Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
A Paler Shade of Gray
She was maddening, in every sense of the word. Calm in every situation, even those that brought back the unbending desires to break bodies into horrifically mangled pieces. If anything, she did what no one else could: She kept him in line.
Initially, it had all been a pain. Her quiet words penetrating the blood that seemed to hang menacingly in the air during times of great anticipation. He'd wanted her influence to just leave him to his own destructive devices, but she'd never once paid any attention to what he had to say. She would do as she liked, and he'd be left to mutter to himself about the bothers of a woman hanging over his shoulder. In response, she'd just smile.
If nothing else, she was like the very toxins she would combat in their rivalry. Her influence quietly setting down their roots, choking the misery out of him. Not once had such a possibility come to rest in his mind. She'd always just been there, the quiet presence that seemed to reinforce the stitching that kept their entire organization together. The seamstress with the silver tongue, hands working tirelessly to fulfill the duties she'd been assigned. And, amidst all the chaos, not once had she submitted to his ruthless patterns. Instead, she'd force him to wait with naught but a quiet word, putting all else before personal fulfillment. An irritating habit, but one he'd have to live with.
To him, there was no "later." Everything was an impulse, turning into "here and now." Being his opposite in nearly every way, he should have seen that her timetable would differ from his own. She wasn't obsessive about power and control, but passive. There was method in every step of a situation, every move she made. Frankly, it drove him even crazier than his already warped mind should have allowed.
Perhaps the awkward attraction had started for that very reason. He was broken. As a doctor, it would make sense that she wanted to repair that which had been destroyed. But, the more she lingered, the less likely it became. She wasn't there on some self-righteous errand to save his soul from damnation, and it wouldn't make sense to delude himself in to believing that. There was never judgment in those eyes. It had always been idle curiosity, questions that he couldn't, and wouldn't, bring himself to answer.
She'd dulled him, mixing the colors and proving that concept of opposition didn't apply here. There were no sides; no lessons on morality; no ridiculous recitations of ethics to stand in the way. The poisoning had already begun, and she was the cause of it all.
If anything, he supposed he needed a woman who could handle herself.
