More~ The last chapter~ Edited due to massive plothole near the end, only the last scene in the interview room is different. Sorry again!
Contains: one instance of bad language, graphic rape scene, Clashshipping smut, pairings other than Clashshipping (be shocked and amazed. I wrote something that's not Clash! 80 ), anorexia and self-harm references, knifeplay, torture...
Passages in italics show flashbacks. And there's quite a few in this chapter. :D
All YGO characters (c) Kazuki Takahashi
CSI (c) Antony E Zuiker
Chapter Five
Marik tapped the tabletop impatiently. Once again, they had separated him from Yami. "Look, how often are you going to do this? Let us go, let us get a little bit of normality then fuck it up again? Yami needs to rest."
"Our investigation is coming to a close," the afroed man said, unperturbed. "We just need to ask you a few more questions."
"Like what?" Marik said, exasperated. He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"What was the effect on Yami, immediately after the rape?"
"He was just hunky dory," Marik retorted sarcastically. The afroed man didn't rise to the bait and waited patiently. Marik sighed and uncrossed his arms. "He was… broken. It was like the Yami I knew had hidden away somewhere. I worried about him constantly."
"How so?"
Marik gave him a sharp look. "I've always liked skinny guys, but Yami went anorexic for a very long time. It was all I could do to get him to have a bit of toast each day, and I know his friends worried about him too. I asked him about it, and he said he didn't want to be attractive anymore." Marik looked down, frowning gloomily. "He didn't want to stand out in the crowd in case it happened again. He stopped looking after his appearance, stopped dying his hair and styling it, stopped caring."
"How long did this depression last for?"
"A few months," Marik gloomed. "Then he started cutting."
The afroed man dug in the case file for the recent photos of Yami's injuries, and found one of Yami's arms. Faint white scar lines traced all over his forearms and wrists, horizontal and vertical, a network of harm.
"I tried stopping him, but…" Marik sighed. "It seemed to help him for a little while. And I knew if I forbade him from doing it when I was around he'd do it when he was alone, and there wouldn't be anyone to take care of him if he cut too deep." Marik bit his lip, hands clenching together as the old worries haunted him again. "I knew that at least while I was there when he cut, he wouldn't go too deep. And he'd have someone to bandage him up again. Sometimes he'd pass out from the pain and if I hadn't been there to stop the bleeding… I don't think Yami would be here right now."
"And you stayed with him."
Marik looked up. "Of course I did. I care about him."
The afroed man digested that for a moment. "How long did that persist?"
"Another few months. Before I knew it, it was a year since That Night," Marik said, shaking his head. "That was a tough year for us both."
"What happened then?"
"I'm guessing you've already interviewed Yami's friends?" Marik said dryly, raising an eyebrow.
The afroed man nodded. "Your account would be appreciated."
Marik smiled as the memory, only a week or so old, came alive in his mind.
They were at Yami's house, all curled up in their respective couples on the couches; Seto and Joey pretending not to hold hands, Tristan holding his hands over his girlfriend Miho's eyes, apparently under the impression that she would be too scared by the monsters on the screen with their squid-faces and Satanic mind-control. And Tea was giving covert envious looks at Yami, who was snuggled up in Marik's arms, legs tucked under him and resting over Marik's lap. Marik had his arms around Yami's waist, cheek resting on Yami's hair, while Yami absently clutched at his shirt. It seemed to soothe him to sit so closely, and on today of all days Marik was more than happy to oblige. It was exactly a year since That Night, and Yami had been quiet and withdrawn all day. He had been so much better recently, going outside without needing Marik with him, he had even dyed his hair for the first time in about a year. Marik nuzzled at the bright tri-coloured spikes happily, pleased at this small sign of Yami's recovery. His slow recovery seemed to have been halted by today's sick anniversary; Marik hoped it was just temporary.
Yami resettled himself, smiling at Marik who smiled gently back, wondering what Yami was thinking. Yami dithered for a moment then suddenly leaned forwards, hands cupping Marik's face as he kissed Marik passionately. Marik was frozen for a bare second in surprise then made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, arms winding tight and hands wandering freely up and down Yami's back, opening his mouth and kissing Yami eagerly, hardly daring to believe that it was happening. After waiting so long!
The others made surprised noises and an appreciative whistle or two, but were ignored. Marik was just so pleased to be touching Yami sexually rather than platonically, he held Yami tight, their first kiss all over again. After a moment Yami pulled back and Marik leaned forward, following Yami with a frustrated growl. Yami grinned, eyes bright, and got up, pulling Marik by the hand out of the living room to his bedroom, accompanied by more ignored whistles and a request to turn the volume on the TV up.
