DISCLAIMER:

As a character, I own no rights to this world's publication of my life. Those all belong to Tite Kubo, the lucky stiff who crossed the Osamu Tezuka Dimensional Boundary at the right time and, thus, owns us all...

Sad, isn't it?

BETA'D by Rayna Lissesul. Hey, senpai? Stark, dripping wet and slooooowly pulling off his clothes...

Requested by bleedzblackwalz. Hope you like!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lisa?"

She couldn't move. She didn't know what had happened—something had to have happened—but she couldn't move unless she wanted the searing, throbbing pain that had taken over her body to intensify. There were footsteps and loud voices, the voices of the others, and she winced when a pair of cool hands settled across her shoulder, examining a deep wound. She felt that voice, deep and whispery, calling out to her.

Let me out. I can stop the pain.

She turned her head away from the voice, used to ignoring it. The wound wasn't deep. She would live. But as her senses sharpened, she felt the poison of someone's blade seeping into her tissue… the pain was quite simply breathtaking. It burned like fire, lighting a path through her blood and sparking her eyes open. In all her years, she'd never felt anything like it… it was unbearable.

She knew that she should push that voice back. Her friends were above her, looking down worriedly, spiky silver hair standing out to her as she tried to regain the control that was slipping from her grasp like sand.

"Lisa?"

I can keep you from feeling it. You'll sleep; you won't feel a thing.

It was so tempting just to give up and let the voice take over… let it take away the pain. She felt her eyes begin to bleed dark, black energy swirling up from deep inside and taking over. She began to thrash, get away from these humans and kill them, drain every drop of their blood, crush bones between her teeth and gulp sinew like cheap bread—

And then the sensations tore her in two, dragged her out of the painless sleep the voice had lulled her into and back into burning, searing agony. They were holding her down, her friends, her comrades. A blade bit into the skin above her collarbone. She shoved the voice back, whimpering, felt someone kneel and pick her up, cradling her in strong arms. The cool, soft air of the open training area was replaced by the freezing shock of air-conditioning. When she shuddered, there was a deep, smooth voice above her. It was solid, strong, She held onto the sound, though she lost the words.

"Get that A/C turned off. She's going into shock."

"Sure, sure. What else can we do?"

There was a distinct pause as she felt uncertainty take residence in the arms, the stance. "…Go get the first-aid kit, plenty of extra bandages, some cloths and hot water. Bring them to the back room." Then the uncertainty fled; they were moving again. She finally found two words, pulled them out of the water and stared at them, blinking.

Back room.

Lisa felt a whine rise in her throat. The back room was the only place they'd bothered preserving: smooth, easy-to-clean concrete that had been sealed but never painted, occupied by a long, level table and a bed off to the side. They never used the back room. They never needed it. It was for those cases where nothing was going to help—where the battle was lost already, but damned if they'd give up. She felt herself getting colder, became painfully aware of just how small her body was. How little mass it had to hold that heat, the staggering proportion of her to the amount of poison. Her throat closed.

I'm going to die…

The cold, hard metal of the table made her startle and then moan in pain when startling hurt. She was immediately picked back up and held, the voice ringing out again.

"Go get me some towels. It's going to get messy anyway, and the table's too cold for her." A moment later, the metal was covered in rough fabric. She lay back and let sleep take her, mindful to lock the voice away first.

* * *

The next time she woke up, Lisa couldn't remember what had happened. She remembered the pain, but everything else was blank. She didn't even know where she was; it was a struggle just to focus. There was still pain; the pain had woken her up, and she had the feeling that she hadn't actually been asleep for very long. As her senses returned, the pain hit her full-force, crashing down and obliterating everything else. Her eyes snapped open, staring wide and sightless at the red blood and the black poison, the scalding-hot water coursing over the abused flesh and the fire, the pain—she couldn't think—

And that was when she started crying, screaming, reasonable side finally silencing its rant about how dishonorable this was and giving in. The poison stuck, burning, to the tissue, the water slipping across its surface and leaving it untouched. She felt sweat bead her forehead, the tears flowing unbidden from her eyes like water and a high, keening whine rising from her throat. Her muscle control fading, as if she was dying… suddenly, she froze, completely paralyzed. She couldn't breathe; her chest was as still as the rest of her: no breath, no pulse. Her vision whitened to a pure, smooth gray…

"It's not working—it's getting worse!"

"But what—oh, for the love of God! It's a neurotoxin! It's protein... It's insoluble!! Please somebody tell me her heart has stopped!"

