Series Title: Surrender the Mind
Chapter Title: Depend on You (Chapter 7 of 9, plus an Epilogue)
Author: creepy_crawly
Characters/Pairings: ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.
Rating: For this chapter? NC-17. For entire series? NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi
Disclaimer: No own. No money. No shame.
Summary: Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.


"He'll heal just fine, Kuchiki-taichou," Hanatarou assured Byakuya, smiling comfortingly at him as he tucked the sheet back up under the Quincy's chin, covering his thin, scarred chest once more. "There's no signs of the plague, either. He just needs rest to recover his reiatsu."

Byakuya nodded, still worried about the young man sleeping beneath his coverlet. "Thank you for your assistance, Yamada-san," he murmured, bowing towards the man. "I am glad to see that your quarantine has been lifted."

"And I am glad to leave it," Hanatarou answered, smiling slightly. "Please, call me if you have any other needs." Bowing quickly, he disappeared from the room.

----

"Another injury!" Isane yelled, watching a stretcher come racing in, borne on the shoulders of two strong members of the Third Division.

Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, Unohana prayed briefly for strength, and then dove back into healing,

----

"Kurosaki-kun's injuries are not healing," Unohana sighed, her fingers tightening briefly on the delicate teacup they cradled. "And I can't even begin to clear the infection from his body."

"Can anyone else?" Byakuya asked, lifting the teapot to pour more into his own teacup.

The calm woman shook her head. "We are all equally worn out, stretched to the breaking point," she explained wearily. "And of the lot of us, I have the strongest reiatsu. If I cannot summon up the strength, no one can."

Byakuya replaced the teapot with a heavy thump. "Perhaps you just need rest, Unohana-san. Like Uryuu-kun." He smiled slightly, nodding back to the room behind him, where the young man slumbered on.

At that, Unohana smiled slightly. "I do wish that was all I needed," she sighed. "When this is all over, Byakuya-kun, we shall take a vacation. A long, long vacation. You, me, Hisagi-fukutaichou, and a beach. In the middle of nowhere."

"A beach, Unohana-san?"

"A beach, Byakuya-kun. You could use the sunlight; I can practically see through your skin."

Byakuya bit his lip, hiding his smile behind his teacup. "How bad is it, Unohana-san?" he asked quietly.

She sighed again, her mirth evaporating. "Very," she said bluntly. "If I cannot heal him, or find someone who can, in the next week, he will die."

"And if he dies?"

"He's still got a living body in the real world," she said. "That body will die, too. He will be trapped here, as a real shinigami."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Byakuya asked quietly. "He lives a shinigami, already. Urahara-san has created gigai that are made for long-term usage. He's his son."

"But he loves his family, Byakuya-kun," Unohana replied softly. "He raves in his sleep, you know. Fever dreams. And he's always asking them not to hurt his sisters, his father, his friends. The only reason Kurosaki-kun even allowed Rukia-chan to transfer her powers to him was so that he could protect his little sisters. His father may know, but his sisters don't, and he doesn't want them to lose both mother and brother."

"Death is so much more unpleasant when there are people involved," Byakuya snorted.

"Indeed," Unohana agreed, hiding behind her teacup. Then, looking up, she smiled. "Awake, Ishida-kun?"

Byakuya whirled around, undignified, to stare at the thin young man clinging to the door frame.

When he had stripped the Quincy of his sweaty, dusty clothing, Byakuya had dressed him in an old, well-worn pair of hakama and a light yukata before tucking him under the light coverlet in his rarely-used bedroom. Laying the limp, deathly-still body down, he hadn't thought of what the young man would look like, dressed in his clothing, standing, weak and mussed, in his doorway.

"Uryuu," he breathed, moving quickly to his feet and sliding a strong arm around that thin waist. "You shouldn't be up!"

Ishida ignored him, except to lean heavily against him and stare at Unohana. "Kurosaki…Kurosaki is…dying?"

"He has contracted the plague," Unohana asserted, also rising to her feet. "You, however, need rest, Ishida-kun."

"He…he can…can't die," Ishida managed to work out, breathing slowly. "Karin…Yuzuu…"

"Fourth Division will do everything we can," Unohana told him firmly, helping Byakuya to usher him back towards the bedroom. "Please, Ishida-kun, rest." Bowing gently, she moved back into the sitting room, and then out into the hallway.

