Renji gave up trying to fix the dismembered Soul Society communicator after spending nearly two hours on it. He'd gotten a fragmented message through to Isane that night before an attempt at adjusting a frequent shift resulted in further damage, and more pieces. The best he could manage was to reassemble it after the initial call left it inoperable. After a patch job of masking tape he'd gotten another brief call through to Division Four, but was able to only get a few more pertinent facts out to the acting fourth seated officer before there'd been a crackling sound and the bottom casing had fallen off the device.

This time there was a new rattling in the communicator that promised new damage. That left him without a means of contact, and except for the last-call distress signal function, which was permanently jammed into the device casing from his desperation. He hoped Isane's promise of sending resources were what he hoped. He also hoped she understood what he meant by paperwork for school. She hadn't heard everything he said.

"...send someone with that," was all he heard in return. He hoped it meant what he thought it did.

The most he could do was call in the accident to the local police station that night and report it to the car rental agency, which was not happy.

He was determined to give the communicator another go the next morning. He awoke to fog that hung between the mountains, enveloping the two-story house in an eerie damp blanket. It was still early, so he dressed and glanced down the hall to Orihime's room at the end. The door was slightly ajar, as she'd left it the night before, and quiet.

Thoughts of the accident left him in a sour mood, and being unable to contact Soul Society with any certainty wasn't helping any. He kept his grousing on mute as he headed down the hall. He paused at Orihime's door, listening, hearing nothing. He assumed she was still sleeping, as there were no telltale smells drifting up the staircase that warned him of breakfast being made. He inched the door open enough to see the floor of her room. Realizing that wasn't helping him any, he cleared his throat, waiting for some response, like a threat or flying hairbrush.

There was nothing, so he peeked around the door. Orihime was still in bed, burrowed in the blanket and sheet, her sleeping form making a pleasing shape under the bedclothes. She faced him, buried somewhere under a mound of auburn tumbleweed.

For a minute Renji still wasn't sure she was simply sleeping; he knew she'd gotten pretty knocked around in the car during the accident. She hadn't given him a bruise count after her bath last night, but he'd seen a few and heard her mumblings as she climbed the stairs.

Her fingers closed around the blanket she'd pulled to her chin, a slight movement that told Renji she was just sleeping. Nothing more.

He turned down the hall.

He took the window out his room to reach the rooftop. He learned last night – with Orihime's help – that that was the best spot to get better reception. He had settled there after she went for her bath, finding the place near the chimney that she'd told him Isane used most when she contacted Soul Society.

The shingles were damp in the morning light stretching through the fog, some patched with inexact pieces, showing the house's age in the poor misty light. Renji pulled the faulty communicator from his pocket and sat down. The quietness around him was broken by a few birds and insects.

Some the biting kind, he discovered as a few mosquitoes buzzed him. He swatted them away, and then scowled at the communicator, but pleased to see a green light now glowing on it. He carefully adjusted the frequency setting to the Best Lock position, figuring any port was good in a storm, and was awarded with a loud static, and then a voice in mid sentence.

"...don't want to talk to that tight ass," Ichigo's voice interrupted the foggy morning, sounding especially loud in the opaque air. "He's just gonna give me shit about my age and still being in school. We could wait –"

"Ichigo!" Rukia's voice chirped from the communicator. "He's a captain in Soul Society and the head of my family. A noble family, mind you. Don't speak about him that way! Show some respect!"

Renji growled and tried to punch down the volume on the device but that button was already down, way down, in the keypad. He mashed a thumb over the speaker part.

Ichigo's voice said something that sounded like a question, followed by Rukia's higher pitched annoyance.

Renji tried to adjust the frequency, but the Locked button was highlighted on the screen, indicating that the signal was locked for best reception. It was, however, a signal, and his only hope at the moment.

He took his thumb off the speaker and held the phone to his ear. "Hey," he said, "Rukia?"

"...guess I can do it. When do you want to break the news?" Ichigo's voice said.

Renji gripped the communicator tighter, making the housing crack. "I'm cutting in, Kurosaki, so save your dignity."

A loud snap made him hold the phone away, then cover it with a hand as he glanced to the other side of the roof where he knew Orihime's window was.

He gritted his teeth and took his palm from the phone.

"...love you, too, Rukia."

Renji's eyes narrowed on the device, matched by his fingers closing into a crunch around it. A line of static buzzed out. "You damn bastard," he muttered at it, wishing the communicator was Ichigo's neck. He was still glaring at it when he heard a sound from below and looked to the edge of the roofline.

The back of Orihime's head appeared below the eaves trough, hair still tangled. She leaned out of the window more, and then turned to look up at him. "Renji?" She wiped the hair from her face and tried to smooth it away. "I heard Ichigo's voice."

"Damn it," he grumbled, burying the communicator speaker against his leg, just in case. "Just a crossed frequency. Nothing, really."

