Seaside Ghosts

AN: Okay folks, you know how MUCH I've missed you all?

I'm working on returning from Hiatus. I've had some health issues, so writing is super slow these days but I am trying to get back into it. I've got a huge backlog of messages to answer, so please be patient. I'm still not well, and right now I feel like an episode of Mystery Diagnosis, so bear with me.

Luv,

Beverly

Chapter One

Ghosts of the Past

"Nnoi…" came the whispered voice in the darkness. "Nnoi, please, wake up, please," the whisper came with increasing urgency.

Nnoitra Gilga blinked as he saw his little brother leaning over him. It wasn't uncommon for Tesra to wake him up in the middle of the night, but there was a tinge of different fear in his voice and he could hear their yard dogs, Molly and her pup Ratchet, barking too. He reached up with one long fingered hand and pulled off the CPAP mask from his face while he hit the button to turn off his machine. He hated being woke up in the middle of the night. He had enough trouble getting enough sleep as it was without actually having to get out of bed and go outside. He was glad he wore the long wearing a contact in his good eye so he could wake up and see in the middle of the night.

"Nnoi, there's noise outside, and the dogs…" Tesra whispered frantically, hands wringing in front of him as he glanced toward the window.

"Okay, shush, you get back to bed," Nnoi said, sitting up and blinking slowly before he stood up.

He yawned as he headed into the hallway and out into the main room. Outside the motion lights had come on and he could hear Molly and Ratchet making a racket out there. It wasn't the first time he'd had to check things in the middle of the night. Nnoitra lived with his mother, father, and little brother Tesra. Well, Tesra was adopted, which had worked out well since his mother's pregnancy had been so hard on her. Nnoitra had inherited her condition, Marfan Syndrome, and the chances any other children would also was pretty high. So, when he was quite young, and his school friend was removed from the home for being abused, his mother had taken him as a foster child, and later adopted him. However, the boy had been left with crippling PTSD and long term effects of the physical injuries.

Nnoitra looked at the clock. It was four am. Great, he thought. By the time he checked things out, got situated in bed, and then got to sleep again, it would be time to get out of bed. He sighed, pushing the heavy door open to get into the shop and decided he'd just end up staying up after this and making breakfast so his mom could sleep in a little. She had been having some problems with her heart, increasing as she aged, and unlike Nnoitra, she wasn't in the position to have surgery to fix it. Nnoitra had been able to have surgery early on to fix the major heart issues he had as a child. His mother's had simply taken longer to appear.

His mother and father had run this mechanic's business for a long time. His father was a master with cars. He could fix any problem that came in. He saw himself as an artist, too. Everything he did was functional and beautiful. Even the parts of the car that the world would never see had to be visually appealing and done properly. There were no cobbled together pieces, or substitute parts. Everything looks pristine and clean when his father was done. Nnoitra, due to his condition, had trouble with some of the finer work, but he enjoyed the business aspect. While he did still work on the cars, he generally liked to do paint work.

He glanced around the shop, the lights coming on as he entered. Nothing out of place here, he thought. He was a bit cold though, as though a window was open. He could still hear Ratchet barking, but not Molly. The older, more experienced guard dog knew there was no immediate danger, but the pup was still agitated. Then he heard Molly growl. He frowned, rubbing his blind eye with one hand for a second and then went to door to the yard.

"This is so fucking annoying," he muttered as he ducked under the doorframe out into the yard.

There were several cars parked waiting for repair, as well as a few cars that were in various stages of tear down that here his dad's projects, like a sixty nine mustang and a seventy two charger. The bright flood lamps were set to come on when someone entered the yard. It was both functional and security. Generally speaking, having a flood lamp come on and two pit bulls start barking at you sent anyone running. She paused and noticed that there were marks on the door, a crowbar? Someone had actually tried to pry open the door to the shop? Why the nine hells would anyone do that, he thought as he looked around.

He looked out at the dog run area. They'd build a run for the pups to stay in at night and when they needed them away while cars were being brought in and out. The two dogs could run along the fence all the way around the buildings, but they couldn't get into the main part of the yard. It was often too dangerous for them to get out there when there were major repairs and welding going on. He glanced over and saw that Molly was staring at the side of the building, hair on her back raised and growling low in her throat. Ratchet, being the pup that he was, just ran around her and barked randomly. He frowned. Something was over there.

