A/N: Hey. So, three reviews, three favs, and nine follows for the first chapter? Wow. That's awesome. Not too much happening this chapter, but still something.

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Chapter Two

Grimmjow's head hurt like one sonofabitch.

Stifling a groan, he attemted to pry his eyes open, figure out where the hell he was.

Cracking open one with some difficulty, he warily took in his surroundings.

He appeared to be in a well lit warehouse, the concrete floor grey and gleaming. The walls were lined with a dark wood of some kind, and a couple of tables were nearby. One was silver, a smaller table next to it with various sharp and deadly looking objects. A hospital of some kind?

The other table was a rather large desk, papers scattered across its surface and overflowing in the nearby garbage can.

He also appeared to be laying on a cot, though he couldn't be certain at this point. An IV was attached to his left hand, clear liquid within dripping steadily into the tube. Disgust and fear clear in his thoughts, he ripped it from his skin, the needle catching and ripping the skin as it came out. Blood welled up like crystals before seeping across his flesh, creating patterns and lines that had no meaning as it dripped to the floor. His chest heaved, his ribs burning as he did so, and it took him a few minutes to recollect himself and focus.

Before he could, however, one of the double doors on the opposite side of the room clicked as someone twisted the knob.

He waited.

But what he didn't expect was to see pink.

"Szayel?" he croaked in disbelief, struggling into a sitting position. No fucking way. He was supposed to be dead. Then again, so was he, but was that really the point? "What the fuck is going on?"

The man's brow raised in a mocking question. "You don't remember?" he asked quietly, pacing towards him, a white lab coat thrown on over a white long sleeved shirt and soft grey jeans. Observing the IV for a moment, he then sighed and looked towards Grimmjow. "It was only fluids, you know. No drugs."

"Never be too sure." he retorted, quietly assessing his wounds for a moment. Other than the muted fire in his leg, and the stinging on his cheek, he seemed to be in one piece.

"Well, Aizen's been keeping an eye on you for a while now." Szayel shrugged. "He just decided that it was time to strike."

Grimmjow's fuzzed mind sifted through the events former to passing out. "Where's Pantera?"

Szayel snorted, muttering something under his breath about 'brain damage' and 'easily distracted'. "She's just fine." Szayel pushed his glasses up with a finger carelessly. "She's in the kennel with the others. Mind, when we finally got to you we thought a nuclear weapon had gone off."

"We?" Grimmjow growled. "Who the hell are you with, Szayel? I thought you left Aizen."

"I did, you moron." Szayel frowned. "I guess you could say I changed sides."

"So who the fuck are you with now? And where the fuck am I?"

"You, my moronic aquaintance, are safe. And I'll have you know that there are remnants of a powerful sedative left in your bloodstream. You've been out for a couple of days."

Grimmjow listened to all of this silently, absorbing the information and wondering one thing. "How the fuck did you know where I was?"

"We've been keeping tabs on you too, Grimmjow." the pink haired doctor/scientist sighed. "Since Aizen hasn't been mobile in some time, we had our concerns about what he might be doing."

"And what would that be?" Grimmjow asked sarcastically.

"He's trying to revive the Espada."

Grimmjow snarled. Of course.

"So what now? Why am I here, other than for safekeeping?"

"We want you to fight with us, Grimmjow. The Primera, Tres, Cuatro and Quinto are also here. Aizen had his sights on them, too."

"So, he's going in order, then." Grimmjow mused. No doubt Barragan, the slimy bastard, had accepted. Same with the Cero and Zommari, probably the creepy Noveno too. It really didn't amount to much, truth be told. He didn't know anyone personally other than Szayel and Starrk. The other Espada were basically a mystery to him, seeing as Aizen never had all of them gathered in one room.

"Even though there's only a few of the Espada left, they haven't exactly been sitting around doing nothing for all of these years." Szayel said softly, watching Grimmjow carefully. Probably judging him, analyzing his reactions. He'd always been the hardest nut to crack, according to Aizen.

"What." he snapped defensively, his teal eyes narrowing. Szayel's own hawkish gold challenged him for a moment more before he turned away.

"Brujeria, as you probably remember, was only in the developing stages when you left. Since then, it's become extremely potent, addicting in most cases if administered more than once. You should be careful; I recall that you never liked the drugs."

Grimmjow shuddered. He knew damn well how much he hated drugs of any kind. He'd seen what some people had turned into after being released from service. Especially after serving Aizen. They'd turned to drugs, anti-depressants and such, wasting away in time and eventually losing their minds.

