Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh, please choose me to own you! I would do you justice… sigh. (I also don't own the lyrics I reference below.)

A/N: Alright, ladies and gents! This is experimental. I roughly based it on the song "My Love's in Germany," which is really pretty, BTW (and depressing)—we're singing it in my choir class and I immediately tended towards Yugioh or some random people, which is weird… anyway… I was just thinking about this and started writing it in my History class.

I want you to be totally honest on your opinion of this with me, okay? Constructive criticism! Don't be mean—share your opinion outright, but do it in a way that I can actually do something with it and fix this.

As I said before, this is experimental. I'm not sure if I'll go anywhere with this. For now it's a one-shot, but if enough people like it and want me to continue with it, I may just make this the prologue and add chaps. We'll see how it goes :P

So here it is! Don't judge right away. Just warning you, though—this is kind of really sad, but if you like it I'll end it happy. It all depends you guys. I'm posting the lyrics (which I also don't own, those belong to a poet guy) they're the English version and I'm not entirely sure they're right to the choir song lyrics. Anyway, read 'em if you like. You can look the song up on youtube.

So, without further ado, here is my experimental/random so-far once-shot fic called Return to You.


Lyrics to My Love's in Germany

My love's in Germany, send him home, send him home
My love's in Germany, send him home
My love's in Germany,
Fighting brave for royalty:
He may ne'er his Jeanie see—

Send him home, send him home

He may ne'er his Jeanie see, send him home
He's as brave as brave can be—send him home, send him home
He's as brave as brave can be—send him home
He's as brave as brave can be
He would rather fall than flee
But his life is dear to me—
Send him home, send him home,

His life is dear to me, send him home

Send him home, send him home.

My love, send him home, send him home.

Send him home.

My love—

Send him home.

He'll ne'er come o'er the sea—Willie's slain, Willie's slain
He'll ne'er come o'er the sea—Willie's slain

He'll ne'er come o'er the sea,

To his home and own country,

This world's no more for me—

Willie's gone, Willie's gone,

This world's no more for me,

Willie's gone.


Atem had left months ago, though it seemed years.

It had been nearly six months now. She missed him so much it hurt to think about him. Her chest ached at the picture in her mind of the day he left: his ancient amethyst eyes were confident and smiling as he held her close, soothing her and promising he would come home.

He had always wanted to help in the war effort. Always. He had talked about it constantly—then finally, they had recruited him, as they realized his skill.

For Atem, it had been a day of triumph; a day for joy. For Mana, it had left her heart cold and alone, helpless to his wishes.

She wished he would come home soon. He had promised he would. When would the war end?

He had been sending her letters every day—sometimes they came all at once at the end of the week, but she read every last one. She read them over and over and over again.

She saved them all, too. Every one of them sat in a box beside her bed—there were thousand of them. He never failed to write. Didn't miss a day.

One such letter, the most recent, she had read more than many others. In his curvy handwriting, it read:

Mana,

I'm glad you can't see what I can. Your heart would stop cold if you knew of the horrors I do.

I write you as we hide in enemy territory, trying to gain a vantage point from which to launch an ambush. But don't worry. Our leader is a man you and I both know: Mahad. He is a powerful fighter and Magician.

He tells me now to give you a message: not to worry because he will assure both his and my return home. He is fiercely loyal. I do not doubt him; nor should you.

Mana, my love, I promised you I would return and I will. Against injuries and possible capture, the loss and pain, I will return to you.

Love from,

Atem

Her heart ached. She missed him so much.

Years later...

Mana read the most recent letter from Atem. His handwriting was as neat as ever. He didn't seem to be weary at all, though he did seem annoyed and a bit lonely. By now he held a high ranking position in the armies—she wasn't surprised. She still missed him, but he was doing his duty. He was doing what he had always wanted to do.

The letter said…

Mana,

Some of these new recruits aren't quite suiting up as I hoped. They're not used to the idea of death and war—of loss. I suppose it's natural. Being out here on the battle field gives you a sense of tolerance for a lot of things; things which probably shouldn't be normally tolerated. Violence, injury, pain—loneliness.

