Hey, all! I have another chapter for you. It took me about a dozen tries, but whatever. Unfortunately, I still have no idea, really, where this is going, so the next chapter is probably going to take awhile. Suggestions are still welcome (and if I stipulated "good" before, I take it back now; good or bad, feel free to offer suggestions.) I enjoy reading them, seeing where you think this story could go.
Um, ff-net screwed up the whole reviewer response thing and I'm not completely clear on it, so no responses (frowns). But if you have questions, I'll answer them, even if it's an 'I don't know' or 'I can't tell you.' Hehe.
That said, I've only seen up to the beginning of the duel between Kaiba and pink-haired French dude (what's-is-name—Sigfried?) so I don't know anything about the end 'cept what I've read from people who've written about it, a dubious source. In any case, I'm taking liberties with it. I know any details I provide are probably wrong. Now, no more talking, and onto the fic!
o/o/o/o/o
For a long moment, all he did was stare at the door. He had no reason to, except that Yami had passed through it; his mind was having a hard time accepting that it was over. After three years working to save the world from utter destruction, the Spirit of the Puzzle was gone.
The Ceremonial Battle was over. Yugi had won. And now Yami had passed through the door before him to the Afterlife. It was a door he only had to stop to the side to see around, but that would not take him to his friend, his darkness, his other half. No, the only way to do that was to actually pass through it, and he could not; he could not open it. No one here could.
The door was broad and thick, solid stone the color of the Egyptian sands, bordered in gold. Hieroglyphics stretched across the top and bottom, and the Eye of Ra stared at them from above the Scales of Truth. Where the handle should have been, there was a gold tracing of a scorpion. It held his eyes, his mind replaying that fateful moment when Yami's hand had stretched toward it, that endless moment when his heart had begged him to bid the other stop.
He blinked, chasing away the image as the Pharaoh's fingers brushed the gold, leaving only the door to stand before him when they opened. He took a deep breath and felt it waver with suppressed tears. Bakura stepped next to him.
"I guess this is it," the white-haired boy said softly, his British accent thicker than normal. His hand brushed against his chest, where the Millennium Ring used to hang.
Yugi's own hand rose to grasp the Puzzle, but he felt only air where it should have been and his finger's contacted leather. The Millennium Puzzle was gone; it had left with Yami, with the Pharaoh Atemu. "Yeah," he agreed, voice just as soft. "This is it."
He felt he should turn away, then, but neither he nor Ryou moved. Neither took their eyes from the door. He kept expecting it to fade away, to disappear, to make this final. But it still stood. It made him hope. . . .
"It doesn't feel right, does it?"
No, it didn't. He shook his head. He couldn't quite findthe willto give voice to his agreement. It would make his hope real. It would make it even more painful when that hope died.
"Yugi? Ryou?"
o/o/o/o/o
Yugi straightened the cards in the display case with somber preoccupation. His hand moved from one to the other lethargically, lining them up precisely but without the usual enthusiasm and care that generally characterized his actions, a small frown on his face, his eyes lacking their customary light. He simply couldn't stop thinking about Yami, about what had happened last night.
Even the little old grandmother he had helped to pick out a birthday present for her grandson hadn't been able to distract him for more than an hour—the time it had taken to complete the transaction and her to leave. Then his mind retreated to the same questions, the same worries, which had plagued him since he woke.
What had happened? Why had Yami felt the need to wake him? Why wouldn't he talk about it? Was it something he, Yugi, had done? Something he hadn't done? Was it something Yami had done, something he felt guilty about? Was it something he had overlooked and should have noticed?
Groaning, closing his eyes again the whirl of thoughts he could not answer, as if by doing so he could push them away, the eighteen year-old boy wished desperately that the mindlink that had kept each aware of the other's thoughts had survived the transition from trapped Spirit to living, breathing, solid human being. But when Yami—he refused to call the other Atemu and dared not consider why—had passed through the Door of Judgment, the link had been broken, and it had not returned with his reappearance.
The teen scowled at a stack of magazines that refused to straighten to his satisfaction. That anyone else would have considered them perfectly straight was inconsequential.
It didn't help, either, that the former Spirit had been gone when he awoke, his side of the bed stone cold. For a minute, he had been half-certain the incident had been a dream. But he had closed the door when he went to sleep (the house felt too big with it open, he too vulnerable) and it was open when he woke, so Yami had to have been there; Grandpa had left two days earlier to visit an old friend (which one eluded him). And since Yami had been there, what he thought happened much actually have happened.
Or so he thought. Others might disagree.
