(Rated M for language)

I awoke slowly, awash in rising layers of senses. First I heard a low and steady rumble; then I felt warm and ample fabric, swaddling me. I smelled cedar; I tasted, unpleasantly, how long I'd slept. And, brave enough at last, I opened my eyes and saw...Kaiba.

Kaiba?

He saw me, too, right then. He tossed his phone aside, straightened up, and smiled with such open warmth that he startled me fully awake.

"Atem!"

My name, I thought, with a flutter of pride.

"Sorry, I'm stuck in this goddamned thing again," Kaiba grumbled, but he still smiled as he wrenched the wheelchair forward, forward till it knocked against the bed frame. He leaned in. His coffee-colored hair fell gently into his eyes. We were close enough to touch.

"What happened?" I managed.

"Who knows," he said. "Some kind of nerve damage. They told me, but I don't care, I'm fine." And he did touch me—reaching out with his good arm, the other bound and in a sling, and brushing back my hair.

I beg your pardon?!

"How do you feel?" he asked. I forced my attention to my body and sat up. I felt a twinge of headache—a stiff neck from too much sleep, I wagered.

"Fine," I said.

"Thank God." He exuded relief. "I was worried."

Of course I had no desire to stem this astonishing flow of affection, but Kaiba was so unlike himself, it unsettled me. I knew enough about body-sharing spirits of uncertain origin and shrouded purpose (having been one myself) to exercise caution in my pursuit of clarity.

"I hate to ask," I said carefully, "but how did I end up here—at what I assume is your mansion?" I indicated the ornate decor with a vague swoop of my hand.

He shrugged his good shoulder. "We went to the hospital first, but then I just brought you here," he said, matter-of-fact. "Where else were you gonna go?"

I frowned. "But after I dueled Yuugi...Kaiba, I—"

He stiffened.

"I thought that I'd...that I'd left this world behind...for good. But..."

His face silenced me. Something gathered there like floodwaters, at first a distant, rushing sound, then a sudden suggestion at the ankles—

"Is that the last thing you remember?" he said, odd, flat. "Your duel with Yuugi?"

I studied his fissuring face, struggling to understand. A struggle so familiar to me by now.

"...Yes," I said. "And then I slept. Right?"

It was not water licking my ankles. It was fire. I watched his expression contort in the flames, holding my breath till all at once it collapsed and burst apart.

The table lamp exploded against the opposite wall. I flinched.

"DO THEY THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" Kaiba screamed. "IS THIS ALL A FUCKING JOKE TO THEM?!"

He wheeled back and away from me with awkward, one-armed pumps, crunching over the remains of the lamp, panting, eyes roving.

I reached for him. I had to impart that it was alright—it was only sleep, nothing unpleasant, and I was here now, somehow. I was here now. "Kaiba—"

"Yeah, you slept," he spat, heaving. "Time to rise and shine."

The weeks that followed brimmed with joyful activity, distracting me well from that fraught encounter. I loved surprising my friends one by one, delighting in their shocked delight, returning their smothering hugs. And most of all, I loved seeing Yuugi again.

His house was my first stop on my reunion tour—that same day, after Kaiba withdrew deep into the mansion and Isono (with the utmost civility, I should stress) showed me the door. And it was where I stayed. Yuugi's mother made up a bed for me in the guest room. Was I a guest now? I supposed so!

Brown skin, dark eyes, thick hair: the bathroom mirror confirmed my identity. Wasn't it silly and vain to fret that I didn't exist till I looked in a mirror? But with my particular history of incorporeality, I felt somewhat justified. I changed into an outfit of mine that Yuugi had saved. My oversized clothes from Kaiba's lay folded on the sink.

My aibou was over the moon. Through incredulous laughter and tears he filled me in as best he could. His days were full of Kame Game Shop happenings and inspired game designs. Anzu was in New York (we video called her; she spilled tea all over her laptop and booked her flight home on the spot). Jounouchi attended Domino Community College, learning programming with Otogi and honing his dueling skills after classes. Honda joined them part-time between shifts at his family's factory. Bakura trained in hospice care.