She didn't know how she was still hearing—maybe her brain hadn't run out of oxygen yet?—but she recognized the implications. More pain than ever. Something sticky on her chest, near the wound. The voices rising in pitch.

"Okay, clear!"

She mentally braced for the shock, gasping in a breath when it came and allowed her to move again. The pain, though, partway vanished with the tingle of electricity. She sighed in relief as the burning from the poison finally stopped, the electricity leaving her weak and slightly numb. The voices lowered.

"Is she…?"

"She's better than before, at least." Lisa's eyes flickered open at the sound of that voice, grim purpose ringing in a way that made her wonder if it really was worse than it seemed. "Everybody out but Hiyori. We have some work to do."

"What? Why me?!"

There was a sigh. "I'm going to need you to hold onto her for me and keep her calm while I work." Lisa followed him with her eyes, smiling as her breathing slowly returned to a normal rate and her pulse dropped back down. Her glasses had gotten knocked off in the fight and her vision was a series of blurs, but she could still recognize Kensei. She would always recognize him, no matter what: his voice, his image, the feeling of his skin against hers… not that she'd ever had that. But she could imagine; she could dream.

Then she was being moved a little, someone settling her head in their lap and another person carefully slipping the top of her uniform off. She shivered as the cold air hit her skin, struggling up and trying to assess the damage.

Then she saw the blood.

"Oh…"

On the battlefield, Lisa had no problem with blood. She could spill it as well as any other person… it didn't matter. It was just colored water, an expression of who was winning and who was losing the fight. She didn't even mind her own. Not at all; after all, she had to be that way. If she wasn't, who else was going to be the voice of reason?

But away from the field, when there was no reason for its presence, nothing to dissociate from the red, thick and vibrant against the pale, smooth cement… oh, dear lord, she could feel the bile rising in her throat…

"Hey. Don't get pale on me, Lisa…" she tried to focus her eyes forward, to Kensei, lock eyes with him and remember that he was a Captain, he could handle this; she would be fine. He was holding something? What was that? "Come on, don't look at it. Keep still for a second." He leaned forward, and she blinked, still trying to figure out the purpose of what he was holding…

Then, suddenly, she couldn't see. There was Hiyori's voice above her, questioning.

"What was that for?"

The thing—fabric. A bandana?—was secured at the nape of her neck, keeping her eyes covered. She shut them against the close contact, listening. What was going on here…?

"She's fine with blood when she's fighting, you know," he replied. She remembered the day he'd learned that about her. Thinking of him as a Captain sparked her memories… it gave her things about him she'd forgotten, like colors that had faded over time.

"Yeah, I know. So?"

There was a sigh. "But once it leaves that setting… she really can't stand it. It's best if she doesn't see what we're doing." He paused, considering. "…Just keep her still and calm, alright? It should be over pretty soon." She felt Hiyori nod and just lay back, blocking everything out until eventually the lack of stimulation put her to sleep. After all, it wasn't like there was anything she could do. She never could.

* * *

When she woke up later that night, it was to an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. She blinked, glancing around, and wondering why she was so warm. Then she discovered something else: she wasn't alone.

No, she was being held, completely encircled in someone's arms. The entire building was quiet, asleep, and the only audible sounds were their heartbeats. She struggled, trying to find out who was holding her, but the feeling was one she'd dreamed of for years. Even back in Seireitei, she'd dreamed. She'd trained herself straight into the ground, hoping that maybe she'd be worthy enough, a good enough warrior… but she'd realized that it wasn't anything she could do. He was untouchable, a loner, and she'd never reach him. Who was she kidding?

But now…

Now, if only for a moment, if only in a dream—which, she was almost sure, this had to be—she had him. It had to be a dream, but it was incredibly real, and she wasn't going to waste it. She smiled, wrapping both arms around him and pressing as close as she could, enjoying it. Who knew when she'd wake up in her own room, her cold single bed which she refused to admit, even to herself, that she minded, someone sitting beside her who wasn't Kensei—Mashiro, possibly? Hiyori?—and who she really didn't care to see.

If her mind was giving her this dream, then so be it. It might be the only time in her life that she got what she wanted this completely, she mused, even fitting her legs to his and arching into the warmth he was providing…

He responded by tightening his arms around her and rubbing her back. When he touched the bruise she'd gotten from hitting the ground, she whimpered.

"Sssh, it's okay. It's alright…" She froze.

That had actually hurt...

Which mean that this was real.

