As you who have read my angsty romance crime story Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner, this is the epilogue to it. Of course, you can read this as a oneshot, but it would make a lot more sense if you read Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner first. And hopefully reviewed?
SUMMARY: After Grimmjow comes up to join Ulquiorra in Purgatory, or a condition or place in which the souls of the dead who have committed sin, they muse about their past lives, what they could have done better, and contemplate what lies ahead. Told from Ulquiorra's POV this time.
You know the routine: R&R!
And there I was, just standing there in an enormous line with all the other "sinners". Yeah. You guessed it. I was in Purgatory. You know, that place where souls go to wait for their judgment. Now, don't get me wrong, I was pretty freaked when Szayel popped up here too. It was kind of depressing, you know, to have to be in line waiting to be judged and to see the last person you ever wanted to see pop up right next to you. Okay. Not right next to me. You get my point though.
Thankfully, God must have loved me, because he sent another person up to block the open space between me and Szayel. And that single person he sent up to me made me cry and laugh all at the same time. I think you know who that it will be anyway: Grimmjow Jeagerjacques.
He looked around for a little bit, trying to get his bearings. Of course, at that point, Szayel moved off to another place in the line (why? I really don't know, but I'm happy for it), so Grimmjow didn't see him and of course did not beat him up again. But he saw me. And maybe that's all that really mattered.
"Hey, Ora-kun." He was smiling that huge big, bright smile that I loved, and I couldn't help but smile back.
"Hello, Grimmjow."
"My, my, always formal, aren't we..." And he trailed off, his arms wrapping tightly around me, as if he wanted to hold me there forever.
"I'm sorry," I whispered against his shock of blue hair.
"For what?"
"For...switching hearts. I...didn't know it would turn out this badly. I didn't mean to be so selfish."
"Hey, everybody's gotta be selfish at some point. You can't be human and not be selfish, right? Just happens that your selfishness was a little...deeper than others. It doesn't matter now, at any rate."
I can't help it, a quiet little sigh escapes my mouth.
"Are you angry at me?" I ask.
"Am I angry? No, no, I'm not. It's too hard to be angry at you, you know. You're just too cute for your own good. In contrast, you should be angry at me. I mean, seriously. Leaving you alone all those nights, making you sad, not stopping when you wanted me to, beating up that jerk of a lover...."
"But I'm not angry....and I don't think that's a bad thing." A small laugh now. "Maybe it's because I've been selfish about you for a long time now, huh?"
He doesn't bother to respond, just rests his head against my shoulder. We spend a few minutes like this in silence, the line moving slightly, the flow of souls wandering around us. Here in Purgatory everybody's committed some form of sin or another, so it's not like anybody has to ask what we're in here for. And in a way, that's good. It's easier to be peaceful here than it ever was on Earth. Then he speaks again:
"Maybe if I hadn't screwed up so many goddamn times...it might not be like this."
"What are you talking about?"
"Maybe if I hadn't murdered anybody, maybe if I hadn't thrown that one wine glass at your head, maybe if I had more self control -"
"Maybe," I interject, "if I have loved you more."
"What?" He's shocked now, and I can see that.
"Maybe if I had been less selfish, maybe if I had loved you more, then we wouldn't be dead. We wouldn't be like this. We would still be alive and still be a happy couple on Earth. But I wanted things, things that I didn't think you could give me. So I left you. I guess it was to make you jealous, to show you what you were missing. But...all those things, in the end, didn't really matter. You mattered, and I was too stupid to see that."
"Don't be stupid," he says softly, dragging his hand up my face to push back the messy black bangs across my forehead. "If I had -"
"No, you're not -"
"Well then, you aren't -"
We stop, and laugh at the same time. It's as though there's an old connection reestablished between us, and I'm flying high.
"Maybe we should just stop arguing about whose fault it was that we're dead and just accept it. It's not as though we can change it now, right?" he teases, ruffling my hair.
A calm, peaceful silence falls once again, and we're taken by the flow of souls, moving toward the front of the seemingly neverending line.
