A/N: Hey there everyone! I couldn't believe all the great reviews I got of "One For The Books," so I'm writing a sequel. It's going to be about.....whatever I guess. Not sure. I'd like to concentrate on Yugi and his family, because I feel like that's a concept that usually only explored through abuse. And I hate abusive parents. So I won't write about them. My apologies to tinkletimekelley for the family OC's.

Disclaimer: I own only my plots and OC's.

Chapter 1: Changing Everything -- Yugi

I worried that after a year of living in Egypt, Yami and I would lose what we had. That it would really turn out to be just another sham and we'd lose everything. I honestly thought that it was going to flop. And then I realized, if I kept thinking that, it would. So I stopped. The first year passed and we were still there. We had our tiny apartment on the edge of the city, close to the museum's excavation building, and we were happy. Happier than we'd ever been in Domino City. When the second year began to creep up on us, I thought that this would be the year it ended. But Yami scolded me for having such thoughts. Told me they were empty and only there to make me feel like this wasn't going to work. That the shadow of our old troubles would follow me wherever I went, but only if I let it. So I stopped. Stopped letting whatever bad feelings were still drifting around govern my life.

We'd only been back once, but spent an entire month there for Joey and then Tea's wedding. It had been strange, being back, knowing that we were now so separate from it all. That had been over a year ago. We hadn't been back since. And we liked it that way. Egypt was where Yami belonged and I belonged with him, so as long as we were together, I knew I was happy. And as long as he had work, I knew he would stay happy. He liked having something to do. Liked knowing that people needed and relied on him for answers and guidance.

Lying awake in our bed, a small deformed thing that just barely fit two people, I stare at the ceiling waiting for him to come home. It's nearly twelve at night. I sigh, itching all over with restlessness. I'm not tired, but I know he will be when he gets in. I know he'll want to collapse, wait til the morning to talk, make love, touch or make contact in any way whatsoever. I roll over on my side and push myself out of bed, walking to the sliding door in our room and pushing it open, stepping out into the light of the full moon that is hanging over Cairo tonight. The railing is cool on my bare stomach. I close my eyes and let the dry wind wash over my face. I've become a lover of the desert, and the desert has become my second self. I smell cigarette smoke and hear a faint sigh.

"Good evening Sayra," I say to the young girl who lives next door. She's Mexican, but went to school in the States where she met an older professor. After she graduated, they moved out here. He's working on a paper while she works in a perfume shop.

"Is it?" she asks. Her pessimism is annoying, but I put up with it. "The professor is drunk," she mutters, sucking on her cigarette and scowling. "Want one?"

"I don't smoke."

"You should. It's good for you." She laughs, a strange hollow noise that isn't real. I press my tongue hard against my teeth, forcing words I want to say back. She smiles and walks closer to the railing we share. "You look good," she says. "Work out?" I shake my head. I'm in pajama bottoms with no shirt. If I'd known she'd be out here, I would have worn a shirt. Or a turtle neck. Or stayed inside. She shrugs. "How's your boyfriend?"

"He's great. Should be here soon." I hear the front door open.

"Nice call," she purrs, smiling at me. I sigh and wave.

"Night, Sayra."

"Buenos noches Yugi." She waves back and puts out her cigarette, stepping back in. I go back inside, locking the door tightly and closing the curtains.

"Aibou, what are you still doing awake?"

"It's midnight, Yami."

"You should sleep." He comes over and kisses my forehead, my temple, down my face, my neck. I hold him close and wonder how I got so lucky. How the hell I got to live this life and not the life of an animal doomed for consumption. He runs his hands all over my chest, sending shivers all down my body. I push him away and smile.

"How was the meeting?" He'd met earlier with a Cambridge professor. He shakes his head.

"Not good. He doesn't like the way we work and he intends on correcting that while he's here. It's going to be a long summer, aibou." He pulls off his shirt and pants, crawls into bed and closes his eyes. I switch off the light and throw us into darkness. Even in the shadows, I can see him. His calloused hand grasps my own, pulling me down to him. I curl up next to him, feeling safe and protected, just like I always did before.

