Characters: Orihime, Ishida
Summary: A merciful lie.
Pairings: Ishida x Orihime
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers
Timeline: Post-manga
Author's Note: This is the final installment in the quartet. The first was Castles in the Air, the second, Afflict, and the third, Freeze. Please go read those before reading this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Snow's gathering on the sills, glistening white powder drifts growing higher and higher, and the cold sends searching fingers through the glass; Orihime can feel them wrapping around her arms and legs, tight and possessive and she pulls her light gray sweater closer about her, shivering.
Orihime waits until she can't hear Ryuuken's hollow footsteps or feel his piercing, frigid glare to move, waits until he's gone and taken his brooding storm cloud with him. She's noticed how both father and son put their hands in their pockets at times, though possibly for different reasons; it's telling, really.
Biting her lip, Orihime stares down the bone-white hall, flat and two-dimensional and starkly unnatural like a plastic skeleton, watching, and waiting. Breathing catching just a little, heartbeat starting to race, her hand quavers on the door but ultimately pushes it open by her fingertips, with the sort of slowness best reserved to a B-list horror movie.
Surprise strikes her when she sees that Ishida's still sleeping, though his glasses are gone—removed and resting on a stand near the bed—and he wakes up when Orihime pulls a chair, legs squeaking shrilly against the linoleum floor, up to the bed and sits down.
His eyes are heavily lidded and he can barely pull them open. "Hello, Inoue-san."
Orihime reaches for his hand and grips the limp fingers tightly in her own, smiles weakly and tries to keep her voice steady. His skin's so cold. "What did your father want?"
"He was here?" It's a credit to how strong whatever painkillers and antibiotics and sedatives he's on that Ishida doesn't treat this revelation with alarm or stiffen or suddenly become painfully wary and over-alert. Nearsighted blue eyes are slightly clouded as they stare up at her. "I guess that explains where my glasses went."
This causes Orihime to let out a sound that sounds somewhere between a nervous giggle and a sob. "You look different without your glasses, you know," she half-whispers, unable to keep her voice from shaking anymore.
He does. The shape of his face seems less well-defined without his glasses, blurry and softer.
Ishida winces and throws his eyes around the room, squinting. "Well, I prefer to have them on, so if you know where they are and you don't mind…"
Orihime reaches over and hands the glasses to him, and, somewhat awkwardly with only one free hand, Ishida slides them back up the bridge of his nose. Within seconds, his eyes are back in focus and leveled on her face, a strange emotion putting a sheen over his eyes.
"I hope the other one looked worse, at least." Humor is horribly inappropriate in this situation, but Orihime can't think of anything more to say than that. Both understand the inadequacy of the words.
He shrugs and grimaces; Orihime's grip on his fingers tighten, trying to warm up the skin. "Well, I'm not really sure; it all happened so fast."
Now comes the next question, much more serious than the last. "How do you feel?"
"Like I was nearly eviscerated and left for dead; how the hell should I feel?"
Orihime rolls her eyes. "Back to your grumpy self, I see." She bites her lips, eyes burning. "I wish you had just let me do something."
"'Grumpy'"? Ishida gives her a slightly incredulous expression close to a smile but not quite there, and with the second statement, his free hand comes over hers. "Like I said. It would have been suspicious. You're not stupid; you know that. And it's too late now, so it's no use worrying."
False bravado again. What is it with him and false bravado? Orihime shakes her head and stares out the dark window, watching the snow fall. What time must it be? School tomorrow will be nearly unbearable, with the likely minimal amount of sleep she'll be getting tonight.
And how to explain all of this to the others…
"Inoue-san?" When she turns around, there's an uncharacteristically nervous gleam in Ishida's eyes—uncharacteristic because he's not trying to hide it. "While we were…" he looks away "…you know…"
Waiting for an ambulance.
"…did I say anything?" he asks gingerly. His face, if possible, gets a little paler. "Anything that might have sounded weird or stupid or just "out there"?"
Orihime stares at him, eyes sad and mouth slightly open.
He doesn't remember. He might just be fishing, and another might have thought that, but Orihime can see that Ishida genuinely doesn't remember what he said to her. It appears all the blood he lost has messed with his memory, or something.
She weighs her options, pausing. Given the sort of person Ishida is, he would be so mortified if he found out about that slip of the tongue, especially considering he can't even remember at all. She remembers Ryuuken's cold eyes and incisive words, and realizes that he may be a touch sadistic but that he's right about what he said to her.
Ishida would probably never look her in the eye again.
After a moment, Orihime takes a deep breath and smiles weakly. "…No…No, you didn't say anything." Her bangs fall against her eyes slightly. "Why do you ask?"
Ishida lets out a gust of breath, plainly relieved. "That's…that's good." The question makes his cheeks tinge red, slightly, before going back to pale white. "No reason, I was just wondering."
Orihime sighs, and shifts her gaze to stare out the window again.
By morning, the world will be totally unrecognizable for all the seas of snow, promising oblivion and cold.
She lied, but doesn't regret it. And she doesn't let go of his hand.