Yami closed the door behind them firmly and practically leapt at Marik, hands pulling at his shirt almost uncaringly, like he didn't even register that the shirt might look better whole. Marik didn't care that his shirt was being ripped; he crushed Yami up against his body and kissed him hard, sucking at his neck. And once again Marik heard Yami's gasping groan, making him want to molest Yami like nobody's business. Yami walked him over to the bed and they fell onto it, Yami crouching over Marik. His mouth trailed down Marik's neck and chest and Marik moaned, flinging the tattered bits of his shirt away so they wouldn't interfere with the delicious touch of Yami's lips and tongue.
But he had to stop this.
He caught Yami's hands and forced him to look up, ignoring the long-burning desire raging through him. "Why now, Yami?" he asked breathlessly. "Why today of all days?"
Yami turned serious and sat up a bit. "I don't want to forever associate this day with – with That Man. I want to paint over those memories."
Marik smirked, unable to stoop himself from saying, "You want to whitewash the memory?"
Yami grinned and laughed. "Think you can supply the whitewash?"
Marik looked at Yami, the Yami he had known before, back in action and wanting it bad. Just like the old days. "Gods yes," he groaned, letting Yami's hands go to wander where they liked.
For a few minutes all thought was wiped from their minds as they rediscovered each other, touch and taste and sound all their brains could handle. Yami steadily pushed Marik down and he understood without needing to be told that this once, Yami had to be dominant; Marik gladly succumbed. As Yami grabbed at his belt, Marik came back to himself slightly.
"Hang on, hang on," he gasped. "Lube!"
"Haven't got any," Yami replied in a low voice, bending to lick under Marik's ear and threatening to scatter his thoughts further. "Ran out and didn't replace."
"Need lube," Marik said weakly.
Yami got up from his crouching straddle and let Marik stand, watching every movement lasciviously. "Go see Joey," he murmured with a dark, want-you-now look in his eyes that Marik knew was a reflection of his own expression. Yami smirked. "Find something you like."
Marik gave him a mock-salute and slipped shirtless out the door. He couldn't help but blush at the others waiting almost outside the door, clearly having been eavesdropping. He absently noticed some appreciative staring at his muscled and tattooed upper body but ignored it. "Um," he said uncomfortably, "Anyone got any lube we could use?"
Luckily the moment was saved from being even more awkward by Joey grinning and leading Marik off, causing some raised eyebrows at Seto, who took their appraisal stoically. Joey had a surprising range of lubes in his room and Marik blushingly took one that he thought Yami would like too, avoiding Joey's eyes as he snickered. He firmly closed the door on Yami's friends and was pounced again by Yami, pushing him back onto the bed and under him, mouth sealing off any protest that wouldn't have been made anyway.
Time passed and they paid it no attention, concentrating only on each other as they pleasured each other as if That Man had never intruded, as if nothing was different. Gods, it was everything Marik had lusted after with Yami so often in his arms but never in his bed. They fell upon each other without restraint, swapping roles and finding that hot spark ignite again.
A long time later they lay back, panting for breath. Marik threaded his hand gently through Yami's thoroughly-ruffled hair and stroked his hip, feeling Yami stroke his leg up against Marik's in a slow caress.
"Consider That Night whitewashed," Yami said when he got his breath back. He smiled lazily up at Marik and Marik let his hand wander down to Yami's arse, squeezing gently, loving the sound of Yami's breathing hitch and the smooth feel of his pale skin warm under his hand. The scar of a B on Yami's hip was ignored. It was a mark of what he had been through, for sure, but also a mark of how close it had brought them.
In the lab, the blonde woman and the boss were reviewing the tape Archie had retrieved from Bakura Shhadenfroid's mobile. It wasn't pleasant.
They didn't know how Bakura had gotten in Yami's house – though the splintered lock would seem to suggest blunt force – but Yami appeared to be almost hysterical with fear, sobbing and not trying to resist as Bakura pinned him down on the bed, laughing and gloating and cutting Yami hard with his knife, raping him, the same as before. There were sounds of running and Marik clearly calling for Yami and battering on the door. Yami wailed and screamed out and was punched repeatedly around the face. Bakura thrust harder and harder into Yami, making him scream in pain and terror to the odd counterpoint of Marik trying to break the door down. Marik succeeded and from there the footage became difficult as Bakura was thrown bodily away from Yami and the phone skittered away, resting on the camera so they had only a shot of the floor and audio. Yami kept wailing in pain and fear, sounding like a small child afraid of the older children wearing spooky masks. The sound of a scramble and then five shots, followed by silence broken only by Yami's hysterical sobbing and the sound of the gun hitting the floor, and Marik trying to calm Yami down.
