AN: A shorter chapter, especially compared to the last one. But I love this one because I feel like it really encompasses the perspective this story (and "Between Brothers") takes on the Malcolm/Reese relationship.

The next few hours went by in a haze. Malcolm used the police chief's laptop to transfer the contents of his safety deposit box to Dana Osbourne, then accompanied Reese down the long hallway to the exit. It felt like an eternity; the eyes of all those men and women staring at him, judging him.

He was free. They both were. But stepping outside in the cool night air, Malcolm felt no rush of relief, no overwhelming sense of catharsis. Just emptiness and uncertainty.

The apartment was still considered a crime scene, so they had to find a motel to sleep at. It was a cheap joint off the highway, a single bed with a tiny bathroom and no closet.

Reese didn't speak the entire ride over, and Malcolm didn't press him. Oddly, it wasn't the same as the unbearable, tense silence they'd suffered through the past week. It felt more resigned. Nothing needed to be said; they'd already laid everything bare.

Malcolm chanced a single glance at his brother as he pulled the car to a stop in the motel parking lot. Reese was gazing out the side window, chin propped up in his hand, a solemn expression etched across his features. The blood on his face was completely dry now. Malcolm felt a weird sensation deep in his soul, a lost memory reclaimed: his brother standing over that boy he'd beaten up in middle school, grinning triumphantly with crimson liquid splattered across his cheek.

So much blood.

And now there was more.

The room was tiny, but warm and well-let. Reese sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh, burying his face in his hands. Malcolm closed the door and approached his brother warily. He sat down beside him, avoiding eye contact.

He wanted to move on; he'd wanted that for years. He wanted to talk it out, and cry, and hold Reese, and make love and forget all of the pain and sorrow. All the death. But there was nothing left to say. They were stuck in limbo.

They were stuck right here, in this shitty motel room off the highway, sitting on the bed in silence.

And they stayed that way until, finally, Reese looked up and, after a moment of hesitation, said, "Let's take a shower."

Startled, Malcolm swallowed the lump in his throat, keeping his gaze down. "I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

Reese shook his head forcefully. "Not that. Just a shower." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't want to be alone right now." He took Malcolm's hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. "Please?" His voice was steady, but the pleading tone beneath the outward calm was unmistakeable.

Malcolm nodded and allowed himself to be guided into the small confines of the bathroom. They stripped down wordlessly and discarded their ruined clothes in the nearby trash can.

The shower was small, so the pressed close together under the hot stream of water, looking into each other's eyes for the first time that night.

It was incredibly disturbing thought to cross his mind at that particular moment, but Malcolm was overcome by the strange notion that this was the closest the two of them had come to being "brothers" in a long time. Their relationship for years had been about need and lust, and sacrifice and desperation. Reese had been his everything, his lover, his muse. His savior.

His God.

But now, he was just his brother; his brother whom he happened to love more than anything else in the world. And they were two scared boys in way over their heads. And somehow, that was infinitely better.

It was as though, in the course of a few weeks, they'd matured beyond the blind adoration of young love and attained a deeper human connection, like an old married couple. And as Malcolm looked up into Reese's eyes, he understood with certainty that his brother would never leave him. No matter what.

And he didn't cry, if only because his capacity for tears had seemingly run out long ago, but his heart swelled up with an aching pain. And profound regret. And love.

He took the washcloth in his hand and tenderly rubbed away the blood and grime on Reese's body.

Reese closed his eyes, relaxing into the circular motion. Without speaking, he pressed in closer, resting his chin on Malcolm's shoulder.

Malcolm scrubbed gently, pulling Reese into an embrace, trying to speak to him nonverbally.

I love you. I'm sorry. I love you and I always will. I'm sorry and I don't deserve your forgiveness. I love you.

Reese hugged him back, and it was genuine and warm and Malcolm melted into his touch.

Streams of red circled in the drain as they stood in the rising steam and thundering water jet, locked together, their flesh moving slowly together as if they were a single organism.

They would survive.

Again.

Thirty minutes, they were lying in bed, naked under a mass of sheets and blankets, breathing deeply in the dark.

Reese stroked Malcolm's cheek absentmindedly, shivering slightly as Malcolm's cold hand snaked around to rub circles on his back.

"Do you remember that camp?" he asked quietly, his breath tickling Malcolm's nose. "The one Mom and Dad sent us to for a week in the summer when we were little?"

"I think so," Malcolm murmured sleepily. "When she and Dewey were sick, and she didn't want us in the house causing trouble?"

"Yeah."

"That place sucked, dude..."

Reese chuckled quietly. "I know...but I was thinking about that exactly."

Malcolm pressed a chaste kiss against his neck. "What were you thinking of then?"

