It was all quiet, on the outside.

Dark lashes remained pressed to porcelain cheeks, pale lips remained softly parted around the tube that snaked down her throat. Sleeping beauty remained waiting for her Prince to come charging in and save her. Of course he would never come, if he even existed. She looked small and frail, laying on the large bed that dwarfed her body. Next to her monitors fed to a computer, relaying the information they discovered about the subject. She was completely isolated. The information was relayed to a nearby room and every so often people came in to check on her but they all had express permission to be there. Keeping her as she was, catatonic, was essential.

With a hiss the doors slid opened, permitting group to enter the room.

"What you are about to see is highly classified," the woman told them, her shoes clicking on the ground as she walked over to the bed with authority, "we discovered this subject a few days ago, after the blackouts experienced throughout Japan," she surveyed the group that stood around her, watching her as much as the subject, "she has been brought in and remained in this state since."

"Excuse me," one of them was brave enough to ask the question, "what is so special about this girl to warrant this kind of security?"

"Excellent question," the woman around the bed, giving them a clear view, "what can you tell me about her?"

"She appears to be a young female, probably in her late teens judging from her appearance, her vitals look relatively stable though she is clearly in a comatose state," he said looking at the machines, "what does she have, super powers or something?"

"Not quite," she replied, "Gentlemen, Ladies, please open your files," she said motioning for them to do so.

They did. The reactions were just what she predicted. Wide eyes, parted lips, one woman actually made a sound. The brave man who spoke before looked up at her, horror and confusion written all over his face.

"This can't be right," he said, "there is no way this is correct!"

"I assure you it is," she said coming back to them.

"But this means--"

"Yes," she cut in with a very satisfied smile, "may I present to you all the first concrete proof we have of life after death."

Far away, for the first time in months, Ichigo Kurosaki moved.

Moved might have been the wrong word for what he did. Despite everything that said it was impossible, Ichigo Kurosaki bolted upright in his bed in the Kuroskai Clinic and among the wailing monitors, he buried his fingers in his hair and screamed. Isshin was on his feet in seconds, racing into his son's room with speed that would have put his Shunpo to shame. All the while Ichigo's tortured cries echoed in the small space. It has been months and his wounds were still not healed, there was a high chance he was damaging the fragile work they had done inside of him to keep him alive. He shouldn't have even been able to move.

"Ichigo--Ichigo!"

Isshin's voice was no match for the sounds coming out of his son's lips. Whatever he was seeing behind his tightly shut eyelids was torturing him. The monitors attached to his body wailed. Two of the IV's that snaked into his arm had dislodged, their fluids dripping onto the bed. Some of the bandages that covered his back were rapidly turning red as well, given the fact he was hunched over Isshin couldn't see the front of him but he guessed that his son was bleeding there as well. Isshin grabbed Ichigo's shoulder, trying desperately to get his attention but it did not seem to work. He just continued to scream.

Fighting back the despair that surged through him, Isshin grabbed the syringe and vial. He filled it and quickly injected Ichigo's arm. The medicine worked quickly. Ichigo's screams became softer until he slumped forward, his hands falling limply to his sides. Isshin quickly caught him before he could completely collapse. Ichigo's body was almost alarmingly light against Isshin's frame, his muscles having atrophied in his months spent on the bed. Carefully Isshin eased him down. He was going to have to get clean supplies and bandage what he could. But if he had done internal damage he was going to have to take him back to the Karakura Hospital. The last thing he needed was to be around Ryuuken and see him dealing with what his son was going through. It seemed they had yet another thing in common.

"He woke up again?"

"He's back asleep now, Yuzu," he said picking up the gauze he needed and glancing at his daughter.

"R-right, its for the best huh?" Yuzu said, "I mean, he's probably not ready to be awake yet," she smiled bravely.

"He's going to be fine," Isshin said, "its just going to take a bit of time," he bent down, "how are you doing today?"

"I'm fine daddy. Just like I was ten minuets ago," she said with a smile, "and you don't have to bend down," she looked up at him bravely, "its not like I'm going to get much taller."

Isshin straitened up as Yuzu smiled from the confines of her wheelchair. It hadn't been a hollow or anything like that, not this time. One of the fall outs had shaken the building and Yuzu had been on top of the stairs. The next moment she had gone flying down them, her body breaking a little more with each step it hit. Most of the damage was fixable, there was even a small chance she would walk again one day but at the moment Yuzu was bound to a wheelchair. She still smiled bravely, still cooked and did as much housework as her limited mobility would allow. After all with Ichigo as he was, she did not feel she had the right to be upset about her condition.

"I'm gonna go make lunch," she said after a moment, knowing Isshin wouldn't let her help.

"Good idea," he said, "I'm gonna fix Ichigo up and I'll go get your sister and I'll meet you two there."

"Okay," she said turning her chair and pushing off down the hallway.

Isshin looked at the gauze in his hand and fought the burning in his throat back as he heard his daughter wheel down the hallway. Taking a deep breath he turned around and walked into the room to once again patch up his son's broken body, that at least, he could fix. He had no idea what to do with the rest of Ichigo and worse, he did not know anyone who could help him. Something not physical, not mental--no something else was wrong with Ichigo and if they could not fix that they would have to face the truth.

The truth was that Ichgio Kurosaki was dying.

Okay let me start out by saying that this is my attempt at an actually angsty, dark fic. Most of my stories dissolve into fluff but I'm going to try for something a bit less so here.

As always, tell me if I should keep going.