Author's note: This is my first fanfiction, so I appreciate you taking the time to read it and maybe leave a review! I wanted to share my re-imagining of how Yu-Gi-Oh might have ended and explore the relationship between Atem and Anzu. Please enjoy!

I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or these wonderful characters.

…

Anzu Mazaki is no stranger to restlessness. It has been a close companion of hers during so many events in her life. It follows her in every dance recital, making her legs jump and jitter while she sits backstage, waiting for her cue to enter. It's there during tests, as her fingers fidget with the pencil when she's stuck on a question. And of course it visits her while she watches her friends duel against enemy after enemy, praying that the people she cares about most will emerge victorious and unharmed. Yes, restlessness is something that Anzu is all too familiar with.

But it's never felt anything like this.

It is the night before the Ceremonial Duel.

She sits on the little bed in her designated room. Beneath her, the boat rocks as it glides through the waves. It's the boat that will take them to the place where Yugi and Yami- no, Atem- are to hold their duel to decide the pharaoh's fate. Will he cross over to the Afterlife? Only if Yugi can defeat him and prove he is worthy to take Atem's place.

It's a thought that has worried her for longer than she cares to admit. She used to have dreams about his departure. Terrible dreams where he was ripped from them before they had a chance to tell him goodbye. These dreams haunt her, so much that she went to Yugi's room just minutes ago. Her nightmares would not come true, not if she could help it.

But once in Yugi's room, she lost her nerve. She wasn't prepared to feel so… guilty for wanting to talk to Atem one more time. Maybe it was Yugi's smile, tinged with pain but trying to be sincere. Maybe it was the Duel Monsters cards scattered on the table, a reminder that there were two people dueling tomorrow, two people who needed support and encouragement. Or maybe it was the way the Millennium Puzzle hung around Yugi's neck, in its rightful place. Yugi knew the pharaoh better than she ever had. He and Atem had been inseparable since he first put the Puzzle together those handful of years ago. Who was she to come in and pretend Atem meant more to her than Yugi? Wouldn't that be an insult to her best friend if she wanted to tell his counterpart goodbye?

So with a forced cheery smile, she lied and told Yugi she was there to give him the itinerary for tomorrow, then made a quick retreat to her room. Now, she pretends that the disappointment isn't enough to choke her. She made her choice, and it's time to move on. If only it was that easy…

A knock on the door makes her jump. She scurries over to open the door a bit and meet her visitor.

"Hello, Anzu."

"Oh, Atem! Umm, hi, come on in." Stepping back to give him space to enter the room, she takes a moment to look at him closely. Now that she knows what to look for, she recognizes the differences between him and Yugi instantly. The messier hair, the sharper violet eyes. The deeper voice that she first heard when he saved her from that attacker so long ago. The voice that makes her knees weak even now… "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your match against Yugi?"

"Yugi said you wished to speak with me earlier."

"He did?" She plasters a big smile to her face, even as her hand rubs the back of her neck. "Yeah, I just wanted to… wish you good luck, was all. I know it can't be easy facing off with Yugi as your opponent."

Atem's mouth presses into a thin line, eyes lingering a bit too long on her grin. "Yes. Yugi has gotten much stronger. So much so that he has the ability to outduel me."

For a long time, Anzu believed that there were bits of steel in her that nothing could break. Now, Anzu wonders if inside she's been made only of cloth and thread this whole time. Because as soon as those horrible words leave his mouth, she feels the string that's been holding her together for so long snap. Her hands turn numb while she fights to steady her breath.

"Anzu, is everything all right?"

She blinks. His eyes are open wide, reflecting the very same alarm that she feels.

Seeing this only makes her heart ache. The last thing she wants to do is cause him pain. She distances herself from him, moving to sit down hard on the side of the bed.

Rather than having to look at what she's done to him, her gaze gravitates to the small window before her, and the scenery beyond the glass. Outside, the moon shines down on the river, painting milky white tendrils on the water's surface. From this angle, they could be the moon's tears.

The bed dips next to her, and then a hand rests over her knee.

