A/N: Bold words are Gin, normal words are Rangiku. Song lyrics are from "There's no I in Team" by Taking Back Sunday. Spoilers for the end of the Aizen fight. All other quotes are taken from the anime.
Ichimaru Gin sat with his legs hanging off the balcony staring down at the barren stands stretching across the grand length of Hueco Mundo. He swung his legs back and forth like a child, trademark smile dropped from his face for once – he rarely bothered with it when he was alone, and no one would bother him here. Not even Aizen approached him when he was in these moods. He always preferred to be alone when he thought about her.
"Well I can't regret. Can't you just forget it? I started something I couldn't finish."
He remembered all the nights spent in her room – the way her face relaxed in her sleep, signs of untroubled dreams, and how her hair always smelled like apricots. He had always teased her about it because she didn't even like the juicy fruit. And back then was the only time he ever said those words, stolen moments when she was fast asleep, with his mouth pressed against her long, flowing hair. She never heard it in the light of day.
He never wanted her to hurt, but he had failed. He knew, because he remembered her face on that day, the day of The Betrayal (all capital letters, always, catering to the ego of his so-called God), when she'd realized he was part of it all. She knew he wasn't fighting, knew he didn't mean it, knew that it was way too easy to get her sword against his throat. He knew he probably should have let it go at that, let her grieve, but no, his words got the best of him and wound their way out of his throat before he even meant to. "It would have been nice if my capture lasted a little longer. Farewell, Rangiku. Sorry." The look in her eyes at that moment would haunt him forever.
"And if we go down, we go down together. Best friends means, well best friends means..."
Of course he had considered taking her with him, bringing her to this land of endless night. He had considered making her into a traitor right along with him. The look in her eyes had said that she just might have gone. But he wouldn't do that to her. She didn't have the strength, especially not the will, to survive in a place like this, and he wouldn't put her in that kind of danger. Even if she had been able, he wanted to keep her as far from Aizen as he could. He would rather put her through heart-break than risk her life.
"And I've got a twenty dollar bill that says you're up late-night starting fist-fights versus fences in your backyard."
While Gin sat on his balcony, Rangiku was in her bathroom, sick again, staring in the broken mirror at her too sunken-in eyes. She didn't sleep much these days. She mourned in her own way. She told herself she hated him, that he was the villain here. She told herself that he meant nothing, and never had. She told herself that she didn't give a damn about some traitor, someone that would do this to their entire world. She told herself she hated him, and she really wished that she could make herself believe it.
"Wearing your black eye like a badge of honor, soaking in sympathy from friends who never loved you nearly half as much as me."
When they would come to her in the mornings, asking her to tea, she always said she was fine. It was nothing, after all; he was nothing. When her captain had asked her if she would be able to fight, be able to lift her sword to that man, she had faked offense so well. Of course she could, she said. She didn't need any of them feeling sorry for her. That wasn't the kind of person she was. She wasn't special. All of them had lost something, and there were people who were far more broken than her. In the daylight hours, she had a job. She was Matsumoto-fuku-taicho and nothing more.
"Broken down in bars and bathrooms, all I did was what I had to. Don't believe me when I tell you it's just what anyone would do."
But at night, she didn't fare so well. At night, she was Rangiku, just a girl, a heart-broken woman who drowned her sorrows the only way she could. If the bars had gotten seedier, if she always made sure the lights were dim enough, that was okay. No one needed to see her tears. At night, those surrounding her were drunk enough that they didn't see that hollow, fake look in her eyes. At night, she could let herself be real.
"Take the time and talk about it, think a lot and live without it. Don't believe me when I tell you it's something unforgivable."
And when she drank alone, if some other man approached her, someone big and bulky and hair all the wrong colors that smelled nothing like Gin, maybe she would go with him anyway. Maybe she was willing to do anything to forget. And maybe the bartenders knew a bit too much. She could take off her uniform, no longer a shinigami, just a bleary eyed girl who had lost her love, and they would listen with the fake sympathy they gave any paying customer. She would talk to strangers, but she would never tell them, any of them, that deepest, darkest hidden truth – she thinks she might have said yes if he had asked.
"You never knew (well, I never told you) everything I know about breaking hearts I learned from you, it's true. I've never done it with the style and grace you have, but I've made long-term plans based on these mistakes."
He still had clear pictures of her in his mind, of the swell of her breasts and the curves of her hips and the way that smile would reach her eyes when he would close the door behind him at night. He remembered how she would pucker her lips toward other guys and he would just smile; he had never been the jealous kind. He had never wanted anything but happiness for her, even if he was hurting her right now. He would do anything, anything at all for her, for that tiny girl he'd met back in Rukongai. He would give up everything. He was determined to.
"Is that what you call tact? I swear you're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back. So let's end this call and end this conversation. "
By the time they were fully enmeshed in the War, by the time they open the Gargantua into Karakura town, Gin was ready. He had pushed it all inside and his smile was firmly on his face. He wouldn't flinch when he saw her. He would do what he had to. He was sure. But he almost faltered when he did see her, and the pain on her face hadn't faded in the slightest bit. He almost gave in, then. He almost went to her, to brush that single piece of hair away from her beautiful face. His will, his iron will almost broke with his hand on her chest, when he could feel the way her heart still beat, just for him. But he remembered his goal. He had come way too far to back out now. He pulled his sword and shoved his pain inside. "Look, Rangiku...you're in the way."He couldn't help but think that she was even beautiful as he watched her fall.
"There's nothing worse. (That's right he said, that's right he said it.) I swear, you have no idea, the jealousy that became me thinking (that's right he said it) that you always had it way too easy."
Beautiful, beautiful Rangiku, and her body hit the ground. As he walked away, he let his eyes slip back shut. Back to Aizen, back to his Lord's side, back to finish this whole farce of a game that had come way too far. He really hated himself sometimes.
"Best friends means I pulled the trigger; best friends means you get what you deserve."
And sometimes, he really wished she could hate him too. He wished she could let go. That wound hadn't been fatal, he had aimed so carefully, and he knew she would survive. He could only hope that she would also live. And when he fell, when he knew that it was his time to die, he didn't mind so much. Ichigo was here now, and the job would still be done. Death didn't mean so much to him anymore. As he closed his eyes for the last time, he could almost swear that crying above him...was Ran. He smiled.