Okay, this really is the last bit of this story.

Dedicated to KedekaiOkami, an awesome reviewer who requested a bit of a meatier ending. Here you go, much love :)

And I promise this is the last time I'll use the blocky formatting that's a real b*tch to read, I'm doing it more for the sake of continuity of formatting in the chapters for this story than anything else now. It would really tick me off if I changed the formatting for the last freakin' chapter. But all new fics I submit will be in a better format, okay?

All characters (s) Kazuki Takahashi

Epilogue

The sun was almost blinding in Yami's eyes as he leaned against the car door, looking across the road to the heavy-security door and wire-topped fences. He smothered the nervous butterflies in his stomach and checked his reflection again, making sure his freshly-dyed hair was spiked the right way, and his clothes were tight and settled. He had been waiting for this day for a long time, and he wanted to look right.
It made him smile; he had taken almost as much care with his appearance more than five years ago, preparing to meet in real life the man he was waiting to collect now.
Marik was getting out today.

The weeks immediately following Marik's arrest had been hellish for Yami. He had been vulnerable and his protector, who had looked after him so tenderly in the year after his rape at the hands – and other assorted limbs – of That Man, Bakura Shhadenfroid, was now gone. He hadn't been able to cope for quite a while, despite the efforts of his friends.
Marik's trial had been even worse.
He had been forced to relive the nights of both rapes in front of a room of strangers, and though his friends were there too, and Marik of course, he had felt judgement from every person in the room at every word he had said. He had been nervous, knowing that if he messed up he could lengthen Marik's sentence quote by accident. There was no question he was going to prison, and the trial was mainly to determine for what offence – murder or manslaughter. Murder could carry a life sentence. Manslaughter could, in the right circumstances, be for as relatively little as a decade, or shorter.
The CSIs had been there too, to give their testimony and their appraisals of both his and Marik's characters. At one point the question of which one of them had shot That Man had arisen, due to the fact the evidence had been inconclusive and Yami couldn't remember at this point who had done it, and Marik could easily have been covering for his boyfriend. But Marik's confession and precise details of how he had shot Bakura Shhadenfroid had tipped the scales of Justice.
The jury had elected, after much debate, to convict Marik of manslaughter with high provocation. He had been sentenced to spend seven years in prison due to a lack of premeditation and the fact he had been protecting a loved one, who had been systematically abused by the deceased.
Marik had taken the news stoically, though Yami saw him swallow nervously. Seven years was a long time to be locked away, if not nearly as long as for life. He had been allowed to hug Yami under the strict supervision of the attending police and with their hands in full view, so Yami couldn't pass Marik anything. Not that he was going to, he just wanted to be held.
"Don't visit me," Marik had said softly, holding him tight. "I don't want you to have to set foot in there."
"I'll write, then," Yami had whispered back in a heartbroken voice, tears running down his cheeks and dampening Marik's shirt.
"Every week?"
"Of course," Yami had replied, and would have said more, but the policeman nearest coughed meaningfully and they stood back from each other. Yami had wiped his eyes with his sleeve and tried to smile. Their eyes were locked on each other, Marik's request meaning that this would be the last time they saw each other for a long time.
"Stay strong," Marik had said, hitching a smile on his face as his own eyes threatened to spill onto his cheeks. "You can make it through this, and I'll be back with you soon."
"I will," Yami had said firmly. He could have said I will try or I'll do my best, but Yami knew that wouldn't be good enough. Marik had done so much for him, cared for him when he had sunk to the very lowest and almost lost the will to keep going. Without Marik, he wouldn't be here now. So he was going to be strong if it took everything he had. If being strong was the only way Yami could try to repay the enormous debt he owed Marik, he would repay it in full and then some.
Marik had mouthed three simple words to him, eyes shining. There had been no need to say them aloud, because Yami heard them in his very soul. Fresh tears had trickled down his cheeks as he had returned them.