"Ulquiorra, you know...you do know that I'll probably go to hell, right?" he asks as we get closer and closer to the front.
"...I know."
"And you'll probably go to heaven."
"I won't."
"What do you mean? Everybody wants to go to heaven. It's the good place, where you have whatever you want! I can't think of anyone who'd deserve to go to heaven more than you."
"Even if I was accepted, I wouldn't go." It shocks me to hear it coming from my own mouth, but it's the truth. Plain and without frills.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because..." My hand reaches out to take his, our fingers intertwining gently. "It wouldn't be heaven. If you went to hell and I went there, then it wouldn't be Heaven because I wouldn't have you. If Heaven is a place where I could have anything I wanted, I would want you to be there. But if you won't be let in, then I wouldn't want to go either."
"You're insane," he murmurs, but there's a slight smile playing across his face.
"I'm not insane. I just love you. That's all."
He grins, and then murmurs, "If that's the way it is, then you should probably have been a romance novelist, you know, like Nicholas Sparks. Not a murder novelist, like John Grisham. Your biggest fans would probably all die if they knew you were talking like this now."
"Well, I can only think of one really big fan, and he's standing here with me now."
He smiles, softer this time, and then adds quietly, "What if that happens though? What if I get sent to Hell, and you go to Heaven?"
"I would ask them to change my Judgment. Yes, I accept the fact that you are probably going to go to Hell because of your murders, but aren't I going to go there too, because I didn't tell anyone and allowed it?"
"Never thought of it that way before. But seriously. You're passing up a really good offer. Why?"
"I'd rather spend a thousand eternities in Hell with you than spend a great day in Heaven with nobody to love me, and for me to love back."
And now we're at the front of the Judgment line. The judge in front of the pearly gates looks at both of us and then calls us both forward.
"Ulquiorra Schiffer and Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, is that right?" he asks in a slightly scratchy voice.
We both nod.
"Well, Mr. Schiffer, your crimes aren't too serious, so your soul shall be washed of mortal sin. You, on the other hand, Mr. Jeagerjacques, have a very bad record. You've killed 13 people. I am afraid that those are not sins that your soul can be washed of. So, I am afraid to inform you that you shall have to go to Hell to suffer for eternity."
The words don't appear to surprise him. But then again, Grimmjow was always good at hiding emotions.
Just as Grimmjow's about to turn and start to walk toward the one side of the gates, the judge calls him back.
"However, Mr. Jeagerjacques, there are not many people in this world who are as capable of loving as sincerely and as much as you do. Not very many people can have the kind of devotion you have to Mr. Schiffer. God created man in His image, and God is a loving and caring God, very much so. He is saddened by all the people who walk the Earth that cannot find it in themselves to truly and fully devote themselves to a loved one as you have done. I cannot say that there are many people in the world that would not cheat on their partner if their partner was sick. No, Mr. Jeagerjacques. What you have shown us is truly amazing."
The judge is smiling now, and there is a little perk of hope inside me.
"So, I suppose, Mr. Jeagerjacques, that I shall let you go to Heaven. Of course, your soul shall endure a much more trying and painful washing than Mr. Schiffer's, but you'll both ultimately end up in the same place."
And I'm beaming now, and I can feel wet tears on my cheeks. I'm crying, the tears following the black grooves down my face. But I don't care. This is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me; it's alright to cry now.
"Thank you." Grimmjow's voice is slightly hoarse as though he's trying to repress tears himself.
The judge smiles kindly. "While the Lord does not approve of murdering, you, Mr. Jeagerjacques and Mr. Schiffer, are probably two of the holiest people that will ever pass through these gates. God intended for us to love, and to love each other dearly until our time was here. Both of you have shown that. It's only right for both of you to earn a seat in Heaven."
The pearly gates open smoothly without a single creak, and a soft golden light emanates from the pathway beyond. Grimmjow's fingers gently squeeze mine, and then he says softly, "Come on, Ulquiorra. Let's fly to Heaven."
Flying to Heaven. That sounds nice.