*A smile. One gorgeous, sweet smile on dually colored lips. A smile that broke the world apart.

Grimmjow was standing amongst a beautiful group of grey stone columns, ruins, on a huge clear area with a stone-cobbled circular floor. Up the stairs and into the side of the mountain Grimmjow was facing was a temple that at one time must have been incredibly beautiful, and was still stunning in its own right. The blaze of the setting sun hit the side, and Grimmjow watched the light dwindle. He wasn't normally one to stop and marvel at the world around him, but looking to all sides now he was sure he had to do it more. Even the sharp edges of the ruins were perfect in their chaos.

"Wow," he heard someone whisper behind him. He turned and saw Ulquiorra, whose hands were in his hoodie pockets and whose green eyes were bright and wide. "Just... Wow..." For once Grimmjow wasn't irritated that the kid was there. Was this what was called Nirvana? The thought entered Grimmjow's mind, and he shook his head at the stupidity of it even as he realized that it just could be. He felt calm, calm like he hadn't been in a long time.

Grimmjow turned back and watched the sun dipping ever lower in a beautiful blaze of yellows, oranges and pinks. The night crept up on the other side of the sky, but it wasn't a threatening thing in the slightest- more like a return home after a walk in the woods. Everything was the way Grimmjow felt it was meant to be, and Ulquiorra's being there felt natural as well. Grimmjow wanted to wonder why, but he just didn't.

He suddenly felt a mild desire to know if Ulquiorra liked it as much as he did. He turned around to find out, see the answer on the other's face; he gasped in horror. Ulquiorra's existence was fading, slowly becoming see through as the sun set. Those slitted green eyes looked at him in confusion. "Is something the matter?" he asked innocently. Grimmjow choked helplessly.

"There shouldn't be," an eerily, terrifyingly familiar voice sounded, and Grimmjow whirled around. Something inside of himself rejected what he knew was there- but as his eyes set on the filmy black-and-white image he was certain of what it was. Who he was. The raven hair, short again, the cold green eyes that had never had any light in them, the tear tracks running down his face- Ulquiorra stood there, the old Ulquiorra, his mask replaced. His blackened aura was back, and through his body Grimmjow could see the temple now crumbling.

"There should be no surprise," Ulquiorra repeated emotionlessly. "The trash said himself that you are a creature of the light, like a human. He should have been aware of this."

"What?" the other Ulquiorra asked, and Grimmjow looked at him. He had taken a step back, and he looked petrified. He was even less visible, and as he faded his counterpart grew in substance. "Who are you?"

"I am you," the other other Ulquiorra said. The younger Ulquiorra's eyes widened with fear.

"What? No!" he cried. As the darkness swept across the sky, the old Ulquiorra's reiatsu became more powerful, and the feel sent chills down Grimmjow's spine. He had never thought to feel that again. "You can't be me, I'm me!"

"Trash," Ulquiorra stated. "Can you not see the truth?"

"No!" Ulquiorra shouted. "I don't want to be you! I don't!"

"How unfortunate," Ulquiorra said apathetically.

"But- but you're horrible! I'm not horrible! I'm not!" Ulquiorra cried desperately. As the light shrank to a line on the horizon, his form was so see through that it was nearly mist.

"Clearly, you are," Ulquiorra said. He was nearly solid now, and Grimmjow's head was spinning.

"No!" Ulquiorra said again. "No!" Grimmjow watched in horror as the last of the teen lightened and disappeared, but his voice still rang out. All the light was gone, replaced by the night. "I don't want to be you!" Terrified, Grimmjow whirled around to face the only other being left and met those frigid green eyes as they looked at him in return. Grimmjow's heart was pounding, the very rock under his feet split with the beat of it, breaking into spidering cracks with every pulse. And still that voice rang out from the nothingness behind him, crying, "I don't believe you! Idon'twanttobeyou!"

Grimmjow felt that the careless stone had put some sort of horrible hex on him, that was how thoroughly he was rooted to the spot. He was completely unable to move, some sort of absolute and primal fear in his blood baking his arteries tingle. His heart burned like acid in his chest. His eyes followed one of Ulquiorra's white hands as it slowly came up and glided to the hilt of his sword, and he metallic sound of the blade sliding from its sheath sounded just like Grimmjow's own sword coming clear to deliver an earth-shattering blow that shattered so much more than that. The cracks moved faster.

Ulquiorra maneuvered his sword with ease to point the tip of it to the ground, and instead of reflecting any light left it reflected the shadows. There were no stars in the now pitch-black sky. Then, with a sudden efficient swiftness, the tip of that sword was thrust into on blackened crack that reached for Ulquiorra's ankles and Grimmjow was falling as the rocks separated below him, plunging him into endless darkness. He cried out, even knowing that Ulquiorra would never aid him. Voices rang like phantoms in the black.

You can't be me, I'mme!

Ulquiorra no longer exists.

Schiffer is no longer Ulquiorra.

He's a whole new being.

Don't tell me ya still think a' Schiffer as Ulquiorra?

This is critical.

I'mme!

And the inky black clutched at Grimmjow, closed over him possessively like water closes over a thrown rock, and all he could see was the old Ulquiorra staring down at him through the hole as he fell, his face framed by the hollow bone that Grimmjow was certain he'd broken.*

Grimmjow started, his body going rigid in his bed as his eyes flew open. He breathed roughly, focusing on a spot on his ceiling with all his might as the cold feelings of dread slowly snaked away. He began to calm, his body once more relaxing. Oh, God, he'd never had a dream so vivid before. He turned his head and saw Ulquiorra, the teen version of him, sleeping soundly. He was nearly relieved.

He scowled, shaking his head at himself. He was being stupid. So, he'd had a nightmare. What was he going to do, go cry to his dead mommy? He'd be fine. He was overreacting. He wasn't going to let it shake him. It was just a dream.

He flipped onto his side and closed his eyes.