Title: Bridge Over Troubled Water
Characters: Renji/Byakuya – Urahara (and probably a few others if this becomes a serial.)
Rating: PG13 – likely to turn to M if it continues. (no sex, violence, a lil' bit of swearing, sorta depressing)
Words: 1700ish
Spoilers: All the current Manga might be references.
Summary: The war is over. The cost has been great. Byakuya disappeared years ago and Renji is still looking for his Taichou.
A/N: Okay, so this isn't what I had planned on writing for fanfic today, but what the heck. I was listening to my Simon and Garfunkel collection and one of my favorite songs poured through my headphones - "Bridge over Troubled Water" and out of that I visualized this scene. I then tried to work on other things, but it didn't work, so I had to get this out of my brain first.

(How the story is written: aka read this for better comprehension)
3rd Person POV is Byakuya
1st Person POV is Renji

Bridge Over Troubled Water

His hair had fallen over his face as he begged. Filthy black locks covering the pain in his eyes.

"And why the hell would I give you shit, you fuckin' trash?" the dealer snarled and kicked the homeless man away from him. "I don't give handouts. Karakura is goin' to crap." He walked away, heedless of the man's pleading behind him.

He just needed a hit. Just one. One to stop the hallucinations that seemed to frame every thought in his mind – the people, the voices, anything to get their constant clamoring to stop. When he was at the hospital they gave him medications. None worked. He knew none would work. What he needed was strong opiates… anything to make his mind go blank.

Blood. A sword. Dimming violet eyes full of agony. Cries of pain mixed with red spatter.

He reeled at the images assaulting his mind and felt his back slam against the a wall of the dirty alley. Sliding down the hard surface, long fingers with dirt encrusted nails clawed at the bricks, trying to flee the images that surrounded him.

Madness. Rage. A shock of pink hair stained with red. A small voice calling for her father. Corpses piled high.

The voices now started, he knew they would find him again. They always did.

You failed.
They died.
They all died.
They all died because of you.
Because of you.

All the phrases spoken in deceptively soft tones – surrounding him, taking on a physical presence and touching him with their tendrils. Assuring him that they existed and were reality, his reality. Born out of his failure. He no longer remembered even what his failure was – it no longer mattered. He just wanted it to end. Please let it end.

Bloody hands left the wall and clutched at his head, tearing at his hair again, trying to tear the voices out of him. Trying to rip them out of his consciousness.

And then a voice.

"Taichou?"

--

It had been years since the Winter War ended and Byakuya disappeared. After Rukia was slaughtered in his arms and then Yachiru was beheaded in front of him we all saw him go berserk. Whatever calm he had was lost and written in Seireitei history his foray into madness went down as the turning point in the War.

We had thought we lost the War - Yamamoto had been killed by Aizen himself and it threw our ranks into chaos. It was all too easy for the Espada to round us up like cattle. The Captains were lined up to watch Aizen's brutal executions of their subordinates. He seemed to take some sort of sick delight with Byakuya, stabbing Rukia multiple times and then thrusting her dying body into the arms of her brother. My Taichou cracked then, but didn't break. When Aizen beheaded Yachiru as she whispered, "Ken-chan?" Byakuya's reiatsu exploded in a force even the traitor couldn't match.

It was the catalyst that finally brought everyone out of the shock of Yamamoto being defeated. The War started again, and though bloody, it was won. Afterwards Byakuya was kept in his estate, no one was allowed to see him except for Unohana-taichou. And one day shortly after Aizen's execution, the word spread through Seireitei that Byakuya had disappeared. Just vanished. I had spent years searching Soul Society and the living world, never a flicker of reiatsu or a trace of the man.

I was put in charge of the 6th Division – what was left of it, and tried to do as well as I could in memory of my Taichou. I never thought of him in any other way, even when I stopped noticing my flowing white haori and stopped feeling guilt every time I sat down at his desk. He was always my Taichou, always would be. Then I got a note from Urahara saying that Captain class reiatsu had been felt in a medical facility in Karakura and there was a lot of damage and he'd appreciate it if I would investigate.

Ukitake, Kyouraku and Unohana now led the Gotei 13, sharing equally in responsibility as none of them wanted to be the sole leader. They agreed to let me check out the disturbance, knowing that my hope had never faltered that my Taichou was still alive.

"We're missing one patient. He was some junkie that the police picked up, probably ran back out to get another fix. He signed a bunch of release forms so if you need his file… what organization were you with again?" The doctor was now looking oddly at the tattoos on my face - I grabbed the file from him and left after saying something unintelligible.