Nnoitra wasn't afraid of much, but this area was known for some pretty heavy drug dealing, and someone high or strung out could be very dangerous. So, being somewhat aware of the possibility of danger, he knew that Molly would be his best ally right at this moment, so he took one long stride over to her pen and she immediately came to the gate. Ratchet was still jumping around, so he let Molly out. Molly was well trained and immediately stopped growling.

"Molly," Nnoitra said quietly. "Go."

Molly bolted to whatever it was she had been growling at and Nnoitra followed. He didn't worry about her getting hurt, Molly knew what she was doing. That's why he'd left the pup in the pen. He would have gotten himself hurt if there were intruders in the yard. Unexpectedly, instead of barking or growling, he heard her give the low pitched "injured baby" whine. Nnoitra came around to find her licking gently at a person's face. There was a person lying behind the bushes that grew along the side of the building. The lights didn't light it up well, but he could now see the shape of the body.

"Molly, back," he said and kneeled down.

Molly, for the first time since she had been a puppy refused to move and whined again, licking at the face of this stranger. Rather than get angry at the dog, he knew she was doing what any good mother would do and taking care of an injured pup. Nnoitra couldn't tell the gender of this person, but he could see pale skin in the dim light. He wouldn't be able to tell much until he got him inside. It didn't even dawn on him to call the cops or an ambulance. He leaned easily over the bushes and gathered up the extremely light body easily and let Molly follow him into the house. He didn't see Tesra so he guessed he'd gone back to bed like he told him to. Nnoitra took his bundle into the spare room next to his. He used it as a study and office while he was going to school.

He laid the body down on the top of the covers and stepped back so he could see what he'd found. Molly sat beside the bed and whimpered at him.

"Don't worry, girl, I'll make sure they're okay," he said, reaching down and scratching her head.

What he'd found was a young man with almost nothing on him and looked like he'd been beat to hell. The most obvious feature was the crop of bright orange hair on top of his head, unruly and unkempt. His face was slack in unconsciousness, and he had a black eye that was swollen pretty badly. His lip was split and there was significant bruising around his mouth and chin. Molly's licking had cleaned away some of the dried blood on his face but not all of it. He was dirty. He was wearing a pair of very tattered tan boxer shorts and an undershirt that used to be white. His arms and legs were decorated with bruises and cuts in varying stages of healing, but some were very recent. Nnoitra carefully pulled up the undershirt and noted his ribcage was a mass of purple and black bruising. He was breathing relatively well, but he was concerned he might have broken ribs.

Nnoitra sighed and went into the bathroom that connected this room to his and grabbed a washcloth he dampened with warm water and the first aid kit. This wasn't the first time he'd found someone that needed off the grid help. He set to cleaning the boy's face. He couldn't be more than fifteen, he thought to himself as he wiped away the blood and dirt. He was almost done when his eyes fluttered and opened. They were a deep chocolate color and Nnoitra smiled, he hoped in a reassuring way.

Unfortunately, Nnoitra, at six foot nine inches tall, and with a smile that was slightly unnerving due to the wide set of his mouth and his teeth being crowded together in the front, was not reassuring. The boy screamed and scrambled backward off the bed onto the floor near the wall. Nnoitra sighed and heard the unmistakable footfalls of his folks waking up and heading downstairs.

"Hey, kid, please don't freak out, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said softly as he could.

The orange puff of hair appeared first followed by his hands and frightened eyes. Nnoitra waited but looked up as his dad came into the doorway.

"Hijo, what is happening? We heard screaming," his father asked.

"I found someone in the yard, papa. He's a bit beat up and scared," he said as he watched the boy's eyes flit between him and his father, Santo Gilga.

Santo nodded slowly. "You okay, then? Your mother is having a hard time sleeping tonight," he said, glancing between his son and the other boy.

"Fine, papa. Tell mama that I'll fix breakfast so she can sleep in," Nnoitra said, smiling at his father.

Santo nodded and left the room with one backward glance at the boy hiding beside the bed. Nnoitra sighed and held up the first aid kit in his head.

"I'm trying to patch ya up, kid," he said. "You were out in the yard. I brought you inside."

The boy looked like he wanted to trust him but he wasn't sure. "Who…who are you?" he finally said softly.

"Nnoitra Gilga," he said, smiling, this time without teeth, at the boy. "Who are you?"

"Ichi…Ichigo," he finally, wincing in obvious pain at being crouched beside the bed.

"Well, Ichigo," Nnoitra said softly. "I saw your ribs, so please, come lie down so I can clean you up. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

He shook his head emphatically and his eyes looked even more frightened at the thought. As Nnoitra had expected.

