Hime: Hihi! Ugh, haven't written much lately, and tonight the idea that had been working in the back of my head finally got through! (smiles brightly) It's a lot darker than my other fics, which could be kinda confusing to anyone who likes Through Their Eyes, but whatever, it's different, so enjoy!
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It was the last straw, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was not one to be messed with, not like this.
He barely understood why he was so fixated with that woman. So simple an act as restoring his arm didn't, in his mind, warrant such obsession on his part. Sure, her power was something freaky and now and then it gave him the chills to think about, but his point still stood.
Grimmjow didn't get to see her much in the few days she was there after that, locked away and under Ulquiorra's guard as she was, but her face still haunted him at times. Her downcast brown eyes and that solemn look, as if she didn't feel anything, had already resigned herself to what her fate was. He scoffed and tried to brush it aside as his subconscious mind being so pleased that she wasn't putting up a fight about her capture, but first off, he wouldn't care if she did or not, and second, it was more than that, a lot more, and he knew it.
He'd lay in his room and go over that memory when he had nothing else to do, and pick at every detail. His focus would shift from her expression to her features as they were, just that. Long hair which had brushed his side slightly when she stood next to him, petite hands, flawless skin, and while her eyes had been blank and unassuming at the time, they had a shine; he enjoyed musing on what they looked like truly alive.
Saying it was only lust satisfied him for about…two hours. (After all, who in Hueco Mundo didn't notice that fabulous body? Except Szayel maybe, he figured, and shrugged it off.) In those two hours, he was certain his brain wasn't imploding with ridiculousness; he was the Sexta Espada and he didn't let strange emotions like that overcome him. He thought she was hot and that's all it was.
Until later, when he got a peek into her room as Ulquiorra delivered one of her meals. It was too curious a sight, but what he saw made his breath hitch.
Orihime stood defiantly next to her small couch, fists clenched at her sides and her eyes on fire. They were like he thought they'd be, though only through anger, not happiness. Ulquiorra stared at her impassively, obviously not affected by the sight of the moonlight filtering through the window, and how it made her red hair shine and her whole body seem alight.
The magic lasted for about a minute before Grimmjow tore himself away and walked briskly down the hall, one lip curled in a silent snarl; his hands in his pockets clenched so tight his palms bled. She'd done it again, taken his "it's only lust" idea and shattered that in a few seconds, just because he saw her fucking face. He smashed his fist into the wall beside him, leaving an impressive crater, and walked back to his room. He wasn't one to please himself often, but he knew if he stayed near the tantalizing feel of her reiatsu much longer he'd have no choice, and he wasn't in the mood for that. Perhaps killing something would take his mind off of it.
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The next day, all the bullshit Grimmjow had been trying to tell himself flew out the window, and he didn't much care.
What happened in those few hours wasn't very clear for him; he'd finally gotten fed up to the point of going to the girl's room while Ulquiorra was away, at the very least to figure out what the hell it was about her that made him so fixated. He had no idea how he was going to do that, but damn, he was going a little crazy. His hand was on the doorknob, ready to go in and demand to know if she'd put some spell on him, when sounds from inside made him rip the thing off the hinges, throwing it to the side and rushing in.
Orihime lay on the floor under the bloodied pile of her clothes, weeping softly to herself as she tried to struggle to her knees. Grimmjow's sensitive nose smelled her blood all around, and it made him seethe. The girl looked up weakly at his noisy entrance, fixing him with a pitiful gaze before falling back down in a pool of her own blood.
Something in Grimmjow took over, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms, her blood all over his pants and chest but he didn't care, running as fast as he could to the infirmary down the hall. The meek Arrancar who worked there could only stare in shock, before hurrying to work at Grimmjow's harsh scolding and piercing eyes. He laid Orihime down on the table and let the Arrancar work on her, staring at the blood on his hands with an oddly calm expression, horrified and enraged with it as he was inside. One of the assistants silently dabbed away the blood from his chest, mumbling about how they could easily get the rest off of his pants if he liked. He kept, but sat on one of the chairs to wait, seeing nothing.
Some time later, he didn't know how long, the Arrancar came up to him, a frightened but suspicious look on his face. He rubbed his hands on a cloth and addressed him.
"Grimmjow…you know, I'll have to report what's happened to Aizen-sama; he'll want some answers. This girl was not to be touched, and you know how it seems…"
Grimmjow growled at him, yet understood his suspicions. "I didn't fuckin' touch her, I just found her like this so don't get any ideas, or I'll rip your throat out. You can tell 'Aizen-sama' that there's some bastard runnin' around lose that did it." Though, he was certain whoever did it wouldn't be alive much longer, not when he did something about it, and boy was he going to. He'd blow Los Noches up to find the son of a bitch.
The healer sighed, nodding his head and heading towards the door. "I still need to inform him, so please, wait here and watch the patient while I'm gone."
Like he was going anywhere else.
Grimmjow grunted, pulling up a chair next to the small cot she was laying on. He didn't want to deal with this, and it pissed him off that this was where he had to confront his own mind. Orihime was sleeping peacefully, lips parted and head turned towards him. Her hair had been washed and pulled back into a ponytail, a white gown her only clothing. One of her hands was twitching, he guessed with some nightmare, though she didn't make any distressed sounds. Throwing his pride to the wind, he grasped that hand in his own, thankful the door was closed. He gave in, letting that strange affection overtake him for once instead of pushing it away, and next thing, he was contemplating lazily about how sweet her lips tasted.
It was a simple kiss, though he squeezed her hand as if he was the one in pain, just letting his lips settle on hers for a few minutes before pulling away and staring. Her eyes fluttered, but beyond that she didn't wake, and he was satisfied for now. He felt a few reiatsu coming his way, and with an odd regret in his heart, left. He'd go back tomorrow, perhaps find out who did it. But even more than that, he only wanted to kiss her again, preferably with those fiery eyes of hers open.
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Hime:Whoo! You know, this was only going to be a oneshot, but I got all these nice ideas as I was writing it and so it would have been a very long one. XD So, I guess I'll continue it. (peace sign)