But having thought, concluded, he couldn't quite decide if maybe it wouldn't be better if it was a dream, a figment of his imagination. That would mean the once-Spirit hadn't been distressed enough to wake him in the middle of the night. But even if it was so, and Yami hadn't come to him last night, that didn't change the fact that Yami was acting strange, had been ever since they returned to Japan, maybe even before that and he simply hadn't noticed, too caught up in the strangeness of everything that had happened to notice any odd behavior in a being that had always before lived inside his head.
That final thought always surprised him with how much it hurt, that it was possible Yami had suffered without him noticing anything at all. This was the third time it had occurred to him this morning. The bottom line, though, mindlink or no mindlink, was something was wrong, however long it had taken him to realize it.
And he didn't know how to fix it, not even if it could be fixed. And now Yami wasn't talking to him.
Ever since their return from Egypt two weeks ago, Yugi had taken to watching the store for his Grandpa in the mornings (he actually did it every summer, at least for a week or two). It had given him something to do since he tended to wake earlier and Yami tended to sleep late. Then, when the other did wake, he would come down and sit with him in the shop until the elder Mutou came to relieve them, usually after he had made their lunch. Ever since Grandpa had left, though, Yami had taken to spending the time locked up in his room.
Before, he had just thought the other wanted some time to himself, but now he wondered if there wasn't more to it. He snorted; of course there was more to it. But what did it have to do with his Grandpa leaving? He didn't understand, and that inexplicableness was beginning to seriously worry him.
The bell over the door tinkled softly, and Yugi looked up from the box of booster packs he had been digging through at his feet, a smile plastered on his face to greet the new customer. His intended greeting died on his lips, however, when he spotted two familiar white-haired individuals. He blinked a couple times, just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, before finding his voice. When he did, his smile was more genuine, warm and welcoming.
"Ryou! Bakura! What are you doing here? I'm so glad you came by! How've you been doing?"
Ryou chuckled good-naturedly while Bakura scowled, and he was the one who answered, his soft voice happy. "We actually came by to see how you and Atemu are doing. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and it's kinda weird, you know, after seeing each other practically all the time in Egypt."
"I know what you mean," Yugi said. "Ever since we got back, it's been like something's missing."
"Yea—"
"Touching as this is," Bakura broke in with a sneer, "I'd rather not be here for it. Where's the Pharaoh?"
"Uh," Yugi answered intelligently, thrown by the question. "In his room, I think; upstairs."
His head jerked down in a sharp nod before Bakura pushed past them and through the door into the house. The other two boys could only stare in surprise as the Thief disappeared from view.
Yugi wondered vaguely if someone hadn't changed the order of the universe while he was sleeping, or transported him to one of those alternate dimensions like the ones shown in all those TV shows where the people were the same but they acted completely different. He looked at Ryou helplessly.
The other boy shrugged. "He's been like that all morning."
"I didn't think he could stand Yami."
"I know," Ryou agreed, not commenting on his naming Atemu Yami. "I didn't think so, either, but it was actually his idea to come in the first place."
"What?"
The albino nodded. "It caught me by surprise, too. I still don't know what to make of it, but I've been wanting to visit, so I agreed, and here we are."
"And I'm glad you came." Yugi frowned. "I just wish I understood it all. Yami's been acting weird, too."
"You don't think it has something to do with Egypt, do you?"
"I don't know," Yugi answered. "I've tried to get him to talk about it, but he just pretends there's nothing wrong."
"It's the same way with Bakura."
"I just don't know what to think," he continued with a sigh. His eyes met his friend's fearfully. "You don't think, maybe, they regret coming back, do you?"
"I sure hope not," Ryou answered heavily. "I don't think they could go back now, even if they wished to, and I'd hate to think I was holding him here against his will."
"Yeah, me too."
Fearful tension hung in the air, conjured by their dark thoughts so that it seemed the weight of the future pressed down on them, heavy with everything unknown, rank with possibilities; and beneath that oppression the silence seemed deafening.
Yugi glanced back at the door leading inside, the slab of wood partially ajar. "They're awfully quiet," he commented softly.
"Yeah," agreed Ryou. "You don't suppose they're planning something."
"What plans would a Tomb Raider want a Pharaoh in on?"
"Point taken. But a lot has changed in the last few months."
"I know." And he did. It used to be he would be having this conversation with Yami about Ryou Bakura. His eyes scanned the still empty store, briefly took in the deserted street outside the store window and the clock, then fixed anxiously back on the albino. "Should we ask them about it?"
"I don't know," Ryou hedged. "But I've tried already, and from what you've told me, you have too. I think, maybe, we'd be better off letting them come to us, instead of trying to force them before they're ready." Yugi wondered, sadly, what fears danced behind soft brown eyes as Ryou spoke that last. A shiver ran up his spine. His own fear compelled him to ask:
"But what if they don't?"