And to begin with, he'd never liked them. He couldn't understand the way some people could inject themselves with drugs day after day. As far as he knew, the only drugs he'd been on were after he'd gotten his tattoo, since it had gotten a mild infection.

"So? It's not going to happen again. I'll fucking blow Zommari's brains out the next time I see him."

Szayel chuckled lightly, the sound startlingly feminine. "There's no need, Grimmjow. After all, you took care of it yourself."

"That fucker was Zommari?" he mused. He'd taken out Zommari without even realizing it? "Hell, if I'd known that, I would have killed him slower."

Szayel rolled his eyes at the familiar antics of the former Sexta, deciding a change of topic was in order.

"I see you've gotten a tattoo. Interesting choice, considering your background."

Grimmjow glanced at his forearm, the panther and latin bold against his skin. "We all have skeletons in the closet."

"You have no idea." Szayel stated seriously. His gaze was indifferent before, but now it was full of fire. He tapped a finger against the side of his head in explanation. "Aizen did a little mind fuck of his own before I escaped. Unfortunately, the damage done is permanent."

Szayel rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and breathing in deeply. 'Quaeque ipsa miserrima vidi, et quorum pars magna fui.' was tattooed on his own forearm, the writing thin and neat. "'So many terrible things I saw, and in so many of them I played a great part'." he quoted when he noticed Grimmjow's gaze. "Fitting, for the madness I am graced with."

Grimmjow stared at his hands. "You're right about that one." he admitted. He could remember his own ritual of release. The jeers as he'd been tied down, the heat, and then the mindnumbing, overwhelming pain that followed.

He idly reached to his side, tracing the number six that had once rested there, now a white patterned canvas of scar tissue. Luckily, it wasn't raised too much in comparison to the rest of his skin, but every now and then he would remember the position he'd been in, the flash of pain that would remind him that he would never be free. "'Aut vincere aut mori.' Either to conquer or to die."

Grimmjow's eyes shadowed, darkening as he felt the meaning behind the words. "Funny, how so long ago we were fool enough to believe that Aizen could give us everything."

"We were all decieved, Grimmjow." Szayel spoke lightly. "No one escaped without some form of scarring."

He snorted, clasping his hands and tracing the panther that stalked across his skin with his gaze. "I used to be someone." he finally spoke softly. "Before Aizen. Before any of this shit that I've dragged myself into."

Szayel nodded in agreement. "Once, I could have been well on my way to curing cancer and doing research on rare forms of it. Now, I'm stuck here, healing soldiers and hiding from Aizen like the coward I am."

"You could have been worse off." Grimmjow stated. "Trust me; I've seen some of the former Espada."

He could tell by the thinning of his lips that Szayel knew exactly what had happened. "Grimmjow, you got out before anyone else. You wouldn't know what happened to them since you weren't there."

Grimmjow's lip curled. "I was a bit busy at the time, trying to keep ahead of his spies. Hell, I fucking ran to America. But you have to hide, and hide well. I've been free for five years, Szayel, and it only feels like the noose is tightening around my throat."

Szayel could understand that, he knew. He was in the same position as he was. Never knowing what day would be his last, checking over his shoulder at every chance, no doubt suspecting someone to be there. Watching and waiting for him to slip up, give him one chance before taking him down.

Grimmjow knew he was paranoid about Aizen, of people in general. He was never safe, that much he knew.

He chuckled lowly, earning another raised brow from Szayel. "Something amusing you?"

"Just a quote I read somewhere. 'Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you'."

A smile tugged at the corner of Szayel's lips for a moment. "I couldn't have said it better, Grimmjow." he praised.

"Oh shut it, fruitcake." he scowled for a moment before grinning to himself. "Now, any chance I can get the hell out of this room? It's making me want to fucking claw up the walls."

Szayel's features evened out into what he called his 'doctor face'. "Not today. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after. You need to rest and get the remaining drugs out of your system before you go anywhere."

Scowling, Grimmjow glared at the pink haired male before him, to no affect. "I mean it. I'm locking the door behind me." Szayel replied, his own eyes narrowing. Already, it seemed, the two were back in their rolls.

"I'll bring by some food later. Sleep, Grimmjow." he chided mildly before turning and walking away. "And please refrain from destroying my home."

Home? Grimmjow took a second look at the room. Now that he mentioned it, it did look like a home space. A couch was over against a wall, a couple of blankets thrown over it in a careless mess. Most likely it doubled as a bed. Nearby, a small drawer doubled as a shelf, with a couple of novels and a lamp on top.

A new, almost respect, rose for Szayel. He'd had to sacrifice just as much as he'd had, and he had a career to maintain as well.

Leaning back, his teal hair splayed out on the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts eventually lulling him into sleep.