This idea has been gnawing at the back of my mind for years now so I'm really excited to finally be getting things into motion. This fic isn't going to be very long and I'm sure there will be sometime between updates. We'll see how it goes.

Warning: Mangled Fate isn't a story meant for the faint of heart. There is talk of abuse and heavy drug use ahead. Do NOT continue if that's too much for you to handle.

Disclaimer: Nah.

Mangled Fate

Chapter One

The meeting of two

He couldn't remember where he was going let alone why he was there in the first place. As he sat with the lights of the subway car flickering overhead, his vision began to shift, began twisting. Maybe he had taken it a bit too far, but then again, didn't he always?

Disconnected from the rest of the world, the man ran a shaky hand through his matted locks. The once bright orange tresses were dulled from lack of care, lack of hygiene during the past few days. The action was a routine at best. Something to keep him tethered to the world of the wakened considering he couldn't seem to stride to join the world of the sober.

Sober. Funny. That was a concept he had long ago forgotten.

The car jerked before coming to a complete stop, the motion causing the male to let out a childlike grunt. He always hated this part.

Not a moment later people began shuffling off, more hurrying through the entryway in overwhelming packs of excitement. Even so, he remained as he was, the ginger having no desire to move as society proceeded to circulate before his very eyes.

Waste of time.

Everything and everyone continued to move on without him, as if he was merely an on looker, not meant to be involved.

It seemed as if that was the perfect explanation for the life he was living.

But he didn't mind. After all, he wasn't a very social person to begin with.

As deep amber orbs moved throughout the car, a bright tabby cat clad in a fedora and cowboy boots gave a sickening smirk from its place on the ceiling, distracting, mocking. With its fangs shining through, the feline's stripes began melting away in colorful droplets, falling onto the unsuspecting passengers below.

Fuck.

There was a moment where he was prepared to voice his warning with a screech, to scream at the group of people to get away from the fancy Cheshire's acid fur.

But then, he remembered.

No, shaking his head, he did his best to ignore the cat. He knew better than to enable the sight. It would only make things worse in the long run.

It wasn't worth the aggravation.

A moment passed as everyone got settled, cramming into place, fighting over seats, but then his head was falling with a thump against the window behind him just as the oversized means of transportation started back up on its rickety tracks.

Life persisted, tunnels darkened, and the sounds around him hollowed. That was all that was needed. The drastic change made it clear that he was drifting once more, a way of life he had long ago became accompanied to. The only way of life he could remember. But even now, it hurt. Everything hurt. They were wearing off—his means of immortality. He'd need more soon…but where? He still couldn't remember.

Soft tides and burning flesh followed while a presence made itself known beside him, someone taking a seat to his right. Uncaring, ambers closed weakly.

Why did things always turn out like this?

Just as the notion rounded its ugly head, his mouth dropped open, left agape. This was his fate, being left to deteriorate within himself. The spiky headed man didn't bother taking much notice as the movements continued on at his side, too tired to worry, too gone to care.

What was he doing here, again?

Hmm.

No. That didn't matter. He had more important things to worry about.

With as much effort as he could muster, his brain began to sputter, attempting to come up with some sort of conclusion, a way to find his next fix.

Where?

To say it took him a moment would have been an understatement. But finally; Ohhh, That's right—his sanctuary.

Brows scowling, it was with a jerk of remembrance that the male knew he had to go home. He had more there. The thought surfaced rather abruptly as his mind evened out without warning. But then, just as quickly as the notion came, his psyche was sent wandering off once again.

It wasn't very surprising. Clarity never lasted long.

However, even as honey browns crinkled open and the spiders only he could see began singing Christmas carols from their place against the walls of the subway car, home still remained, circulating in his head. Yes, that had to be why he was here. He was going home. It was the only thing that mattered.

More—

While he focused on his plan, a plan to find what he was looking for, a shuffle of paper sounded at his side, progressing. It may have been slight but the sound was just loud enough to cause all manageable thoughts to leave him.

He gave a soft growl of frustration. Fucking shit.

Head lulling towards the disturbance, a heavy snarl twisted into place.