She turned to look into the backyard, still in her sleeping camisole and shorts. "It sounded so close."

"Maybe you were dreaming," he added lamely, wanting t fling the communicator as far as he could, which at the moment would be half a mile. "I'll be in in a minute."

She nodded. "Okay."

She disappeared back under the roofline and Renji waited a moment before easing the communicator away from his leg. Now the casing was damaged even worse from his fierce grip on it.

Not tight enough to swallow down the words Ichigo had uttered, not quick enough to cut off any nonsense neither Renji nor Orihime would have wanted to hear. He considered chucking it into the thick woods that wove back behind the house. See if that Sylvi girl's house was within hurling distance.

He stared at the deformed metal and plastic device, mentally cursing it for acknowledging what he hadn't wanted to confront. He knew Rukia had been seeing more of Ichigo, had been finding feeble reasons for her little trips to the Living World that she didn't fully explain. Renji had nodded at her excuses. He'd come to terms with her, and that, but to hear it now rankled nerves he'd long since deadened.

He cast a sharp eye to the eaves trough that lined the roof where he'd last seen Orihime. Maybe she hadn't heard it. Maybe she'd assume it was a dream.

Maybe he could pretend that, too.

Inside her room, Orihime dressed for the already warming day. The fog was lifting, adding a layer of unneeded warmth to the day promising to scorch anyone within the sun's sight. She picked out a pair of cuffed denim shorts and one of her more concealing of tank tops. If they were going into town it would require walking, and if Renji wanted to look at vehicles, that meant interaction with people.

She pulled the lavender shirt over her head, settling it over her waist as she watched her reflection in the nearly full length mirror on the inside of the closet. She knew it didn't show on her, that shadow of an uncertain future that had sunken at her chest, but she felt like eyes were staring at her when they were in public. She brushed out her hair, watching for signs of any darkening at the skin above the top's neckline as the tangles came out of her hair. There was nothing, no threat of Hollow hole. And some of the attention, she knew, was for more normal reasons. She'd gotten used to that from boys and men, but it didn't mean she wanted it.

She heard a beep-beep of a truck backing up from outside, and then the quick footfalls of Renji's steps on the staircase. She hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading downstairs.

By the time she got to the main floor Renji was outside on the front porch, watching a tow truck expertly back their wounded car up the driveway. It looked even worse when righted and forced up on the flatbed of the truck, as if on display. She looked to Renji. He was scowling at the car, eyes on the passenger side that was missing a door.

He glanced to her. "How're you feeling? Any better after yesterday?"

She nodded quickly. "A little sore. Are you okay?"

He nodded, looking back to the portly truck driver that had parked the truck and was rounding the front of it. The man was red-faced, wiping his brow with a well-used handkerchief as he waddled toward them, a clipboard in one hand.

"Howdy!" he called, smiling, nodding to Orihime. "'Morning. You're the Joneses?"

Renji reached into his back pocket, his consumer sense kicking in. "Yeah. How much?"

The man chuckled. "That's covered by the rental agency. I just need your signature."

Orihime looked down the driveway, feeling a tickle in her chest that she couldn't pinpoint. Not a pain, not a constriction like she had at other times before she'd gone to Urahara's shop. Something different. Her eyes went over the vicinity, searching for anything that would have triggered the tiny flutter in her chest. There was nothing different, nothing except the last of the wispy fog fading away in the heating air. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as she put a hand to her collar, breathing slowly.

Maybe it was just the change in the vials Urahara had given her to take. That was it. She sighed as the truck driver spoke to Renji, her attention at the end of the driveway where it made a turn as a man appeared there. He was thin, lanky in build, wearing worn jeans and a gray plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked to her, then paused and looked back to driveway behind him. A few seconds later Widow Mayes slowly made her way, again in a cotton dress and apron.

Renji looked to them. "Who the hell is that with her?"

The truck diver took the form Renji handed back to him. "Widow Mayes and the local handyman." He smiled when Renji and Orihime looked to him. "Small town here. Everyone talks," he said, mostly to the arches of black tattoos peeking between Renji's headband and shocking red hair. He heaved a shrug. "Probably see a lot of Reese, seeing as you're living in Widow Mayes' rental house."

Renji looked to Orihime, whose eyes belied her surprise. He nodded. "I didn't realize the house had that many problems," he said, trying to sound casual.

The truck driver waved a thick hand to the old woman and thin man as they approached. "Thank you for your business," he said, winking at Orihime before turning and starting back to the vehicle.

Orihime looked to Renji. "Isane didn't tell you?" she asked lowly in Japanese.

He shook his head as the truck engine started and it eased down the driveway, slowing and meandering onto the grass to go around the two figures that had already moved off the drive.

"I didn't know," Orihime said, switching back to English as the old woman met them.