"Anzu?" Atem asks again, in that same cautious voice.

She shakes her head. He doesn't need to be bothered with this. Hoping to ground herself, she lays her hand over his, rubs a thumb across his knuckles. No, it's not his hand against her palm. As much as she wishes to fool herself, it's Yugi's skin she feels. Atem is only borrowing the body of her best friend so that he can spend this moment with her. She stares at the half-moon in the velvet sky, like a woman's face partly obscured in shadows. Somewhere, halfway through the heavens, the sun reaches out with warm rays to bring her light in the darkness.

It's a bit like her and Atem, in a way. They met in the dark, back when she didn't even know he existed. He came to her rescue every time she was in trouble. But even after she realized there were two Yugis, there was always so much distance separating them – he, a reserved ancient spirit, not knowing his past or his name, and she, a young dancer born of this modern age, who wore her heart on her sleeve. They came from different worlds. And yet, a fondness had grown between the two, as they supported each other's dreams and forged a connection in the process.

That connection is in jeopardy now. But she knew this was coming, even back when she encouraged Atem to search for his memories. Maybe she should just try to ignore these feelings…

Atem turns his hand palm-up beneath hers. Still awaiting her answer. A breathy laugh, so close to a sob, escapes her lips. Such persistence. Even now he's trying to save her, like he has done so many times before.

Very well. If this is his wish, she will grant it, tonight, in the only way she knows how.

"Do you think the moon and sun are lonely, Atem? They go through a dance routine every night, twirling around the Earth, dipping and leaping through the sky. But even though they're partners, they see each other only in passing. They'll never get to share the stage, or dance beside one another. Never close enough to fully touch."

Atem hums in agreement. If he finds this sudden topic of conversation strange, he doesn't show it. She feels his eyes on her, though she can't bear to do the same.

Threading his fingers between hers, he muses, "It does seem a cruel fate, doesn't it? Perhaps it would have been better had the moon never met the sun at all." He lets out a sigh. "For every moment he is with her, she spends an equal time in darkness. That's hardly fair to the moon, when she could have more than the sun can ever give her."

"You're wrong." Her voice comes out like a needle scratching over a worn-out record, gravelly and hoarse. "The darkness is worth every second of the sun's light. Because he illuminates her. The moon never knew the world could be so bright before he came into her life. That's why she would settle for catching brief glimpses of him across the sky while they dance over the Earth together, even if it meant they would never be able to touch. Just a minute of his presence can leave her smiling for days. But now…"

"Now there's a chance the sun is going away forever," he finishes for her. Ah. So he heard the deeper meaning behind her words all along, then. A blush blooms hot over her face, and her vision turns to watercolor. She is stunned speechless.

A sigh slips between his lips. "I know it seems that the sun may be leaving the moon behind forever. But what if this separation is not permanent? While the sun and moon will no longer be dance partners, as you have said, the sun will remain in the sky. He is only moving to a far-off galaxy. He will become like the many distant stars on the horizon – small, barely visible, a reflection of the past, but present and alive nonetheless." He points in front of them, and she follows the line of his finger to a star hung in the black velvet sky. "And when the heavens are still, and the moon closes her eyes… won't she feel the sun's rays reaching out across space and time, just to be with her once more?"

"B-but it won't be the same… without you." She tastes tears in the back of her throat, burning and thick.

"Anzu, look at me, please." After a few hot swallows, she meets his gaze. There's no pity in his eyes, or even ridicule, only sadness.

"I would give anything to spare you from pain. But I am powerless in this matter. You must accept that I will lose to Yugi tomorrow."

Her heart trembles. No. She can't do that. He's asking her to do the impossible. To accept would mean spending the rest of her life with a hole in her chest. Besides, doesn't each person have the power to choose his or her own destiny, like Kaiba did in his duel against Ishizu so long ago during Battle City? Nothing about Atem's future is set in stone –

He interrupts her frenzied thoughts when he reaches forward to cup her cheek. They stare into each other's eyes for a time, neither daring to breathe, until he brushes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The action is so soft, so caring, that a tidal wave of emotion for this man hits her again. The dam within her breaks, and she finds herself sobbing uncontrollably.