He was going to give the bastard a piece of his mind—

The ginger blinked in surprise, the petite form before him clicking within his clouded state like an instant slap to the face.

A girl?—Well, so it seemed.

Another page was turned.

Focus.

Yes, a girl had taken a seat, next to him.

How peculiar.

With a shake of his head, he remembered the stares. He was often portrayed as the strange man of the subway. Taking this route home, almost daily, he had quickly become quite the usual sight of disgust among the locals. And that was truly saying something given their raunchy location within the fallen city.

It was all out of his control.

Not once had someone dared to join him, to accompany him. They would much rather stand, far, far away than sit beside him and deal with his strange, unstable ways.

And yet, she hadn't flinched at the sight of him. She had even joined him.

What was her story?

An oversized sweatshirt nearly drowning her form and a simple black skirt falling to rest mid-thigh, the girl was a tiny thing. That was the first characteristic he noted as slender fingers plucked at the pages of the novel resting in her lap.

A young girl reading on the subway—in all honesty, there wasn't anything abnormal about her.

Well-kept eyebrows furrowed as she skimmed over the page with a far off stare. So, he wasn't the only one that got lost within his head.

But it was something else altogether that gained the ginger's attention. Short midnight locks were shadowing her cheeks, her jaw; a soft wave of silk, entrancing.

It was enough. Without a word, his mind was engrossed. The male was helpless to do anything other than watch her every action within his dazed state of prescription medication.

But watching her—that was easier said than done. Heavily dilated browns blinked once more, trying to bring her into full focus despite the effects of his every day tendency still holding strong.

It was as if he was looking through a distorted window, the glass quivering with every movement seen. It made his eyes water and his throat dry, but even so, she was mesmerizing.

He just couldn't look away.

Beautiful.

Time passed and the fact that he was blatantly gawking at this woman hadn't fully registering in his mind.

But it had registered eventually, to her at least. "Do you need something?"

Her voice was simple, forthcoming and light, the deep tone causing the man to shift in confusion ever so slightly. He hadn't expected her to take notice—no one ever took notice. It seemed fair enough to say that she had thrown him off-balance.

He tilted his head, taken aback. But that frozen, bewildered, moment only lasted a moment longer before he was turning to face her completely, ambers full of blinking curiosity as he tugged forth a well-used deck of playing cards from his grungy jacket pocket.

"Wanna play?"

The crowd had been heavy, disconcerting, as the sound of subway breaks gave a noisy squeak. She was careful to avoid any possible collisions, the book she had found forgotten at the bus stop earlier in the week clutched tightly to her chest as she broke through the group of pedestrians. The people were being herded like cattle into the shiny, restricted vehicle, as if life's endlessness was all that mattered.

Then again, she wasn't one to talk.

The doors swooshed closed behind her and the woman gave a grateful sigh. She had done just as the vision had portrayed; each action precise and nerve-wracking. But it had all been worth it. She was safe now, away from those people. The people who had deemed her a mistake, a loon, they could no longer hurt her.

She was finally free.

The citizens took to the seats around her and the female knew she needed to follow suit the best she could, still unsure of the ways of the outside world.

Even so, there weren't many choices available—a place beside a creepy man leering her way, smelling of rum and cigarettes. A spot next to a glaring punk with far too many tattoos and piercings, or a seat beside a homeless woman with only a handful of teeth still intact and a twisted twinkle in her one good eye.

None of her options seemed very appealing.

As the subway started up, people seemed to be gazing at her, almost as if they were questioning her decision, judging hotly.

It brought forth an inner panic.

So, to avoid further attention and suspicion, her gaze fell to another empty seat she had missed during her earlier scanning, a dull bench tucked away in a far corner.

And there, along that far off bench, sat a man, his head resting against the coolness behind him, a pained frown marring his handsome features.

But it wasn't his unmistakable good looks that gained her interest. It was his hair. Bright orange locks messy, greasy, and untamed, looking as if he hadn't showered in days.

And maybe he hadn't.

She couldn't help but watch him. His strong arms were crossed, fingers digging into the material of his jacket. He looked nearly out of place in the swarm of people buzzing about. As if he was lost and forgotten, just as she was.

Sit. A dark voice hummed within her, Safe.