"I assure you," Byakuya murmured, "that Fourth Division is doing everything that they can to heal Kurosaki-kun. You may not trust me, Ishida-kun, but please, trust Unohana-taichou."

"Oh, I don't trust you," Ishida muttered, stabbing a bony finger into Byakuya's chest. "You played me…"

"I know," Byakuya murmured, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump that began to gather in his throat.

Ishida shook his head and snorted violently. "I know, you know," he said, leaning back against the nearby wall. "You weren't really with Renji-kun. You lied to me."

Byakuya bit his lip, watching the slender young man. "I had to," he whispered. "You needed what your father could teach you."

"Bullshit," Ishida shot back. "You were scared, Byakuya-kun. You got rid of me because you were scared!"

"I didn't get rid of you!" Byakuya replied, pain in his voice. "I love you, Uryuu! Don't you get it?"

"No, I don't," Ishida answered waspishly, his eyes bright with anger. "Tell me, Byakuya. How does casting me aside mean you love me?"

"Because everyone I love gets hurt," Byakuya whispered to him. "They all die. And your father was willing to teach you. I couldn't let you die because I had been too selfish to let you go. I love you, Uryuu, but I don't deserve you."

"You don't deserve me?" Ishida demanded, staring at him. "…god, you are fucked up." Stepping forward, away from the wall, he wobbled and then fell into Byakuya's arms. "But somehow, I still love you."

Byakuya held him close, his eyes closed, just breathing in the smell of Uryuu. His hair was soft beneath Byakuya's chin, and he felt thin and fragile in his arms. "You need to rest," he murmured finally, placing a hand in the small of Ishida's back, a silent support to help him stand upright once more. Gently, he drew the Quincy into a standing position. "You're exhausted."

"I'm fine," Ishida mumbled, making his voice as firm as he could, trying not to lean into the warmth of Byakuya's touch. "Kurosaki-kun's not. I've got to do something."

"You do him no good by becoming ill yourself," Byakuya said calmly. "He has Unohana-taichou, Isane-fukutaichou, and the entire Fourth Division trying to heal him. Your friend Inoue is helping to move the load off them, so that they may focus on him. You can help him best by not making yourself collapse once more, so that the Fourth Division can focus on him." He began to stroke Ishida's back softly, using the soothing patterns he had learned when they had been in a relationship.

Sure enough, the Quincy began to melt beneath his fingers. Byakuya knew just where to put pressure, just where to touch and how to touch. He had learned Ishida's body quickly, and learned it well. He used all of the knowledge as best he could, which was, in Ishida's opinion, very, very well.

"Bed," Byakuya breathed in his ear.

Closing his eyes, Ishida leant back into his touch. He took a deep, slow breath, inhaling the calming scent that his body recognized as belonging to the Captain. Then, turning his head to rest against Byakuya's chest, listening to his heart, he nodded. "Okay," he agreed quietly. "Bed."

"Good decision," Byakuya murmured into his hair. Bringing strong arms around the young man's body, he led him back into the bedroom.

----

Byakuya watched his lover sleep, silent. Ishida's slim form lying in his bed was oddly familiar, though the Quincy had never before been in it. Regardless of where he was, it seemed, he slept in the same half-curl. His hair still tumbled over his face the same way, still covered the same, lonely expression. His feet fidgeted the same way, and his hands clutched at the bedding the same way.

"Byakuya," Ishida whimpered.

The nightmares, however, were new. They worried Byakuya, who knew how sensitive Ishida was, how emotionally unstable he secretly was. Reaching forward, he smoothed a hand over his face, brushing his hair back from his face. As he did so, he trailed a palmful of reiatsu over his skin, a trick he had learned many years before. Sure enough, the grimace on his face smoothed out, lips parting ever-so-slightly. A small sigh escaped him, and he snuggled comfortably under the light blanket.

Byakuya's face softened as he watched his lover sleep, though it raised a mental question. Was Ishida his lover? Or had that ended with his little trick, two years ago? Ishida let him closer than he let anyone else, that was true. He still let him touch him, leant into his touch, encouraged it.

