AN: Welcome back to the Ascension universe, or just welcome if it's your first time here! This fic takes place five years post-canon. A look at what might have happened if Atem decided to stay in the present day instead of returning to the afterlife. Beware: contains rather large canon divergences, including a strong tie-in with my previously published fic, "Ascension," which features Atem's wife and my OC, Satiah. The focus of this fic is less on Satiah and more on Atem and his relationship with Yugi. All that to say, this fic may still read fine without previous knowledge of Ascension, but I definitely recommend checking it out anyway ;)

Huge shoutout to author Borichu for being my beta and sounding board. She has been the most amazing ray of sunshine in my life these past few months and I couldn't have done this without her!

Our love is a star:
Sure, some hazardry
For the light before and after most indefinitely

Beth/Rest - Bon Iver

Atem.

My name is Atem.

I was given the name by my father, Aknamkanon, and mother, Meresankh.

I had a brother called Tefnak, who was strong and fierce and fair. He died far too young.

I loved them all. I loved them so much it hurt. It hurt to watch them being taken away from me, one by one, picked apart by disease, wrath, and shadow, leaving nothing but stale memories and the heavy burden of duty upon my shoulders.

I was never meant to be king. And yet, when I stood before Zorac, the Lord of Darkness, ready to offer my spirit to save my realm, it felt like the only thing the gods had ever asked of me.

The gods?

No… It was not the voice of the gods who had called me to this purpose. It was a soft voice, a steady voice. Noble, yes, but not divine. This person had lived and breathed and walked beside me, through the darkest time in my life. They were a pillar of strength — a safe haven in a thrashing storm. And though the memories of them were dull and jagged and stung like daggers in my heart, I knew… I knew I had loved this person most of all.

Satiah.

Her existence washed over me like a warm tide; remembering her name tasted sweeter and more refreshing than the moment I had spoken my own. But for all the bliss and peace her memories restored, there also came spite and sorrow. For she had entered my life tugged along by the cruel string of fate — and had left it in a fiery blaze.

The only thing that brought comfort to me now was knowing she had finally found her own joy on the shores of the afterlife — deep within the field of reeds. I remembered glimpsing her there — bathed in golden light, kneeling by the water's edge, smiling as she spoke in hushed and loving tones… But to whom did she speak? Who was it she cradled close to her in the shade of the palm trees — in the whisper of the wind?

Who—

"Other me…"

Who?

"Other me."

No… No, it couldn't be—

"Atem!"

I roused with a start, eyes flying open to stare into the mirror of my soul — my partner, gazing at me with concern etched deep into his features.

"Atem…? Are you alright?"

I forced myself to sit up and look around, finding four crumpled forms surrounding me and my partner on the cold ground. Behind me, the Tablet of Memories loomed large on the wall of the underground chamber. Slowly, my friends began to rouse — Anzu, Jounouchi, Honda — even Kaiba. They had all made it safely back from the memory world, thankfully no worse for wear. When they sat up and met eyes with one another, they said nothing. It wasn't until my partner stood on shaky legs that Jounouchi surged to his feet and surrounded Yugi in an urgent embrace. Anzu was next, followed by Honda, each of them threading their arms around the others in a warm, grateful grap.

Anzu was first to pull away, her blue eyes shining. "Yugi," she whispered. "Your other self…?"

My partner beamed and turned to where my spiritual form stood observing from the shadows. He nodded, and we switched places in a gentle pulse of warmth.

I knew right away — something was different. This skin felt … false. Ill-fitting. Like I had grown to twice the size since I'd last been inside it.

"Thank you," I forced myself to say. "All of you."

…

The next twenty-four hours passed in a whirlwind. I spent the long ride back to Cairo recounting the events of the Shadow Game with my friends — Jounouchi narrating the dangers they'd encountered with huge, exaggerated gestures; Anzu and Honda cutting in to add context and correct his mistakes.

Over dinner, they pressed me about my memories, asking about my early life, my friends … my family. It took a long time to fully paint the portrait of my loved ones for them. I glossed over much of the tragedy, eager to keep things light and positive — like my partner would want.