And she did—without question. She never had to consider that voice's call.

The man didn't move a muscle as she joined him and she did her best to do the same despite the strange pounding in her chest. As the subway continuing on its course, the girl set her focus on the novel now in her possession.

She needed a distraction.

The book was tugged open and soon, eyes, a mismatched set, one a deep blue-violet, the other, a bright sea green, followed the words presented, near obsessively.

For that short while, nothing else mattered.

It was such a good story that she soon found herself lost within the fairy tale, reality forgotten. A tale of monsters, and warriors fighting for humanity's survival, and even though she knew the ending, the book long since being finished, she still found tension building with each turn of the gritty paper.

It seemed so far away; this world of the imagination. All the same, reading was enough. It felt as if she was there, beside the fictitious superheroes.

It had been refreshing but calm hardly ever lasted more than a few content heart beats.

How long had she sat beside the bright headed man before the words began popping out from the pages? It couldn't have been very long, only a chapter or two but she was never fully prepared for the switch, for the realization. It caused the girl to bite at her lower lip, palms grasping at the hardcover tightly, shaking.

She didn't want to go there again. She didn't want to know—it was what made her an enormity, the reason they had locked her away.

She was just so tired.

Seeing the unknown wasn't worth her sanity.

Her gaze was bending despite her inner pleads, the paraphrases set before her becoming hazy with each gasped breath she forced into her icy lungs.

Damn it—again?

Another vision. That was the only explanation. They always came when she least expected it, when she wanted nothing else but to be seen as normal. The chiming daze burned at her tender temples, bile rising to the back of her throat.

It was during times like these that she would often consider their words. Maybe, just maybe, she was insane after all.

Because this—this was all unescapable.

A room filled with rundown furniture, scattered cans of beer, prescription pill bottles and bloody needles were projected along the seams of her mind. It was clearly a place she had never seen before, which wasn't really a surprise. That's how these stories usually began. But it was the sight of clothes—her own and a man's—skewed about the apartment floor in random heaps that caused concern.

Now, why would she—

Arms that were nothing but wiry veins, skin, and bone covered in deep scars— needle marks. She couldn't help eyeing them with pained concern.

"Those look like they hurt."

Deep honey browns moved to meet her gaze, a gentle smile breaking free. "Only sometimes."

Maybe it had been his stare that caused her to jolt back to reality, she wasn't sure, but as quickly as the images stared to unwind before her, everything halted and she was back in the subway, safe and sound.

It almost gave her whiplash, but then again, she was rather use to it.

With her book still clutched in hand, the female didn't bother looking up. She already knew what she would find.

She could feel his gaze burning through her.

"Do you need something?"

Her words hadn't been harsh, or irritated in the slightest. To be more precise, her response was the exact opposite of that of an average person's reaction when being stared at by some random guy on the subway.

She just hoped he didn't notice her forced tone that enlaced the question.

The bright headed man turned towards her then, his stare even more intense than before. His cloudy eyes were filled with curiosity.

Flipping her book closed, she glanced up at him, meeting his stare without thought. The browns she had seen only moments before, from a time in the future, caused her to swallow thickly. Fuck. Was he—?

The man gave a bewildered blink, like a confused puppy with bright, fluffy, orange fur. The adorable action pushed away her fear and, deep down, calmed her own curiosity that was playing within her chest. That didn't matter—the future. Not yet, anyway.

Shifting closer, almost timidly, the girl noted his overly concentrated movements, the mere action of pulling something from his pocket taking far too much focus.

It was concerning in a way but something was beyond familiar about this man.

Pushing that strange thought aside, it felt right, as if this moment had been waiting for them, predetermined.

Now, she hadn't known what she was expecting when he had reached into his jacket but a deck of cards sure as hell wasn't it.

He was clearly one big surprise.

"Wanna play?"

His almost childlike enthusiasm caused a simple smile to find its way onto her lips.

"Sure."

He never thought anyone in their right mind would agree to such a strange request. This girl was full of surprises.

As her book was set aside, the deck was shuffled.

His hands, a sickly boney set of tan skin, carefully distributed the piles of cards along the empty bench space between them. Her eyes followed the movements. It felt like, this was them. As if they were old friends coming together to enjoy a simple children's game.

