Hello All! :) I haven't written fanfiction in a very very long time, but I have become extremely attached to this pairing. I hope you like it and please review if you want me to post more :)

Warnings: Will be eventually Yaoi Grimm/Ichi, and rated M to be on the safe side later on, and for the two boys' dirty mouths. :P

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the shoes on my feet. If I owned Bleach, I wouldn't be posting fanfiction .

Other: I'm sorry if grammar, spelling or anything is wrong! I just wrote this tonight, and I wanted to post it at soon as I could. So I only did minor editing.

Grimmjow could feel sand tickling his face; a warm wind playing with his hair. He opened one swollen eye, instant pain shooting through his skull as the dim light of Hueco Mundo entered his pupil. It felt like his head was on fire.

Wait...why am I here?

Slowly memories came flooding back. The Shinigami's Zanpakuto slamming into his chest, the sensation of blood gushing from his veins, coating Zangetsu in a crimson film. Slowly being lowered to the ground by the hand of his enemy...and then being finished by the weapon of his ally.

He snorted inwardly at this. Nnoitra was not his ally. Nobody was his ally. Just as nobody was his Lord, Master, or King.

But the thoughts brought him back to the same point.

He should have been dead.

He slowly eased his other eye open, and the monochromatic hollow world came into focus around him. Nearby a corpse of a tree scratched its length into the sky, backlit by the eclipsed moon. Its scraggly, feeble arms were raised in the air almost as a mock crucifix. Fitting, Grimmjow noted, as he pulled himself slowly and timidly to his elbows. It was as far as he got before collapsing back into the sand with a growl of pain. He noticed, though, that was was no longer bleeding. His wounds had clotted, and the effects of faster regeneration were starting to slowly stitch his wounds back together. Although his skin was almost mended, his internal injuries were far from healed. The tissue of his muscles were torn in what seemed almost every part of his body.

Weakling! Get the fuck up!

He hissed this in his head. He was determined not to be limited by his constricting body. With one shaky lurch, he brought himself to his knees. The pain felt as though it would tear him in two, but he bit his tongue and growled menacingly as he tried to keep his mind off of the pain by glancing around him.

He was in the middle of the desert, so very far that he couldn't even see Las Noches.

"If I can't even see Las Noches...then where the HELL am I?"

He half yelled these words with a feral growl as he mustered the strength to stand to his feet. Wobbly as he was, he ignored it. Beings who strove for power and recognition did NOT wobble. Slowly he began to walk forward, feet as heavy as cement blocks, sweat already beading on his pounding and feverish forehead. He unstrapped Pantera from his waist, and began using her as a crutch.

His boot caught itself in a small hole, and he stumbled. As he did, he felt one of his wounds open up again, hot blood oozing out and dripping down his chest. He hissed, but pressed forward. Unsure of where was was pressing forward to, he followed the pale moon in the sky, and hoped it would lead him to someplace safer and more comfortable to recover.

#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#

Kurosaki Ichigo looked up suddenly. He had been sleeping peacefully in his desk chair, face stuck to his homework from the drool that had escaped his mouth. Now, with a jolt, he stood up out of his chair as though the seat had set aflame.

"This reiatsu. But...where?"

Ichigo had lost most of his powers, those that let him draw his Zanpakuto and turn himself into a Shinigami. But he had never lost his spiritual senses. He couldn't quite decipher if it was human, or hollow. The two seemed to blend, fogging his mind as he tried to translate the ribbons of spiritual energy. Rushing over to his window, he stared out at the moonlit sky. A chill trickled down his spine, as familiar tendrils of spirit power found their way to the back of his neck.

"Who are you? You seem so...familiar. And powerful."

A flash of blue entered the back of his mind, only for a second. It jumped his heart, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, panting. Electric blue, a wild, feral presence. He brushed a bead of sweat from his brow with a fist and let himself fall onto his bed. The spiritual energy was wavering, as though struggling to stay alive.

"If you are a hollow, someone must have gotten to you first..." he muttered. The thought made him sad, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he wished he could have gotten to it first. Or maybe because he was so tired of fighting that the thought of something dying that was clearly not just a hollow, but a powerful, intelligent being, had made him disappointed and anxious. The more he dwelled on it, the more he wished he could jump out of his physical body and rush to its aid. But as quickly as the thought entered, the reiatsu fizzled from existence.

Ichigo caught in a sharp breath of air. Even if he had all of his powers, it would've been too late. In the back of his mind he wondered if it was Ishida. He showed no mercy to hollows, regardless if they were different from others or not.

The room had grown stuffy, so he decided to take a walk. Slipping his feet into his shoes, he exited his house and walked down the deserted and quiet street of his childhood. The moon made it so that the landscape eerily reminded him of the black, white and gray world of Hueco Mundo. The night seemed stiller than it should have been, but he tried to keep it out of his mind. He was still on edge after the countless months of training, fights, stress and struggles.

A surge of reiatsu began to surge out of a nearby dark alleyway. The same blue, intense energy as he had felt in his own room. Drawn to it, mostly on instinct of his former Shinigami self, Ichigo ran towards its source, feet spurred on by adrenaline, running towards the feeling like a moth drawn to flame. And then he stopped. His shoes slipped on something wet covering the ground in a pool. A growl rose from behind a large garbage dumpster, a hiss echoed off of the walls.

Heart beating fast, Ichigo crept around the dumpster, swearing at the sky for not having Zangetsu by his side anymore.

As Ichigo's eyes became adjusted to the darkness, he could see blotches of pure white, mixed in with bright, electric blue. Two narrowed, feral eyes of the same blue as the fur-like hair glared up at him with a pained, hateful, and helpless expression.

"Grimm-...Grimmjow!"