But I knew he could feel it, while he listened quietly from within the room of his soul: the weight of all the words I left unsaid — of the name I left unspoken.

Later, after everyone had returned to their rooms, I relinquished my hold on my partner's body. But when I tried to retreat to my soul room, he stopped me.

"Other me—" He paused, looking guilty. "I mean … Atem."

"It's fine," I assured him. "Please — call me whatever you like, partner."

He flashed a sheepish smile and looked at his feet. "It must be strange, huh? To be bombarded with so many memories, all at once?"

I hummed an ambivalent agreement. "I didn't live a long life… But there is still a lot to sort through."

"Yeah."

He looked up, and a sudden guilt forced my eyes away from his. I gazed out the window, where a low moon loomed large over the city. During my reign, the area around Cairo had been known as Memphis — a beautiful, holy city, ancient even during my time — and my wife's birthplace.

"I hope you'll share some more of your memories with me," my partner said, pulling my attention back to him. "When you're ready, I mean."

Tortured though my smile was, it was true. "I'd love to."

…

My partner slept soundly that night, his mind completely shut off from the world. Though I too longed for sleep, it never found me. Instead, I wandered for a while in my soul room, climbing up flights of stairs or sitting down to hang my legs off one of the sheer ledges. I could feel the rooms rearranging themselves, filling in the empty spaces with little moments and memories, some precious, some painful. I was tempted to start turning levers and opening doors, but I resisted — fearful of the truths I might find behind many of them.

Eventually, I chose to remove myself from these temptations and crossed the hall to peek into my partner's soul room. It felt close and warm, filled with half-played games and all the familiar comforts of home. I was surprised to see him curled up on the low bed in the corner of the room; usually he only occupied this space when he wished to trade places with me. But it seemed the trip through my memories had taken enough out of him to warrant a full retreat to his subconscious.

At first, I had the urge to enter and wake him — to while away some time in the ways we used to when one of us had trouble finding sleep. But I ignored it, telling myself it was better that he remain blissfully unaware of the upheaval happening just across the hall.

Instead, I carefully closed the door again. With my hand still resting on the lever, a strange urge possessed me, and suddenly I decided to do something I hadn't done in a long time: I flipped the lock on my partner's door.

As soon as I did it, guilt raked pins and needles down my spine. But I stepped back, looking at the door with jealous pity. It felt … needless. Cruel. That my heart was suddenly filling up with bitter memories, stealing the space meant for all the wonderful moments my partner and I had shared.

I closed my eyes, and within seconds I was back in the world of the living, staring at the low, water-stained ceiling. Lying there in this borrowed body, I could feel my own mortality closing in on me — like being buried alive. I rose up, crossed the room, and threw open the window. The air tasted crisp, but even breathing deep, measured breaths, my heart — his heart — continued to thrum like a hummingbird's wings. I pushed away, pulled on a jacket and slipped into a pair of shoes, heading out into the breezeway and up the stairs to the roof.

I drifted as if blown by the wind, stopping at the edge with both hands supporting my weight against the low barrier. I let my eyes scan the horizon, starting in the east to watch the first thread of sun weaving above the mountains on the other side of the Nile; then drifting north, to the place where the river bent and bowed and split into a hundred different branches, tinted like patina from the rich silt at the bottom; and finally settling westward, where, over the windswept Giza plateau, loomed the Great Pyramids. Khufu's tomb thrust itself like a dull spear into the sky — a far cry from its former glory, now no more than a crude monument to the place where Satiah had drawn her last breath.

"Pharaoh."

I wrenched my eyes away, turning to watch as Ishizu stepped into the glow of twilight.

"I am not surprised to see you out here so early," she said, her voice a reverent prayer. She paused, allowing me a moment to appreciate her stark resemblance to the Priestess Isis. "Your memories… They must weigh heavy."

For some reason, her presence compelled me to give a solemn nod. I knew I could trust Ishizu with the truth, even if I couldn't yet bring myself to share it with my friends.