If he wasn't still Ishida's lover, there was a hope left that he would be again.

"Stop thinking," Ishida murmured drowsily, cracking open a hazy eye. He stretched out one bandaged hand, the rest of him buried beneath the blanket.

Byakuya blinked at him. "Are you ordering me around?" he asked.

Ishida shook his head. "Consider it a request. Besides," he added, shifting, "this bed is too big. How do you sleep in this?"

Smiling—not that anyone except for Ishida could tell—Byakuya watched the way the blankets fell away from Ishida's thin body, admired the revealed skin and muscles. "I don't, usually," he confessed. "I fall asleep at my desk. Ask Renji."

"Well," Ishida said primly, "the mattress is good. Bed's more than big enough for two…"

"You're exhausted…" Byakuya began.

Ishida treated him to an elegant shrug. "So are you. And you haven't slept as recently as I have." Leaning forward, he slid a hand under the noble's ginpaku kazahana no usuginu, pressing cold fingers against the warm skin of his throat. "Please?" he whispered, leaning closer and closer.

Unconsciously, Byakuya began to lean in, too, his hand cupping the young man's face in one smooth palm. He watched, mesmerized, as Ishida's eyes fluttered shut, a flush rising in pale cheeks. He could feel his breath racing over his lips. "This is a bad idea," he mumbled.

"Probably," Ishida agreed breathlessly.

Nevertheless, they kept leaning forward until their lips met.

Ishida had thought that he remembered what it felt like to kiss Byakuya. Now, however, he realized just how wrong he had been. He had forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, like directly absorbing spirit particles from his body, like a live current. It felt amazing, a rush as powerful as the first time he'd released an arrow. Moaning slightly, Ishida parted his lips beneath Byakuya's pressing tongue.

Cradling Ishida's face in his broad hands, Byakuya deepened the kiss. It had been too long, entirely too long, since he had last kissed the Quincy. He felt Ishida's slim hands fisting in the soft fabric of his yukata. He pressed himself closer to the younger man, wanting to feel those hands on his skin. When Ishida moaned ever-so-slightly, Byakuya ran a hand along his face and wove his fingers through his hair.

"This is a terrible idea," Byakuya mumbled, breaking the kiss to push Ishida back on the bed.

"Horrible. But it feels so good," Ishida replied in a whimper, falling back willingly, his hands already working to remove Byakuya's informal yukata. When the elegant silk fell open, Ishida slid his hands in, feathering his hands down the shinigami's smooth skin. Shinigami didn't scar easily, and captains rarely had signs of their battles. Still, Ishida knew of two permanent marks on Byakuya's body.

The first was a scar as long as his palm, smack in the center of his chest. Carefully, Ishida stroked the rough skin of the scar. It still tingled with the remnants of the angry reiatsu that had carved into the nobleman's skin. Occasionally, the reiatsu would sting and burn, which was how Ishida had learnt how sensitive it was. He spent a few moments feeling the scar, stroking it with his fingers.

Byakuya kissed Ishida warmly, splaying his hand against the five-pointed scar and feeling the steady throb of reiatsu and Ishida's heart. He loved the way raw power prickled against his fingertips, shivering beneath Ishida's skin. Hungry for more, he began to trail kisses down his throat, nibbling and biting at the pale, warm skin.

Ishida groaned, eyes falling closed and tilting his head back to expose more of his throat to Byakuya. "That's nice," he whispered, arching into his caresses. "Don't stop."

Chuckling, Byakuya sat back, working at stripping his yukata. "Ordering me around, little Quincy," he asked. "My, my, how you've grown."

Ishida just grinned dangerously, sliding an arm around the other man's strong, muscular back. He reached up with the other hand and removed his lover's kenseikan, having learnt that little trick early on. When Byakuya's hair was hanging long and loose about both their faces, Ishida curled his arm up and over his shoulder, around his neck.

"I missed this," he whispered, staring straight up into Byakuya's smoky eyes.

"I missed you," Byakuyaa returned softly. His weight was all supported on one arm, and the other curled under the young man, his hand cradling his skull, thumb sweeping over one cheekbone.