Sitting down on the first bench that was free I opened the manila folder. My Taichou was staring back at me in a grainy black and white photo. His hair was disheveled and the eyes were wild, but it was my Taichou. Flipping past all the personal information where "Unknown" seemed to be the only answer, I finally got to the doctor's treatment notes.

Untreatable paranoid schizophrenia. Does not respond to medication. Does not respond to therapy. Violent, aggressive behavior. Restraints highly recommended.

I closed my eyes. Taichou…

--

He looked up at the voice. Red. Red - the colour of pain. The voices yelled out around him again, reminding him of his failure, the red reminding him of his failure, the bodies of the dead surrounded him again and pressed him harder against the wall.

He pushed and ran, ran as fast as he could, as far as he could. He knew that eventually his body would stop and he would collapse, but then there would be peace for a short while, before they caught him again.

--

I hadn't expected to find him so quickly, but the reiatsu that had so long been hidden from me had developed into an easy trail. The alley where it led me was filthy and I tried to step around all the garbage and waste that littered the ground. Taichou wouldn't be here…

A figure was huddled near a stinking dumpster, crouched and leaning against a wall. As I moved closer I could see bloodied white hands tearing at black hair and heard whimpers.

"Taichou?" The man looked up and I saw haunted grey eyes look momentarily into mine before he fled.

Shunpo. Great. Well, at least when he stopped I could find him again. I followed at a slower pace and noted that the sun was starting to set, but I'd be damned if I left after getting this close. Still… was that really Byakuya?

The trail led me around in a semi-circle and ended in a park. At night the park was eerily peaceful with a soft wind and the gentle rustling of the leaves above me. The smell of green seemed to be everywhere, the smell of spring turning into summer. I found my Taichou under a maple where it seemed he had passed out from exhaustion, his hair damp from sweat and his breathing laboured.

I knelt down and stared at him for a few minutes. I had been searching for him for years, but it never crossed my mind what I would do if I ever found him, much less what I would do if I found him in this condition. I picked him up carefully, feeling the bones that pressed with too much force against his skin and gave a sigh – Urahara's was the only place I knew I could go.

As I was making my way to the Shoten I realized that Byakuya was in a gigai, he must have taken his gigai before he left for the living world. He had been in a gigai for years? I knocked on the door of the Shoten, heard a rustle and a puddle of green and white opened the door.

"Renji-san!" The face held the same smile, but the features were older now, lines of grief deep on his cheeks and forehead. The loss of Jinta and Ururu during the War left scars that would never be healed – not even by Yourichi. The smile disappeared when he saw the man in my arms. "Come in."

He led me to one of the back rooms and motioned for me to put Byakuya down on one of the futons on the floor.

"I'm sorry – I didn't know where else to go," I apologized, but he waved it away carelessly.

"You should know that you can come here at any time, Renji-san." He looked at me and I dropped my eyes, not wanting to relive his pain – or mine. Our lives had changed when Aizen brought the War into the real Karakura, when I had almost died trying to keep the Espada away from the two kids. When we all had failed.

"I'll get some things." He walked out and I stared at Byakuya, now seeing him in better light and grit my teeth against the pain of looking at my Taichou reduced to this. His hair was longer now, but clumped and matted from dirt and blood. Patches had been torn out. His clothes were ragged and torn, as if he found them in a garbage bin – maybe he had. Byakuya's hands struck me the most. I had seen him gracefully use kidou, control Senbonzakura, write his perfect calligraphy with a brush – his white hands always flawless and in control. Now they had a constant tremor running through them even in sleep and the nails were cracked and ripped back to the quick.

Urahara was next to me again, I never noticed him come back into the room. He had brought a basin of steaming water and some bandages.

"How long has it been, Renji-san? Eight years?"

"Almost nine."

"He may not be able to get out of that gigai right now. I'll do what I can." I watched him bring out a pair of scissors and start cutting off the remnants of Byakuya's clothing. My head turned away as soon as I saw what Urahara was doing and I realized I did it to spare my Taichou shame. It was a violation I did not wish to impose on him, even unconscious.

--

Movement without moving. The voices were gone for now. No voices, no images – a few seconds of peace. He had opened his eyes briefly to see the world flashing by and felt the arms holding him. Not grasping or beating or pushing or hurting – just holding.

Thank you.

An unspoken thought.

Not sure if I'll be continuing this. The whole story is mostly in my brainmeats already and this is a pretty small part of it, but hopefully it'll be enough to let my own inner demons let me work on other things. Reviews and edits are always welcome. This was a quick write – so any help is appreciated.