"It's grim," the blonde woman said when it was finished.
"And gives us almost no clues as to who shot our vic," the boss said, sounding almost annoyed. "It could have been either one."
"It seems more likely it was Marik," the blonde woman said professionally. "He's a lot stronger, both physically and emotionally, than Yami. He seems like he would be capable of shooting the man hurting Yami, especially after throwing him across the room like that."
"I don't know," the boss hummed thoughtfully. "Yami could have snapped and lashed out against his attacker, once he knew Marik was there and he was safe. You can never really tell with rape victims if they want vengeance or a halt to their pain."
The woman shrugged. "Sara's interviewing him now."
"Yami," the woman said gently. "Tell me what happened yesterday."
"I don't want to," he whispered, rubbing at the scars on his wrists. The woman put her hand over his to stop him worrying at the vertical lines. He jerked away from her touch and she backed off.
"Just once, Yami," the woman said cajolingly. "You'll have to go through it just the once, and then that'll be it, I promise. Be brave, Yami. Think of Marik, of that helps."
Yami gave her a fleeting smile for that comment and took a deep breath, summoning the memories he had blocked away.
He was feeling confident enough this past week to not need mollycoddling when going outside. He felt he was finally over what had happened, and was ready to move on.
Then, as he had been about to leave the house, he saw… Him. That Man. Waiting on the other side of the road, watching his every move. Yami stopped and felt cold sweat start out on his forehead. His mind went through a brief cycle of can it really be Him? Is my mind playing tricks? Oh Gods no it's not, he's crossing the street!
Yami backed into the house as the man crossed the street, grinning widely. Yami slammed the door shut and ran for his room, locking the door and hearing a distressed whimpering escape his lips.
Bang! Bang! Bang! … he was breaking in.
Yami felt fear consume him. This was the worst nightmare of the last year, that That Man would find him again and this time there would be no escape, no Marik to save him because he was working and Yami had been foolish enough to try and do anything on his own and That Man was breaking in and Yami could only huddle against his door, praying to whatever gods may be out there to save him…
There was just one clear thought in Yami's mind – need Marik!
The woman got out Marik's phone, in a plastic evidence bag. She pressed a few buttons and accessed his voicemail. Yami shuddered as it brought back even more vivid memories.
He pulled out his phone with shaking fingers, hitting the speed-dial and clutching it to his ear. The door was going to give way soon and he was all alone in the house…
"The person you are trying to contact is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone."
"Marik!" Yami whimpered as the door gave way with a crash and That Man started hammering on Yami's bedroom door. "Marik, help me! He's found me, he's found me again and oh Gods he's in the house and I need you and he's here! Marik he's here! Help me help me help me!" He cried, trying to buffer the door but he was too thin and light; the lock splintered and was kicked in, whacking Yami on the temple and making him drop the phone.
That Man forced his way in, jammed the door shut and slapped Yami hard; Yami was hysterical with fear as That Man put his hands on Yami and forced him to the bed, pinning him with his legs. There was no need to tie his hands this time; Yami was too terrified to do anything to resist. It was the nightmare that had haunted him for a year just recently banished but it held such power over him still, he could do nothing to defend himself as That Man cut him harder than he had the first time, in new places, shearing his clothes away in bloody ribbons. He got the phone out. The red light started blinking.
"I've waited so long for this," That Man said in his husky, slightly-accented voice. "A whole year, gods it's been hard." He grinned evilly. "Hard for you."
So saying he unzipped his pants and shoved himself brutally into Yami, laughing at Yami's screams and sobs of pain.
"Just when they think they're okay, I come back for them and drag them back to hell," the man laughed. "And you took much longer to get over me than the others, I amflattered. Ah, so much better than I'd imagined…" he tailed off, dragging the knife's point into Yami's hip, reforming the B scar and making it bigger, uglier than before. He pounded into Yami like he couldn't stand to be so hard – and hard he was. He ripped into Yami afresh with every thrust and daubed the blood that flowed onto his face and chest, cackling all the while.
"Aren't you having fun, my little firefly?" he crooned, abruptly altering his angle of thrust to drive into Yami in a new place that screeched with fresh pain. Yami tossed his head, tears and blood mingling as he screamed his throat raw. Why did no one hear him? Was there no one coming for him? Where was Marik?
