Without an End in Sight

by Darksknight

His first thought, when he sees her, is that she doesn't remember him. He's sure of it for a moment as she says, "I'm sorry- um, have we met?" But there are tiny flecks of brown in this woman's eyes, and a birthmark that wasn't there before, and she's not wearing her hairpins. She's Orihime, but she's not. "Forgive me," he says, "I mistook you for someone else."

thedarksknight. tumblr post/159704120959/romyavery-i-spent-way-too-much-time-on-this

(Take out the spaces.) Charming fanart for this fic at the link! Enjoy.

-o-

She doesn't remember him.

It's the first thing he thinks when he sees her- because that is her, working in the flower shop across from his apartment, and he knows it. He can feel the tug of his soul when their eyes meet; the widening of his eyes and the quickening of his breath when he realizes that she's grown up a little bit since he's last seen her.

He stops for a second. He never bothered with the date when he was dead, and now that he's alive again, there's no telling how much time has passed. Maybe she doesn't realize everything that happened in the spiritual world was real. Maybe she's left that behind; and that's why she's looking at him oddly, as though he's from a weird dream she'd had but tried to forget. Maybe she just… doesn't remember him.

He shouldn't talk to her. If she has left that life behind, then he'd do well to let her be. He could always move to another apartment. The company had found him a couple of different places, and what was one more box-up of his sparse possessions?

She's pouring water all over the ground, instead of into the nearest flower pot. She stares at him unblinkingly. Maybe she does remember.

Slowly, she raises a hand and waves at him, still regarding him like she's trying to recall why she knows him. Soul Society had possibly used a memory chicken on her. Or perhaps-

Wait.

She's not wearing the hairpins.

Hurriedly, he crosses the street, because she's just standing there awkwardly, waiting for him. He feels kind of like he owes her this much for all the psychological torture he dealt her. One quick 'hi' to find out what had happened and then he'd be out of her life for good.

"Orihime Inoue." He greats her.

Her face contorts into further confusion. "Um, close! It's actually Orihime Izumi!" She seems a little concerned by his apparent bemusement. "I'm sorry, um-"

"When were you married?"

It was probably to the Quincy. But he remembers that boy being called Ishida. Perhaps they'd both changed their names, or gone their separate ways. What was the shinigami woman's last name? But if she'd married a shinigami, surely she would have retained her memories.

"Ah…" She flushes. "I'm. Um, I'm not married, um. I'm sorry... Have we met?"

It hits him then.

"Forgive me." He swallows, looking away from her. "I… mistook you for someone else."

"No! No, no, it's fine, really, you… you seem very familiar." She leans in closer, narrowing her eyes. He notes that there are tiny flecks of brown in this version's irises. "Like something from a dream, almost." She blinks, and then laughs. She sounds just like the last woman did. "Sorry, that must sound pretty weird! Anyway, um, thanks for stopping by, sorry if I distracted you. Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"Thank you." He says, to be polite. He doesn't tell her he's just decided he's moving.

Orihime's been reincarnated. Reborn like him, and so their cycle continues on, without an end in sight.

He'll put a stop to it before he hurts her again, thrice damned be his name.

-o-

"Hey there neighbor." She stops him on his way home from work. He's avoided her all week successfully, because his boss says he should "try to get to like the new place" before really deciding to move out. Damn it. And now she's found him again. "I brought you a house-warming gift!"

It's a small leaf-less tree. Stark white, naked, and a little too close to true home for his comfort. He must let some emotion show on his face because she says, "Oh, don't worry, it will bloom in the spring!"

He recalls sinking his body into a much bigger version of this tree.

"I- I can take it back, if you like! I, uh, I just thought you didn't seem like a flower kind of guy. You seemed like the type of person who likes simple things, you know, like trees so I-"

"Thank you," he says. He takes the pot form her without touching her hands. "It reminds me of home." And Grimmjow said he didn't have a sense of humor.

The smile his comment earns him is blinding. So yes, this is not the same Orihime who he captured in his last life, but it's her soul, nonetheless. She links her hands behind her back and tilts her head to the side, beaming. "Ah, I'm so happy you like it!"

"Hm." He unlocks his door without looking and enters without meeting Orihime's eyes. He slams the door closed, right in her face, and hopes his colossal rudeness is enough to make her keep her distance.

He can hear her laughing softly even through the door.

-o-

The third time he sees her it's night. He'd been at a very late meeting and had been getting out of the taxi when he'd noticed her walking toward the apartment. She had her arms crossed and looked uncomfortable, which was understandable, considering she was being followed.

He bit back his bloodlust and hurried to her side.

"Oh!" She's startled when he suddenly falls into step with her, but the surprise gives way to relief the moment she sees that it's him. "Don't scare me like that, haha, I almost decked you right in the face!"

He believes her, too. "Forgive me."

"You're alright, friend. Ah- wait. I never got your name." She looks back over her shoulder for the man who'd been shadowing her, but he's not there anymore. She sags in relief.

"Ulquiorra." He hopes her emotions are enough to distract her. "Cifer."

"Ulquiorra?" Her smile melts. Suddenly, she stops walking, once again embracing herself as though she's cold. She seems puzzled, which makes him anxious. "Why… huh. Where have I heard that name before?"

He ignores her question. "It's late," he says instead. "Come."

She looks up to him, sort of weary. "This isn't a negotiation, is it?"

He swallows. "Do as you please." He turns to leave.

"I'm sorry- I just, um." She jogs to catch up to him, and then leans forward to watch his face, nervously smiling. "I think I had a dream like this. Is that weird? To dream about people you only just met?"

"It would be."

"Hm." She gives him a look of consideration before nodding. She stands up straight and falls into step beside him. He notices she's got freckles on her shoulders.

Next time she's being stalked, he's going to ignore it. She can fend for herself.

-o-

"I ran out of sugar."

Before him is a sight he can't say he recalls. Orihime in tiny shorts and a tank top was not an option out in the sands. Yes, her school uniform had included a short skirt, but this is an entirely different beast he sees before him. She's covered in flour and he sees her hairpins made it with her to this body after all- in the form of a birthmark that blooms just over her left breast. She notices his gaze and pinks.

"I have no sugar." He begins to close the door.

With narrowed eyes she leans forward, staring him down through the door crack. "Oh yes you do, mister Cifer! I saw you carrying your grocery bags home last night, and I saw the sugar through the plastic."

"You shouldn't openly admit you stalk people." He rebukes.

"I wasn't stalking you! You're the one who walks by my shop all the time."

"It is almost as if I live near by."

"You don't have to give me sugar, but jeez, don't lie about it!"

"Concerned for my soul?" He asks. "Think I'm bound for a sinner's hell?"

She snorts. "Takes a lot more than lying to get you through those gates."

"You would know." And she would, she really would.

She regards him with pause. "Yeah, well… So would you."

What do you know? He wonders. What does that soul of yours remember?

For a second there's an awkward silence. Then, she says, "Well, I guess I'll just go buy some."

He sighs. "Wait here. I will get the sugar. How much do you need?"

"Three cups."

He doesn't even want to know what she's attempting to bake.

"You'll have to make due with two." He answers. "I need the rest for my coffee in the morning, and I won't be shopping for another couple of weeks."

"Since when do you drink coffee?" She calls after him.

"Since when do you presume to know me?"

He knows 'since when.'

Sugar looks a lot like sand. He's noticed.

-o-

No matter what life she's leading, Orihime always seems to be in some kind of trouble. She stretches herself too thin caring for others. She gives, and gives, and gives, until there's nothing left for herself.