The flush on Ishida's cheeks darkened for a moment, and then his reiatsu reared up, even beneath the tight rein he held it under. He could feel Byakuya's reiatsu, could feel his lover's arousal, could feel it responding to his own. It was a powerful feeling, knowing he could make someone like Kuchiki Byakuya lose control entirely.

Desperate hunger flickering in his eyes, Byakuya closed the distance between them, small though it was. He kissed Ishida once more, hungry for another taste of the younger man. Feeling desire rippling through where their reiatsu were meshing, Byakuya tangled his fingers in Ishida's soft hair and deepened the kiss.

Groaning, Ishiad pressed himself closer to Byakuya. He tightened his arms around the captain, drawing their bodies as close as he could. His fingers explored Byakuya's strong back, tracing the long lines of bone and muscle. When his fingertips found Byakuya's tattoo, he smiled into the kiss, stroking it with one long finger.

All captains had tattoos. Whenever one achieved bankai, soul merging completely, it would leave a mark—made entirely of reiatsu—on the body. Many captains—and often their vice-captains, when they achieved bankai—went to a tattoo artist in Rukongai. Then, the shinigami would hold bankai as long as it took the man to make the mark permanent.

A side-effect of this tattooing process was that the tattoo was forever sensitive to reiatsu. Ishida had stumbled across that fact two years earlier. He had gladly memorized it, and loved to tease Byakuya with the sensitive tattoo. He traced the outline of the cherry blossom tattoo with one finger, letting his reiatsu tingle along the sensitive skin.

"Uryuu!" Byakuya moaned, breaking the kiss and dropping his head down to the slender young man's shoulder. "Ohh…Uryuu…"

Ishida laughed breathlessly as Byakuya pushed him back into the pillows, his reiatsu going wild. He loosened his own tight control, letting the storm of emotion carry him away on a roiling wave.

"Byakuya," he whimpered, desperate to feel him once again. It had been a long time since he had felt Byakuya's strong, smooth hands—too long.

"Shh, shh," Byakuya breathed in his ear. "Relax, Uryuu." Softly, he kissed his forehead. "Trust me."

"I shouldn't, but I do," Ishida sighed, smiling up at him. He relaxed back into the pillows, arching his hips slightly.

Byakuya smiled back, feeling the Quincy's hardness against his thigh. He had missed this, feeling Ishida aroused and wanting against him. He, too, wanted this—he had dreamt of this for two long years. Lowering his head, he leant down and kissed Ishida's collarbone…and then bit down sharply.

Ishida hissed, his entire spine arching as his eyes fell shut. His fingers tightened on Byakuuya's shoulders, fingertips going white as his fingernails dug into soft flesh. As the older man grinned smugly and did it again, Ishida cried out sharply and dragged his fingernails down his pale back.

That was how Byakuya remembered it, with Ishida marking him up, violent in his passions. Over the years, it seemed that Ishida had calmed down some—he no longer had to be fought into giving himself over to his desire. But Byakuya was glad that the fight remained in some form; it was one of the things that had drawn him to the younger man in the first place.

Ishida wantonly parted his legs, urging Byakuya between them, hungry for the feel of his lover's touch. Two years had been much too long.

As Byakuya reached away for the oil he used to oil Senbonzakura, Ishida closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself be lost to the wild storm of energy, anchored only by Byakuya's touch.

----

"Senbonzakura likes you," Byakuya said without preamble. He lay curled around the younger man, so close that their dark, sweaty hair seemed to flow together into one inky stream. He had one arm draped over Ishida's body, holding him close, as he supported himself on the other elbow, leaning over the other man's form. Absentmindedly, he stroked the soft skin of Ishida's hip.

"Hmmm?" Ishida murmured, half-asleep between the soft touches and the afterglow.

"She does," Byakuya continued, still stroking his hip. "I can tell." He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Ishida's neck. "I'm glad."

"Good," Ishida breathed, his eyes fluttering.

Byakuya watched his lover for a moment, relaxed and calm. After a moment, he too, let himself drift into sleep. At the last second, he released Senbonzakura from his tight control, sliding under the soft coverlet beside his lover.

Ishida stirred slightly, even in his sleep, feeling warm, protective reiatsu settle around their bodies like a blanket.


TBC in "Surrender the Mind" Part 9...