"Okay, then get up here before I call an ambulance to come get you," he said sternly.

Ichigo crawled back on the bed with some degree of pain and sat staring at the odd looking man before him. He'd never seen anyone so tall and long limbed in his life. It was unsettling to say the least.

Nnoitra was used to the stares and reactions about how he looked. "I have something called Marfan Syndrome, it just makes me very tall and my limbs very long. Also makes my joins super flexible," he said, giving a sideways grin and pulling on of his hands backward completely. He saw the boy's eyes go wider. "So I'm not going to hurt you," he said, patting the bed beside him. "I just want to see if you need more medical attention than I can give you."

Ichigo reluctantly moved toward him and laid down on his back. He was scared out of his mind at the moment. He watched as this strange tall man cleaned his cuts and checked him over. He was shaking by the time he was done.

"There now, nothing too major," he said, closing the first aid kit and looking back at him. "Tell me, now, how'd you end up in my yard?"

Ichigo swallowed hard. "I…I ran. And…and he caught me, and I thought he was going to kill me…and I got away and I…I didn't know where to go, so I saw the light here and…and I was gonna hide in the building but I couldn't get in…and he was there, trying to get over the fence and then the dogs started barking and the lights came on and he ran off, and I just couldn't stay awake anymore…" he said, sitting now and holding his arms over his chest.

Nnoitra frowned. "Who was he? Your family? A stranger? What?"

Ichigo shook his head. "I don't know, I don't know, not anymore," he said. "He…he told me that pop didn't want me, didn't want me anymore, and that he was…he was the only one that would take me, but…but he…he…" Ichigo put his hands over his head and Nnoitra could see a pattern of bruises of various stages of healing that faced upward when he put his hands like that. Nnoitra's eyes widened. He was used to doing that to protect himself.

"What happened?" Nnoitra said pulling his arms down gently.

"He…he…I got them killed!" he said, eyes wide. "I was nine, we were nine, and it was my fault, and he took me because pop was angry and didn't want me, but he hated me…he said he…he had to punish me for what I did…I took away momma, I took away his momma, and we…we were along with his dad, his pop, Uncle and…" He paused to heave long slow breaths. "But…but Uncle started doing bad things…things that he didn't like. He said Uncle shouldn't do those things, and I tried to run and he always caught me, and t-today I couldn't…I couldn't…"

Nnoitra frowned. This was confusing. "Who are you talking about, Ichigo? Who was nine too?" he said softly.

"Uryū," he whispered. "He's the only one that cared, but Uncle…he hated me so much, and I deserved it for what I did…"

Nnoitra frowned and wondered exactly what this kid could be talking about. "You said you were nine, how long have you been with this Uncle?" he said quietly.

Ichigo shook his head. "Long time…I don't know."

Nnoitra watched as the boy's eyes fluttered and he slumped over into sleep. He pulled a blanket over him and went to his computer. He didn't have a lot of information, but maybe he could find out something. He still had an hour before he had to start breakfast. He started searching for information using the names and two women dying in the last five years. He found nothing, so he frowned and went back ten years in the records. He was about to give up and decided to search for missing persons in the area with the first name Ichigo. It was a long shot, but how many people in California would have the name Ichigo?

He blinked as he found one of those missing children posters and immediately recognized the boy beside him. A young boy smiled in the picture on the left as the details about him at the age of nine were listed. The aged picture looked similar to the boy beside him now, but the age progression made him look more mature than he really did. Age now, in 2016, was listed as twenty-one. He glanced at the boy he was sure was fifteen. He was twenty-one? And had been missing for twelve years. Ichigo Kurosaki.

Some searching for a few minutes uncovered a police report for two women that were gunned down at one of the local beaches. Masaki Kurosaki and Katagiri Ishida had been shot and killed by an unknown assailant who was suspected to have kidnapped Ichigo Kurosaki. Surviving the incident had been Katagiri's son, Uryū Ishida. Uryū's father had been the one to find the murder scene. Since then there had been no sign of the boy, and no leads on who murdered the two women.

