I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.

Beta: lilarin

Chapter Seven

(While listening to Running up That Hill by Placebo)

The days following her sleepover at Grimmjow's apartment passed quietly. Things seemed to return to the way they had been when she had first started working for him. She went about her day, filing his papers, scheduling appointments, and performing the other many minor tasks that made up her day to day job as his secretary. The idea of a partnership had finally been put to rest. The decision that she would not sleep with him until he was willing to see her as more than a body to warm his bed, had put an end to the idea of them pursuing their mutual desire for physical contact.

He was pleasant enough in the office, but something was missing. It was if he was deciding just what to do with her. Or more so trying to figure just how she fit into his life. She decided that for now she would wait. It was obvious that he was confused, and if she pushed him too hard he would most likely push back, and the results would not be what she wanted.

Now at the beginning of a new week she entered the office, flipped on the lights, and prepped the coffee pot for his usual cup of morning java. From behind his closed office door she heard low voices and was surprised that he had actually beaten her to the office for a change.

Cream and sugar.

Well, that was a good sign.

At least he wasn't hung-over.

But then he had remained sober since the incident in the bar.

Shaking her head to dismiss that unpleasant memory, she started the pot brewing. The least she could do was bring him some hot coffee to start his morning right. She checked the phone messages while she waited, and when the coffee was finally ready she poured him a cup and another for his guest just in case, knocked on his door, and slowly entered when he responded.

"I brought two cups," she began as she took in the slight figure of the man seated across the desk from Grimmjow, "In case your guest wanted some as well."

She placed his cup on the desk in front of him and turned to the visitor. The man looked up at her and she was struck by his vivid green eyes and smooth, pale skin. Dark hair stuck out from beneath a knit hat and framed his face. A face that gave away absolutely no clue as to what he was thinking.

"Would you like some coffee?" she held out the other cup.

"Actually, I was just leaving," his deep voice was soft and even. Rising to his feet he turned back to Grimmjow. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Grimmjow rose as well. "This should be enough," he tapped a manila envelope on his desk top. "Thanks again."

The other man nodded and then made his way to the door. Orihime watched him go and then turned to Grimmjow.

"Who was he?"

Her boss sat back down and took a long drink from his mug. Lowering it to just below his lips he gazed at the now empty doorway. "I guess you can say he's an old friend."

She gazed at him skeptically, "An old friend that leaves you rather large envelopes with information, I'm guessing."

He looked down at the manila envelope on his desk. "He's got some skills that come in handy in my line of work."

She knew he did not want to share with her, but her curiosity was piqued, and besides shouldn't she know about the people he did business with so she could be of better assistance to him?

"Should I create an invoice, so you can pay him for his services?" she tried another tactic.

He turned his stare her way and said coolly, "Not everyone I do business with would like a paper trail for tax purposes, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," she said as she grasped the remaining cup in her hand tightly. "So I guess your friend went about gathering the information illegally."

"People hire me for a reason, Orihime," he held her gaze.

She returned his stare, but wanted to look away. In fact she wanted to run as far from him as she could at the moment. Yoruichi had mentioned that he did things outside of the law, but she had dismissed those claims, not wanting to face the truth. Yet here he was laying it on the table for her to see, almost daring her to look at him with unveiled eyes. He was definitely pushing, and suddenly she felt it was important that she pushed back in return.

"And this information," she stood firm, "Would it have to do with Ichigo."

His eyes narrowed and his hand went to the envelope on his desk. "There's a hell of a lot of shit here. You sure your white knight has this much crap in his past?"

He was taunting her now, and she felt her reserve falter slightly. She had witnessed his cold and sarcastic side before, in fact this was much more like the man she had met that day in the elevator, but he had warmed considerably since then. The fact that he was acting this way set off alarm bells in her head.

"Ichigo is a good person, so I guess you're right, the information couldn't be on him," she replied turning her chin up in defiance.

