Disclaimer: Thank you, Kazuki Takahashi. You're a boss and you make me cry a lot.

Notes: I've had this done for a while and I think I need to let it go and just share it because it's not going to get any better. I encourage and welcome con crit for this story - please review so I know how I can improve in this style, since it's my default :O!

Content-wise, this is my response to the "night before the Ceremonial Duel" story trend - I find it hard to buy that Yami was really so gung-ho about leaving without there being a little doubt somewhere. This is my own attempt to reason that out. Also, shameless Puzzleshipping.

Also - I give any credit for the idea of a sentient Puzzle to Banjodog. If you read this and haven't read her, do yourself the favor and put it on your to-do list. I tip my hat to her forever.

Specifically DM-verse (not manga).

Resolved

Resolve.

It had not been difficult to come by, not in the time since his consciousness had been restored. There had always been a cause – a side to take, a purpose to be championed since his reawakening. Though turbulent at times, the experience, he thought, had always strengthened him and Yugi both as a result.

So where was this resolve now? The man-out-of-time narrowed his eyes in accusation at the fine shake in his hand. He threw down the fanned-out hand of cards, standing abruptly. Where was this sudden doubt coming from? Here they were, on the eve of the end they had been working towards for two years – was it now, at the worst of times, that he was going to be burdened by doubt and fear?

What was there to doubt? The duel for the passage of his soul was on the other end of the next sunrise, and in his heart, he was confident in his partner. If it was fate for his soul to pass on as it should have millennia ago, Yugi could be the only rightful gatekeeper. No, his doubt did not stem from a question of success, then.

Yugi.

The proud spirit felt his shoulders gather in a grimace, though the expression was not purposeful. The mere thought of his soon-to-be-opponent made him cringe, a reaction he had not often felt in response to his soul-partner. He had not spoken at length with him since before their exit from the Memory World; Ishizu's near immediate ushering of their party to the Temple of the Underworld after their return had not afforded any time for them to talk. By the time Yugi had returned to the confines of his room on the charter boat, there was only enough time for them to build their decks, or so the teenager had insisted.

Now, the spirit had been given this opportunity to build his final deck, away from his opponent's gaze – it made his stomach wretch.

The doubt ate at his chest, a dull and painful tug that made the knot in his throat impossible to ignore. Where was it coming from, when there were no more remaining obstacles to surmount?

"A God does not have want to cry, Pharaoh."

The spirit turned sharply, lips pulling back in a hiss as the astral image of the Puzzle projected before him. The personification of the Puzzle had rarely appeared before him, favoring communicating with him in abstraction, the sentience of a being without human condition. Its voice did not hold any tangible quality, speaking directly into his mind. The image was no more important to their communication than its lack of a voice – given the once-king's current avoidance of his soul room, the projection was really only there to alert him that it wished to speak to him.

Registering the Puzzle's admonition, he raised a quick hand to his face, surprised to feel the dampness of a tear tracking down his cheek. He drew back his fingers to study them in confusion, unaware that he'd shed any tears.

"What do you want?" The question was biting, haughty and terse. The spirit turned his back on the image, even as he broke the projection's line of sight with the Puzzle. The image remained, static in a way that reinforced its otherworldly quality.

"You are troubled."

"That should hardly be your concern." The spirit scoffed, eyeing the image over his shoulder, back straight and tall, arms crossed; he stood more regally than ever before. "The ceremony will be underway by noon. Our collaboration is coming to an end." He took his eyes from the image, noticing that his fingers had started to ghost over the golden artifact resting against his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the item, bristling at the unconscious reverence. The Puzzle had only been a portent of strife in his experience, regardless of its loyalty to him.

"We know. We see that this is the root of your troubles. Your energy is in disarray. You have only been so turbulent once before." The voice was a cold caress in his mind, comfortingly numbing and soothing at once.

"Believe me, of all the things that are to come, regret for our parting is not one of them." His words, though harsh, had lost their edge. Clearly, the Puzzle was not there to antagonize him. It would not have had the mind to try in the first place.

"You fear our parting, god-king. Why do you lie to yourself?"

The spirit's eyes widened and his nostrils flared, taking an angry breath as he turned to face the projection. He raised an angry fist at the hollow personification, glaring. "Do not tell me what I am feeling. What do you know of my feelings? "

"What do you?"