Kaiba had built a dimension cannon and had been gone for eight months; then he'd come back with me—a flaming, manmade comet that careened through every headline and barreled straight into the ocean.

"It must've taken him that long to find you," Yuugi mused. I could only nod in agreement.

But Yuugi kept something from me. He sometimes studied the corners of ceilings; gnawed on the edge of his fingernail. I'd taken for granted the relative ease of thinking, What's wrong? Something on your mind? Anything I can help with? and expecting an internal reply. Versus saying any of those things...aloud.

I got as far as I could one wet afternoon as we idled on the shimmering pavement outside Terminal 5, waiting to pick up Anzu. Yuugi held his rainbow umbrella high, high enough to chew the string on the handle. Extra-nervous.

"Aibou..." I began. "What are you thinking about?"

"Hm?" Yuugi spat out the string and rubbed his thumb over his lip, embarrassed. "Oh—not much." His gaze meandered to the top of the nearest concrete pillar. "I guess I'm just anxious to see Anzu." That wasn't all, and he knew I knew it.

"So am I," I said. The rain fell. I turned my face toward it, twirling my purely aesthetic umbrella—I enjoyed the feeling of rain. The ragged string made its way back between Yuugi's teeth.

"...Well," he said at length. "I've been...thinking about you coming back." His eyes found mine. "You said you were...asleep, right?"

I nodded. "It was dark," I assured him, striving to drum up a satisfactory description. "And I barely felt time passing. Just like sleep."

Yuugi looked away. He didn't appear satisfied. "Mm. It does."

We were blessedly interrupted by Anzu's arrival, a beautiful blur of blues and violets splashing toward us at full speed.

"ATEM!"

"Anzu!" I choked out, caught in her vice grip.

"Sorry, Yuugi!" She spun on her toes to hug him, too. "I'm not used to giving you two separate hugs!"

He laughed. "Neither am I!"

I held out my hand for her luggage, but she smirked and lifted it into Yuugi's trunk herself, one-armed, like it was nothing. Fair play! She climbed into the backseat and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the center console and peering at me through rain-flecked mascara.

"I came at the right time," she said, grinning, full-on conspiratorial. "Party planning starts now!"

"Party planning?"

"Next Friday's June 2nd," said Yuugi with a sheepish smile as he backed out. "Your birthday!"

I hoisted aside my skepticism over that assumption and smiled back.

"That's right!" I said.

It was a big enough crowd, I reasoned, that if by some stretch Kaiba did come, it wouldn't be as big of a deal; he'd have a better shot at blending in. So I asked Yuugi to invite him.

Yuugi's birthday was June 4th, and he and I resumed our trend of doing everything together. We staked out two pavilions at the park. There were two cakes; twice as many friends; four times as many songs in the playlist. There were more laughs, more tears, more hugs, and how I cherished them! These gifts were more than enough, though our pile of presents morphed steadily into a mountain.

Jounouchi had promised to man the laptop computer as "DJ" throughout the party, but Mai Kujaku was in attendance—naturally, Jounouchi was indisposed. Halfway through a strange rendition of "Happy Birthday" (something about a burial in a "booty club"?) I trekked to the shadowy pavilion and attempted to switch the song. There were children nearby; we could listen to this one later.

...Yes, I failed to work the laptop computer, gave up and let the song finish. But from this vantage point I could observe our entire party, dotting the gently sloping hillside like wildflowers, threaded with ribbons and rainbows. I grew sentimental. These were my precious friends, the weavers of my dearest memories.

And there was one tall wildflower I hadn't noticed until now.

My heart lurched. How I'd wanted to see Kaiba and speak to him since the day I woke up, to resurrect that warm smile somehow. To apologize.

"Kaiba! Mokuba!"

I skidded down the hill to a halt before the pair. Mokuba returned my smile, although his was rather strained. I hadn't seen him yet. Now we both had the assurance of one another's lives.

Kaiba's face was stone. He would not look at me.

"Hey, Atem. Happy birthday," said Mokuba, glancing between his brother and me. "I'll, uh—I'll go drop this off and say hi to Yuugi." He absconded with his gift. A tactful child; I'd thank him later.