"Really," he grinned menacingly, his anger now sparked at her defense of her friend, and former crush. "You sure your hero isn't hiding something dark and sinister in his past?" He stood, envelope in hand and stepped within inches of her. "Is he really that infallible, that far removed from the rest of us poor schmucks and all are obvious character flaws?"

"Don't do this," she stepped back and lowered her gaze finally.

"Do what, Orihime," he closed the distance again. "Shatter your illusions about him," he lowered his voice, "Or me."

She gasped and needing to catch her breath, turned and walked back to her office. She poured the coffee from the mug in her hand out into the sink and rinsed the cup. Putting it away she turned, only to find him standing in the doorway, eyes burning with anger. Her stomach clenched and she fought the panic rising within her. He was scaring her by acting this way, but she couldn't let him see that. It was what he wanted after all.

"So," he leaned against the frame, "How about I open this up and we see just how much of a goody-goody your friend truly is?"

"I don't need to hear anything that you obtained illegally," she walked towards her desk, but his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm.

"Afraid?" he asked sharply.

She shook her arm free. "You are purposely trying to hurt me," she met his gaze. "I don't understand why, but this has nothing to do with the job."

He stared long and hard for a silent minute, and she tried not to squirm. A smile then appeared again and he laughed softly. Reaching down he began to tear open the envelope. "How about, just for kicks we read through this?"

Grimmjow felt as if he had stepped outside of his body. The scene, no matter how horrible, was playing out before him and he knew he couldn't turn away even if he wanted to. She was right, he was trying to hurt her, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why.

Her obvious disapproval of his more seedy business practices, combined with her unwavering trust in Kurosaki pissed him off. He knew what the file contained. His friend had tipped him off to it the previous evening when he told him he would drop by in the morning with the papers for Kuchiki. He knew the kid had stuff he wished to hide too, and now he found he desired nothing more than to share that with Orihime and shatter her perfect image of the guy.

Pulling out the papers he glanced through them and then up at her. She stood firm, her eyes held his. Still he could see she was upset by his actions, but the momentum was too strong to stop now.

"I suppose you know about his mother?" he asked.

"She died when he was eight."

"Did he tell you she was murdered right in front of him?"

Her eyes opened wider.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. That's some messed up shit. No one could witness something like that and not be fucked up, you know what I mean."

"Ichigo is a nice person…"

"A nice person?" he was so tired of her defense of Kurosaki. "When exactly did you first meet him? High school?"

She nodded.

"So you have no clue about all the shit that went down while he was in middle school. Hell, the guy was somewhat of a terror even in elementary school."

"I don't believe you," her voice lowered, but she still held his gaze.

"Too hard to imagine your prince charming being nothing more than a hotheaded punk, getting into fights, and even getting suspended more times than not during middle school?"

"If he did there had to be a reason," her resolve pissed him off even more.

"A reason?" his voice rose, "How about the fact that he was fucking crazy? Is that good enough a reason for you?"

She finally looked down. When she spoke up he could hear the emotion in her voice, "He is a good person…"

"Really, Orihime," he now began to shout. "The guy watched some sicko kill his mother, was soaked in her blood when the police arrived on the scene, remained completely catatonic for days afterward, and then developed some bizarre personality disorder."

She shook her head and covered her ears, "Stop it!"

He placed the papers on her desk and grabbed her wrists painfully tight, pulling them away from her ears. "He suffers from multiple personality disorder. Do you know what that means? The guy has like this alter ego; some nasty ass character that would surface whenever he felt stressed or backed against a wall. It was like a switch, and when the bastard would come out, Kurosaki was like a maniac. He actually put one kid in the hospital…"

"No, you're just trying to make him sound bad."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you don't like Ichigo," she called out in frustration.

"He's not the perfect guy you think he is," he replied bitterly. "Even Kurosaki has demons, just like the rest of us, only his demon is a real and freaky psychological condition."

"I've never seen him act that way," she said when she met his gaze again.

"That's because his father paid a butt load of money to get him treatment with this guy Urahara. The doctor's methods are not completely sanctioned by the medical community, but he did something that helped Kurosaki control this freak inside of him."