Of course, you're not really alone. There are others with you at all times. But in a sense, we are all alone. Men are men. We have no love but that of being brothers in arms. Everyone we love we left behind when we were recruited. Many of us left behind children and wives, families, brothers, sisters, every manner of loved ones.

I think of you often, Mana: before I sleep, when I dream, when I wake, every strain of air that leaves my body. At times the fact that I left you behind to do this is a new pain, even though it is older than others and only temporary.

Stay strong, my love. We all need to stay strong in times of war.

Forever yours,

Atem

She sighed, trying to fight the reopened wound. Before, his absence had been a fresh ache. Now it was an old pain, but it still ripped and tore from time to time, ever present as she went about her usual duties. By now she had a well-off job and had gathered a life for herself. She still hadn't given up hope that he would come home. She still loved him.

And Atem still wrote her every day. By now she had box after box of his letters, tons of them tacked all over her room, framed, all over the house—he was still on her mind constantly. She could still see his face in her mind's eye.

She hoped he would come home soon.

Sometimes, she would feel his absence like a new gash, tearing at her. But she held her head high, reminding herself that he had promised he would come home. He still loved her as she still loved him.

But was love really forever?

Mana shook her head at that, sighing. She glanced his picture on the wall. He was so handsome and prominent in his uniform. Those piercing amethyst eyes bore into her, and she quickly looked away, getting back to work.

The letters kept coming. He talked about new recruits and war efforts, how he still wanted to come home and loved her. He said they were getting near to ending it, and that was the best news she had heard—Atem wasn't one to exaggerate. There wasn't much information on what was happening other than that. People lived and went about their usual lives. Mana tried not to worry as she always did.

But then the letters stopped.

Two weeks. Three. The war was close to over according to the others and she still hadn't heard from him.

What had happened to him?

Was he hurt?

Captured?

Dead?

No! she screamed at herself, holding her head in her hands. No. He can't be dead. Don't think like that. He promised, remember? He said he would. He said he…

She swallowed. He had to be alright. For her sake and for his, he had to be. She prayed to the gods for guidance and comfort, and prayed for Atem's safety—she prayed for it with all her might.

It was a week later that the visit came.

Standing before her came a man in uniform. His expression was unreadable as he asked to speak to her. Mana immediately knew what it was about. She didn't hear a word he said as he told her of the brave and noble deeds Atem had done, of how he had been invaluable in the war effort. He told her he had gone in the heat of battle, sacrificing himself as a distraction so the others could ambush attack, thus winning the war.

He told her about all the awards he was to be given at the funeral. Of how he would receive the highest possible rewards, and that she, as his future fiancé and betrothed, was entitled to them.

Mana didn't care. She wanted her Atem.

Without listening to the rest of what the uniformed man had to say, she said thank you very quietly and turned away. In her room, she closed the door behind her and tried to hold it in.

It was impossible. Grief came crashing down on her like a wave, causing her knees to shake and her heart to speed. Her legs gave in under her weight, and she collapsed before she made it to her bed. She didn't bother picking herself up off the floor. What was the point?

The tears pooled in her eyes and finally flowed down her tan cheeks with a gasp. "You promised," she choked, "You promised. You said you would come home to me." The sobs came, and the pain in her heart was nearly unbearable. It was as if someone had gotten inside her and had fun redecorating without her permission.

Mana curled up on the floor, legs tucked up to her chest, arms curled around them and face buried in her knees.

The following weeks were a blur. She was in her body, but her mind and spirit just weren't there. Her soul was torn. Atem was the only face she ever saw. The only word she ever heard.

It was only at the funeral that she finally seemed to tune back in. The truth suddenly became reality instead of a nightmare.

"You promised," she whispered later that night. "You promised."

A voice came to her, whether it was her consciousness or really him, she couldn't distinguish, but it brought a lashing of anguish across her unstitched heart.

I tried. I tried.


okay, now I'm depressed. Maybe I will elaborate on this. It depends on if you want to read more.

So, I guess that means there's only one thing to do, isn't there? Review! If you have suggestions as to where this should go plot-wise (since I'm a bit clueless) I welcome them!

-Anevay