It comes as a surprise to him that she should turn to him when she reaches that point of finally running empty. They don't know each other hardly at all; she should be turning to the red-haired man that lives two doors down. He'd do anything for her, making up for the sins his pseudo father dealt to this woman's soul.

But no. She comes to him.

It's one in the morning, and it's pouring out. He only knows because someone's woken him up by knocking on his door, and he already has a pretty good idea as to who it is. He pulls on jeans and a sweater before going to answer the door.

She's soaking wet and in a small blue dress- he can see her underwear through the soaked fabric. Her makeup is running.

"Um, hi!" She laughs nervously. "Funny, um, you look like you were sleeping!"

He ushers her inside for a moment, hurrying to the pantry near the bathroom to get her a towel. "What do you want, woman?"

Her smile falls. "I..." She sighs. "My ex boyfriend is waiting in front of my door. I don't know how he found me again, haha, but... um, I think he's waiting there to, I don't know. Kidnap me or kill me, or something."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "He would harm you?" He offers her the towel and she takes it gratefully, using it to pat herself down. She attacks her hair with it, wincing.

"Well... yes... that's why he has the restraining order. So I was hoping maybe you could call the police for me? My phone died while I was out. I- I mean, I wasn't out until one in the morning, I've been waiting a couple hours hoping he might leave but um..."

"I'll get rid of him." He turns to head back into his room, to grab his sword, but she stops him with a hand on his arm.

"No, no, you don't have to do that! You can just call and I'll wait outside until they get here!" She carefully folds the wet towel and puts it on the kitchen counter. "It's- I don't want to cause you any trouble-"

"How many times have you called the police before? Has it ever worked?" He stares at her, waiting for an answer. When she just looks at the floor and bites her bottom lip he nods. "Wait here."

She probably thinks he's a good person. It's not so. He's doing this for her because he's human now, and because of that he has the capacity to be wracked by guilt over how he'd treated her past-self. Logically, he shouldn't, because this isn't the same Orihime. But he does. And there's no stopping it.

Sword in hand, he makes his way back to the door where she stands waiting. She's shivering, and she must know he can see straight through her wet dress because she flushes and tries to cover up with her hands. He grabs a large hoodie from off the rack near the door and tosses it at her, ignoring her fumbling as she falls into step behind him.

"Th-thank you and- wait, is that a sword? We're not going to fight him are we!?"

"We are not." He answers. "I am."

"But-"

"I'm not going to kill him, so stop with your squabbling and follow me."

She shivers as she catches up to his side, swamped in his over-sized hoodie. "He's faster than you'd think." She says quietly. "So... be careful."

"Who is it?" He asks.

He hasn't seen Grimmjow yet, and he knew the blue-haired idiot had been interested in Orihime between his bouts of obsession with Kurosaki. Maybe he'd found her in this life. But then, was he really the abusive, stalker type boyfriend? Maybe. He'd loved to fight, but he had been just too possessive to hurt what was his. Maybe that was the problem; she wasn't his anymore, so he was there to break her. A sort of 'if I can't have it, no one can' type deal. It wasn't really the Grimmjow he'd known, but maybe not everyone had been given a chance like he had. A human body in its early twenties, starting off where he'd left; memories intact. A second chance at living.

He steps out into the pouring rain with Orihime on his heals. She pulls up the hood of his jacket to protect her head, hands covered by the sleeves as she stares down at her apartment complex with a frown.

There's a man sitting on the steps, waiting. He's reading a book, and Ulquiorra is temporarily caught off guard by the fact that they look alike. Long black hair, pale skin, and a cool expression- the man even dresses in familiar white-button up and black slacks.

He can't help but think, so, she has a type, does she?

Then he shakes his head. She doesn't have a type. She has a way of getting herself caught up with her abusers; stuck there until it's too late.

The man sees them, then.

"So." He stands, smiling calmly at Orihime. "This is my replacement, huh?"

She looks down at the ground, silent.

"You'd be nothing if it wasn't for me." He spits. "Who was there for you when no one else would be, huh? Who helped you? Who's going to love you like I do? No one! I'm the only reason you're living-"

"That's enough." Ulquiorra cuts him off.

"Who is this supposed to be, hm, Orihime?"

She doesn't look up as she speaks. "Leave me alone, Shu."

"You hardly seem alone, my dear, with this guy here tagging-"

"I said leave me alone, Shukuro!" She takes a step forward, so that she's right beside Ulquiorra as she raises her head in defiance. "I think you need to leave now,'" she finishes. She points away from her apartment and into the pouring night.

Ulquiorra always knew she had it in her.

This guy, clearly, did not. "A little late to be standing up for yourself, don't you think?"

"She asked you to leave." Ulquiorra announces. He pulls his sword from the sheath, handing the wood over to Orihime so that she can shield herself if anything happens. "Go."

"Or what? You're going to slice me up?"

Ulquiorra narrows his eyes.

The first punch comes so fast he hardly has time to see it. He ducks in time to have one of the rings on Shu's hand imbed itself in his forehead- just underneath his hair line. He jumps back, tugging Orihime with him, and then grabs the sheath back from her. He realizes very suddenly you don't chop someone up and get away with it, so he's going to have to be smart.

He dodges the second punch, and the third, luring the creep away from Orihime as he goes. He blocks a kick with his sheathed sword and then brings the hilt up hard into the man's stomach. The familiar rush of battle takes the air of surprise away, and before long, he sees every hit before it reaches him. He doesn't even need to block; he can avoid each punch and kick and then land another hard blown over the man's back. He doesn't, though. Sadistic, he avoids the blows but strikes none of his own, waiting for his opponent to realize he's been greatly outmatched. The fear settles into Shu slowly as he realizes he can't get in a single hit.

The ground is slick with rain, and in Shu's desperation to land an attack, he starts to slip up. Ulquiorra waits, continuing to simply toy with the man.

Shu finally falls. Then, and only then, does he decide it's time to end things.

He draws his blade.

Eyes wide, Shu scrambles back to the sidewalk. "W-wait-"

"Leave." Ulquiorra says. The tip of his blade cuts through the collar of Shu's shirt. "And do not return. The woman is no longer any of your concern."

He nods. Shu fumbles as he attempts to rise and flees, off into the night with bitter curses falling from his lips. For a moment Ulquiorra just stands there, in the road, watching- even when he can no longer see the man's back.

Then he realizes he's soaked, and cold.

He turns to Orihime. She's staring at him with wide eyes. At first he thinks she's afraid, which would be alright, but it's something else. He goes to sheath his weapon and catches sight of his reflection in the blade, and only then does he realize.

The wound in his forehead is bleeding, sending rivulets of red down to part over the bridge of his nose and then slide past his eyes. It looks like he's crying blood.

He takes a step towards her. She takes a step back. He looks away from her and pauses. She takes a step forward, and so does he- three steps, ignoring that she takes a step back again as he reaches the pavement.

He sighs. "Woman..." He doesn't know how to deal with her anymore.

"Why do I remember you?"

He looks down at the pavement.

"I. Your blood was green."

He looked up at her sharply. That's not right; she saw his blood, and she should know it was just as red as hers. "My blood was never green."

"But… it was streaking down your face." She reaches out, hand hovering uncertainly over his cheek. "You were crying."

He doesn't reply to her.

"I know you know me. I can see it in your eyes. So why can't I remember?"

"It was... a very long time ago."