"The ride back." Reese sighed, his chest rising and falling noticeably. "I remember being on the bus, and Francis was sitting in the back listening to music and trying to ignore everyone. You and I were in the front. Everybody on the bus was talking about what a great time they'd had, and how fun it was, and bullshit like that." He snorted. "You were giving me these funny looks and talking about how stupid they were for liking it..."

He drifted off. Malcolm opened his eyes, looking at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

Reese looked faraway. "I remember it was late afternoon, and the sun was shining through the windows of the bus. And the light was shining on your face, and I was just listening to you talk." He paused, and Malcolm was surprised to see some wetness in his eyes. "You got tired after a while and dozed off, and you put your head on my shoulder...and that was just around the time I was starting to figure out that I was...well, that my feelings for you were not exactly normal, you know?"

Malcolm nodded, listening intently. "Yeah, I got you..."

"I remember..." - Reese's eyes screwed up, as though he were trying to visualize the moment - "...I remember being so happy right then...I think that was the happiest I've ever been, other than finding out that you felt the same way." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "And I remember being brave enough to kiss your forehead, and then I sort of rested my head on top of yours..." He closed his eyes, wiping away the tears on his cheeks. "I know I went to sleep. I remember that. But I don't have any recollection of waking up. And there were times, for a while when we were kids, that I wondered if all of my life after that moment was just a dream. And I wondered if someday I would wake up, and I'd be back on that bus with you. And I'd be happy again."

Malcolm wrapped his arms around Reese, kissing him on the forehead. Reese buried his face against Malcolm's chest and shivered.

After a minute or so, Malcolm cleared his throat and whispered in his ear. "Do you still wish you were there sometimes? Do you wish none of this had ever happened?"

Reese let out a soft, choky laugh. "Not really," he said softly. "I figured out a long time ago that there's not much use in wishing for things to be different." He snuggled closer, taking advantage of his brother's extra body heat. "You've got to do what you can with what you have." He pressed a quick kiss to Malcolm's chest. "And I've got you."

Malcolm chuckled bitterly. "That turned out to be sort of a raw deal for you, didn't it?" He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, glancing at the clock. It would be light outside soon, but he suspected they would end up sleeping until the afternoon. "I fucked up everything, Reese," he whispered, his gut clenching. "I made all of the wrong decisions, every step of the way. And I got away with it..." - he swallowed - "...but it doesn't feel like it. I still feel the guilt." He brushed Reese's hair, tangling his fingers in the still-damp strands. "Sometimes I feel like you were the only right choice I ever made."

He felt Reese hug him tighter. "Don't say that," he admonished. "Even if it's true. We're at a new place now. For better or worse. And we can't waste any more time moping about our shitty lives. We made this bed and we've got to lie in it." He patted Malcolm's back reassuringly. "And we love each other. As weird as that still might seem sometimes, it's true. And we've got to hold on to that. Otherwise the guilt is going to kill us."

Malcolm felt a sharp pain in his heart. He shuddered. "How can you not hate me?" he whispered. "How can you not hate me after all the lies? After what I hid from you, and what i did?...After what I made you do tonight because I was too stupid to think my dumb plan through all the way? How can you still love me?"

Reese pulled back to look at Malcolm. His eyes reflected the same pain Malcolm was feeling. "I can't help it," he admitted gently. "It's not a rational thing, like those science books you like so much. Part of it's because I need you, and I can't imagine living without you. I can't go back to before. And part of it's because I understand your thinking, even if you were wrong. If I'd been in your position, I would have fucked it up just as bad. Although probably in a different way." He took a deep breath, touching Malcolm's face lovingly. "But most of it's just that I love you. I'm grossly, pervertedly, helplessly in love with you. And I'll be honest, right now, it really sucks. But most of the time, I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled sadly. "Things won't be the same. Obviously. But...would you really want them to be?"

Malcolm gazed back at him, enraptured. "No," he whispered truthfully.

"Good. Because whatever we had before is gone. We have to be smarter now." His eyes lit up with a flicker of amusement. "Well, you'llhave to be smarter. And I'll try to follow your lead. And we'll get past this, and we'll take advantage of this completely undeserved chance for a fresh start. And we'll be happy." He finished that last note forcefully. Determinedly. "We'll make life our bitch."

And somehow, after saying everything he'd wanted, Reese rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.

And Malcolm was left awake, stunned.

He stared up at the ceiling, curled up with his brother beneath a mound of blankets.

A new beginning...could it work?

He felt a soft warm sensation brewing in his chest. A feeling of hope.

But, closing his eyes and surrendering to the blackness of sleep, he also felt a glimmer of doubt.

Uncertainty.

AN: Alright. There's only one more chapter left, and then the epilogue, and then the story will be finished for good. I've enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Last two parts coming in the near future, so check in soon!