Nnoitra frowned. Things didn't add up. If Uryū was with Ichigo, then he was kidnapped by Uryu's father? Nothing about this made a lot of sense.

oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo

Ichigo had awoken that morning not knowing that things would turn out so…wrong. How could he have expected how badly things would go? He knew he was going to be lucky to get through the day without getting beaten in some fashion, and hopefully, Uncle wouldn't want him be alone. Ichigo huddled into the small cot he slept in and hoped that today was a good day. He shivered though because he knew that Uncle had been too nice the day before. He'd let him eat dinner with him and Uryū. He'd even let Uryū show him some of his school books. Ichigo wanted to see them, even though his reading wasn't very good. He hadn't been to school since he was a child, before he came to live with Uncle. Uncle said if anyone found out he was with him, they'd be in trouble when he was younger. Uncle didn't let him have books or anything, so he had little knowledge of anything after his ninth year when everything went wrong.

The apartment they lived in was small, two bedrooms, one for Uryū and one for Uncle. Ichigo's "bedroom" was a large front closet that was just big enough to fit his cot into. Of course, there were coats and bags in it too, but at least at this place he had a place to sleep by himself and not just in the floor of the bathroom like the last one. He liked to be along, mostly because it didn't hurt so much then. Ichigo was still half asleep when the door opened and he looked up to see his white haired uncle staring at him. His heart froze because he had that look, that look that meant it was going to be a very bad day.

"Good morning," he said, smiling with no warmth or even feeling. "Come here," he said, reaching down and grabbing Ichigo's hair and dragging him out roughly.

Ichigo whimpered a bit, but clamored to his knees and then to his feet as he drug him toward his room. Ichigo shook his head and tried to push on his hands. No, not now, he thought. He promised it wouldn't happen again. He said he was wrong. Every time, he had promised, though. Every time, he'd made it up to him, said he'd never do it again. He'd even brought him home food from McDonalds, a whole meal and soda, just to apologize once, and another time, he'd brought him new clothes and some toys to play with. The door shut behind him as he threw the younger boy to the floor inside.

Ichigo tried not to panic, again, but he couldn't help it. He never knew what to expect with Uncle. One day he'd be nice, another he'd be violent and angry for no reason that he could see. At first, after he had rescued Ichigo from being taken by the police, he'd been mean now and then but it wasn't terrible. He'd hit him for being bad now and then, or talking back, but it wasn't that bad. Then it just got worse and worse. And then Uryū would sometimes hit him, but he didn't think Uryū liked it because he always looked like he was about to cry when he had to punish him for something. Sometimes Ichigo felt like being punished was just what he had to have happen. If he didn't clean up the apartment right, or if he didn't make the right food, or if he didn't do something that Uncle forgot to tell him to do, he had to be punished for it. That was the rules and he couldn't break the rules or the police would come find him and put him in jail for murder. He couldn't go to jail for murder. He father didn't want him, and was going to send him to jail, that's why Uncle had taken him away. Uncle was a good person for doing that, so he had to listen and be good for him. He didn't know why he couldn't seem to be good enough for Uncle, especially since Uryū started going to the big school. Uncle was a doctor, and he was so busy, and then Uryū had to be gone all day, and sometimes the house wasn't clean enough. Sometimes the food was not hot enough. Ichigo just couldn't get things right.

"You stupid idiotic brat. You honestly think you are good enough to sit at a table with us and eat?" he asked, smiling.

Ichigo shook his head. "N-no sir," he said. "I'm not, but you told me…"

Ichigo's sentence ended with a backhanded slap. He tasted blood but kept quiet. He didn't want to get hurt more than he had to. "Yes, yes, Uncle," he said quietly, only to be grabbed hard by his upper arm and picked up, feet nearly off the floor completely.

"You should be thankful for all I've done for you," he said, and Ichigo saw his eyes looked funny again. "You should thank me for the attention I give you."

"I do, I thank you for saving me, Uncle, but you said…you said that you wouldn't…" he nearly choked on the words.

Ryuken's eyes narrowed and he threw the smaller boy onto the bed on his belly. Ichigo gasped as he felt his hand yank his head back painfully with one hand while he felt his other hand at the small of his back, pushing down until it was painful.

"You belong to me. You caused the death of my wife and your mother; you have no say in what happens to you. If it weren't for me, you would have been put in jail with the rest of the murderers. I will use you however I like, I will do whatever I like since you took away everything from me," he growled into his ear.

Ichigo felt him moving his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. If he just tried to forget it, he wouldn't feel it. He could pretend he was playing with his super hero toys, and he was far away. He always tried, but it never worked as his head was let go but he felt the fingers dig into his hips and he stifled a near scream. The fist slamming into the back of his head set his head to spinning and he was somewhat thankful. He hoped Uryū hadn't heard him because Uryū wouldn't like this, Uncle had said not to tell him because he wouldn't like it all. Uncle said that Uryū would have been jealous, even though later Uncle would say it was wrong. Ichigo didn't know, he just knew he didn't want Uryū to know about it either.