His breath hitched, and although the image was eerily still, he imagined the smirk on its face. "I do not need counsel from a hunk of metal about my feelings. I am fine." Though the Puzzle would not judge him for it, he tightly reined the urge for his voice to crack; he did not notice that his words had become lofty, royal in deference to his restored title.

The Puzzle regarded him in silence, and without its voice in his mind, the avatar became more unnerving. Though the Pharaoh was not afraid of any specter or monster, the imitation of a person hovering before him made his hair stand on end. What did it want from him? Why was it insisting that he was upset?

His thoughts turned inwards, sensing that the Puzzle would not interject again, though its projection did not dissipate. Although his confusion had not been cleared by the Puzzle's appearance, he could not deny that there was something upsetting him; the Puzzle was right about that much. Though the Puzzle didn't know how to care about a person in the way a human would, it had become attuned to the spirit's equilibrium. When he was thrown from his homeostasis, it could sense it and felt the mechanical desire to return his soul to balance. In this way, it had always been his loyal companion – a prison that fed off the comfort of its captive.

He looked towards the cards on the cabin's table, and the darkened window beyond that showed no more than black sea that bled to black horizon. There were hours yet to sunrise – hours more to the duel.

He had been a quiet observer to the conversation on-deck between the friends of who would duel him for his passage to the underworld. Though he had not known of Yugi's intentions to volunteer until the moment he voiced them, it had not surprised him and he had warmed in pride and comfort at his partner's bravery. The prospect of facing his greatest opponent ever thrummed in his blood and excited him.

But where that excitement would have sustained until the duel, he noticed now that it flagged as soon as the thought was complete. The prospect of dueling Yugi was thrilling, but he could not maintain the feelings of anticipation he typically felt when faced with a challenge. Perhaps because he already sensed that the outcome would be his loss, despite his best efforts to win.

Loss.

If he lost the duel, he gained the well-earned rest of a tired soul at the end of its time. Even in his human experience with Yugi that had spanned the last two years, he had always had the quiet awareness of a soul that had outlived itself. His coexistence with the teenager had been a final extension to a life preserved too-long, and he felt the fatigue as no human would have been able to. Until a day ago, a part of himself that he had kept away from his friends had been eager to find his memories and seal away the items so that he could finally go to the afterlife he'd been promised millennia ago. Being a spirit as long as he had, he didn't have illusions that the Egyptian afterlife foretold by his ancestors was what was waiting for him, but he had no doubts that there was a world beyond this one, and he was long overdue for it.

Until a day ago, he had not been afraid of it.

What was there to fear now, at the end? What had changed?

Frustrated by the lack of mental clarity, the spirit let out a harsh breath of irritation, pacing. He couldn't bring himself to look at the cards splayed out on the table. He could not build a deck worthy of this duel when he was experiencing such emotional tumult – a deck worthy of his partner's efforts.

He paused at the final piece of his thought, and he felt the cold brush of the Puzzle in his mind. It continued its silence, but acknowledged that it was following his train of thought. The proud spirit looked toward the projection, eyes narrowed in question, though it would not respond to him. What did it know about him that he himself did not?

He bristled as the Puzzle blatantly ignored his mental entreaty, and he growled, resuming his agitated pacing. This feeling of pervasive doubt and apprehension, all in response to the outcome of the duel – he needed to trace it back to its conception. He turned away from the window, closing his eyes in contemplation. Though he did not know what his feelings were inspired by, it was not as difficult to figure out where they'd started. Until they had departed for the Memory World, he had been aware of his feelings concerning the future.

He had been a man at odds, though resolved in his contradiction. His overwhelming sense of justice, the urge to protect the people he'd met in this time, the desire to put to rest the one thing that might disrupt their happy lives and to finish what he'd started three millennia before was a fierce presence in his heart. His desire to seal the items away so that they could no longer wreak havoc on this world that he wanted to safeguard had been driving his forward movement, pushing him through the clash with the misguided Marik and his power-hungry other-self, and onward through Dartz and his dark god. Even now, he felt the drive to put an end to the shadows and the items planted solidly in his heart.

But he was not a soul of blind ambition. Perhaps a flame of inspiration for his desire to protect was the small, but powerful, burning impulse to bring harmony to the one soul that had brought harmony back to him after millennia of silent and maddening stasis.