"So he's cured."

"You don't get cured of shit like that."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"So that makes it okay?" he tried to calm himself, "He gets a free pass because of post traumatic stress or some other fucking lame excuse."

"No," her eyes suddenly blazed angrily. "There are no free passes in life, but it explains things, just like your father's death explains many things about your behavior."

He released her hands, "My old man has nothing to do with this."

"We all have baggage…"

"A split personality is not simply baggage. He's a fucking psycho, and Kuchiki is going to pay me good money for this information."

She now grabbed his arm, "No Grimmjow," she pleaded, "You can't do that."

"It's what I was hired to do," he shook her off and grabbed the file from her desk. "Kuchiki wants to keep the bloodline pure, you know, and shit like this never goes away."

"Grimmjow, please don't give him that information. In the end you will only hurt innocent people."

"Kuchiki should know what his sister-in-law is getting mixed up in."

"You gained this information illegally," she pressed, "Doctors records are private…most likely sealed…"

"That's why I pay my guy good money to hack the stuff for me," his voice became cold.

"You are a better man than this…"

"Don't try that shit with me," he grew angrier by her tactics.

"You know what's it's like to have to overcome things from your past that you had no control over," she refused to back down.

"Kurosaki and I are nothing alike," he lowered his voice to almost a whisper.

"No I suppose not," she walked around her desk and grabbed her purse, "He couldn't control his actions without professional help, while you willfully choose to hurt people with no concern about the damage you inflict."

He narrowed his eyes, his fist clenched tightly at his side, "And where exactly are you going?"

"I don't know," she said as she stepped closer to the door, "Somewhere away from you right now."

"Kurosaki," he asked.

"No," she grabbed the knob and opened the door. "But honestly, if you do this…"

"What?" he stood rooted in his spot.

"I…can't continue to do this," she gave him her back. "I can't work for you anymore. It goes against everything I believe in, destroying people for money."

"It goes hand-in-hand with the job," he shot back.

"It doesn't have to."

He laughed, "God, you are so naive."

She stiffened but didn't respond. Instead she walked away, closing the door behind her carefully.

He stared at the door and then said softly, "Well you managed to do it Grimmjow." He walked back to his office and sat down at his desk. Staring at the file he continued, "Good job getting her to hate you."

Grimmjow walked up to the grave, the familiar bottle of Jack Daniels in hand, and sat down rather unceremoniously on the ground by the headstone. Taking a long drink he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the marble marker.

"Well I really fucked things up," he said as he reached out and ran his hand across the smooth stone. "I don't know why I did it, but I couldn't stop myself."

Silence greeted him as a cool breeze blew his bangs into his eyes. Pushing the hair out of the way he stared out at the cemetery. He knew this place like the back of his hand; had visited frequently after his father had died. Sometimes he skipped school, caught a bus, and spent his day sitting in this exact spot, talking to his old man.

Then they had moved, and getting back to the cemetery wasn't so easy anymore. One time he disappeared, and when he hadn't returned at sundown, his mother had actually become anxious. It was her new husband that had found him. The guy was pretty intuitive, and even though Grimmjow refused to let him in, the guy knew most of his secrets – at least when it came to running away.

In fact the guy came for him that last time he left. It took him a few weeks, but he finally found Grimmjow living with some other teens in some rundown apartment. He had asked him to return home, to consider his future, but Grimmjow had only one future he wanted to pursue and that had been proving his father's innocence.

It had taken a lot work, but he managed to get his GED and with a little more perseverance was accepted into the police academy. He figured the best place to start was at the source, and his desire to get the truth about his father, caused him more trouble than he had bargained for.

Which left him here, back in the city where he had grown up, sitting next to his father's tombstone, lamenting his inability to pull his head out of his ass when it really mattered.

"Shit," he took another long drink. "I gotta make money. I mean what does she expect me to do? I'm not noble like that damn Kurosaki."