"Now that you have defeated the last remnant of Zorac, the Shadow Games will be no more," Ishizu said firmly. "The Millennium Items have served their purpose. All that is left now is to gather them — and return them to the tablet of the underworld within your tomb."

"My tomb?" I repeated, turning to her fully. Even after my memories had returned, I hadn't given more than a fleeting thought to my final resting place. The last thing I remembered was kneeling in the sand before Zorac, the Pendant held high above my head and the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders. But there must have been someone who had come after me… Someone who had gathered up the pieces I had left behind. Someone I trusted to lead in my stead.

"That's going to be a bit of a problem, then." A cold voice cut like a knife through the chill of morning, bringing my gaze sharply to the shadows of the rooftop. Slowly, a tall figure sauntered into a ray of sunlight, his blue eyes set aflame.

"Seto—" I breathed. When he shot me an indignant look, I quickly corrected myself. "Kaiba … what do you mean?"

Kaiba held out his hand, revealing a small golden sphere resting in his palm. "You only have six of the Items."

"The Eye?" I said. "How did you get it?"

"Bakura gave it to me," Kaiba replied, closing his hand and pocketing the Item again. "I suppose he hoped it would pique my curiosity enough to follow you here. I'm ashamed to say it worked — not that I learned anything particularly useful from our little foray into your memories."

"I never got the chance to properly thank you," I said, remembering the speed with which Kaiba had left the chamber holding my memory tablet — our memory tablet. "Without you, we wouldn't have been able to defeat Zorac."

"Still living in the past, aren't you Yugi?" Kaiba sneered. "Or Pharaoh — or Atem, or whatever your name is now." He crossed his arm over his chest. "Well, if you want so badly to return from whence you came, then at least let me be the one to send you there."

I knew that tone well — the one of challenge; of pride. "What are you talking about?"

Ishizu cleared her throat. "The tablet of the underworld describes a rite of passage," she explained cautiously. "A ceremonial battle — whereby your defeat would send you back to your resting place."

The words struck me like lightning, but all I could do was stare at her as the dawning light tinted her an ashy grey.

"You can go home now," she clarified, "if you wish."

Home. My eyes were torn westward again, searching the horizon for familiar white limestone and weathered mudbrick — but there was only an endless expanse of concrete and smog, choking out the ridgeline as far as the eye could see.

"Atem."

I turned, meeting Kaiba's frigid stare once more. Suddenly, in the rising tide of his eyes I saw everything I'd left behind — friends both familiar and foreign, family both blood and bonded. They gazed wistfully back, welcoming me with open arms, ready with warm smiles, wise words, proud praise. But before them rose the shadow of everything that had come after — thousands and thousands of years, stretched out between us like a sea of darkness, separating past from future.

But if I was standing on the shores of the past, looking across the way into the safe harbor of the future … didn't that mean that everything before me was the present? And wasn't that where I'd found new friends — new family? Wasn't there already so much warmth here? So much joy?

Wasn't I already … home?

Just then, Kaiba lifted his hand again, this time brandishing a deck of cards. "One last duel," he said, "to settle the score."

"No." My voice cut as sharp as a chisel driven into stone, surprising even myself. I dropped my eyes first to the ground, then swept them to Ishizu. "I will stay."

It was hard not to feel Kaiba's bitterness washing over me, threatening to dissolve my willpower like salt in water. But I kept my eyes averted, until Ishizu lowered her head in a dignified nod of understanding. Without another word, I turned to face the horizon, nearly blinded by the veracity of the rising sun.

"Fine," Kaiba uttered. "But don't fool yourself into thinking you're staying for your own sake." The laugh he spat delivered more venom than a thousand asps. "All that pride… I thought it was making you stronger. But really it's just keeping you from admitting you're afraid to leave him behind."

The words wounded me, but it was nothing compared to the contempt I knew Kaiba felt. Because we were the same, he and I — both of us liars, concealing our own truths.

"Come and find me when you're ready to stop running."

I heard his footsteps drawing away, but they were drowned by the heavy beating in my chest — thump, thump, thump — like someone knocking at the door.