It was that night, as he lay alone in Marik's bed – his room in the house he shared with his friends was ruined and still hadn't been cleared of all the CSI's equipment – that he had dreamed of the night of That Man's death. He dreamed that he had shot him, and that Marik was innocent. It was the first time he could clearly recall that night since it had happened. It was so vivid he took it for memory and he had lain there alone in the dark, guilt washing over him as he considered Marik was going to prison – was there already – for no reason.
But when he slept again, he dreamt of the events Marik had described, of his guilt and Yami's innocence. It had been just as vivid as his first dream.
He had curled onto his side. He didn't know what to think anymore. Was Marik innocent, or had he been telling the truth when he confessed? Only Marik knew the truth of what had happened, and Yami knew that if he confronted Marik with his dream-memory, Marik would still stick to his story that Yami was innocent.

True to his word, Yami wrote to Marik every week; it was the high point of both their weeks when the letter or reply came. Without ever discussing it, they hoarded the letters, keeping them safe and rereading them when they missed each other. Yami knew Marik was living through his letters so he tried to make them as interesting and detailed as possible. They were difficult to write, however. He couldn't say the things he really wanted to say, things like I love you and I miss you so much it hurts and I want you here with me tonight, because of course Marik's mail was not private. Although Marik never said a thing about the harshness of prison life, Yami picked up on the little hints that it was dangerous there for him, as a gay man, and if the other inmates found out then his life would be even less pleasant there.
So their letters seemed cold when they wrote them, but they tried to give hints to each other how they were feeling. If Yami was missing Marik more than usual, he would write something like the heating's out again so I borrowed a jumper, knowing Marik would see that he meant he was upset and had needed to hold something of Marik's to comfort himself.
Marik's most recent letter had been his favourite so far, and he had reread it so many times the paper was soft to the touch. Marik was being released a year and a half early for good behaviour.
The high door was cranked open and Marik's distinctive silhouette was revealed. Yami felt all the tension leave his body in a happy whoosh and he repressed the urge to giggle at the parallels to the film, the Blues Brothers. Although he couldn't see Marik's face – the sun was in his eyes – he knew Marik was grinning from ear to ear by the bounce to his quick strides across the road to where Yami was waiting. He was wearing the same clothes as the day of his trial, a smart suit that didn't flatter him nearly as well as his usual punk gear. He still looked amazing, though.
He stopped an awkward foot from Yami, grinning for sure and looking him up and down. This was the first time they had been face to face since Marik's conviction, and neither was really sure what to do.
"Screw it," Yami muttered and kissed Marik hard on the mouth, cupping his face. Marik groaned deep in his throat and his arms came tight around Yami's waist, pulling him up and onto his toes, closer and closer. Their kiss was almost viciously passionate but neither cared about the lack of gentleness.
"Hello," Marik whispered when they gasped for breath, eyes over-bright and grinning like an idiot, breath warm on Yami's cheek.
"Hello," Yami laughed, and kissed him again, more gently this time. Marik kissed him back tenderly, a wealth of all those things they hadn't been able to say plainly in their letters passing between them wordlessly with that kiss.
Marik leaned his forehead against Yami's and smiled softly. "I imagined getting out so many times, but the reality is so much better." So saying, he tightened his arms around Yami's waist.
Yami sighed happily and ran his hands through Marik's hair, relishing the feel of it. "I missed you. It's been so long."
The Blues Brothers moment came back to Yami and he bit his knuckle to stop himself from laughing hysterically.
"What is it?" Marik smiled, kissing Yami's raised hand lovingly.
"I just thought," Yami sniggered, "If Elwood had welcomed Jake back like this, there was no way it would have been shown in cinemas."
Marik raised an eyebrow and smirked. "At least you're not picking me up in an old police car. So this is it then?"
"Yup, I've been licensed for two months now," Yami said proudly, looking at his second-hand car. He didn't mind that it was a bit battered. It ran well, and it was his.
Marik looked back at the high, fenced and wire-topped walls that had contained his world for the past few years and a hard look set on his features.
"Could we get away from here, please?" He said quietly, trying to ignore the fact that the guards who had been patrolling the perimeter had witnessed Marik's warm reception and weren't trying to disguise the fact that they were openly staring at them. Yami followed his gaze and gently put his arm on Marik's arm, squeezing lightly.
"Of course," He said quietly, and clambered into the driver side.