Oh, no, no, no…

Kensei turned and sat up, pulling her with him. She blushed as she noticed their position: she was sitting in his lap, arms around his neck and her head against his collarbone, his arms around her until he carefully nudged her jaw up to look into her eyes.

"Lisa? What's wrong?" She felt her heart skip a beat as his eyes met hers, worried storm-silver. "Does anything hurt?" She shook her head. "…Are you cold, then?" This time she buried her face in his shoulder, blushing a deep crimson. Cold?! Oh, no, she was far from being cold.

Finally, she found her voice. "Uh… why… why am I here…?"

He blinked, lying back down and holding her close. "The others left to take care of the other Arrancar. I was left here to take care of you… and you were still in shock, so your body temperature needed to be brought up." When he noticed her red face, Kensei smirked. "Why? What did you think I was doing?"

"N…Nothing!" She shook her head, struggling backwards from him in an attempt to put something between them besides a layer or two of cloth bandages.

Couldn't he at least have had the decency not to sleep in those adorably causal sweats, his chest and the tops of his hips bare, and would it have killed him to slip something over her bandages, or switch out her short fuku skirt for the pajama bottoms she always wore to bed? Though, now that she thought about it, the thought of him dressing her was almost as bad… shaking her head, she looked up when for struggling, all she got was pulled back.

"Hey…"

"What?" Kensei pulled her even closer, flipping over so that she was lying on his chest and looking into her eyes, "You're still cold."

She had to admit he was right… she'd been warm, but the heat left her body much more easily. Now that she'd been moving, in fact, she was freezing-cold. Smiling, Kensei tucked the blankets in tighter and stroked her. She felt a shiver move down her spine just beneath his hands, the blood rising to her face again and making her bury her face in the crook of his neck, ashamed.

"There's my girl." He paused, as if trying to decided whether to continue or not. "Lisa…"

She glanced up at him, briefly meeting his eyes. "Yes?"

"…Never mind."

She felt herself taking a deep breath; the reasoning side of her was panicking because it wasn't sure what she was about to do, and quite frankly, she was trying desperately to make herself stop. But it wouldn't work. "Kensei… I have something to tell you."

Then it seemed as if a spigot had been turned open. "I've always… every since we first met, I've always admired you. And working with you never made it any better. I tried so hard to impress you… tried to be a great warrior for so long. Then I finally realized that you just weren't that way. You were a loner. And besides that, you were a Captain, and I was just…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I knew it could never happen. But I couldn't help it…" her voice dropped to a whisper. "Kensei… Please, forgive me… I know, it's stupid, but I just—"

She didn't get any further. Without thinking, Kensei tilted her head up and pulled his down, silencing her with his lips on hers. When they finally broke apart, nearly panting, there was a tense silence. He swallowed hard, trying to work up enough courage. She looked away; he could see the deep blush that went all the way up to her hairline.

He took a deep breath. "You… the way you feel… I always felt the same way…" His voice was shaky, low, as if he expected a reprimand. "Lisa, I wanted you to notice, too… it was exactly the same…"

And at that, she noticed a new light in his eyes. One she'd never before seen for more than a second, at those times when she was fighting and he was watching, and she knew it and was doing her best.

The good times, the old times, golden in her memory with cracks running through them until at some point they shattered, leaving her lying in the arms of the man she'd loved for more than a lifetime, someone who carried those same memories, those whole and cracked, those shattered so completely that only fragments were left.

The building shifted and settled in the night, and she pressed closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck again and savoring the feeling she'd dreamed of all these years. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, gently kissing her and murmuring into her skin.

"Goodnight, Lisa," he whispered.

"Goodnight," she replied, nestling down against his chest and sighing. "Kensei… do you remember that old song? Our song? The one we knew the words to… all the words?"

"From the human world," he whispered, nodding. "I remember. It fit us both so well… we always said that it was perfect except for all that junk about love…"

She smiled. "Yeah. Now it's really perfect… it fits us to a tee." She glanced up. "Do you remember that time in the mountains? When the sunlight was so strong?"

"And we found that little boy who wasn't really lost…"

"Yeah. Or the time we all went to Kansai on that field trip…"

Their memories, shattered and whole, everything in between, came pouring to the forefront. They stayed up until dawn, just remembering, slowly becoming one, thinking of the sunlight and the rain, the wind. The places and people. And all the while their song, playing as background music; their fierce, if not quite whole, free spirits soaring.

We are young

Heartache to heartache, we stand

No promises, no demands

…Love is a battlefield…