She frowns. "Ulquiorra, I…"

He sighs. Turning away from her, he starts back the way they came, casting a resigned, "Get some sleep, woman," over his shoulder as he goes. He hears her door open on squeaky hinges. It closes in due time, and so he continues through the rain alone- wondering what he's going to do about the bloodstains in his favorite jacket.

It would be better, he thinks, if I had never been re-born at all.

-o-

There's bread on his doorstep, nicely bundled up in a paper sack. It's fresh, and there's a notecard inside from the bakery down the street that says 'thank you' on it. It's not signed, but he still knows who it's from.

He passes by her flower shop on the way to work and for once he hopes he sees her. He doesn't, but it doesn't stop him from saying, "You're welcome."

-o-

Grimmjow is back. He doesn't button his shirt up all the way and he's always got his jacket slung over his shoulder, tie undone and hanging messily about his neck. His hair is still a stock of electric blue, but the markings around his eyes are gone. He looks odd without the jawbone adorning his face.

"Hey bat-shit."

Eloquent as ever, but without the manic anger that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Grimmjow's been given a second chance, too.

"Took me for-fucking-ever to finally die," Grimmjow snipes. "Finally bled to death out there in the sand after like. Three fucking months. And then darkness for years. What the fuck, right?"

Their kind never did die peacefully. Even Ulquiorra himself, who'd strived so ardently to go without any sort of clawing struggle, found himself straining to stay just a little longer as the wind tore his body apart.

Grimmjow was escorted back by Ichigo Kurosaki's daughter. He's been disappointed that the shinigami-substitute had become a full-fledge lieutenant under his wife, who'd married him after Kurosaki had been dead for a couple of decades. They'd had a kid about twelve years later. Time worked different in the afterlife, though, so Ulquiorra had no way of knowing how long his Inoue Orihime had been dead.

Dead. She'd died, hadn't she? For there to be an incarnation of her, she had to have died. For some reason, the thought is unpleasant and makes him squirm in his own skin. She was never supposed to die.

Then again, he was never supposed to be reborn.

Grimmjow gets hired as security, to his pleasure. He has the same lunch as Ulquiorra, and he goes over the stories of 'the whack-jobs he gets to toss around' with increasingly ridiculous lies concerning his 'great battles.' He seems happy, though, which is strange to say the least. Ulquiorra have never thought that any of them would be happy- least of all Grimmjow, who'd been consumed by his rage and hatred.

But here they are, alive and well again- no holes punched through their bodies or markings to name them demons. Grimmjow has a date with a human on Saturday, and he's wondering what he's going to wear.

Ulquiorra wonders if he'll ever find his own happiness.

-o-

"You, um." Orihime smiles awkwardly up at him from where she's crouched underneath one of the flower displays outside. "You wouldn't happened to have seen a little flower pin anywhere? Would you have?"

He blinks. He looks at the mark on her breast and thinks 'it's right there' before he realizes that she did have two. Perhaps the second one didn't manifest on her body.

"It's. It's aqua, and it- it looks like this?" She points at the birthmark he has yet to draw his eyes away from. "My brother got it because it looked like my birthmark so. It's. Um it's just kind of important to me and I was wearing it on my necklace like usual last night since I went out and I wanted to look fancy but then when I was home I realized the chain had broken and. Uh." She flushes when she realizes she's still crouched underneath a stand and scrambles to right herself.

"I haven't." He says, and places his briefcase on the ground next to the lavender display. "I'll help you look."

"Oh, no, no, no, it's fine, really, I can find it- I'm a big girl, haha. You don't… need to… help." She trails off since he's already on his hands and knees, looking under the display to the right.

"Where did you last have it?"

"Well I didn't end up going out like I'd planned, so I was here all night. I already looked everywhere on my walk from here back home, and I tore apart my apartment so… it's either here or it's gone forever." She doesn't sound too pleased about the prospect.

He wonders if it's attached to her soul like the last pins were. If it is, he can probably trace it using her spirit ribbon. He stands and looks for her ribbon, easily catching it and twining it through his fingers.

He feels a small bit of pride when he feels a tug on the end of the ribbon- somewhere off in the shop.

"I mean, it's not super expensive or anything." Orihime chatters as she follows him inside. "But my brother. You know. He bought it for me and we just didn't ever have any money at the time and it's… it's always kind of comforted me, you know. Even when he wasn't there, I felt like I was still connected to him and. Oh, telling him I lost it would break his heart. And my heart, really, I love that pin and-"

"Is this is?" He stands after kneeling to look under the register table, holding the pin proudly up in his hand. It catches the morning light and for a second seems to gleam gold like it did in the days when she activated it in order to put up her shields. He feels a pang of loss for the woman she used to be.

"That's it!" Hey eyes light up as she springs towards him and eagerly accepts the charm into her hands, holding it tightly to her chest. "Oh, thank you so much, Ulquiorra, I don't know what I would have done if. Oh thank you." She launches herself forward, then, ramming into his chest as she throws her arms around him.

His eyes go wide as she catches him off balance, and even though he throws his hand out towards the counter, he's too late. They go down in a tangle of limbs, all the breath whooshing from his lungs as he hits the floor.

She's all over him. "Oh my god Ulquiorra I'm so sorry, I'm such a klutz, oh I didn't mean to are you okay I'm-"

"Woman." He grunts. He grabs her hands before the can fondle him to death checking for injuries. "I'm fine." He manages.

"Oh." Her eyes are wide and beautifully silver in the soft morning light. It drifts in through her hair and makes it come alive like fire. All her freckles come into focus and he can smell her cherry lip balm. "Sorry." She whispers.

His heart is thundering in his chest. "It is alright." He says, and lets her hands go so he can cup her elbows. "Let me-" He attempts to help her up off of him but her heels slip on the floor and she slams into him again. He grunts in pain and reaches up to rub his chin, where her head had rammed into him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She gasps, hands covering her mouth. She looks mortified. "Are you okay? I'm so, so, sorry- I have such a hard head-"

"It's fine." He grunts. He feels her hands on either side of his head as she tries to push herself up and opens his eyes. Her hair trails over his shoulder- the red thread that connects them. She hovers directly over him, face red, lips plump and shiny. He can feel her breathing. "It's fine." He says again, and he's confused to find that his voice has deepened an octave or so.

"Okay." whispers. She leans in a little bit, eyes half-lidded. "Okay."

He closes his eyes.

Ding, ding!

She leaps frantically away from him, standing as she hurries to fix her hair. "Oh, Kurosaki-san!" She says.

Ulquiorra stands and brushes himself off. Kurosaki-san?

And there he is- Ichigo himself- older, but still the same kid who'd killed him. Whom he'd killed. They lock eyes and for a second Ichigo looks completely taken aback, but not angry.

"Ulquiorra." he says, surprised.

"Kurosaki." He has no idea where this is going.

Orihime whips her head between the two of them. "You two know each other?"

"Yes." Ulquiorra says, before Ichigo can get anything out. "He killed me, once."

Ichigo rolls his eyes. "Man, that was like. Forever ago. Let it go, won't you?"

None of that despair or fear from when he was a boy remains in this man's eyes. He's met Ichigo a couple of times since he died, and both times were pleasant enough- Ichigo had actually helped to get him set up in his current job, just like he had with Grimmjow. But they'd never had Orihime standing nearby- a sore subject between the two of them, if there is one.

Orihime laughs, thinking they must be joking. "I didn't know you two knew each other. Ulquiorra's my neighbor now, Ichigo."

"Is that so?" He looks a little wary.

"A coincidence," Ulquiorra explains, carefully. "To be put next to a friend of yours, isn't it, Kurosaki?"

