Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

Chapter 1

The image had imprinted itself on his brain like a mindless addiction.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that she saved his life every time she sat beside him with her palms raised against the two-pointed dome which covered his body. Perhaps it was because she was the only person who seemed to empathise with him as he was mercilessly punished by his own maker for trivial reasons. Perhaps it was simply his instinct to acknowledge a new and different power.

Perhaps it was the way that warm, golden light shimmered magnificently against her creamy skin, accenting her large grey eyes with a kindness he had never known …

Once again he found himself in a position he had grown accustomed to. His emerald eyes stared thoughtlessly at the worried wrinkle between her brows as she healed the wounds Aizen had previously inflicted.

Orihime did not know why Ulquiorra was punished, but she healed him anyway. Whether or not Aizen knew was not her concern. She had simply reached out to her silent jailer, sensing a deep, hollow emptiness inside of him and wanting to show him that the whole world was not as merciless as Aizen Sousuke.

Ulquiorra did not understand. This talk of souls becoming one, of hope, of love and of compassion was nonsense to him. He bore no such feeling, no such entity of emotion other than sheer obedience.

Why?

Why did he, of late, begin to feel… to feel? He felt within his chest a wrenching pain, a pain which only came when Aizen-sama's cold brown eyes bore down on him with complete contempt as he peeled his mangled, punished body from the ground. He felt a tingle of regenerating flesh whenever this woman's golden light touched his skin, wrapped its healing power around his body.

He felt a swell of undecided emotion whenever that very same woman looked at him with her eyes filled with mysterious warmth.

His gaze did not waver when her healing orb dissipated and she sat back on her heels with a satisfied exhale. She pressed her lips together in what would be an almost smile. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and sat up, but did not stand. Orihime rose and went to stand by her barred window, looking out at nothing, her eyes now aglitter with hope.

He expected she would be waiting for Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Why?"

She gasped as his deep voice rumbled through her body. She turned her head to face him, her body unmoving.

"Why do you heal me, woman?" he questioned, his back to her, his eyes still closed, but his senses awake.

"Do I not scare you?"

"…You are hurt," she whispered, but he heard. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. "You are hurt. I can heal. I don't like seeing people hurt, even if they are not like me…"

Her soft voice spoke words he could not understand.

He stood up, and walked towards her. She turned to face him, defiantly, bravely, but nervously. He felt every waver of reiatsu within this human, every flare and every dip. He knew her inside, every falter and fear.

But what he did not know was why she took pains to heal her captors.

He now stood in front of her, his reiatsu overpowering hers. He slowly raised his hand and placed it at her neck, slowly, treacherously wrapping his long, cold fingers around the warm tunnel. Her eyes widened; she was afraid now. He lifted her body slowly, painstakingly, off the ground. She was choking; her breath was short and muffled as she gagged against his strong hand. She clawed at his hard hands with her own weak ones, vainly trying to release his deathlike grip.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, amid her choked cries, "Your seeming interest in those who are your enemies, those who are stronger…they will only kill you, as will we… soon enough…"

With that, he dropped her, and she fell to the floor with a loud thud, in a crumpled heap. She gasped for breath, holding her aching throat and inhaling in large, noisy gulps, trying to fill her dry lungs with air. He stared coldly down at her tear-filled eyes, her heaving breasts and her dirty clothes surrounded by tufts of risen dust from her fall.

The image was not one he favoured. He would rather look at her in the warm glow of her healing orb…He closed his eyes, angered by the regards he sent forth to this slip of a human, this ridiculous trash of a girl who believed in hope and souls and compassion.

He was so ashamed and annoyed at his regards that instead of entering the room later that day, he left the warm meal and the clean change of clothing outside her door.

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"Did I not tell you that you are to go to Inoue's cell for today, Ulquiorra?"

Aizen sat lazily on what he called his throne, looking down at Ulquiorra with a treacherous sternness hidden terrifyingly behind a serene smile. "Hai, Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra answered, monotonic as always, "I simply stepped outside for a moment."