"Come here," he whispers, opening his arms to receive her. And she crumbles into him with all the grace of a collapsing building. Slowly at first, then all together in a rush. He is solid and warm against her. For a minute she forgets this is Yugi's body. It's just the two of them, pharaoh and dancer, saying their private goodbyes. His hand rubs between her shoulder blades as he rocks her, cooing to her while she tries to muffle her sobs.

"H-how can you be so sure you'll lose? There's always a chance…"

"No Anzu. I must return to my time, and to my family. It has been five thousand years since I have had true rest. I – I am so tired."

Her gut squirms uncomfortably at that. How selfish of her, to think that Atem would give up his chance for peace just to stay with his friends here. She can't deny him of the rest he so desperately needs.

"I could go with you, then. To the Afterlife." Though the words are spontaneous, they are no less sincere. True, she'd be leaving a lot behind – friends, family, her dream of dancing – but she'd also be getting the chance to spend more time with Atem. She swallows hard.

Atem gives a warm hum at that, as though he can read her mind and see everything she would sacrifice for him. "But there is someone here who needs you more."

That makes her pause for a moment. "Who could possibly need me?" She laughs. "I'm just a cheerleader."

"There is no "just" about you, Anzu." His voice deepens and rumbles in his chest. Because she's tucked against his sternum, the vibrations of his words carry into her forehead. "You are the heart and soul of our group. Thanks to your encouragement, we prevailed when we otherwise may have lost hope and given up. I speak for both Yugi and myself when I assure you that it was your support that got us through those many duels. That is why you must stay here. For Yugi's sake. He will need your strength after I am gone."

"You're the one who gives Yugi his strength, though. Not me."

"Are you so certain of that?" She lifts her head and stares into his face. This close, she can see the violet flecks in his irises, a kaleidoscope of a thousand different shards. "Watch our duel carefully tomorrow, and you may change your mind."

She sees what he's doing, of course. He's giving her a task so that she'll have a reason to keep moving forward after he has gone. Clever, she must admit, though it breaks her heart all over again. It makes the reality of his departure that much more final. He's already made a plan for them after he has left, which means he has made up his mind and accepted the outcome tomorrow.

They still have tonight, though. If Atem wants her to give Yugi strength tomorrow, she will draw all the strength she can from Atem now. So she leans her temple against his shoulder and focuses on the sound of his heartbeat. Delighting when his hands bury into her hair. If she closes her eyes, maybe she can pretend that this night doesn't have to end. The first seeds of a wish take up root in her heart.

Atem is surprisingly patient with her. He's never struck her as the touchy-feely type, but maybe he can sense how much she needs him close right now. A tiny, hopeful voice whispers that maybe he enjoys her touch, too… Whatever the case, he allows her to stay pressed against him for as long as she needs. He takes deep, long breaths, and her own breathing soon falls into the same rhythm. While he rubs the back of her neck, she focuses on his scent – cinnamon and cedar, so different from Yugi's even though they share the same body. She lets that scent fill her mind until it shrouds her like a blanket. With it comes a sense of peace she hasn't felt since they discovered that ancient tablet in the museum before Battle City.

The peace gives way to strength building within her, brick by brick. Atem continues guiding her breath, she keeps her head tight against his chest, and after a while she finds a wall of strength constructed inside her heart. It's a bit wobbly and the mortar hasn't dried in some places, but it's enough for her to lean on to get through tomorrow.

She tests that strength when she raises her head from Atem, glancing at the clock. 1 am. "Oh, it's late. I'm sorry… have you finished putting your deck together?"

He swallows, and his eyes cloud over. "No, not yet. There are still some adjustments I must make."