That seems to sate him a little bit. "Yeah. I bet you must have been surprised."

"To put it lightly."

Orihime looks confused again. "What?"

"It's just that I was always telling him that you two should meet." Ichigo jumps in. "He's such a grump, I wanted to see if you could turn him around." He laughs. "I mean, if there was anyone who could make him smile, it'd have to be you, Orihime."

"You flatter me too much." She laughs. "Where's Rukia today? Home?"

"Yep. Kid's in trouble again and Rukia's not holding any punches. Decided to skip on out and check on my friends." He looks around the shop. "It's been a little while, huh? You've re-arranged things."

She beams. "You noticed! Yeah, I did, I did."

"How did you meet Orihime?" Ulquiorra asks, suddenly. He's genuinely curious. "I've just realized I never asked."

"That's a funny story, actually." Orihime laughs. "You see, I was out and about and this earth quake suddenly started. Just as soon as it came, it was gone, even though it had been strong enough to knock me down. And there he was, with his wife, helping me up. They'd mistaken me for their old friend, Inoue, because they were laughing and asking me all sorts of questions I can't remember."

He nods. So then, they'd happened upon her incarnation and made contact out of a momentary slip. They'd probably decided to keep tabs on her after that. If anything, to make sure she was safe- she still had rather high spiritual pressure for a human- but probably because they missed the first Orihime so badly.

"And we've been friends ever since!" Orihime finishes happily.

"What about you, Cifer?" Ichigo asks. "How'd you finally meet her?"

"I was relocated for work." He says. "They put me in the apartment across from here." He points. "At first I thought it must have been the Orihime you'd always told me about," he lies. "But when I saw her hair I mistook her to be Inoue as well." He hopes they're doing an alright job, at the very least, of keeping Orihime from being too suspicious.

"Well," Ichigo says, "That sounds like a bit of a shock. After all," he gives a small, secretive smile that holds a bit of his old pain in it, "You and Inoue were pretty close."

Orihime looks over to him, blinking her big eyes in what looks like slight worry. "I heard that she died. I… didn't know you knew her. I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," he says again.

They all catch up a bit, in Inoue's flower shop, until Ulquiorra gets a call from work demanding an explanation for his tardiness. Ichigo takes the phone and puts in a a good word, and somehow Ulquiorra's granted the rest of the day off. Orihime isn't so lucky, being her own boss, and so when Ichigo decides it's time for them to part ways she has to stay put.

"Walk me to the station, will you?" Ichigo asks.

Ulquiorra is wary, but he nods. "For old time's sake, I suppose." It's weird pretending to be his friend.

They walk in silence for a long time.

"She's happy." Ichigo says, finally.

Ulquiorra doesn't know what to say to that.

"You're not…" He sighs. "Look, I try not to judge any of the hollows on what they did when they were under Aizen's rule. But you know I have to ask. You're not here to mess things up for her, are you?"

"I tried to get myself transferred away from her as soon as I realized she was here. They refused for the time being." He says.

"Not what I asked."

He sighs. "No. I wish her only happiness."

Ichigo nods. "Good. Good. Because… she really cared about you, you know. She kept quiet about what happened for years, and years, but when she was a little older and we were all urging her to do this and that… Well, she told me just about everything. And you weren't as awful as you could have been- probably as you should have been, knowing Aizen."

He shrugs. He still doesn't understand his own reasoning for holding back then, and for lashing out at other times. He doesn't like to think about it.

"So if you're planning on being her friend, truly, this time around… I think you should. Because as much of an ass as you were, she still really cared about you." He flushes and rubs the back of his neck. "Anyway. Uh, that's about as much as I can talk about feelings in a day so. Yeah. Want to help me open a senkaimon so I don't have to take the train to Karakura and have fucking hat and clogs do it?"

He blinks. "You still can't open your own senkaimon?"

"I'm working on it!" He defends himself. "Give me some credit. I leaned everything else in the world in like five days total and I'm super good at it. There has to be one thing I'm not a complete natural at! And I've been busy, you know. With getting married and having a kid."

He raises a brow. "So those years when you were back?"

"Recovering from dying."

"Ah, of course. And then those years when you had no child?"

"Honeymoon."

"You had a ten-year long honeymoon?"

"… Yes?"

"You're unbelievable." Ulquiorra sighs. "Yes, I will open the gate for you."

"Thanks, Cifer."

"Ulquiorra." He concedes.

"Ulquiorra." Ichigo nods. "And you can call me-"

"I will always call you Kurosaki." He says, simply.

"Fine."

Before he leaves through the gate, the boy has one last piece of advice for him.

"Ulquiorra?"

"Hm?"

"Be good to her."

-o-

Orhime looks nervous, standing in front of his door, clutching two slips of paper to her chest. She does that with things that are important to her, he's noticed- she'll put them as close to her heart as her body can allow.

Some things never change.

"I'm going to a show tonight. The- the opera, actually."

He blinks.

She shuffles her feet around. "I won these tickets in my- my sewing club. And-"

"Are you asking me to go with you, or have you come by to tell me?" He's never been one to beat around the bush.

She flushes, but laughs a little. A good sign. "I wouldn't waste your time like that," she says, even though she really would, "I came by to see if you'd be interested in going. It's in two hours, so I understand if it's too short notice…"

"What should I wear?"

She beams. "Do. Um, do you have any formal clothing? You always dress so nice, but, you know." She shrugs.

"I'll get dressed." She's still in her apron. "Should I come by your apartment in an hour and we will proceed to the theater together?"

She nods eagerly, smile growing still. "Yeah! I'll go get ready right now!" She practically shoves his ticket into his hand and then sprints away, laughing the whole while. Even though she's older than her past self was when he met her, she's still just as childish in her own way.

He goes back inside, studying his ticket. It's a long show, and but he has Sundays off, so he supposes he can stay out late just this once. He showers every morning, but he's worn from the day of work. He gets in the shower again to get ready.

He wonders about Orihime. She knows something must be wrong, between her fragmented memories and the stories that just don't quite add up. And yet, she continues to proceed as though nothing is wrong, like they can be friends with no consideration to all the oddities between them.

He towels his hair dry and puts on cologne, which he rarely uses. He finds his tuxedo and steams it, even though he can't really see any obvious wrinkles. He's never one to take shortcuts, after all. He finds his good cufflinks- the dark jade ones- and then surveys himself in the mirror.

In Aizen's palace, he was worlds and worlds away from this. Now, standing alone in his apartment in a suite, ready for a human's theater showing, he feels… right. Like this is where he'd wanted to be all along.

He grabs his ticket, double-checks to be sure he has his wallet and his keys, and then walks over to Orihime's apartment. It's not a far walk- though he lives closer to her store than she does- and he knocks on the door at the exact minute he said he would.

Through the door she yells, "Coming!"

He waits. He realizes that maybe it would have been appropriate to bring her flowers. But the only place he would have bought flowers would be her shop, and that would have been… well, awkward at least, even if she found it endearing. He'll have to make it up to her later.

She throws open the door. He turns to ask if she's ready to go, saying, "Woman-" but the rest of his sentence dies on his tongue.

She's wearing a near replica of her Hueco Mundo dress.

"Ta-da!" She does a little spin, unaware of how she's made his throat close in on itself. "Do you like it? I made it myself. I've been waiting for an occasion to wear it, and today's the day!"

He's staring.

"What?" She pauses. Then she flushes. "Oh my god can you see my underwear through it?" She pulls the fabric taunt and looks frantically down at herself.