"I'm sorry about that," I whisper into his neck.

"Nothing to worry about. Were you talking to your girlfriend out there?" I laugh. Feel him hum with amusement.

"Yeah, I was."

"She's in love with you."

"She's barking up the wrong tree, that's for sure."

"Indeed she is." We're quiet for some time. I know he's drifting off to sleep, but we haven't touched each other in weeks. I start to kiss his neck, working my way down. He sighs in approval until I reach between his legs. "Aibou."

"Shh." I take him in my mouth. I know he loves it when I do things like this, take a bit of my own control. Prove to him that, even when we're both nearing thirty, I can still hold my own just like I could ten years ago, when we first became lovers. I remember this, as he is grasping the sheets and saying my name, that it's been nearly ten years. It's June. Next month will be our anniversary. He comes quietly, just like he always does, with a soft groan. I move back up and let him taste what I've tasted. We lay like that for some time until I shift and rest next to him. "Ten years," I whisper.

"We had a little bump."

"A six year a bump, yeah, but ten years ago next month, you stayed with me and we made love for the first time." He nods and smiles, sleep heavy in his eyes. "Sleep," I whisper into his ear. And I'm about to follow my own advice when the phone rings.

"God dammit," he says harshly. "If that's one of my fucking students I swear to God, I'll-"

"I'll get it," I say, kissing him and standing. He sighs and pulls the sheets over him. "Hello?"

"Yugi?"

"Mother," I say in a quiet breath so Yami can't hear. They don't get along at all these days. "What is it? It's nearly one here."

"It's your father. Yugi, I need you to come home. The cancer, it's-" I know already. I've known for months now. The cancer that is eating away at my father is going to take him from me.

"He's going to die."

"You don't have to say it that way," she snaps. I sigh. I knew he was sick. Was going to die and I had hoped that I wouldn't have to be a part of it. I love my father, but I didn't want to deal with the other end of the parental unit. "He wants to see you. Can you come here?"

"Probably, yeah."

"And can you do it without him?" she asks quickly.

"Probably not, mother."

"Well you're not staying in my house," she says. She recently moved back to Domino City and bought a small house. "If you'll recall the last time you and he were together and-"

"I remember, mom." Oh yes I remember. Remember it all. "Why are you calling anyway? You haven't lived with dad since I was like nine."

"Your father is still your father, whether I'm his wife or not. Now I'd appreciate it if we could do this like civil human beings, Yugi."

"Yeah, yeah. You just remember to do the same."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'll call you tomorrow." I quickly hang up the phone. For a moment, I stand there. My father is dying. I try to remember good and fun things we've done, but he's always been so busy. Always here or there. Occaisionally he'd come to Domino and take me someplace. But I never expected much from him. My mother was a pain to live with and he liked to stay far away. We wrote more than anything. I've got boxes full of post cards and photographs from places he's been. There's one of him meeting some big deal prime minister that I love because he just looks like a little kid meeting a super hero.

"Aibou? What is it?" He's standing there in the entrace of our bedroom, looking worried. He's always worried.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep." He shakes his head and gives me a stern look. I groan and walk toward him, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's just my mother calling. Telling me things I already know."

"That she hates me and wishes you'd date someone who can actually give birth?" I laugh. Nod. "It's your father, isn't it?" I take his hand. I look at the difference in us. I've grown tanner over the past year or so. My finger tips have become rougher from typing on the type writer he bought me for my birthday after the airport lost my laptop. I like it better. The noises it makes. But he is so much darker and rougher than me. He lifts my chin up and kisses me.

"He's dying," I say quietly. Our foreheads come together. Our minds and hearts come together. Like they are meant to be.

"You will go." I nod. "And you'll take me, yes?" I laugh and nod again. "Anything to piss off your mother."

We go back to bed. Sleep. He doesn't have to work in the morning so I let him sleep. I call the airport, buy two tickets for the next day and call my mother. Going outside, I already miss the desert. I already miss what we are now, knowing that this trip could change everything.