Ukitake wasn't entirely sure of what to expect from this meeting. When it came to anything involving Urahara Kisuke, the white-haired captain knew better than to put much thought into any expectations outside of the unexpected. This time was no different.

When word had finally reached the seireitei of the young hunter's capture, then her subsequent awakening and the events immediately following it, an emergency captain's meeting had been called in order to determine a course of action. Upon discovering the sizeable gap in languages, it had become apparent that a proper translator needed to be found – especially considering the delicate nature of the situation.

There were only three captains who had much understanding of the English language – Mayuri, Shunsui and himself - but only two who were fluent – himself and Shunsui.

He and his old friend shared a certain fascination with the written word, after all. That interest did not stop with Japanese, as they both found beauty in all languages they were fortunate enough to happen across.

Based upon their personalities, and what little had been observed of the young captives, however, Jyuushiro was chosen as the more ideal candidate. Kurotsuchi had wanted to accompany the elder captain to meet this strange new being, but as his squad was still busily working away at the samples and research being done into this being, it was determined he stay in the Soul Society.

Ukitake was glad of that. While the man had a brilliant mind, he was one of the most disturbing individuals the serene captain had ever run across in all of his many years. There was also a very good chance that the young woman would react poorly to the sight of the painted captain.

It was practically a certainty, actually, given her reaction to Yoruichi's 'teasing'.

So, here the captain of the 13th squad sat. Patiently, he waited for the young woman to be brought in, situated at a low table in the sitting room of Urahara's shop. Calmly, he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, and savored the delicate, soothing warmth of the brew. Little Ururu had a knack for teas, it seemed.

Finally, the door was darkened by the massive shadow of Tessai, who bore the winged woman in his muscled arms. The shinigami arched his brows at her unconscious state, "Is she alright?"

"She just needed a nap. We can't have our little guest grow exhausted, now, can we?" The shopkeeper asked of the captain as he stepped into the room and slid the door closed.

Jyuushiro only shook his head. Typical Kisuke.

The aproned man carefully settled the unconscious woman opposite Ukitake. Urahara knelt on her other side, and slipped one arm around her shoulders. The other hand pressed bracingly to her stomach, so she remained in a sitting position, albeit slumped back against him, while Tessai touched a fingertip to her brow.

Instantly, freakish eyes snapped open, and her body jolted within Urahara's grip.

Ukitake watched with fascination as the glow lit from deep within the inky depths, and her startled gaze swept the room in an attempt to orient herself. Upon noting her proximity to Kisuke – not to mention the cheeky grin he was wearing – she flinched away, then shot both him and Tessai glares quite eloquent in their irritation.

Despite the fierceness in her eyes, however, she made no move to cause either of them harm.

Interesting.

That look however, was enough for Urahara to withdraw his embrace, and sit behind her, a little to the left. Tessai flanked her right. Finally, those unsettling eyes rested upon the white-haired captain.

Easily, he caught her gaze with his own, and offered his famous smile. "Greetings, Miss Meg. I am Captain Jyuushiro Ukitake."

Her spine stiffened in a reflex to be at attention upon hearing the title, but still, the intent onyx gaze stayed upon him. Apparently, she wasn't entirely sure of what to expect, either. "…hello, sir."

With deft hands, Ukitake poured another cup of tea and offered it. When she accepted, albeit slightly awkwardly, he brought his own to his lips again, and took a sip. Deep honeyed eyes watched her closely as she mirrored him. "I trust your injuries are healing?"

Leathery wings adjusted subtly against the tense back, and the cup of tea was gently set on the table before her. "Yes, sir. Thank you for asking."

"Good," he returned his cup to the table as well, and leaned forward slightly. "Meg, what do you know of Hollows?"

She shook her head, and gave him an odd look. "…hollows? Ah…only that they sound rather, um…empty?"

Ukitake's soft chuckle warmed the air. "I'm sorry. Hollows are those creatures you were hunting."

"Oh," she laced her fingers together in her lap, "not much. Only that most people can't seem to see them, and they can do a great deal of damage." A pause. "And that it hurts when they hit you." Another pause, before her smooth voice again lifted. "A lot."