The seeds of her hope, buried deep in her heart, scatter and die upon hearing his words. Of course he came to comfort her before tending to his deck. So there's no chance, after all… "I should let you be going then. Your deck needs to be perfect for tomorrow." She stands and makes her way across the room to open the door for him. Her fingers pull at the hem of her shirt, while her eyes burn a hole into the floor, trying to keep her expression neutral.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, shifting from foot to foot as though he wants to say something more. In the end, though, he only folds his arms and whispers, "Goodnight, Anzu," before turning to face the hall.

It's easier to look at him now, knowing he can't read the emotions on her face. The moon spills its pale light on him, caressing the contours of his shoulders and the dip of his lower back. Its ghostly fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. Under the glow of the moon, he looks… otherworldly. Even more so than usual. So much like a spirit preparing to depart for the Afterlife.

This can't be the last sight she has of him. Her heart is in her throat, and those seeds of hope, the ones she thought had scattered, bloom to life and force her into action.

"Atem, wait!" Her hand catches his wrist. His skin is so warm against her own.

He faces her again, and she's surprised to find a smile on his lips. The moon splashes over his cheeks and throat as he steps closer to her. He doesn't say anything, only waits for her to voice her thoughts.

"I know you have a lot to do before tomorrow, but could you – I mean, would you be willing to –?" Why does that soft smile of his always turn her into a stuttering mess? Her heart is going to leap out of her throat in embarrassment any second.

But the tender smile has not left his face, and he clasps both of her hands in his own. He nods, inviting her to continue.

It's now or never. With a deep breath, she forces the rest of her question out. "Would you stay with me tonight? You could bring your deck in here and sit at the table by the window, I promise I won't bother you while you're choosing your cards, it's just that I don't think I can stand being alone right now and I–"

A finger over her lips quiets her rambling. "Of course, Anzu." He squeezes her hand. "Allow me to collect my things while you prepare for bed, and I shall return in a moment."

"O-okay." Inside, she's beaming. His hands slip from her, and she watches for a moment while he makes his way through the hall.

Once he's gone, she lays out her sleepwear on the bed, a pile of pink with white lace trim. Her mouth twists tighter the longer she stares at the offensive heap. What was she thinking, bringing a nightgown of all things on this trip? She should've brought something more practical, like shorts and a simple t-shirt. And now Atem is going to see her like this… She digs frantically once more through the other clothes she packed, but nothing is a suitable replacement for sleepwear.

There's no choice, then. She pulls the nightgown on and surveys herself in the mirror. It's as though her appearance reveals everything she wants to keep hidden – that she is fragile and sentimental and about to be overcome by everything she still cannot say aloud. Looking in the mirror, it is strange to see herself like this. For as long as she can remember, she's been fearless and independent, unafraid to speak her mind. It's unsettling now to see herself so… vulnerable.

But, she reasons as she brushes her teeth, there is no one else she would rather be vulnerable before than Atem, especially when he might be gone tomorrow. This thought brings her comfort. When Atem knocks on her door a few moments later, she doesn't hesitate to let him in.

"Do you have much more work to do?" she asks once he's inside, pretending not to notice the way his eyes widen upon seeing her. Trembling hands smooth over her nightgown while she turns her face away.

"Ah – yes. When Yugi finished his deck and switched with me, I came immediately to see you. I need to go through my current deck and change most of the cards, since Yugi is already familiar with my strategies."

"If you don't mind my asking, how will you and Yugi keep your decks secret from each other? You two usually share thoughts and experiences, right?" She glances at him from the corner of her eye, noticing that he has placed his cards on the table and draped his jacket over the back of the chair. Averting her gaze from him once more, she busies herself with brushing her hair before bed. Maybe if her hands have something to do, they'll stop shaking…

There is something strange in Atem's voice when he replies, "Yugi is deep within his soul room in the Millennium Puzzle, to give me privacy while I build my deck. While he is there, we cannot hear each other's thoughts, nor are we aware of what the other is doing." The chair scrapes against the floor, and she hears him sit down. "It feels… odd, not hearing his voice in my mind right now."