"N-no." He clears his throat. When she looks up at him expectantly he manages to strangle out a quiet, "It suites you."

She pauses, regarding him careful for a moment before slowly saying, "Huh… De ja vu."

He looks her over again. She's expectedly beautiful. She's turned her cape into a drape to hang over her elbows and down her back, and the sleeves are gone. She's got her flower pin on a new silver chain and earrings that look like falling stars. Her hair is curled and she's done her makeup with more care than is usual for her. Her lips glimmer in the streetlight. And she's beautiful, so beautiful, that it manifests as a physical ache in his chest and he wonders how there was ever a time where he could have allowed himself to hurt her.

"Are you okay?"

He blinks back to reality. "Yes, I'm fine."

She reaches out carefully and cups his cheek, her thumb brushing away something warm and wet. Her brows are furrowed together in concern. "You're crying."

He pulls out of her grasp and wipes away the tear himself, confused. "Something in my eye," he says, because it's a single tear, but he knows better. He wasn't built equipped to deal with human emotions.

"Well… if you're sure." She reaches out and slips her arm through his, linking them together as she smiles. "Ready to go, then?"

He nods. "I'll hail us a taxi."

-o-

This is a date, he realizes.

They're siting side by side, Orihime on the edge of her seat as she leans towards the front in order to see better. She's captivated by the singers, eyes wide and mouth curled up in an unending smile. And her hand remains on the crook of his arm the whole time.

He shouldn't over-react. It might not be a romantic date. This could be a platonic date, but he's no fool, no- this is a date, one way or the other. She could have asked out any one of her many friends, but she'd chosen him- a man who makes her head hurt and lies to her face.

She hasn't really changed.

What does she see in him that makes her push past all the awful things he must make her feel? Doesn't he make her nervous? Doesn't she despise the way he causes her head to thrum with half-remembered horrors? Doesn't she associate him with blood, or cero burns, or the half-moon peaking out through the hole in the chest of her would-be lover?

What good is there in him to overcome any of that? What happiness does he deserve?

He must remember that those things are in the past. That's how the world was- and he was not as cruel as he was bred to be. The things he did were wrong, but he has apologized and made to never repeat his past mistakes. He has learned. He has grown. And he is not the man who did those things anymore.

He has to remember what they've said- he deserves a chance to be happy.

And maybe she is his happiness. In a world where pain was the only sensation made in love to his species, she'd been the one to break him from a cycle of despair. She'd been the one to pull him from the depths, the one to whisper there's more, there's so much more, open your eyes. And maybe now, in these new bodies of theirs without the old scars and terror, they can finally meet in between the worlds that they'd come from.

She takes his hand at a particularly intense moment of the opera. She hardly seems to notice, but he feels himself beginning to blush. This is a romantic date. He can't stand to fool himself- he can say she doesn't know what she's doing, but she's always been clever, and she knows exactly what she's instigated.

"Amazing, isn't it?" She whispers to him.

He hasn't been paying much attention, though he's certain that this is the sort of thing he could grow to like. He enjoys art and music, he enjoys theater- all of that is colliding in a blur of sound and plot and color here, and at any other time he'd probably be following the proceedings quite closely.

As things are, he can only look at her familiar eyes and say, "Yes. Amazing."

She looks over at him for a second and blushes before leaning back in her seat, still watching the production. Her fingers twine with his and he can feel her palm sweating with nervousness. He soothes his thumb over the back of her hand to calm her and she shivers.

There's an electrical current charging between their skin- one he can't ignore. He's never felt anything exactly like this. He remembers the crack of her hand against his face, and the jolt it has sent to his nonexistent heart as he was forcibly shoved out of his delusion of her being helpless and small. He remembers her hand slipping through his and how his nerves sung at the heat amongst the pain of death. He remembers meeting eyes with her and the resulting bolt of heat in his chest. Nothing like this. Nothing that made his breath turn heavy and shallow as he waits, wondering just exactly where this is going.

The production ends on a high note- literally- and Orihime brushes away a few errant tears as she launches to her feet, clapping and yelling, "Bravo, bravo!"

Those few spare moments where they aren't connected he misses her, and worries at the sensation. He's never liked touch- not even now that he's human. And now he's sorely wanting after hers.

She turns to him, grinning wide, and takes his hand again after wiping it against her dress. "Did you like it?"

"I did." He smiles a little. She deserves it. He deserves it.

"I'm so glad!" She laughs, and then starts to pull him along with the flow of the crowd towards the exit. She maneuvers him around behind her, almost seeming to shield him from human touch.

It's the sort of thing that could change him into a better man, he thinks.

They make it out onto the streets, where the night has grown cold. Her hand never leaves his as she pulls him out onto the sidewalk, damp from a recently past fog. She raises her hand and hails a taxi on her own, stopping traffic with her bright eyes and sunshine smile.

They ride back with their thighs touching, hands still clasped together.

"And when she took that spear and. Ugh! It was just so good, Ulquiorra!" She laughs a little, still high from the show. "I've never even heard of this story. Can you believe that? It's just so good I want to go right back in and watch it tomorrow night. Except, I guess that will cost a lot. So I can't. Unless I sneak, but, well, you know me."

"Indeed." He muses.

"What was your favorite part?"

"I enjoyed the scene on the bridge." He answers honestly. "It was… different."

She nods frantically. "Exactly! Exactly, oh, I think it was just genius." She turns her whole body towards him, excited as she is, so that she can give him her full attention. "When she puts her hand on his chest? It was so-" She'd mimed the action, setting her own palm against his jacket. She pauses, looking puzzled.

"What is it?"

Slowly, she removes her hand. "Nothing, I-" She blinks. "You'll… it's sort of weird. You'll think I'm weird."

"I already think you are weird." He says.

She snorts. "Yeah, okay. It's just... For some reason when I put my hand on your chest, for a split second, I sort of expected to go straight through you. Like you had a hole there."

He swallows.

"Weird, huh?" She's quieted. She licks her lips in the dim, and something stirs between them. Some sort of charge, building up as it rebounds from him to her to him. He can feel his heartbeat in his thumb, where she has it trapped.

"Not so odd." He answers. He leans forward and tucks her hair back, tapping the part of her skull where her hairpins used to rest with his index finger as he does so. "Perhaps not odd at all."

She stares at him.

They arrive, then, at her apartment. Ulquiorra pays the driver before Orihime can break from her trance and insist she foot the bill. He ushers the both of them out onto the sidewalk again, their hands still firmly clasped together.

She looks at him and then to the door of her apartment, just a few steps away. She's on the first floor for once, and he sort of likes that he can linger in front of her door instead of worrying about blocking the stairs like he otherwise would have.

"Would you like to come in?" She asks.

He's nervous. He can tell she is, too. But what's the harm in seeing her apartment?

"I can make us tea." She adds- an afterthought.

"If that is what you want," he allows.

They proceed to her door, letting go of each other as Orihime fumbles with her lock, muttering under her breath about the old thing. He makes a mental note to come by and fix it some time. He's already oiled the hinges on her door, after all.

She finally gets it and throws the door open with a flourish, kicking off her heals in the doorway as she goes.

He pauses in the entryway as she closes the door, toeing off his own shoes and aligning them neatly next to her pile of different sandals and such. She sweeps past him and into the apartment proper.

"It's a bit of a mess." She says. There's folded laundry taking up the couch, but the place is otherwise well put together. "But I can move this stuff if-"

"It's fine." He cuts her off, before she can really get going.