Yugi; selfless, charismatic, and compassionate Yugi.

Again, the Puzzle brushed his mind, and he squared his stance towards the Puzzle's image, his voice coming out uneven past the knot in his throat, thick. "What are you trying to tell me damn it!"

Again, the Puzzle would not answer, driving the oppressive silence in the room. With a frustrated shout, he tore the Puzzle from his neck and hurled it at the avatar, though the item did nothing to dissuade the hollow figure's presence and simply thudded against the cabin wall, dropping to the ground in a quiet cacophony of steel and gold clanging.

"A god should not be so ill at ease."

Finally, the mental caress of the Puzzle's inhuman voice filtered into his mind, reacting to the spike in his emotions. He clenched his fists in response, leveling a glare full of ire and hatred at the being.

"I am no god. I'm just…" His voice died in his throat, though his lips worked soundlessly to finish his statement.

For the first time, the Puzzle's image moved, tilting its head in affirmation to the end of his thought. The subtle movement tore the strangled words from his mouth.

"I'm just a man."

The spirit felt his whole body tense, the thought making his throat seize again.

He had not been a man in three thousand years. Until yesterday, he had been a spirit without recollection of any identity, merely an aggregate of personality that had responded to the needs of his soul-partner, spurred to become what the boy had needed in him as he was in turn completed by the tender and beautiful soul known as Yugi Mutou.

Now he stood, without a body, but restored in every other way, a man once again. He was the lost Pharaoh, nameless no more, the fearless king who had sacrificed his soul so that his kingdom would not fall to the blind rage of a scorned thief and his pact with a demon.

He was a boy again. The boy who had grown too fast, learned too quickly, and seen too much. The boy who had buried his father at 15, watched the fall of his tainted family, left behind chaos for the one man who could carry on in his wake.

He was Atem; he was a nameless spirit no more.

And yet, Pharaoh Atem 's life was finite – it was over, drawn to conclusion three millennia ago. The life of the spirit – Yami Yugi – had barely begun and was already in its twilight. The two years spent with Yugi had not been the life of a Pharaoh, though they had now combined to form one person; it was sobering and soul-shattering at once, leaving him breathing harshly, loud in the too-quiet room.

"Your time as a man has gone, Pharaoh." The Puzzle's cool whispers crept into his mind once more, though he did not react to them this time. "Your time here is finished; you have achieved your rebirth's purpose. Why do you weep at the respite you have earned?"

He breathed sharply, eyes fluttering as the thoughts, like dust, settled in his mind. This time, the tear that fell did not surprise him.

"Because I am not the man I used to be. " The knot in his throat loosened as the catharsis of realization washed over him. "I am Atem, but not the man that was sealed away. I am a new person, a different person – and I'm about to leave everything I know and love."

The admission ended with a sob bubbling in his throat that his pride would not allow. His breath hitched as he refused to submit to the wracking sobs that he could feel in his chest, stumbling back to his original seat. He leaned on the table, staring down at the cards haphazardly laid before him – the cards of his and Yugi's labor – the cards that were a symbol of their union and partnership.

He squeezed his eyes shut, understanding now why there was sudden doubt and fear in his heart, why his hands shook when he built the deck that would clear his path to the afterlife.

He was a man again, and a man felt pain when he was going to be separated from the things he loved most.

He had said once that he wanted to be with Yugi forever, regardless of whether the mystery of his birth and life were ever solved. He had reaffirmed those feelings over and over again, even as he began the search for his identity. When he was a spirit, the resolve to do what was difficult, but necessary, for the good of all he had come to cherish in this second life, had not been hard to come by.

Resolve did not come so easily to man. Laid out before him as cards were the pain and grief he would have to contend with in order to separate himself from this life and move on. He would have to be resolute in letting it all go – leaving behind the rewarding rivalry with Seto, the cheerful antics of Otogi and Honda, the fierce and loyal friendship of Jou and Anzu, the quiet acceptance and steadying hand of Sugoroku…

The unconditional companionship and love of Yugi.

He held the boy in his mind's eye, and it was enough to shatter the dam holding in his sobs. His hands grasped at his face as his chest heaved, fingers digging into the skin as he confronted the truth that both he and Yugi had understood could not stand in the way of what was right.