"Hm." Amusement tugged the corners of his lips up. "That it does. So why were you hunting them?"

Silence fell upon them as she contemplated on just how to answer that.

Despite the fact that her captors have treated her far better than she would have expected from anyone, she was still their prisoner. As far as she knew, they were still enemies, despite the odd instinct to trust them. In addition, while she did have some ideas on why the higher ups wanted the strange, selectively invisible beasts, she didn't feel quite ready to divulge those thoughts just yet. "I was ordered to."

"By who?" There was no irritation in the calm voice, only civil curiousity.

Meg knew better than to trust the surface impressions with anyone in a position of power – especially the seemingly kind ones. "My commanders."

A startlingly dark brow arched as the man opposite her reached into one of his sleeves to pull out one of the two dog tags taken upon her capture. "I see." He put the piece of metal on the table and slid it over to her. "This was found on you when you were brought in. My apologies, but this does not look like regular identification. Which military are you with?"

Once his fingers had left the tab, she slid it off the edge of the table, and looked over the familiar characters. A hint of sadness entered her eyes as her brows furrowed slightly. "I'm…sort of a mercenary. Kind of."

Hazel eyes grew stern as he leaned forward, "How can one be 'sort of' a mercenary?"

The corners of her lips turned down in a slight frown, and she looked back up to him contemplatively, "This says 'Gladius Omega 309'. Were your people able to translate what that first word is?"

The captain blinked, then nodded. "It's Latin for 'sword'."

Quietly, she set the tab back down on the smooth surface of the table. Tapered fingers pressed against the cool metal. "That's what I am. A sword. A weapon." Meg returned her hands to her lap, and her solemn gaze to his. "I'm a mercenary in that I am commissioned to carry out assignments. I am not a mercenary in that I have no control over which assignments I carry out."

The pause between them was pregnant. She watched the white haired captain proccess this new information. The sick feeling of knowing she'd said too much coiled in her belly.

Finally, his soft voice broke the silence, "You may have more control than you think." He held a hand up to belay her objection. "We can speak more on that later. However, we need to know who you're working for, now."

Her gaze fell from his, only to rest on the teapot on the table between them. "I honestly don't know. I'm never given names, unless it suites those using me."

His sharp gaze watched her measuringly, before he simply nodded. "Of course." He considered her for a few moments longer. Instinct borne of countless years experience told him she wasn't about to volunteer much more information tonight. "Do you have any questions?"

Slowly, she again raised her eyes, uncertainly this time. "…why are you people so interested in the mons…er…Hollows?"

Brown eyes lost their peircing quality, in favor of a softer, more understanding tone. "Ah, that does require some explanation. Best left for another day, perhaps. Suffice to say, we are balancers, and the Hollow play an important role in that balance."

Almost birdlike, she subtly tilted her head. "Balancers of what?"

"Life and death." Casually, he lifted his tea to his lips.

Her brows shot up. "…what exactly are you?"

His smile was warm, but the subtle flash in his eyes was a reminder of who had the upper hand. "A simple man doing an important job."

Properly warned, she nodded. That was fair. She was the intruder on their turf, after all, and she was now in their hands. When she spoke again, her soft voice held a note of apology. "May I ask something else?"

"Of course." His tone spoke of forgiveness.

A breath was drawn in. Worry entered her gaze at the memory of the fascinating young archer. "How is Uryu? I've not seen him for a few days. Was an antidote pulled from my blood?"

Ukitake smiled again, this time it was colored with compassion. "He is recovering. Urahara Kisuke was able to administer the cure for the toxin, and the young man is simply needs a great deal of rest."

Meg sighed, her shoulders visibly releasing a bit of tension. "Good. I honestly didn't want to hurt him in the first place." She remembered the small, dark-haired woman as well, who had already taken a turn guarding her in the strange not-desert in the time between her awakening and being taken to this room for this conversation. "Either of them."

"Yes," his voice was gentle, his eyes contemplative as they watched the young woman across from him. It appeared there was quite a bit for them all to learn from this experience. "Yes, I can see that."

She glanced up at him at that, then bowed her head and spoke no more.


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