"I can imagine, with all the time you've spent together," she murmurs, trying to keep her tone cheery. There is so much more she wants to talk about with him – she wants to ask what he remembers of his family and his childhood, and how it felt being a sometimes-spirit sharing a body with Yugi these past few years – but now is not the right time. Besides, how is she going to bring that up? He came here to work, not to be her conversation partner.

Much to her relief, her hands have stopped trembling by now, so Anzu puts away her hairbrush and begins turning down the bed to crawl beneath the covers. "Well, I'll let you focus on your work. Goodnight, Atem." As if she's going be able to sleep on a night like this. Yeah right.

"Oh. Goodnight, Anzu." He smiles at her before turning back to his cards.

She closes her eyes in the hopes of making herself fall asleep. But as she lays there, she is distracted by noises of Atem shifting as he works, almost as if he is agitated. Eventually she sits up, and he glances over his shoulder at her.

"Everything okay?" she can't help but ask.

He clears his throat. "Yes. I, um…" He pauses to take a deep breath. "Would it be an intrusion to sit next to you as I choose my cards?"

"No, I'd – I'd like that very much."

He nods his head in thanks, then collects his cards and makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed to join her. While he takes off his shoes, Anzu lays down onto her side, facing him. She tries to clamp down on the little swoop in her stomach.

He settles onto the bed, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall. And then he begins what Anzu imagines is the tedious task of building his deck. He starts with a tall stack of cards before him, and spreads the top five cards out in a row. Anzu holds her breath and becomes completely still. It's so surreal to see these cards that have saved their lives countless times laid out beside her now, knowing that tomorrow may be the last time they are in Atem's possession. She marvels at the cards for a while, noting the ones that are shiny or the ones that are her favorite. Soon two piles emerge from his work – a pile on the left with cards turned face-down, and another pile on the right where he places cards face-up. Many cards are added to the growing pile on the left, cards like Kuriboh and Silver Fang, while only a select few are chosen for the pile on the right. Atem carefully places Mirror Force into the right pile, and Swift Gaia and Monster Reborn are quick to follow. Then more are put into the left pile. Try as she might, she can't begin to guess the strategies whirring around in his brain.

It's not long though before her focus is on Atem more than the cards. Her attention shifts to him like silver filings drawn to a magnet. His hands are in constant motion – one pushes jagged bangs out of his eyes, then tugs on an earlobe before rubbing his forehead. The other hand, when not busy flipping through Duel Monsters cards, fidgets with something around his neck. At first she thinks it's the chains of the Millennium Puzzle, until she gets a closer look. It's his cartouche. Heat floods her cheeks to know that he is still wearing her gift.

She can't tell how much time passes like this, with Atem methodically sorting his cards and her hanging on his every movement. He is deep in thought, eyes staring past the cards for a while as he makes his decisions about which pile they belong in. He falls into a slow, sleepy pattern, occasionally rifling back through the cards in the right pile and counting them. But then he picks up a card and his pattern is interrupted.

Slifer the Sky Dragon stares back from the card, mouth open in a silent roar. Atem regards the dragon for a long time, while Anzu takes special note. Any minute now he'll put the card face-up in the right pile, which she is sure holds the cards that Atem will use in his duel tomorrow.

Rather than place it in either pile, he sets it upon his knee. Anzu watches his shoulders hunch in, his head hang low, his fingers drum too quick on top of the Egyptian God card.

Without thinking, her hand reaches out to lay over his. Stilling his restless fingers. He jolts as though caught doing something wrong, but avoids her eyes. Slowly, slowly, his shoulders straighten, and he tips his head against the wall with a soft thunk.

"Anzu…?"

"Hmm?"

His head angles toward her, expression hidden beneath his golden bangs. He heaves a long sigh. "Do you think that… Yugi is my conscience?"

She blinks a few times, allowing the silence to stretch before she says, "I don't understand."

Another sigh. Then, "During my time as pharaoh, people revered me as a god. Much like Slifer the Sky Dragon." He slips his hand from beneath hers to hold the card before him. "But I am no god. I fear I am a monster." He turns his head to look up at the ceiling.