Yet she would defend him just as she had her friend. He knew it deep in his gut. So he had pushed her; made sure she understood just what type of a guy he was, so that she had no misconceptions anymore.

"What would you do?" he asked the long dead man. "Kuchiki hired me to find the dirt on the kid, and I did. And this job pays damn good money. And if I just threw away this information I would be out a lot of cash, and I'm kind of strapped right now. So fuck principles, ya know. Let Kurosaki deal with the fall out. After all he's the one with the problem."

Yet he knew that was a lame excuse. Orihime was right; the kid couldn't help how his brain had chosen to cope with the trauma of seeing his mom killed. After all here he was, twenty-one years after his father was killed, and he still clung to his memories, and his need for answers.

"You couldn't be crooked though," his voice was choked with emotion and he lifted the bottle once more. "You were a good man, a man of principles as well…"

But what if he hadn't been? Grimmjow had only been seven when his father died. He remembered him through the eyes of a child. His father had been his whole world. He trusted the man completely, and if his life had been a lie…

"Fucking shit!" he yelled. "I'm so sick of all this crap. Why can't I just put you to rest? Why can't I just walk away like mom did? Why is this so hard for me? After all, you left me." He stood and began to pace in front of the grave, "You went and got killed. I depended on you to be there forever and you up and died on me. You left me with her, and she couldn't even look me in the eyes after you were gone. You know what that fucking does to a kid?"

He lifted the bottle and remembered the other night when Orihime had come for him in the bar. Remembered the way she had shied away from him, afraid he would hurt her.

Damn it to hell! He wasn't that kind of a man. But then he wasn't some good guy like she wanted him to be. He was a fucking mess. That's what he was. He wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. And he hated that she put so much faith in him, just like she put so much faith in Kurosaki. And Kurosaki was a total schizo. So where did that put him. It just reaffirmed that she was a lousy judge of character.

"Fuck this," he grabbed the bottle by the neck, "And fuck you!"

He threw the bottle at the gravestone. It shattered, leaking the amber liquid all over the white marble. Falling to his knees he placed his head in his hands and began to sob. He didn't know what to feel anymore. This discontent had been brewing for a long time. And when Sui-Feng stole those files from him, it only escalated. He was losing himself in this damn need to prove his dad innocent, and he had become blind to that fact until Orihime made it painfully clear.

He enjoyed being with her. Even if she was a little ditsy at times, and clung to her antiquated ideals. After all how many twenty-two year old virgins really existed anymore? But those things only served to turn him on, because he knew that he was everything she was not, and regardless she still found something in him redeeming enough to try and build a relationship with him.

Of course he had destroyed that today. She was the only real and genuine thing that had entered his life in the past two decades and he made damn sure she didn't remain.

"I don't know what to do," he said softly. "I either lose her, or lose this job."

And Kuchiki would not dismiss this easily. His name would be mud if he fucked this up. The arrogant snob would destroy him, and then what would he do for a living. She didn't think about that when she was spouting principles and crap. But he could always make money, somehow, but if he lost her, well she was not so easily replaced.

He glanced back at his father's headstone. "It's time to move on isn't it?"

Silence again.

"I suppose we all make bad decisions. Hell, I've been making them ever since you died. I mean so what if you were crooked. It doesn't change what we had, does it?"

The darkening night answered him with the cool breeze again.

"You would have approved of Orihime. She's one damn good looking chick," he smiled as he imagined her in one of her silly old-lady outfits. "And she stands by her convictions. She's pretty strong, even if she first comes across as weak."

He grew quiet and sat still thinking about how he had really screwed things up. He knew he had a choice. He could hand over the information and continue on with his life like he had for the past twenty-one years, or he could shred it and tell Kuchiki to fuck off. Still there was no guarantee that Orihime would come back, and deep down inside he believed he wasn't the best man for her.

Better to let her go.

But what should he do about Kurosaki?

Once more he sat in silence. The sky grew black when he finally pulled out his phone and placed the call.

"I finished the investigation," he said when the other line picked up. "When and where would you like to meet and discuss what I have?"