"Kaiba," I said, still catching my breath. "Thank you for coming. Could we talk?"

Kaiba's jaw clenched, and he flexed his right hand—his left was still immobile.

"...Mm," he conceded. "But I need to sit down."

"Certainly." I led him around the hillside; music and laughter faded in our wake. Kaiba's progress was unsteady, though he hid it well. When we reached the secluded bench and sat, he exhaled from the effort. Canopied by primroses and the brilliant summer foliage, he looked especially wan in his dark, conservative ensemble.

Because my heart still ached for his pain, it wasn't hard to say, "I'm sorry, Kaiba."

He snorted. "What for."

"For hurting your feelings," I said, shooing a bumblebee away from my hair. "And for letting it go unaddressed for too long."

"'Hurting my feelings?'" He sneered, just as the heavy bee landed on a rose by his ear. It bobbed to and fro, and it might've been a funny juxtaposition if it was someone else. "We're not in kindergarten."

"No. But we do still have feelings."

He rolled his eyes and kept silent. I let him brood, praying he would accept my apology without elaboration. Not because I didn't care; because I didn't know. What had upset him? What had I done, or not done? What was so strange to both him and Yuugi about sleeping in death? Was that not a common supposition, that death was one's final, eternal Sleep?

I gasped. A common one, to be sure...but not an Egyptian one.

My heart fell into my stomach. Was I such a fool?! I'd been so besotted with new life, so eager to rejoin my friends, that I'd forgotten it was all wrong. Sleep was all wrong. I ought to have lived on.

I was a pharaoh. I ought to have been in Paradise.

That's what Yuugi had been trying to ask me. And could that be why Kaiba—

Overwhelmed, I swung to face him.

"Kaiba—"

"Seto."

He was finally looking at me, and his face, his eyes, his whole being wounded me.

"I thought you called me Seto now," he said—nearly groaned. "Why did you switch back?"

I raked, clawed through my memories, but I couldn't find it. I had no answer. He pierced me with a look of angry resignation, fused with desperate hope. He asked,

"You really don't remember?"

"No," I whispered, ashamed. "I don't."

"But we...we…" One hot tear slashed a ragged line down his face, and he hissed, "They promised—the bastards promised nothing would happen, that you'd be fine—fucking lying bastards, every last one of them!"

I swallowed. "Did we...were we...together in Paradise? Were you there?"

Kaiba stared hard at the ground. Another tear chased the first.

"Kai...Seto. Were you there? Were we together?"

"Yes. Yeah," he stumbled over it, "Yeah. I remember all of it."

He drew his good arm into his waist and sobbed, a dry and helpless retch, only once—efficient even in sorrow. I'd shattered his heart all over again.

Distant echoes of my party fell around us; bumblebees came and went. Mercifully, no one intruded. I'd thank Mokuba and Yuugi, too, for that.

What I wanted to say twittered through my mind like a mockingbird's song, garbled and disingenuous. Vague reassurances and platitudes...Seto Kaiba would not accept these. What could I offer him? What was most true? Where was my own voice, that ugly, mewling call?

I reached out my hand and lay it softly over his own. He didn't pull away. His lips tightened as though he might cry again, but he was finished crying; and I found something.

"Whether or not I remember it," I said, "I still believe that it happened."

I stroked his hand with my thumb.

"You were so tender with me," I murmured. "I should have guessed it. I should have felt it."

"...no," said Seto. "It's not your fault."

My phone tumbled from my windowsill and smacked me in the face at 5:50 AM. I squinted at the screen: Seto calling.

"Hello?" I slurred, struggling to put him on the speakerphone so I could hear him better. Mornings and technology were my losing combination.

"Can you be at Kaiba Corp. at seven?"

I cleared my throat. "Urgh...that's certainly possible...though whether it's reasonable…"

He ignored my groggy attempt at humor, speeding on: "I was thinking your memory loss might not be from your servants' magic or dimension crossing or whatever. 'Cause my memories are fine. You'd think I'd have lost mine, too."

"True." I was encouraged by the eagerness in his voice, a voice so empty only hours ago.