"When I first emerged from the Millennium Puzzle, I was… confused. Ruthless. Terrible. I killed people simply because they had lost a Shadow Game, because I thought they needed to be punished for their crimes. And Anzu, I – I enjoyed it." He tosses Slifer to the sheets before him without ceremony. "I'd like to believe that I have changed in the time that I spent with all of you. You taught me about friendship and forgiveness. But what if this change isn't permanent? Maybe my darkness was suppressed because I share a consciousness with Yugi, whose soul is so filled with light that it swallowed up the shadows of my own."

His fingers pluck at the cartouche around his neck, thumb tracing over the engraving there that spells out his name. "Tomorrow, when I go to the Afterlife, Yugi's spirit will forever be separated from mine. We will finally be our own people, independent of each other. I worry that this will give the darkness in me room to resurface, without Yugi and the rest of you, my friends, reminding me of goodness and hope and light." His voice trembles as he whispers, "I… I am afraid what kind of monster I will become when I am on my own."

"No." Anzu's hands grip the bedsheet, crumpling the edge into her curled fists. "You will not become a monster."

The corners of his mouth turn down into a grimace. "You say that as if it is certain."

"Because it is!" She sucks in a breath to calm herself. In a softer tone, Anzu continues, "I won't pretend that I know anything about who you were as a pharaoh. But I know you now, and you aren't a monster. I have watched you put yourself in danger to protect the world, just like you sacrificed your life, even your name, when you were pharaoh to keep Zorc from returning. That is the exact opposite of a monster.

"You're worried that being separated from Yugi tomorrow will somehow change who you are. But you have always been your own person, even if none of us knew it at first. How else would I have guessed that there were two people in my best friend's body? It's because no matter how close you and Yugi are – sharing a body, a mind, the weight of the Millennium Puzzle – the two of you are individuals, who make your own decisions and have a different destiny waiting for you.

"And besides," she reaches for his hand, "you will always have the memories of your time here. It's not like these experiences you've had with us will just go away. If you ever find yourself lost and not knowing what to do, think of us and we will be right there to guide you."

He still looks unsure. So she props herself up on an elbow and twines her fingers through the thick chain holding the Millennium Puzzle around his neck. When he doesn't push her hand away, she lifts the golden Puzzle off of him. He stiffens beneath her, but she pulls the chain over his head anyway. For this moment at least, he needs a break from its crushing weight. She sets the Puzzle down on the bed before him, among the many Duel Monsters cards.

"See? Even without the Puzzle right now, without Yugi, you haven't changed like you fear you might. Tomorrow will be no different if you cross into the Afterlife."

His breath hitches. For a moment, she thinks she can hear his heart racing.

"Because… no matter what…" She has to fight against the lump in her throat, whispering aloud her next words.

"You are Atem. Always." She rests a trembling hand upon his thigh.

"Anzu," he whispers, and it sounds so much like a warning she nearly pulls away. Until his eyes find hers, and she is caught.

He is a vision before her, raw and undone. A pharaoh on his knees. His lips are parted softly, burning irises half-lidded, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. A flush stains his high cheeks.

Never before has she seen him so human.

He lifts his right hand, and time stands still as he reaches for her. She waits with agonizing anticipation for his hand to meet her skin. When it finally does, it is to brush the hair from her forehead and trace her eyebrows. It's done with such care, as though he's afraid of breaking her. But she feels the electricity jolt between them even so.

The electricity only intensifies when he slips his hand beneath her cheek to cradle her head. His thumb strokes over her lips again and again. Before she can think better of it, she kisses his thumb, and hears him catch his breath. Through lowered eyelashes, she watches that soft blush of his spread all the way to his ears. She would giggle at the sight, if she weren't so afraid of interrupting this moment. Instead she nuzzles into his palm and lays a kiss upon his wrist. "Atem," she coos against his skin there. Goosebumps spring up along his arm, and his thundering pulse dances below her lips.

"Say it again," he pleads, voice breaking.