They could not be together forever like they wanted, because it was the selfish route, and they could not choose the desires of two over the safety of many.

"With your sealing, you take us all into oblivion. You leave behind peace for your companions. We know this is your greatest desire."

With a start, Atem noticed that the astral image of the Puzzle was hovering beside him now, sending wave after wave of numbing comfort over his mind. It affected him in the way a splash of cool water to the face might, and after several long moments of deep breathing and the last traces of burning tears, his sobs subsided.

With stiff fingers, he picked up Osiris's card, regarding it with red eyes. Even when he had acquired the more powerful gods in Obelisk and Ra, he had felt a kindling to Osiris. The card, longer than the others, had protected him and Yugi in their battles and carried them to victory. Now, in his deck, he knew that Osiris would experience defeat.

He had the odd sense that the god would not be bothered by it.

Yugi's victory over him was to be the dawning of a new era for this world that would usher out darkness and evil tens of centuries old. Atem was to be the ferry that ushered them from this time and secured peace for everyone.

To secure his loved ones' happiness, he could not be part of it. If he wavered now, no matter what personal pleasure he would ensure for himself and everybody with his presence, it could very well amount to nothing in the long run. Letting the shadows and the items fester any longer in this world was an invitation for great sorrow, and he could not live with being the person who may have stopped it if not for momentary weakness.

As he felt his resolution returning, he paused, unable to deny himself the profession of this one last weakness to a room that would never breathe it to another soul.

"Why did fate bring him to me if it was just going to tear us apart again?"

Even as he knew the practical answer, and expected the Puzzle to confirm it, he could not help the morose plea. Their union had never been meant to last; coming to terms with that caused a painful stricture in his heart worse than any he could recall in his very long life.

"Your parting is temporary, god-king."

Atem's shoulders seized and he turned his head very slowly and involuntarily toward the Puzzle's avatar, eyes widening slightly. "What do you mean 'temporary'?"

The Puzzle regarded him as blankly as it had before, but Atem could feel its cool and soothing waves lapping at his mind once again, and he wondered at the Puzzle's motivations for comforting him. It could not understand human emotion, and yet soothed him in his darkest moment of doubt and lamentation.

"Your souls' union cannot be undone. This is an end to your consciousness, but not an eradication of your being, Pharaoh. You will be together in whatever worlds await you, until the gods snuff you out." The Puzzle paused, sensing that the truths of the afterlife were creating a processing burden on Atem's grief-stricken mind.

"We will…" His lips worked to give voice to his thoughts, but he choked on them, another errant tear streaking down his cheek.

"Your soul and the boy's are tied. You will be together, in whatever form the gods permit, until end."

Atem released a halting breath, eyes wide and mouth frozen open as he absorbed the Puzzle's words in his mind. The Puzzle was an otherworldly being in a world bound by the human condition – it was impossible to comprehend what a soul's track was, or where it had been, when the only state of being one could be conscious of was the human one. But Atem had been something beyond human for much longer than his 15 years of human life, and the Puzzle's message assuaged the quivering bundle of grief in his chest. It could see where his soul was headed, and he believed it.

He and Yugi would be together, in whatever way they could be, for good. Yugi may never know that Atem was with him after tomorrow, but the man-out-of-time knew in his heart that the Puzzle's words were a pronouncement of truth. He himself would not have allowed it to be any other way, after all.

Looking back at the cards, he felt a familiar fire in his chest, warming away the icy doubt, thawing the grief, and burning away his fear.

Resolve.

"Thank you."

The words were quiet but strong, carrying the familiar tones of the spirit that had felled the Eye, defeated the Rod, herded the Ring, and ruled the Puzzle.

The Puzzle's voice in his mind, for the briefest and final moment, became warm.

"Goodbye Pharaoh."

Its presence in his mind faded, and Atem knew that this was the last interaction he'd ever have with the Millennium Puzzle.

In the wake of the powerful message the Puzzle had imparted, Atem found himself feeling slightly less like the man he'd once been, and it brought a grin to his face. He fingered Osiris's card again, turning his gaze fully to the beginnings of a deck scattered before him. He put the card, face up, before him.

One card down, thirty nine to go.

A/N: Again, please review and leave me tips or thoughts for improvement! General reviews would also be nice and appreciated :) Toodles.