Yami drove them back into Domino, along the wide empty roads surrounded only by fields and populated by the occasional sheep or cows, with leafy green crops waving composedly in the wind. The farmers in the fields paid them no heed, of course, as they drove by them. Marik sat quietly for quite some time, staring out of the open window with wide eyes and letting his hair blow wild and unkempt in the wind.
Yami let him keep his silence, letting him take in the sights on the outside. He had been locked away within the same walls for many long years, had seen only the sights he could glimpse from his tiny cell window or the views of the sky from the prison yard. Yami had no illusions as to the brutality of prison life, and when they stopped at a red light he reached over to put his hand on Marik's for a few seconds, reminding his long-awaited lover that he was there for him, at last, they were together, and Marik could talk when he needed. Marik smiled at him in thanks.
They had spent so long, after Yami's rape, learning to read each other's body language, there was no need for words and only the barest of glances and touches to convey the message required. They were a little rusty after so long apart, and of course Marik had picked up a few new tells from his long time away, but even though Marik's time in prison outweighed the time they had known each other outside, that connection between them was strong. They could talk without opening their mouths.
As they got nearer to the suburbs of Domino, out of the wilderness, Marik collected himself and whizzed the window back up.
"Where are we going?" He asked quietly.
"Back to Otogi's place, unless you want to go somewhere else first? What would you like to do, Marik?" Yami replied.
Marik appeared to consider it for a few minutes then gave a tiny smile. "Let's go eat. Something fast food-ish."
"Sure thing," Yami laughed, and pulled into the food-chain he remembered Marik had liked.
They ate outside in the sunshine, quiet company while Marik enjoyed his first meal on the outside. Marik's eyes seemed tighter, tenser and more restless, than Yami remembered, and he wondered what had happened in that prison to make him look so unconsciously tense. He promised himself that he would do his utmost to get that wary look out of his erstwhile-lover's eyes; Marik had stood by him in that year of darkness and depression, and he more than owed it to Marik. He wanted to help him, repay him.
When they had finished eating, the awkward question of housing came up. Marik had given Yami his blessing to go on living in his apartment with Otogi even after the house he had shared with his university-friends had been cleared up by the police. Yami hadn't needed to say that his room there held too many bad memories, and he wanted to start afresh. Otogi had been more than fine with Yami living there in Marik's room, looking after their incarcerated friend's belongings; Yami and Otogi had become good friends as flatmates.
But now Marik was out… they hadn't discussed it in the letters they had sent since Marik had told Yami he was getting out, knowing that it needed to be talked about face to face.
"So, how are your friends doing these days?" Marik said awkwardly, trying to get the ball rolling. "Tristan, Joey, Seto, Téa, that lot. Are they all doing well? You didn't really mention them in your letters."
"Yeah, they've all graduated as well. Tristan's working at a car garage, Joey's going into further training to be a sports coach. Seto, naturally, is running his family's business. Téa's signed up with a professional dance company on the other side of Domino. We all keep in touch."
"You didn't really mention yourself either," Marik said, smiling hesitantly. "You told me that you graduated but not really anything else. What are you doing these days?"
"I'm working at the museum in the Egyptian Artefacts section," Yami said, excitement making his face light up with happiness. Just seeing him so happy made a little bit of tension he hadn't realised was there lift from his mind and body, making it easier to smile and listen to Yami's tales of his duties caring for the artefacts in storage and maintaining the exhibit for the public, and how he was training to do guided tours around the exhibit as well. He seemed content in his place in the world.
Marik smiled a little wider and listened happily, the normality of Yami's accounts soothing his somewhat-disorientated mind. Yami had certainly changed in the years they had been apart, but Marik rather thought it was for the better. He wasn't nervous like he had been in that dark year, and he seemed almost carefree. He didn't worry about dressing unobtrusively, speaking just a little too loud, gesturing or smiling too much. He sat relaxed and didn't scan the surrounding area just in case That Man had found him. He seemed at peace, and happy. Like the Yami Marik had known early on in their relationship, but more confident and sure of himself.
Hesitantly, Marik took Yami's hand on the top of the table. Yami smiled and squeezed his fingers, a slight blush on his cheeks. They had been apart a long time, and neither was really sure how intimate they should be with each other, despite Yami's encouraging demeanour. Also, Marik had just spent a considerable amount of time in a place where to show any sort of weakness – as the other inmates saw it – was to court danger and very grave injury. He was finding it difficult to readjust to the real world again after so long cut off from it.
Yami smiled at him and slowly brought Marik's hand to his lips, softly kissing the knuckles with his eyes never leaving Marik's face, lit with a soft intensity that made Marik's smile easier to wear and sit better on his face. With that simple gesture Yami told Marik that he would give him all the time he needed and would understand the difficulties Marik was going through.
"So, you've all moved out of the house then?" Marik said after a moment, just to clear the air.
Yami nodded, and lifted his eyebrows, inviting the next question with just a hint of nervousness.
Marik took a deep breath and smiled fully, squeezing Yami's hand with unsure fingers unused to gentleness. "Is there enough room for both of us in my old room?"
The question didn't need to be asked – are we moved in together? – as Yami heard it anyway, and laughed joyfully.
"Of course there is," he beamed. "And all your stuff is untouched, I haven't thrown out a thing. Well, except food. I didn't think you'd appreciate a welcome-home present of years-old food in your fridge."
"You thought right," Marik grinned. "That would have been a terrible let-down after the welcome you've given me."

