photograph, the colors faded to a bronzy lightness, with two creases that crossed over the middle of the picture and a minimal tear in the lower right hand corner. The subjects of the photo were a young couple dressed in bright and colorful traditional robes, standing beside a palm tree in front of an oasis, their hands on the shoulder of a small child who was unmistakably Atemu. Yuugi found the scene charming until he took a closer look at Atemu. His father's hand was gripping his shoulder firmly. Very firmly, Yuugi noted, as though he were holding Atemu down or back or in place. Atemu was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and his body was stiff against his parents' hands.

Yuugi tapped the frame against his knee in thought. It was an interesting picture any way he looked at it. That settled things, then. Placing the picture back onto the table he stood, checked his pocket, and walked out of the room.

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To be continued…