Steps
Night has fallen.
It is not something I can see, not within these confines of stones and memories. It is perhaps something I could sense, but centuries' worth of existing only in my consciousness has dulled time for me.
No, the reason I know it is night is simple: It's the only time Yugi ever visits me on my own soul grounds. And he is here.
He beams as he looks up to finally find me. His steps are characteristically exuberant and—something that has become more characteristic since I've come to know him—confident as he takes the steps two at a time, his eyes never leaving my face. I consciously drop a mental defense to allow him a straight path to reach me.
When he does, we stand facing each other. His smile is more quizzical and uncertain when he sees how sober I am, but he still can't hide the enthusiasm in his eyes.
"So..." he begins, trailing off when I don't offer any words. "I—you—" He clears his throat and tries again. "I'm glad you're okay, other me." Right to the point.
I can't help but feel warm at the sincerity in his voice. "You too, partner." The sentiment is not entirely awkward, considering the circumstances.
It was different immediately after our reunion. Then, I hadn't had time to think. Certainly I had brooded for long enough before that, but when I first got Yugi's soul back, I had been so overwhelmed with gratitude that logic took a field day.
And then there was the second threat, after which I was mentally and emotionally exhausted and content to let Yugi give me his strength. But once I had retired to my own chamber (after his friends arrived, who monopolized his attention, though understandably so), the reality of the situation struck me.
I knew I'd been forgiven. Yugis's spirit had somehow shown me that even before we were reunited again. But I didn't know how hard it had been. If I even should have been. Or if I could myself.
As if he knows my thoughts—perhaps he does, am I subconsciously releasing them?—he hesitates and says, "It wasn't your fault."
I snort. He just smiles. "I trust you to do your best, and I know you always do," he says simply.
But what if my best hadn't been good enough? I'd already failed him once.
"You can't dwell in the past, other me." He stops and, realizing his own words, starts laughing, his face immediately light, his laugh echoing across the stone and in my ears. "It's just an expression, though actually..."
I'm relieved that the topic has moved off what could have been to what has been.
"I'm ready." That's all that needs to be said, and all I can say right now. He nods.
"And I'll help." It's my turn to smile and nod. He sighs. "I guess...I'll go back to sleep now?" He looks at me as if for approval.
"You need your rest."
I can see the comment triggers something in his emotions. In spite of his words, he dawdles at the top of the steps, unsure of something.
When he speaks, the words come out in a rush. "Other me? How did you feel—without me?"
I have expected this question since the first moment I lost his soul. The guilt comes back as I answer.
"Empty. Like a vessel only half full." I am not the first to use this analogy, but the first to know how it truly feels. "But worse than that was worrying about you. All that time, not knowing where you were, if you were hurt—it's the only memory I ever want to forget."
My words trouble him even as he rushes to reassure me. "I was fine. I wasn't even aware of where I was until near the end..." He pauses, swallows, and continues. "I wasn't in any pain. It was just like a nice, long rest..."
His face is belying his words. I see him blinking more often than is natural as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Just a rest," he repeats. "Fine—I was fine. Everybody needs a rest." He whispers. "Everybody."
Even as he leaves I realize I've given the wrong answer.
He's halfway down the steps before I can think of a response. He seems reluctant to turn around when I call out to him, and when he does I see that some of the brightness has spilled from his eyes and splashed on his cheeks.
"Partner." I feel helpless. "I didn't know where you were." It's a small offering, but it's all I have. "I didn't know."
He smiles in reply, and turns back around to go.
His steps are young again.