Yami's torment ceased to mean anything but pain and degradation as That Man pounded roughly into him, laughing and grunting as his thrusts got harder and faster until he moaned like an animal, stabbing into Yami's hip and pumping his seed deep into Yami, scorching his bleeding insides. Yami trembled convulsively shouting all the while, mind trying to detach itself from the present, trying to hide away from the pain and the horror.
"Ooh, I knew you were a noisy lover, my little firefly, but that really tops it," That Man laughed, stroking Yami's bloody cheek oddly tenderly. "Let's hear it again, shall we?"
He was hard again – Yami didn't even wonder at the man's stamina, he was in too much pain to care – and drove again into Yami, hands on Yami's shoulders and he knife at his jaw, staring into Yami's terrified, wide, tear-filled eyes. Yami couldn't look away from the hideous joy on the man's face, whimpering and shrieking by turns as the man neared completion again, tearing into him.
The sound of a car screeching to a halt outside and hurried footsteps. Marik called for Yami and Yami screamed for him, angering That Man. He belted Yami around the face and ground into him until he stopped, but by then Marik had already heard him and was trying to get in through the jammed door. The man thrust harder, determined to finish, and Yami tried struggling, strengthened now that Marik was near.
"My little firefly," the man said contemptuously, "One simple question: over the past year, who have you thought about more – me or him?" He smirked and slammed hard into Yami, pouring into him again right as Marik broke through and threw him off Yami so his seed sprayed over Yami, who screamed again hoarsely; it was difficult to tell which was more painful – the penetration or the tearing away.
That Man got to his feet, face like a thundercloud. Everyone looked at the gun that had fallen out of the man's pocket onto the floor, equidistant from all of them.
Yami couldn't continue.
"What happened then, Yami?" the woman asked intently. "How did Bakura Shhadenfroid die?"
"By the gun," Yami said woodenly.
"That's not what I was looking for and you know it," she said. "Look, Yami, if you're covering for Marik… it's honourable, it's even very loving, but justice must be served. Did Marik shoot him?"
"He died by the gun."
"But by whose hand, Yami?"
"I was working at the time Yami called me," Marik said to the blonde woman. "My flatmate, Otogi, had my phone. He didn't pick up but he heard the voicemail message and ran it to me." Marik paused and shook his head. "He knew Yami, they're good friends."
"How?"
Marik raised an eyebrow. "Yami was round my place a lot while we were dating, before and after That Night. They were bound to bump into each other. So he brought me my phone, told me to run, and I got in my car and went to Yami."
"Yes, I have Otogi's statement. I'll just ask you this straight up: did you shoot Bakura Shhadenfroid?"
"You owe me breakfast," the blonde woman crowed at her boss.
"Three points: one, when did we make that a bet; two, I don't remember placing any stakes; and three, you're wrong, you owe me breakfast." He replied smugly.
"What? But Marik confessed."
"So did Yami."
The woman put her hands on her hips. "But the audio from the vic's phone indicated there was only one shooter!"
Her boss smiled slightly. "They're covering for each other," he said peacefully. "It's kinda sweet, actually. One of them is lying to protect the other, and one of them is telling the truth so the other doesn't suffer."
"Sweet as it may be, someone's lying and a man is dead. He might have been a serial rapist from the looks of things, but you taught me to fight for the sinners as well as the saved, Griss. It's our duty to find out which one of them killed him and let the law deal with him."
Her boss' smile turned sad. "When did you memorise my speeches, Cath?"
Marik and Yami were brought into the same interviewing room and Marik held Yami's hand securely under the table.
"Do you know why we brought you both in here?"
"Kicks and giggles?" Yami mumbled distractedly, feeling the painkillers fading. Marik gently squeezed his hand and he concentrated again.
"Not quite," the boss said, sitting across from them with the blonde woman. "You both confessed to shooting the victim, though we know it can only be one of you."
Simultaneously, Yami and Marik looked at each other and said, "Why did you do that?"
"So," the blonde woman said softly. "Who was lying?"
"I shot him," Marik said immediately, looking them right in the face with a steady voice. "I confess freely."
"No, it was me!" Yami frowned at Marik. "Don't protect me from this, Marik. I know you've had to be my protector for so long now, but I'm ready to take the consequences. It was me."
"Yami," Marik said, as if his heart were breaking, "I'm not trying to do anything. I'm telling the truth."
Yami shook his head stubbornly. "Don't do this."
Marik cupped Yami's cheek in one palm. "Yami, this is what must be. I'm not sorry I killed him, because I was protecting you. I wouldn't have done a thing differently."
"No, Marik…" Yami whispered, a single tear running down his cheek.
