Rukia jumped in surprise and instinctively got to her feet as the door to her temporary room; little more than a medical cot, slid open.

Ichigo's frame filled the doorway, his stance tall and proud despite his torso being wrapped almost completely in white bandages, some already stained with blood, patches of skin poking through. His face was tired, pained, but determined, his mouth set in a thin line while his eyes met hers. Rukia could not bring herself to smile at the familiarity of it all: how many times has she seen his scarred chest wrapped in white? The resolute look on his face? Those piercing eyes? How many of those pale white scars were because of her? "Rukia, I-"

His eyes left hers and drifted to her stomach, gaze piercing as though if he stared hard enough he would be able to see through her kimono. A shiver ran down her spine. "Ichigo…" He slid the door shut and rested his zanpakuto against the frame before locking his gaze with hers again. Rukia watched as a flurry of emotions shifted behind his eyes, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, skin pale from blood loss. "You should be resting-"

"I need to see it." Ichigo took an unsteady step forward, and then another, crossing the small room to stand a foot away from her. He reached out his hand towards her stomach, stopping just short of brushing the silk fabric. He swallowed. Exhaled. "I felt your reiatsu, your… I felt…-"

"Me die." His hand dropped to his side and he clenched both into fists. Rukia looked at his face, turned away from hers, staring at the ground, and then to his hand, balled up and shaking, before reaching out and taking it in her own. "I didn't." She rubbed her fingers over his knuckles.

"You were so far away." His hand opened and grasped hers, his large fingers dwarfing her little ones. But they still fit together.

"You don't need to see it."

Their eyes met, hands still clasped, and Rukia was surprised to find that she was still taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. The focus. He only saw her. "I do." She looked from his face to his chest; wrapped and bruised and bleeding and surely aching, to their intertwined hands; his fingers rough and calloused and nicked and strong and warm and soft, back to his face. Rukia sighed and dropped his hand, his fingers slipping through hers, and pulled at the tie of her kimono. She was hardly indecent underneath; covered in as many bandages as he was and wearing undergarments, but a blush still crept up her neck. Ichigo dropped to his knees with little thought to his injuries. "Where?"

Rukia touched the center of her stomach then let her hand fall to her side. Ichigo brushed over the same spot with his fingers. "Here?" He looked up at her face. She nodded. He reached behind her back, leaned forward so that she could feel his breath through the bandages, and pulled at the end of her wrappings. He slowly unwound them, silently thankful that they were not stained with blood and preparing himself for the worst. Rukia could only stare at the top of his head, absentmindedly admiring the different shades of orange that made up his hair.

He rolled the bandage up in a ball and watched her pink skin reveal itself but his hand stopped before reaching the center of her stomach. An inch long red hole marred her skin above her right hip, not yet scabbed over and close to reopening. He grabbed the ball with his right hand and rested his left on her hip, thumb brushing under the injury, before sliding his hand to her back. His fingers grazed the exit wound and his heart skipped a beat, leaving an ach in his chest. "…Rukia…" He rolled the bandage up to reveal the center stab wound and his throat constricted. Ichigo could only stare at the two wounds, a sudden rage at whoever had done this overcoming him. Rukia rested her hand on top of his before guiding it to pull the bandage to her left hip, and his hand started to shake. He had been expecting much worse than these three holes. But in actually seeing them… red, raw, deep, marring the supple skin of her belly. He traced his fingers around the wounds, careful not to touch them.

"Ichigo, it's al-"

His lips covered hers, hands cupping her face and tangling in her hair. His kiss was bruising in its force, desperate, and Rukia put her hand against his chest and pushed in surprise, but he did not break away. After a few seconds she realized that her hand must be hurting him and relaxed it. Ichigo did not deepen the kiss but he did not let her pull back either, and Rukia realized, as his hands left her face completely to tangle in her hair, that he was desperate to reassure himself: He needed to know that she was alive. That she was ok. He needed to feel the pulse of the blood in her veins and the rise and fall of her chest. The warmth of her breath. His hand slid from her hair down her neck, stopping when he felt her pulse; strong and fast, under his fingertips. He released her lips in surprise.

They stayed in that position for minutes: one hand still tangled in her hair, the other pressed against the side of her throat, their lips centimeters from each other, their eyes closed. Ichigo felt her breath against his face as thoughts started to creep into his head, but he did not want to think right now, he was suddenly incredibly tired, so he opened his eyes to find beautiful violet eyes staring into his.

Ichigo leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against hers once before pulling back a little. Rukia was taken aback by how softly he had just kissed her, how delicately his hand held her head, how gentle his eyes looked. The first kiss had been for him: desperate and forceful, but this kiss had been for her, and now he was waiting for her to make a decision. She knew that if she told him to leave he would. She remembered how her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again as she struggled to get up from that cold, hard floor.

Rukia closed her eyes and leaned forward, brushing his lips with the same softness that he had shown, but she did not pull back, instead guiding her lips over his over and over in a peaceful rhythm. Ichigo sighed contentedly against her lips as his hand slipped back into her hair. He sucked on her bottom lip before returning to kissing her full on the mouth.

He had been in such a panic to see her that Ichigo had not allowed himself to realize how completely exhausted he was. But as all of his senses took in Rukia: her scent, her taste, the texture of her hair, he was finding himself blissfully content and very, very tired.

Ichigo released Rukia's lips and stepped back, the slightest of smiles on both of their faces. He dropped to his knees again and grabbed a fresh ball of bandages from the drawer next to her bed. Ichigo carefully began redressing Rukia's stomach, pausing to kiss her skin each time before he covered it. Satisfied with his quick work, Ichigo stood up and pulled Rukia's kimono onto her shoulders before motioning her to lay down. She slipped under the covers, exhaustion coming over her, too, and Ichigo slipped in behind her.

"Ichigo, you can't sleep here."

"Shut up." He delicately pulled her against his chest by her shoulders, careful not to stretch her wounds, and slipped his hand into hers.

"Whoever finds us-"

"It'll be fine."

"My brother-"

"Don't care." Ichigo buried his nose in Rukia's hair and squeezed her hand, pushing himself more firmly against her back. He let go of her hand to brush her hair back and kissed the nape of her neck before pulling the blankets up a little higher and finding her hand again.

"Ichigo…" But it was no use. Rukia could tell that he was already drifting off, his breaths becoming deep and even.

"…Always get into trouble… Have to… Keep you… safe… Keep you…"

"Ichigo!" No response. Rukia rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "Idiot."