Ichigo was sobbing into the sheets when the weight over him was gone and he felt hands in his hair again, yanking him up off the bed. He had been particularly hurtful, and Ichigo could feel something dripping down his legs as he was pulled to stand. He hurt, more than before, and he couldn't stop crying. Uncle just stared at him.

"Useless waste of space. You don't even make a decent fucktoy. Get in the bathroom, and shower, you smell fucking awful," he said, throwing him toward the attached bathroom.

Ichigo found himself unable to stand on shaking knees. He made it and sat on the floor of the bathtub sobbing into the water from the shower. He couldn't handle this. He heard the door open and threw both arms over his head and pulled his knees to his chest, breathing heavily. He felt the shower turn off and hands on his hands. He flinched away from the touch.

"Don't uncle, don't do that again, don't do it again, please," he cried out, making himself as small as possible.

"Ichigo, its me," Uryū said, softly, gently pulling his arms down. Ichigo looked up to lock eyes with him.

"Uryū," he said, gulping. "Sorry, sorry," he whispered, trying to wipe away his tears.

Uryū had thought something was going on in the last few months. His father had more than once granted Ichigo unusually generous gifts. They were things that were well above and beyond anything he had ever allowed the boy. He'd never, in twelve years, given Ichigo toys. He'd never, also in that twelve years, given him food other than scraps from their meals. So, something had changed, and Uryū, at the back of his mind was sure he knew what it was.

Since the beginning, when their mothers had died, Uryū had been told that Ichigo got what he deserved. His father told him that if he wasn't careful, he would get the same treatment. His father told him if he told, he'd regret it, but more than that, if he told, he said he'd cut Ichigo's throat or give him a shot of something so he wouldn't wake up again. As he grew older, he'd been subject to a few of his father's beatings, nowhere near as many as Ichigo, of course. However, it was enough that the threat that he could be treated like that was strong. He didn't want to sleep in closets and bathrooms on the floor. He didn't want to not be allowed to go to school. So he was selfish and he didn't tell anyone about the other boy that lived in his house, spending his days while no one was home locked into a bathroom or a closet. He even punished him when he was told to do so, no matter how much he didn't want to hit him.

"What did father do?" he asked quietly. "What did he do? What did he do this time and the other times when he gave you those special gifts?"

Ichigo's eyes went wide and he shook his head. "I…I can't tell, he said not to tell, not even you can know, I can't…I can't…" he said shaking his head and covering it.

Uryū knew for sure now. He grabbed Ichigo's face and pulled it up. Ichigo locked eyes with him, tears still falling.

"He can't do that to you, do you hear me? He can't! You don't do that to others, you just don't! No! When I get home, after he goes to sleep, I'm going to help you get away, okay? You can't, do this. And I'll go away too, and he won't find us again," Uryū said, frowning.

So it was that that night, Uryū had led Ichigo down the steps in a set of his clothes. He'd told his father he was leaving to an all-night study group, which he'd done before, so when the door opened and closed it wouldn't surprise him. Uryū had gotten almost to the car with him when the door slammed open and his father stood there staring at them. Ichigo had bolted. The sheer terror on his face when Ryuken appeared and moved toward him was obvious. Ryuken went after him without even seeing Uryū it seemed.

A few minutes later, Ichigo had been tackled in a wooded area by the older man. He tried to get away despite the series of blows and hail of hurtful words that came his way. He managed to get away but lost the too big jeans in the scuffle, leaving him in his shorts. Uryū was a lot less gaunt than he was, so his clothes just hung on him. He saw a fenced area and thought he could hide or something and managed to pull himself over and fell into a yard. He had caught his sleep on the wire at the top and ended up slipping out of the too big shirt.

"Is that who is helping you?" he heard from the outside. "Are these the people that are giving you these ideas that you can run from me?"

Ichigo saw Ryuken slide through a gap in the fence and glare at him. "No, no, I just…" he started.

"I'll show them," Ryuken muttered, grabbing a crowbar and going to pry the door with it. "I'll teach them to spy on me and fill you with lies…"

The lights came on then and a chorus of barking ensued, causing Ryuken to drop the crowbar and take off. Ichigo panted as he watched him slide out but the world was starting to grey at the edges and then it all went dark.