5. Guilt

Sara looked up from the scroll she was reading and rubbed her eyes. After a day and a half of doing almost nothing but reading, she was exhausted. Even when studying for exams, she couldn't remember ever reading so much hieratic text all at one time. Looking across the table, she saw Yugi studying a thick leather-bound volume and was amazed by his intensity.

He was so different than she'd expected. Despite his rather roguish hair and clothing, he'd been uniformly described by everyone from Professor Julius to Ishizu Ishtar as rather quiet and unassuming. Sweet, good-natured, and friendly had been other adjectives she'd frequently heard from people talking about Yugi Mutou, but none of them seemed to fit the severe, morose young man she'd spent the last few days with. After their initial meeting and the subsequent discussion when she offered to help, he'd barely said two words to her that weren't directly related to what they could do to find the ritual he was seeking. Even his friends, who had clustered around him like disciples that first day in Luxor, seemed to be giving him wide berth now. And try as she might, she couldn't puzzle out exactly why this was so important to him or to any of them.

Of course, she wasn't exactly sure why it was important enough to her to travel over seven thousand miles to help, so she could hardly expect to be able to divine the reasons of a man she hardly knew. But it made her extremely curious.

The high-pitched notes of a mobile ringtone broke the silence, and Sara jumped as Yugi reached into his pocket without looking up from his reading. She recognized the tune as "You're My Best Friend" by Queen, and she couldn't help but note how incongruent the cheerful tune was with the man who silenced it with a curt hello. Pretending to go back to her reading, she watched him from beneath her lashes as he scowled into the phone.

"What? What are you talking about, Kaiba? I don't have time to play games with you." There was a pause as he listened, frowning. "What scrolls? You already said you weren't going to help." Another long pause, and something like surprise spread across his features. "Wait, back up a step. Téa and Joey brought over some of the texts yesterday?"

She risked a more open glance, curious about the conflicting emotions on his face. He looked almost… ashamed?

"I… we're looking for death rituals," he said into the phone, his brusque tone gone, replaced by something more abashed. "Specifically anything that sends the Akh to the afterlife. Or anything to do with how to respond to grave desecrations. There might be mention of some of the gods that pertain to death, like Osiris, Anubis, Ammit, Ma'at, or Nephthys." Another pause, and then the irritation was back. "What do you want me to do, come over and hold your hand while you read?"

Yugi pulled the phone away from his ear at the response that was so loud even Sara could hear it: "Don't think you can get away with playing pharaoh with me, Yugi!"

Yugi blanched as he returned the phone to his ear, gripping it tightly. "I am not 'playing pharaoh' with you, Kaiba, I'm just not sure how I can…" He drifted off as his gaze fell on Sara, his expression turning thoughtful. "I have an idea. Let me call you back in minute."

Folding the phone shut, he turned his attention fully on her. "Sara, I have a favor to ask. A—well, I suppose you could say a friend of ours—knows how to read hieroglyphics and hieratic texts and has, apparently, agreed to help look for a ritual to bring Atem and Seto back. The problem is, he doesn't actually know anything about Egyptology, so he doesn't know what he's looking for."

Sara's brow furrowed. "How is it that someone learned hieroglyphics without learning anything about Egyptology? That seems a bit incongruent."

"Yes, I know. It's a long story, actually, and I'd rather not get into it right now. But I was wondering if you'd be willing to go work with him, help give him some key phrases to look for, and then look over anything he might find to see if it's useful. I'd go myself, but, well, let's just say Kaiba and I are more rivals than friends. I doubt my working with him would be all that constructive."

She shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's all right. Will he be coming over here then?"

Yugi snorted. "I don't think so. He wouldn't lower himself by coming to us. Would you mind going over to Kaiba Corp? It's just down the street from here, a block or two. Huge building, can't miss it. We can get someone to drive you over if you like."

She rolled her eyes. "Americans and their bloody obsession with automobiles."

He smiled, one of the few she'd seen from him. "I'm not American, but yeah. Welcome to California."

"Well, I'm quite capable of walking a block or two. Just point me in the right direction."

His grin turned serious once more. "Thank you, Sara. I really appreciate everything you've done to help."

"It's no trouble. I told you before, it seems like the right thing to do. For Seto. And Atem, of course," she added hastily, a little embarrassed at having singled out one of the pharaohs over the other, although come to think of it, Yugi seemed to single out Atem over Seto rather frequently.

He gave her a curious look, then smiled again. "All right. Then I'll call Kaiba back and arrange everything."

Sara left after lunch, and Yugi brought the Tomb Keepers' journals he was going through down to the common room, deciding he needed to make a conscious effort not to barricade himself off from his friends. Tristan was right that he was only half himself, and if he had any hope at all of reconnecting with himself, it wasn't going to happen by isolating himself from the people who cared about him.