"Hn."

In a flash, Aizen was in front of him, his clenched fist making solid contact with the Cuatra's white cheek. Ulquiorra flew, hopeless, into the wall with a resounding crash.

The dust cleared to reveal the ugly bruise on the Espada's Hierro.

"Do as I say, and nothing else, Ulquiorra," Aizen muttered, the smile still evident on his face, "Or there will be greater consequences."

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Orihime did not have to turn around to see who was entering. There was only one reiatsu she knew that felt like lifeless energy.

He came in, calmly, silently, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back towards her, while she watched outside. It was their usual positions; they never talked except when he ordered her to eat, and she never healed him unless he came in the door staggering.

Today however, she felt curious. Maybe she was just listless, or maybe she held an unspoken connection with this Arrancar. She felt a higher-than-normal sense of surrender from the man. After their previous encounter she was afraid enough, but she couldn't help but widen the doors of her already open heart.

"U-Ulquiorra…san?"

Her soft murmur was almost inaudible, but his release form was not a bat for show. "You have never addressed me before, woman," he said, one eye darting to fix itself on her. "Is there something you seek?"

She said nothing, but slowly, tentatively began to approach him, walking in careful, soft treads until she stood behind him. He did not move, but she stared at him until he turned his head to fully watch her.

She gasped when she saw the blue-black blotch that shadowed over his cheek, at once releasing her Kesshun to form a mini version of the two-pointed orb just over the bruise. His eyes widened momentarily; her reaction to his bruise was as always: preliminary shock, then determination to heal, then the satisfied pressing of the lips as she finished, the receding of the blackness from his white cheek reflecting in her eyes.

It took a moment before he realized he had never been as close to her before as he was now.

Though her orb had disappeared, her hand remained, her slim fingers just barely brushing his cheek. His lips were parted and his eyes incredulous. She seemed meek but interested. She blinked once, twice, before she slowly rested her soft, warm palm on the cold hard plane of his cheek.

He blinked, then his green orbs darted to the side, watching what little of her hand he could see in his peripheral vision. He found himself tilting his head so that his cheek rested in her hand. He wondered at the comfort and the tantalizing tingle he felt as her hand curved beautifully against the contours of his face. He felt her caress him as her fingers pressed against his skin, her index just touching his skull piece.

Orihime wondered at this new found attraction she felt; Kurosaki-kun was the only one who ever made her feel this way…

She slowly raised her other hand, this one approaching his hair. Ulquiorra's eyes fluttered, then closed as her fingers laced themselves within his hair, fleeting and feathery.

He did not understand what he was doing. He felt suspended in an alter universe. He felt he had no control over his muscles, his … emotions. He did not know why he was letting her touch him like this. He could not fathom how her hands made him feel. The Cuatra Espada would have already sliced her hand off for even daring to reach for him. The Cuatra would have lifted her mercilessly by the hair and thrown her through the wall. The Espada would point his long, accusing finger at her before sending a glowing green cero right between her eyes filled with despair…

The Cuatra Espada would treat her with the same merciless, unnecessary abuse that Aizen showed every day…

Ulquiorra's eyes flew open and he rose with a swift movement, paying no heed to her startled gasp and her small tumble as he sent her off balance. She fell softly on her buttocks before his feet, looking up at him with a disturbed questioning look.

Ulquiorra looked down at the woman and she saw it – the flash of alarm within his emerald eyes before he calmed himself and redeemed his empty look. Roughly, he reached down and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her off the ground and flinging her onto the bed, brusquely.

She stared after him as he calmly left the room, but did not fail to notice with great fear the green flames which enveloped his clenched fists.

What she did not know, was that she had left his insides dancing with even more heat and fervor than those very flames…

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Idk what inspired this, but this will only have a couple of chapters. I rather winged this one, so slight burning is understandable. R&R!