"It's okay," Marik said softly, stroking the tear away with his thumb.
"B-But I remember holding the gun," Yami said in confusion.
Marik smiled gently. "Yes. You picked it up but I took it from you. I didn't want you to be touched anymore by anything That Man did. So I stopped you from killing him. He started coming towards us, and I shot him. Three in the chest, one in the head and one in the groin. I remember it, Yami. It's okay."
The woman and her boss exchanged a glance. He nodded solemnly to the policeman in the corner. He stepped forward and put his hand on Marik's shoulder. "Marik Ishtar, I am placing you under temporary arrest—"
"No!" Yami cried, flinging himself forwards to cling to Marik. Marik cradled him gently and they were pulled up to stand by the policeman, Yami still clinging. Yami shook, tears dampening the front of Marik's shirt. Marik held him close, burying his face in his spiky hair.
"If you go with the officer here," the boss said in a regular voice, obviously a speech learned by experience, "He'll take you to a holding cell, where you'll stay until the trial."
"Trial?" Yami said, not letting go of Marik. Marik breathed in the unique scent of Yami's hair, wanting to treasure it.
"The weight of evidence that you are indeed the person who caused the victim's death is circumstantial," the blonde woman said. "The only witnesses we have are you two, who are obviously biased, and the audio from the vic's phone, which is inconclusive."
"What does that mean?" Yami frowned.
"It means that my conviction is based on my confession alone," Marik said quietly. "And that's not really hard evidence."
"There's also the self-defence or defence of a loved one plea," the boss said, shrugging. "I reckon you've a fair shot at that. Especially with a lawyer."
Marik gave a bitter half-smile and squeezed Yami.
"I still don't want them to take you," Yami mumbled. Marik sighed contentedly and leaned down further, kissing Yami's temple.
"It's okay, Yami," he whispered into Yami's ear. "I choose this. And – I want you to know… I love you."
Yami sobbed and clung tighter. "I-I love you too, Marik."
"Be strong," Marik whispered and was pulled away by the policeman and out of the door. Yami made a bereft little noise and watched Marik being hauled away through the open door. Halfway down the corridor Marik turned and gave a wobbly smile, looking right into Yami's eyes. Yami pressed his fingers to his lips and dried his tears, smiling back. This was not a goodbye, not for good.
The CSIs cleared up the case-files. The blonde woman seemed satisfied though her boss had a small frown on his face.
"What's up, boss?" the brunette teased him.
"Yeah you've got a frown like the Grand Canyon up there," the afroed man smiled.
"I just don't think this was an open-and-shut case," their boss hedged. Pressed, he eventually gave his opinion. "I think Marik confessed far too quickly and guiltlessly. I think he's trying to take the fall for Yami."
The others considered his opinion for a moment. The brunette put her hand on his shoulder familiarly.
"C'mon, breakfast time. And you're buying."
Many nights later, Yami tossed in Marik's bed, alone except for Otogi in the other room. Memories invaded his dreams.
Seeing the gun just lying there on the floor. The pain swelling and crashing against him like waves, and seeing That Man over there, livid and getting up, spitting a bit of blood out on his floor.
Somehow that made it all the worse. This man had abused him, made his past year a living hell, marked up his body, sent him into a depression spiral… and thought he owned Yami so much that he could just spit on his floor.
He lunged forward with a snarl at the same time as the others did, ignoring the pain that stabbed through him as they all fought for the gun. Marik punched the man in the face and he reeled back. Now Yami and Marik both had a hand on the gun.
Marik looked into his eyes and shook his head, as if to say, this isn't the way.
But Yami looked at the man who had done so much harm… and a roaring filled his ears. He snatched the gun, held the cold steel in his hands. The dull yet persistent sound of gun shots. Then silence, broken only by the sound of muffled sobbing and a clatter as nerveless fingers released the gun. Warm arms around him, hands pressing at the sore and weeping wounds with gentle care. Closing his eyes, choosing to look away from That Man lying sprawled on the floor, redness leaking from him. Everything seemed dull but for the redness and the tan arms around him, holding him safe and secure and trying to staunch the redness on his chest, arms, legs.
Yami awoke in a cold sweat. For a moment he was disorientated but remembered he was in Marik's room. He sat up and hugged himself, closing his eyes in the darkness. His own arms were no substitute for Marik's comforting hold.
But Marik's shortened term would be over in a few days. And then they could be together again, and Yami was never letting him go ever again.
Tadaa~ Now wth less plotholes! Sorry again, dudes. *Shame Cupbaoards* Hope you emjoyed it anyhows.