For the rest of the day they went around Domino so Marik could re-acquaint himself with it, and his place within it. Otogi met up with them later and assured Marik his place at the tattoo parlour was open if he wanted to keep working there; Marik had replied that he might have to take a refresher course or two before working again, but he would like that very much. They didn't run into any of Yami's old friends, though they did receive a few congratulatory text messages.
Yami was calm and assured throughout the day, helping Marik when his rusty social skills faltered. Marik was astonished at the change in Yami; the last time they had seen each other had been the day of the trial, and Yami had been broken and damaged almost beyond repair then. Now… now, he seemed reformed and stronger, happier, than before. He gladly took the role of protector that had belonged to Marik for so long after That Night and Marik felt himself growing more and more at ease with every little effort Yami made to help him.
Neither mentioned That Night or the night of That Man's death; it was the past. It was a punitive shame that Marik had spent years in prison for it, whether he had committed the crime or taken the fall for it, but he was out now. They had a mutual unspoken bond that it was time to look ahead to their future and not to the dark events of the past. It was time to move on.
They ate dinner at the restaurant where they had met for the first time, so long ago now it was. They sat at the same table and ate the same food, but they were different men from back then. Harder and wiser, maybe, but also happier. That meal was their final farewell to dwelling on the incidents of the past.
They meandered home to the flat above the tattoo parlour and went straight to the bedroom; Otogi had promised with a wink to be gone for the night to give them more privacy than just a locked door. They sat down on the bed together, fingers intertwined and knees just touching. They talked for a long while.
The ugly question came first, the question that reared its ugly head and could not be avoided. "Have you been with anyone since I was put away?" Have you been true?
Yami had lightly stroked his hand over Marik's cheek in the low light, remembering the first time they had come into this room together. He looked Marik right in the eyes and slowly smiled. He couldn't have lied if he had tried.
"No. No one else, Marik."
Overwhelmed for a moment, Marik pulled Yami into a tight hug, hiding his face in Yami's neck. Yami stroked his hair, holding him just as tightly.
Then Marik told Yami everything.
He told him about the hardships in adjusting to prison life, in learning the hard way when to pick his fights and with whom he could get away with a straight fight, and who would hold a bitter grudge. He told Yami of the pain and humiliation he had suffered in trying to make himself as unthreatening as possible to the more hard-bitten criminals. He mumbled about the abuse he had endured, and Yami held him tighter and kissed away the few tears that escaped Marik's eyes. He told Yami of how he had chafed at the slow passage of time and how much he had missed his lover.
They talked for hours and never noticed the time. They had the rest of their lives together; there was no need to rush.
And Marik felt the broken bits of himself, that had been sundered in his long time behind bars, slowly start to be put back together under Yami's gentle care.
His Yami, the confident and lively Yami he had been dreaming of and thinking he might have lost for ever from That Man's treatment.
"You're so much stronger than when were last together," Marik said at one point, cupping Yami's face.
Yami smiled. "I took your words to heart, that's all. I figured… he's gone. So why should I live in fear of a ghost? Especially when I wanted to be strong for you. I didn't want you to get out of that place and need to be my protector again. I wanted to mend on my own, and I've done that. I missed you terribly, though. You know that I'm forever grateful to you."
Marik gave him a serious look which Yami returned just as gravely, eyebrows lifted in silent enquiry. Was it me who killed him?
"You still can't remember?"