"Oh, but-" she hurries over to the laundry, blushing when she sees her underwear. She starts to re-arrange the stacks of clothes, hiding her bras and such under a stack of towels under the pretense of making space on the couch. "Just give me a minute-"

He puts a hand on the inside of her elbow, gently turning her away from the couch. "It's fine," he repeats.

She swallows. He's aware of how close they are, suddenly- of the way her skin warms under his touch. That electricity is there again, charging under their skin and coiling tight in his stomach. Without his permission his eyes flicker down to look at her lips; red and shiny.

"I should get the lights." She's whispering all the sudden.

"Hm." He's quiet too, without really knowing why. He feels like Orihime's created her own gravity and is drawing him closer and closer. He can't get away from the pull. He doesn't want to. "Perhaps." He tilts his head to the side, considering her lips more closely. He looks up at her eyes for a second and sees they are half-lidded, her pupils blown.

"Then again," her breath touches his lips in a soft warm gust as she speaks. "It's not so hard for you to see in the dark, is it?"

He remembers his slit pupils and night-vision. "No."

Their lips meet. It's a gentle, chaste thing, but he chokes back a groan even so.

Finally. His blood seems to sign. Finally, finally, finally. Like he's been waiting for this all along. Like this is what he was looking for.

She pulls back and breathes, "Ulquiorra," and then she's on him. She winds her hands around his neck, fingers sinking into his hair with a touch of desperation. She pulls him down to meet her, their open mouths meeting in a clash of wet heat and tongue. She groans out loud and he feels a small bit of his control crumble.

He fists his hands in the material of her dress and yanks her body towards him so that there's not a breath of space between them. He nips her bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth, sucking, licking, biting. She sighs and swipes her tongue across his before sucking on it. He feels liquid heat pooling in his gut.

More, more, more. His mind is pleading. For the love of god, don't stop.

She shoves her fingers under his jacket and yanks at it. He lets her go to undo the buttons so that it doesn't tear, uncaring of where said jacket goes as she flings it off of him. She scrambles for the buttons of his shirt, trembling, and he pushes her throw off her shoulders and leans down to taste the naked flesh at her neck.

"Oh!" She gasps, arching into him. Her fingers pause for a second as she heaves in a heavy breath.

He continues to suck a mark into the skin below her jaw.

She continues her desperate attempts at his buttons. "Hel-Help me." She demands, and he finishes undoing the last few buttons for her before shrugging the shirt off.

With his chest bared to her, Orihime pushes towards him again, causing him to stumble back a step or two before he steadies them with his hands on the small of her waist again. She runs her hands up and down his back, leaving trails of heat in her wake, moaning as he continues to work at her neck.

She pulls at the hem of her dress, almost frustrated. "Please-"

He reaches to her back and slides down the zipper for her. The dress falls about her feet like a giant white flower- the birth of Venus, as it were. She's left in her shift- no bra.

He lets her press her bare chest against his, shivering at the unexpected shock it sends into his system. He feels desperate- drowning- on fire; with the need of her.

He's moaning as she rakes her nails over her shoulder, demanding, "More."

He attacks her lips like a man possessed, so wrapped up in the feeling of her tongue and teeth, in the taste of her cheery lip balm, that he doesn't notice her undoing the button to his pants and pulling the zipper down. She tugs at his belt loops, trying to pull them down, and he pauses kissing her in order to back away a step in order to work out of his trousers and socks. She tugs off her shift at the same time, hungrily eyeing him in the din. In their underwear only, she jumps at him, wrapping her legs around his hips and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

He stumbles back and slams into the wall, but it hardly registers. He turns and pins her next to her open bedroom door, his hips working against her in slow circles. She bucks against him, crying out once as he sinks his teeth gently into the flesh just above her right breast. He smooths it over with his tongue and she grabs his hair, forcing him back up to kiss her again.

"Ulquiorra," She pants agains his lips. "Ulquiorra." She runs her hands through his hair, tugging and pulling until he's growling into her open mouth, aching and desperate and consumed by the white-hot heat that's spreading from stomach and into his bloodstream.

He dips his head down under the influence of Orihime's hands, mouth catching her nipple and drawing it between his teeth carefully. He applies a tiny bit of pressure and she scrambles for purchase at his shoulders, hands clenching hard against his muscles as she arches against him and lets out a sound close to a sob.

When he starts sucking she begins to shake. "Oh, oh, Ulquiorra, oh my god. Ah!" She reaches one hand up to pull her own hair, other hand pressing nails into his neck as she holds him against him. "Shit." She whispers. "Shit, shit, oh, fuck, Ulquiorra."

He pulls off of her; a long string of saliva bridging between her skin and his bottom lip. He licks small circles against her with the tip of his tongue for a second, holding back a quirk of his lips when she starts to shiver and pant again. He never took her to be a woman with a dirty mouth, but it suites her, somehow.

"I want to- let's-" She tugs his hair until he stops what he's doing to look up at her. She's red to the roots of her hair and it looks good on her. He can barely see the iris of her eyes, her pupils are so huge, and her lips are plump and kiss-bruised. "I need."

He gets what she's hinting at, but to be sure, says, "What is it that you want?" And if it's also because hearing her say it will star in his dreams until he dies, well, that's between him and his pride.

"Carry me to my bed," she says. Her voice is hoarse and gravely; enough to make him impossibly aroused. He could do this forever. "Please."

"How polite." He recalls her previous incarnation demanding without remorse, but then, he'd deserved as much.

He pushes the thought out of mind when he starts to consider her demanding and commanding things of him now, and finds that the idea is a little too appealing to be focusing on at the moment. Later, perhaps- should he be so lucky.

He turns, holding her up with two hands on her ass, and moves towards her unkept bed. He lets her fall on the mattress, taking in the bounce of her breasts as she lurches up to pull him down on top of her again. He goes willingly, holding himself up with a hand on either side of her head as they crawl back to let her rest her head against the pillows.

She nips his lips and kisses him again, again, again. She presses hard against him, eyes closed, panting every time they draw apart. She lifts a leg and slings it over his hip, pulling him down forcefully against her. Her sex is hot even through the cotton of her underwear; white and lacy with a bow in the center. She presses boldly against him, causing him to bow his head over her shoulder and groan at the sensation. She rubs herself against his erection, hands holding him carefully, her leg keeping him in place. He's shaking with the effort to keep himself up and stay still for her.

"Come on," she pleads, and her fingers slip under the hem of his briefs. "I've waited so long," she says, nonsensically, and looks briefly puzzled by her own words before saying them again, with more conviction and need, "I've waited so long."

He wonders if she really has.

He certainly did.

Ulquiorra backs up to the foot of the bed, standing to step out of his underwear. He doesn't stand around to let her admire him for long. He slinks back up over the bed, taking the bow of her underwear between his teeth and tugging at them. She lifts her hips, breath shuddering through her entire body. They come off slowly, but easily, and he opens his jaw to let them drop into his hand before he tosses them behind his back, not caring where they land.

She's leaning over to rummage through her bedside table- for condoms, he assumes- so he leans forward and gently bites her hip bone. She bucks against him, a sharp gasp falling from her lips. It's not one of surprise.

He worries the skin with his teeth and tongue, closing his eyes when she starts pulling his hair with her hand again. He can hear her other hand's search becoming much more frantic as she knocks things out of the drawer.

"F-found it!" She declares, and then throws the condom at his face. He lets it fall on her belly and gives her a one-eyed glare for a second before pulling off her hip and sitting up. He shakily opens the package, tossing the wrapper into the bin next to nightstand, and then rolls the condom on.

