Characters: Gin, Rangiku (in spirit)
Summary
: He did it for her. But she will never know. And he knows she wouldn't understand if she did. GinRan. Spoilers for Deicide arc
Pairings
: GinRan
Warnings/Spoilers
: Spoilers for Soul Society and Deicide arcs
Timeline
: A month after Aizen, Gin and Tousen flee to Hueco Mundo
Author's Note
: Despite the fact that it's pretty clear that Gin's going to die presently, it's nice to know that my GinRan muse hasn't died with him.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Bleach.


It's been a month. An entire month. Gin stares at the candle burning on the table in his darkened room, wax slowly trickling down the sides of the candle with merciless steadiness, drip, drip, dripping against the wood of the table.

The breathing and heartbeats of vipers all around make the walls pulse and throb with their heartbeats, threatening even in sleep, and Gin finds no rest within these walls, sustained only by his memories and those false smiles of his own, somehow enough to get him through the days and nights.

Gin has spent the days he has to himself haunting the halls of Las Noches, searching out hiding places and dark corners, not looking over his shoulder, not even needing to, because he knows the shadow of memory will be there. The past is never far.

Plans for the death of a would-be god are still underway. Gin's a bit busy working out the kinks and the chinks in the armor and anything that could possibly leave him open to attack; soon, he hopes, he will be able to move forward, and that his 'captain' will be ready for a fall. The last fall.

Gin raises long, spidery fingers towards the small, flickering flame of the candle, holding back just short of coming into contact with the licking flame. His fingers stand in danger of being burned.

It's memory that assaults him now. He does not regret this; he doesn't regret any of it. What he is doing must be done; there is no doubt of it. And Gin knows that he is the only one capable of killing Aizen; no one else knows how or even thinks they can. It is necessary. Completely and totally necessary.

But somehow…

The look of betrayal on Rangiku's face still lingers on in the backs of his eyes. Somehow, it still bothers him.

Gin feels the beginning of phantom pain from burning as his fingers edge closer to the candle flame. The heat is intense now.

The only thing Gin has ever regretted, he has left behind. He can not get it back; he has walked too far away to ever return and expect to find things the way he left it.

He did this for her. All of it, for the woman who stared, wounded and bewildered, up at him as he left, and through it all, could not understand. How could she understand? Gin had told Rangiku nothing, had said nothing to her. There was nothing to say, for how could he explain this, all of this? He hadn't meant to hurt her. But he did anyway.

He did it for her. But she will never know.

And Gin knows she wouldn't understand if she did.

The candle flickers its last dancing shadow. Gin leans forward, and crushes the flame in his hand.

There is only darkness now.