"But I did get the shit knocked out of me when we landed. And it's unlikely you'd be totally unscathed, you were right next to me. I was thinking—your memory loss might be from some kind of trauma to your brain."

I nodded, confirming with a "Yes...yes. I've had headaches off and on. That could be it!"

"Don't sound so thrilled! You should go to the doctor," he said. He was one to talk, Seto "I'm fine" Kaiba. "But if that's true then maybe we can rebuild them. If they're there at all, even pieces of them, we can reconstruct your memories—somewhat, anyway—with Solid Vision."

I sat up. "Of course," I said. "Solid Vision. Why didn't I think of that?"

"I invented it. Why didn't I think of it?"

"Seven, you said?"

"Yeah, or whenever. I'm here, just setting it up."

"Atem?" Yuugi's sleepy voice wafted through the door. "What time is it? Is that Kaiba on the phone?"

"Can you drive me to Kaiba Corp.?" I asked him.

"Ummm...sure? When?"

"Forty-five minutes?"

"What?!"

From the phone: "I can send a car."

From the hallway: "Alright...yeah, alright, who's showering first?"

I addressed the phone. "Can't Yuugi be there? I think he'd want to see my memories, too."

I sensed Kaiba's blush. "I mean, if you want him there, but I...between us...there are some things…"

"Oh, really?" I blushed, too. "Things, plural?"

"Alright, I'm showering! You're going second!" I heard several indignant thuds and the faucet creak to life.

"Seto," I said, tousling my hair, shaking off any last remnants of sleep. "You're brilliant, you know. Thank you for striving to figure this out."

If I'd sensed his blush, then I felt his smile. "Have a good reason," he said.

From the hallway: "YOU KNOW, KAIBA, YOU COULD STILL SEND A CAR FOR US BOTH!"

"I like your car," I called back. "I'll learn to drive soon!"

From the phone: "Dear God, warn me beforehand."

I scoffed. "How do you know I'm not a phenomenal driver?"

"Several memories involving a chariot."

"Hmph. We shall see."

Yuugi left to pick up lunch. Seto pored over a sea of data. I'd risen much earlier than usual, and the steady whir of computer machinery began to lull me to repose...I rested my head in my arms upon the glossy tabletop. My eyes drifted shut.

"There's a couch," said Seto.

"Mm."

"You'll be stiff."

"Mm."

"Atem?"

I opened my eyes a little. I loved my name to begin with, but the way Seto said it made it glow.

"Hm?"

"June 2nd's not your actual birthday, is it?" He gazed sidelong at me. "There'd be no real way to tell."

With a tiny shift, I shook my head, still partway dozing. "No way to tell," I agreed. He looked thoughtful, his eyes like sunken treasures, glinting in dark waters.

"Your friends picked it for you, right? And you just went with it."

I chuckled. "You know me well." Better than I knew me.

Seto lurched to his feet and took slow, deliberate steps, returning with a couch pillow. He slid it under my head; I smiled. My eyes fell shut again.

"Thank you."

"You could pick any day," he went on by way of acknowledgement. "Any day you want. Make it your own." I heard him ease himself into his chair.

June 2nd is fine, I started to say, but Seto's tone caught up with me. This wasn't a mere suggestion. He was hoping for a certain answer.

"I could," I said. "Hm. Well…" I mused, tracing my fingers over the well-worn pillow. "What day did we crash-land?"

"April 23rd," he said at once, a little too quickly.

"I like that one."

I had to peek to see if I'd been right...to confirm, really. There was the smile I'd missed—so handsome, so honest. Impossible to forget.

"You may brush back my hair at your leisure," I said, tilting my chin, basking in the warmth of his answering laughter.

Ah, he loved me so dearly. He always had; and the embers smoldered, the mockingbird rested, the tide receded and left us in peace, to begin again.

END

Doctor's Note: This was written for the 2021 Atem Birthday Drabble/Artwork Event on the Dark Pride of Dimensions Discord server!

Length: BEWD (3,000 words)
Prompts: "You don't remember?" and "Party"

This is my first-ever attempt at a prideshipping story, so I'd love to hear your feedback! I hope that I managed to temper the angst with just enough warmth.

Thank you so much for reading! - Dr. MP