"Come on, come on," she urges him. She plants her heels at the small of his back, trapping him between her legs.

He lets himself be manhandled- her hand soft and hot against his cock as she guides him along. She's a little eager and they fumble for a second, Orihime nervously giggling, but when he's finally inside they both have to stop as they groan.

He rests his head against her shoulder. She clutches his head and shimmies her hips until he's bottomed out. She's wet and hot and tight, so fucking good, god, if they'd done this back in Los Noches he may have turned against Aizen in the end. He's done this before, he's sure, even if his human memories are lost to him- he doesn't remember all his years as a hollow and this feels familiar. He gives an experimental roll of his hips and gasps into her shoulder.

"That's nice," she breathes, petting his hair. "Oh, Ulquiorra."

He starts to move. Slow, steady strokes that have her breathing airily- eyes glazed over with pleasure as she holds his head, his shoulders, strokes his hair, palms his ass, rubs his calves with her toes.

"Don't be so gentle." She says, even though she sounds like she can barely catch her breath- he's no better. "You've never treated me like I'll break before, don't start now."

He takes her demands in stride, reaching up to brace himself with one hand on her headboard so he can put more force into his thrusts. The first one is harder than he'd intended and she yelps, nearly a shout, head tilted back as she relocates her hands to his back.

"Yeah, yeah like that- please, come on." She eagerly moves her hips to meet him, urging him on to a faster pace.

He's not going to last long at all. With the doubled pace and force, he can feel sweat collecting at the small of his back and at his temples. Her nails rake trails of fire through the skin of his back as she cries out, sweaty and heady with lust. He almost feels like he can't stay in his own body- like he wasn't equipped to deal with something that feels so damn good.

He comes with a startled shout, collapsing on top of Orihime. She takes his weight easily, shaky hands carding through his sweaty hair. He only lets himself rest for a moment, though; he knows she didn't finish. He pulls away from her despite her sad noise of protest.

"Ulquiorra-"

He pulls out and starts backing towards the edge of the bed. He ties the used condom and tosses it in the wastebasket. He puts his hands under her thighs, lifting and parting them.

She goes impossibly redder. "O-oh, it's okay, really, you don't have to do that."

"I want to," he says. He pauses. "If you will allow me."

"Oh… okay." She hides her eyes and nods. "I mean. If you want to."

"I do," he says, and kisses the inside of her thigh. He leans into her, face to her sex, and opens his mouth.

It doesn't take much. He sucks at her clit, rolling his tongue over it as he goes, two fingers crooked inside of her and moving in time with his mouth. She barely seems to breathe, thighs beginning to quake as she holds on hand in her hair, one hand in his. She tugs urgently, breathing, "Almost, almost, almost-"

She comes apart with a sob, mouth falling open as her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs clutch around his head in a vice, but he keeps at it until she's jerking idly in his grasp, frantically pulling breaths in through her open mouth.

"Stop- stop." She pulls his hair as her thighs relax around him. "Too sensitive," she breathes.

He climbs back up to hover above her, granting her a chaste kiss. She wrinkles her nose at him and then laughs. "Thank you."

"Hm?"

"For. For all of that." She shrugs. Reaching back up she pulls him back down for an open-mouthed kiss, which he willingly indulges her in. "Would you like to stay the night?"

"I have no pajamas," he says, logically. He wishes he could stay.

She laughs. "I'm not putting clothes on, so…"

He catches on. He lifts himself up and slips under the covers, and she does the same, lying with her back open to him. She grabs his hand and pulls it over her waist until her back is snugly fitted to his front.

"Night, Ulquiorra."

He leaves a kiss behind her ear. "Goodnight, Orihime."

-o-

He wakes up to Orihime staring at him. Her hair's been washed and she's sitting in a bathrobe at the edge of the bed, eyes unblinking as she studies him.

He opens his mouth to say something.

"I didn't think you could sleep." She said. "But that's right. I've seen you asleep before."

He swallows.

"Back when you wore white." She says. "Back when… when you were…" She pauses, and then shakes her hand. "I'm sorry. I must sound insane."

"Not at all." He lifts a hand and cups her face, affection surging through him unexpectedly. "There is more to life than what these eyes see." It's taken him a long time to figure out, but it's true.

She swallows. "Ulquiorra… you died. Didn't you?"

He sits up. She slips to his side, eyes downcast and lip between her teeth. He cards a hand through her hair. "So did you." He says. "And I was merely… moved." He remembers an endless nothingness, like his time impaled on that white tree, and then suddenly blinking awake, in a body that looked like his, moved like his, acted like his… but was human. He awoke with information on who he was, he awoke with his name, and he awoke with blurry memories of human life up until then- a life that didn't belong to him. It had been Ichigo Kurosaki's request, finally following through- life for the Espada.

But Orihime really had died. At least, his Orihime had. He felt sort of dirty, thinking that he was just with another copy of her. His feelings would always win out in the end, though- he'd fallen into a trap.

He loved her.

"I did… I was." She looks confused. "I know hell exists, and I know how to get there," she says, quietly. "Why?"

He sighs. "There are things I cannot answer for you, Orihime."

"But you did. You used to tell me everything- even things that I didn't want to hear. I remember. You… I hit you. You wouldn't stop." She shakes her head. "And I know all these people that I never met. I know Mr. Kurosaki and I know Mrs. Kuchiki and- and I know the nice old man from Mexico who runs the animal shelter but I've never been to Mexico and-"

"The soul knows more than the body." He says, simply. He puts his index finger to the middle of her forehead. "Your soul is strong. It remembers things it shouldn't."

"But you- you remember." She nods. "You remembered me. Just like they all do. Just like Kurosaki and Kuchiki! Just like- just like the woman from the bank. Just like those strange people who don't get old, the people who show up and they leave and… and…"

"I cannot tell you what's happened to you." He says, softly. "But you are not crazy. And I did know you, before you knew me."

"…" She stares at him, almost shattered. "When?" She asks, desperately.

"Many, many years ago. Time does not move here the way it does in other places. But you were younger than you are now. I was about the same age. And you… you were something else."

She blinks. "Something else?"

He struggles to think of a way to describe it to her. He settles on, "Have you ever woken up in the dark, even though it was day time?"

She furrow her brow, but nods.

"When it happens like that, have you ever cracked open the blinds? That's… that's what it was like. A world of darkness around a single slant of light. Something else in the universe you didn't know could exist."

"I'm confused," she admits.

"You were…" He can't tell her outright. It's forbidden. "You were the only living thing in my world."

For a second she doesn't react. Slowly, though, her mouth opens- slack- as her eyes go wide. She stumbles up and out of bed, but he can't move. He doesn't know what to do.

She starts to breathe hard and then says, "Sand. I remember the sand. And. I- I remember that-" She pauses, brows drawn together, face painted in angst. "You hurt me."

He swallows. "I did."

Eternity stretches out between them.

She doesn't meet his eye, but she gestures to the door. "I think… I think you should leave."

He dresses in silence. He leaves without further provoking her. He heads back to his apartment and takes a long, long shower, wondering how the hell Kurosaki survived past eighteen with so much grief and pain weighing down his shoulders.

-o-

"Kinda fucked up, right?" Grimmjow is pushing his microwave meal around the tray, almost bored, but not quite there. "Like you fucking come back to life and you're all purposeless and shit and like you find the princess after all that fucking time and she's like actually nah you should go. Past princess wouldn't have cared if you'd like. I don't know. Kidnapped her the old fashioned way with like a burlap sack and screaming she would have been like 'ohhhh you poor guy here let me heal you how could this be?' And like. Yeah."