So she does. She whispers it over and over as she traces the lines in his palm, massages the heel of his hand, dots a kiss to each of his fingertips. He unravels at her touch, breath rattling loud past his lips, humming with her every kiss and croon. His name becomes her mantra, again and again, so neither of them will forget the sound of it after he's gone. And though his name slides easily over her tongue, it tingles her lips like some bittersweet soda.

Because this moment is bitter, as much as it is beautiful. She can't let herself forget that. Tears gather along her lower eyelashes, bright and burning and desperate.

As she presses a final kiss to his palm, he pulls her up to sit before him. They're almost nose to nose now. His wet, shining eyes sweep over her face. Studying her.

And then he leans in to seal their lips together.

He tastes like shadows with pinpricks of stars, like sweet relief thick as honey on her tongue, like power and destiny and sacrifice crackling just beneath his skin. This kiss is salty from their mixed tears, and heady with the flavor of those three words neither of them have dared speak aloud. She'll take it. This is a better parting memory than she let herself hope for. When his arms circle her waist, she surrenders completely. One of her hands finds his shoulder, the other buries in his hair, and she concentrates on memorizing the feel of his warmth around her.

All too soon, he parts his mouth from hers. She protests and clings to him tighter.

"Shhh," he soothes, busying himself with kissing her ear, her cheek, her neck. His lips brush ever so softly against her skin, a secret for them alone. Her mouth searches for his temple. They remain frozen there for a moment, snuggled together, breathing in the other's scent.

When he pulls back, the fire has extinguished from his eyes. But he doesn't look broken anymore, either. He looks… at peace. As though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Sure of himself once again.

"Thank you, Anzu." He leans back against the wall, and she mourns the distance it creates between them. "Now, you should try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day." She watches him pick up the Millennium Puzzle and drape it in its rightful place over his heart, and then his left hand reaches for another Duel Monsters card. Just like that, he has returned to the stoic pharaoh, ready to take up his responsibilities.

This transformation alarms her. Is it so easy for him to shut off that vulnerable side and pretend that the last few minutes didn't happen? Her throat goes dry.

She settles down beside him without a word, already missing the warmth of his embrace. After a long debate with herself, she inches closer to lay her cheek upon his thigh. Her fingers curl into the bend of his knee.

With baited breath, Anzu waits for any sign that Atem needs his space – tensing muscles, a clearing of his throat, a slight adjustment of his leg that will force her head to slide off. She'll understand if he wants a last moment to himself, but that won't make it any easier to stomach. Especially because it will mean that their kiss meant more to her than it did to him.

She is wrong. So, so wrong. That tension – that rejection – never comes.

Not only does Atem welcome her touch, he responds with his own affection, right hand sweeping endlessly between her wrist and shoulder. This touch is warm and effortless, an action that requires no thought. It is a lover's caress in the quiet hours of the night, when both are content and enjoying each other's company. Anzu releases the breath she was holding and snuggles closer. A smile plays at the edges of her lips.

Before she closes her eyes, she whispers, "I love you."

His thumb smooths over the lacy white strap of her nightgown. "And I you, Anzu." He trails his hand up to her head, fingers rubbing warm circles into her scalp that send her stomach aflutter. And then, softly, he begins to sing a song under his breath. Though it's in a foreign language, it conjures the most stunning images behind her eyelids of caravans traveling across rippling sand dunes, of a fiery sun and fierce winds and the raw ache of an impossible love. There is a longing for years gone by, and the promise of a reunion in another time and place.

Beneath everything else, she hears a note of affection so bright it rivals the sun.

She's going to be all right. They'll all be all right – her, Yugi, Jonouchi, Honda. She can feel it, as strong and sure as the love in Atem's song. Though he is leaving tomorrow, his memory will live on in each of them. And he will never truly be gone.

As she falls asleep, she dreams of a man who sits in the desert at night, singing to his love among the stars. His love dances through the constellations before leaning down to listen, starlight woven into her hair. She smiles even though he can't see her, and lets his song fill the hole in her chest. Soon they will be together again. It won't be much longer now.