"I don't know," Yami said sombrely. "My memories of that night are so chaotic, I can't tell what was real and what I might have conjured to comfort myself." His eyebrows lifted another half inch.
"You don't need to be grateful," Marik said quietly, placing a tender kiss on Yami's forehead. Yami closed his eyes briefly, trying to accept that. He knew what Marik meant. Yami had killed Bakura Shhadenfroid, and Marik had spent years in prison paying for a crime he hadn't committed.
"I can never repay you," Yami whispered, blinking away anguished tears. All Marik had suffered, for no reason.
"I don't want you to," Marik whispered back. "I went through all that for you, to keep you safe from those things. It's done now. No regrets."
"No regrets," Yami whispered, and leaned in to kiss him deeply. Marik pulled away uneasily after a few moments, making Yami frown in concern.
"There's just one thing I want to know first," Marik said. His hands moved down to Yami's and slowly pulled his sleeves up to expose his inner wrists.
The skin was smooth, marred only by old scars long healed into thin white lines. He hadn't been cutting, not for quite some time.
Yami gave him a wobbly smile. "I always knew you hated it when I – when I did that – around you. And I didn't want you to be disappointed when you got out."
Marik gently kissed the pale skin, a tear or two dropping to splash on Yami's hands. "I could never be disappointed," he whispered, voice cracking slightly.
Yami's gasp of breath was almost hidden as Marik pressed their lips together, arms winding tight around Yami and pulling him down onto the bed.
They tried to go carefully, being considerate of each other. Yami hadn't been with anyone since Marik's arrest, and Marik wasn't used to this being gentle, not after his time in prison. He needed a bit of coaching to remember what they used to enjoy.
It didn't go all well, for this wasn't some magical lovemaking that healed over all wounds in a sparkling of rainbows and lovehearts. They were only human. It had been a long time for both of them, and their desires were out of tune. Yami wanted to go slow and steady to get them both back into the swing of it, and Marik wanted to get the first time over with, his nervousness and shaken self-belief affecting him considerably. His technique was somewhat less than it had once been, fumbling and clumsy, even painful.
"I'm sorry," Marik whispered, holding Yami close and not trying to stop the tears that fell from his anxious eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you…"
"It's alright," Yami said through gritted teeth, clinging tightly. "It doesn't hurt too much. We never said this would be perfect, now did we?"
Marik's confidence was knocked further and his hands trembled as he tried to comfort Yami, shame wracking through him at his failure their first time together in years, despite Yami's kind assurances that he didn't blame Marik, that it wasn't his fault.
Yami sat up on his elbows a little later and smoothed his hand over Marik's forehead an cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned loving words of forgiveness and faith that it would be better the next time, and didn't he want to try again?
It took a long while, but their bodies moved together again, in a steady rhythm that carried them both along. Marik really tried, guided by Yami's body and his small signals of stop or go; a squeeze of his hand, and laugh, a sudden tensing or a teasing touch. They finished breathless and tangled together, smiling at each other.
That time, it had been better. They were both healing; slowly, almost imperceptibly, but their ordeals were over and they had each other to support them if they faltered. The dawn light greeted them again as lovers once more, reunited.
Quiet words of affection and trust made the air mellow around them, the sheets rustling softly in the milky light as they moved to lie close together, skin to skin. Their scars lay bold on their skin, from difference ordeals but nonetheless connected by cause and effect, and they were unashamed.
This was who they were, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

There we go~ Hope y'all enjoyed that little bonus, and again I promise that's the very last time I'll use the blocky formatting. See you guys in a bizzle~ :)