They didn't worry about the small details.

Not much was said as a game of War ensued. Maybe that had been odd. But then again, maybe the fact that they were playing a card game on a subway train was even more bizarre. Conversely, they didn't really mind. They were both used to the disapproving looks.

Time passed and just as the large hunk of metal began to slow, the never-ending tunnel breaking into light, the most beautifully unique set of mismatched eyes moved to meet his gaze.

"I'm Rukia."

It took a moment for her words to set in, a tightness digging into his chest at the sound of her soft introduction.

Though, he hadn't though much of it at the time.

"I'm Ichigo," The ginger replied, a small grin in place, "It's nice to meet you."

The girl gave a smile of her own, head tilting to the side, questioning, "So, are you going to invite me over?"

Deep chocolate eyes that had been focusing on gathering the heap of cards scattered before them, shot up, her bluntness clearly taking the man by surprise.

"W-what?" He managed to choke out through a startled gasp of air. That had been the last thing he had anticipated.

His question must not have been for her because Ichigo didn't allow her time to reply as his eyes scrunched up, the male giving her a double take as his hands abandoned cleanup and found his face, rubbing. All she could do was watch on, nearly bewildered as he mumbled to himself.

"Did we... Were we…What?" With ambers now staring down at the subway floor, his large fingers moved to bright locks, tugging harshly at the ends.

Rukia shook her head timidly. "I'm sorry," She started, a tint of red staining her cheeks, "I didn't mean to scare you." Really, she hadn't.

She had only wanted to push the present forward, to the future that she foresaw.

She wanted to know.

The seat was cold and the girl had momentarily forgotten that she wasn't wearing pants. She shifted slightly, tugging down her skirt. "I've been told that I'm overly honest and direct, not to mention that I apparently suffer from Schizophrenia, delusions, and borderline Asperger Syndrome."

His mouth fell open, and then closed before a hesitant chuckle fell from his lips. "Um…right." The ginger shook his head, amazed. "I figured you were just humoring me with the cards…but now... Do we know each other?"

Again, she shook her head. "You don't know me. Well, now you do I suppose..."

His eyes wouldn't focus and Rukia had to tint her head to meet his wandering gaze.

"I'm…" He rasped, hands rubbing at his face, biting into skin, "I'm just too fucked up for this." He finally admitted lowly, as if it were a great big secret. Then, something entered his mind, something drastic but entirely understandable.

"Are you real?" The man asked, eyes narrowing darkly while the deck of cards was packed into its box of cardboard.

Despite his fluctuating mood, she gave a smile, "Yes."

People were piling out of the subway car all around them and Ichigo realized they had finally come to a complete stop.

As Rukia stood, he frowned deeply. Hands moved to bury themselves in his jean pockets, musing; "I've had a lot of hallucinations. They never ask to come home with me. They just always kinda follow."

The girl reached forward, helping him to his feet, "Can I come over anyway?"

Ichigo sighed as he allowed the tiny raven haired girl to pull him into the crowd, the two of them heading for the subway's doors with careful steps.

As foggy orbs eyed the now stripe-less feline that was watching on, the animal clearly amused with itself as it let out a hearty laugh, the ginger gave a weak shrug, "Yeah, if you want to."

Completely unaware of his sadistic mental images, she grinned up at him teasingly, "I want to."

That was all he needed. Warmth flooded him and the guffawing cat no longer mattered. Nothing else seemed to matter.

Nothing but her.

"Alright," Honey browns dancing, the man moved his hands to her shoulders, steering her towards the exit, "Then let's go home."

/To Be Continued/

Preview for chapter two:

She pressed into his side with a cheery hum and Ichigo questioned if there was any possible way to trick his mind, a way to force his consciousness into only seeing her, rather than his usual batch of madness. Even if she was only a figment of his imagination, he wanted her to stay. That way, he could put her in a graceful music box and keep her forever.

A/N I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about this one. Not just because it's a completely new story, but because of the obvious sensitive topics involved.

So, my lovely readers, please, please, review and let me know what you think. It'll really help put my mind at ease, not to mention push for quicker updates. :D