Ulquiorra glares at Grimmjow. He wonders if, somehow, after everything, they're actually sort of friends. And if they are, what does that say about Ulquiorra? If Grimmjow is his only friend, he might as well not even have any. "She's making the right choice."

"All I'm sayin' is that it's. It's fucked up I dunno." He takes a drink from a juice box, because even in new life Grimmjow has to be a fucking moron. "Boom box her. Say-Anything-her. Don't just like be like okay bye and… and let her just waltz off to her next death. You know?"

Grimmjow doesn't make sense. It's a universal rule. "She has had enough misery at the hands of men who would wish to posses her." He says. "I will not be one of them."

Maybe he's learned how to be human after all.

-o-

It's four in the morning. No one should be knocking on his door, but there's the noise- unignorable because of the possibility that it's Orihime, despite the fact that its been weeks since he's last seen her. Ulquiorra steels himself, preparing for a drunk Grimmjow, or an idiotic neighbor, or even Kurosaki- but it is her, by some impossibility.

She's wearing a pair of pajamas that are a shout to her former life- buttons, and cute characters and peach and yellow. Her hair is braided. He's never seen it braided before. And she's wearing rain boots, for some reason.

"It's late," he sighs. She must be in some kind of trouble. And he'll be there for her- he always will- but damn he's going to have a long day at work when morning finally comes.

"Kurosaki hurt me," she blurts.

He'd been rubbing his eyes, but at the words his hand drops. A cold thread of fury and dread spools in his stomach. "What?"

"Back- back then." She swallows. "Not. I remember- he. He turned into a monster and he hurt me. He hurt me and he- he ripped you apart, Ulquiorra, he- he pulled your wing right off. And Ishida- he hurt Ishida. He almost killed us. And I…" She shakes her head. She's trembling, clearly on the verge of tears. "I let it happen."

He can honestly say he doesn't want to deal with this. He can imagine himself sighing, saying 'go home, woman, go back to bed.' But he's a sucker for her, and so instead he says, "come in," and makes way for her to pass him so he can close the door. He locks it and is glad that she doesn't seem wary of it. She can leave any time she likes.

"And you tried to protect me." She's babbling. "You really did and you- you saved us. You saved Ishida and I even though you wouldn't save yourself. Ulquiorra-"

"Sit." He brushes past her to his sparsely decorated living room, gesturing at the couch.

She does. "What do I do? How do I-"

"You don't fear me." He starts. "You never have. You never will."

"I know. I just- when I remembered that… that you were so harsh to me, I didn't want it to be like with Shu again and I… I didn't remember that there was more to it. I mean, what you did was wrong. And if you did it again-"

"That was another life." He says, simply. "Never again. Tea?"

"… Yes please."

He walks into the kitchen and starts the hot water, pulling out two cups and saucers. He's not sure how much Orihime remembers, but she'll have to muddle through it mostly on her own. As it was then, he can only help her so much- he has his orders. He has his chains.

"I don't even know who Ishida is." She says, from the living room.

"He was your friend." He says. He thinks about it for a moment, trying to recall if the man is still alive or not, and comes up blank. He knows that the strong-arm from the Hueco Mundo invasion lives relatively close; he owns the animal shelter and he teaches self-defense on the weekends. He's a very old man, though, and not unreasonably close to death. "You had many friends who came to rescue you from me."

"… from you?"

He pours the tea and comes back out to the living room, setting both cups down on the coffee table. "I was a soldier." he says. "And I was tasked with keeping you contained."

"Oh." She nods. "I thought I was in prison or something and you were just. I don't know. A very mean warden."

"Your only crime was the power you were born with. No fault of your own."

She picks her tea up and sips at it, wincing when it burns her bottom lip. For a moment, they're silent, but then she sighs. She sets her cup back down and curls up on his couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She stares out the window, just past his face. "I…" She licks her lips. "I think I was falling in love with you when you died."

He says nothing.

"And I think I fell out of love with Kurosaki when he killed you." She pauses. "I know I was in love with him. I even had a weird old-guy crush on him when I first met him. You were older than me, before, weren't you? But now I'm the older one, I think."

"Just barely." But that's neither here nor there, and it hardly matters anymore.

She sighs. "What do we do?"

"I will live as I have. What you do is up to you."

She shuffles closer to him on the couch and tentatively takes his hand. He allows it, going as far as to twine their fingers together. "When we met I felt like everything finally made sense." She said, quietly. "Like I'd been looking for you my whole life. And now I'm so confused."

He stays quiet.

"You can't tell me what happened, can you?"

"I have been pardoned so far. I cannot afford to step out of line after all the crimes I have committed. The ramifications will fall now that I am no longer being controlled by another."

"Okay." She leans into him, head on his shoulder, and lets out a shuddering sigh. "When I was little I never dreamed that my life would turn out like this. I always thought I'd find some beautiful prince and he'd be- he'd be everything I was looking for and we'd just skip off into the sunset and have a billion babies and a bird and a horse and a dog and a cat and. And some fish. I don't know."

"I wouldn't be apposed to some fish," is all he can really get from that.

She laughs and snuggles closer into him. "I… I loved you, you know?"

It makes his heart warm to hear her say it. "If I had been able to, I am sure I would have loved you as well." He'd gotten as close as something like him could have hoped to, as it were. "We have this life to fall in love again. To do it right."

She nods. "I'd like that. You're… you're not like you used to be, are you? You're a person now?"

He nods.

"And you found me through fate. You didn't come looking?"

"I never expected to see you again. I… I had not realized you had died, frankly."

She laughs a little. "A lot of people missed that."

He blinks. "You remember?"

She nods. "I started to dream about my old life when I was in high school. All these little bits and pieces that I usually forgot but… dying is something that kind of sticks with you."

"I am sorry."

She shrugs. "It's okay. You weren't the only one, like I said. I died alone."

He turns to her. "Alone?" It's baffling to think. So many came to save her from death, and yet, no one came when she was dying in reality?

She nods. "I got into a car crash. When I woke up they were telling me I didn't have very long left to live- a couple of hours. I'd torn one of my main arteries and I was bleeding internally, there was nothing they could do. For some reason, I think I was looking for… for some fairies, but they'd been taken off with my clothes, and so I couldn't ask them to heal me. I thought about asking the nurse to get them, but I was so tired, Ulquiorra… it was too much. Healing myself was just too big a hassle and so… I just let go."

He slips his arm over her shoulder, holding her to his body.

"I don't want to go like that again. I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be." he promises.

When she kisses him, it's like the old her would have- sad and soft, with a hint of healing. He takes her to bed and in the morning, she stays.

-o-

"You're a good man, Ulquiorra." She leans over the counter and kisses him, once, twice, three times. She draws back and smiles, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"Dinner at six, then." He smiles. He is a good man. He's a man in love. He's a man who smiles and brings his girlfriend flower seeds on their anniversary and takes her out to dinner, because that's what humans do. Because that's what he wants to do.

"Don't be late again." She warns him, though he never has been late before.

"Late?" He muses back, leaning over the counter, just to be closer to her.

"Yes." She says. "After all. You're the one who took his time, being reborn."

"I'll do it again," he promises. "In our next life. It's what you would deserve for teasing me so, woman."

"Hm... our next life." She laughs a little. "I like the sound of that. Us, continuing on, and on, and on."

"Yes." He agrees, heart swollen. "Without an end in sight."

"It certainly does have a nice ring to it." She muses. She kisses him again. And again. And again.

-o-

Fin