He was finding it hard to concentrate, however. Téa was noticeably absent and, from what he could gather, had been staying away from the penthouse since yesterday morning. He knew it was because of him; after what he'd said to her the night they got back, he could hardly blame her for wanting to stay away from him. It was what he'd asked for, after all. But ever since Kaiba had told him she'd been the one who had talked him into helping, he'd started feeling guilty, and it was gnawing at him.

"Did Téa say when she'd be back?" he asked Joey, who had just gotten up from his seat near Mai and come by where Yugi was sitting to get another one of the Japanese books.

"Nope." Joey gave him a sympathetic look. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

Joey looked at him a moment more, then shrugged. "Okay." He grabbed his book, and went back to sit next to Mai again.

What he really needed to do, Yugi realized, was talk to Téa, and he was going to have a hard time concentrating until he did. He'd been unfair to her, taking the anger he felt with himself and turning it outward toward her when it wasn't her fault. What was happening to him—what had been happening to him ever since Egypt—had nothing to do with her, and he'd not wanted to talk about it, to tell her or any of them because he kept hoping it was his imagination, that it wasn't real, couldn't possibly be real because it didn't make any sense. But somehow, he'd wanted her to instinctively know. If she really loved him like she claimed, she should know. She should see it. But she didn't, and he knew that was because he and his other self had become so blended in her mind.

He let his fingers drift to the chains around his neck until they came to the cartouche she had given him. He looked at the symbols that spelled out Yugi, then clenched the cartouche in his fist, squeezing it until its edges dug into his palm. Why a cartouche? Why did she have to blend them like that, putting Yugi in a cartouche? They weren't the same, why couldn't she see that? Why didn't she know?

But that, he finally admitted to himself, wasn't fair, either. He wasn't even sure himself, that's how much he'd incorporated his other self into his own heart, mind, and soul. And if he wasn't sure, if he kept trying to tell himself it was impossible, that there must be a reason for feeling the way he did, anything but what he most feared, then how could he possibly expect her to jump to such a radical conclusion? He'd purposely kept it to himself, not telling any of them because he'd been afraid of their reaction. They were his friends, yes, he knew that. But when it came down to it, he knew where their loyalty lay, and that was as it should be.

And they'd already forgiven him once.

No, his mind rebelled from that thought. There has to be some other explanation because it doesn't make any sense. But how else could he explain the lost memories? For three years, his memories and his other self's memories from their time together had merged, forming a more and more cohesive—if somewhat patchwork—whole. And now half of those memories were gone. He couldn't access them no matter how hard he tried, and it scared him more than anything else possibly could. Not since—No!

But what if it was true? Then how? And why? And was it his fault? It must be his fault. He was here and his other self was not. And Téa had to know, even if she didn't see it herself and had to be told. She had the right to know. But instead of just telling her, he'd withdrawn, expecting her to put it all together herself and to be as devastated as he was, and when she didn't, he went and mucked it up like a complete idiot. There was truth to what he'd said to her, yes. But ultimately, it wasn't his problem, and making it his problem now when there were more pressing concerns had been astonishingly stupid, and he'd done it just to assuage his own guilt. He'd wanted to make it her fault, not his. She's the one who didn't have it sorted out in her head. She's the one who wanted it both ways. Not him.

The thing was, even if there was some truth to that, it wasn't the whole truth, and he didn't want to examine the other side of it too closely, because that would make him the disloyal one. He knew what mattered most to him, and yet with everything going on, with his other self's soul trapped in a place that would slowly leech the life out of his spirit if they didn't fix it and fix it soon, he still was thinking about her. And that guilt added to the rest and ate away at him, so he'd pushed her away and pushed hard, telling himself that she was the inappropriate one when it was really him. How could he when his other self meant everything?

He leaned back in his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. You do mean everything, he thought, reaching out across the void to his other self. You mean everything. I'm nothing without you. I never was. That was the whole point.

"Yo, Yuge."

He opened his eyes to find Joey and Tristan both hovering over him like a couple of mother hens. "I'm fine," he said automatically.

Tristan shook his head. "So not, dude. You're completely out of it. You need a nap. Until, like, tomorrow morning. You aren't going to do Atem any good like this, okay? You'll be able to work a lot better when you're rested."

Yugi looked from Tristan to Joey, but Joey offered no sympathy. "Don't look at me, I'm on his side."

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon." Yugi's protest did not have much enthusiasm behind it, though.

"And you haven't slept since we left Egypt. Go!" Joey pointed a finger towards the stairs. "Or we're gonna have to drag you! And don't think we won't. You may out-duel me, pal, but I can out-muscle you any day of the week."

Yugi sighed. "You're right. I do need some sleep."

"And don't even think about taking any books with you. They'll still be here tomorrow."

Yugi rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grandpa." He got up from his seat, and only then did Tristan and Joey step aside so he could get past them and head toward the stairs. Maybe they were right. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him because he was exhausted and bereft.

Maybe sleep would make the memories right again.