Mayes squinted at them, then let her aged eyes rest on the heavily dented car missing most of its windows. "You kids okay?"

Renji nodded. "We're fine."

Mayes gave Orihime a quick study, nodding. "This is Reese. He'll fix your washing machine."

The man beside her tipped his baseball cap, his late-twenties face appearing leathery after a life of bad habits that weren't getting any better. "Howdy."

The stench of stale smoke pervaded Reese's movements, his quick grin too tight on his face. Renji found himself daring the man to even look at Orihime wrong, wanting to break something or someone after the last twenty-four hours.

"Oh, good," Orihime said, surprising Renji.

He darted a look to her.

"Ain't cycling out, I imagine," Reese said. "Had that problem before. An easy fix."

Mayes put her hands on her hips, which only gave her the silhouette of a cotton square. "You need a ride to town? We're going that way in a spell."

Renji debated his few options, liking neither of them, but inclined to think his new landlady might be the nosey type if she didn't get taken up on the help she offered. He didn't want nosiness, especially not from someone so close, with keys to their house. "Yeah, we could use a lift. We've got some arrangements to make."

She nodded, one eye squinting more than the other at him. "No rentals in town, but there's a used car lot. Talk to Bradley and he'll give you a decent deal."

Renji looked to Orihime. "We'll find new transportation in town."

She nodded, smiling.


After a very short shot at a breakfast of meager instant oatmeal it was another ride in another truck, this time to town, in a newer truck than Delmar had driven, but already smelling faintly of smoke. Renji figured Reese was to blame. So did Mayes.

"I told you no smoking in my truck," she said in a voice rasping from the earlier fog. She looked far up at him as he drove.

"Sorry, ma'am," Reese said automatically.

Beside Mayes, Orihime was sandwiched near Renji.

He glanced at the old woman. She gave him a sharp look in return, then patted Orihime's unsuspecting knee.

"You took a roll, I hear," she said, voice softening as much as it could. "It was on the police scanner last night. Lots of deer out now. You get banged up any?"

"No," Orihime said, adding a smile for good measure. "We're fine."

"You going to school here?"

Orihime nodded. "I have to register yet."

Mayes didn't look at Renji but he could feel her thinking about him. He didn't like it, figuring she was judging, and judging in that unliberal mindset about living arrangements.

"You shouldn't be wandering on your own, young girl like you," she said, eyes on the town as it came into view around a sharp corner of mountain. "Got some nasty people on the loose."

"She doesn't go anywhere by herself," Renji said.

"Good. Keep it that way."

Before Renji could respond with something he knew he should keep to himself, she made a wrinkled smile. "Most folks around here are nice, but you can't be too careful with trouble on the prowl. Better not to have a girl alone. You're staying at the house now?"

He nodded, and then decided to curtail any complications down the road Isane might have overlooked. "My sister will be around sometimes. I think you've already seen her. Tall, short light hair," he said, taking a moment to visualize exactly what color Isane's hair was.

The widow nodded at him as Reese followed the main drag through town and pulled the truck to a curb next to a hardware store. Orihime looked up at Renji, nodding slightly at his story.

"I rented out to her aunt. Your aunt," Mayes said as Reese parked the truck. "Una Hana."

Renji grinned. "Yeah. Aunt Una."

They exited the truck, the widow taking a moment to pull her arthritis stricken legs out one at a time. Renji and Orihime stood on the sidewalk, both looking to the used car lot at the end of town that had red and blue banners flying overhead in the warm breeze.

"You need a ride back, let us know," Mayes said, straightening her apron as Reese took her elbow and ushered her up the curbside. "We'll be here or at the feed mill."

Renji looked to where she pointed at a three-story off-white building on the other end of town. It was in need of a paint job, and had been built on a river originally, but the river had dropped to a creek with the lowering water level, and was now more storage and feed store than actual mill.

"Thanks," he said. "We plan to replace the car today."

Orihime tugged at his arm and pointed across the street. "That's our bank."

They parted company with Reese and the widow and headed across the street, with Orihime talking non-stop.

"...the first time, but Isane had no problems after that," she said, recalling previous trips to the bank as they stepped onto the opposite sidewalk. She stuck her hands in her back pockets as they walked. Renji saw her frown, a frown he was familiar with, but she quickly smiled when she saw him watching. "Is your communicator working now?"

"Kind of. When it wants to."

They followed the sidewalk to the bank, the few pedestrians along the way nodding and adding a 'Howdy' as they passed.

"Did you get any calls through this morning?"

Orihime's voice broke as she said it, and Renji guessed at what she really wanted to know. "It was locked onto one frequency," he said, seeing her lips fight to remain neutral. Her eyes shifted to the bank as they reached it.

"I thought I heard Ichigo's voice this morning."

He opened the bank door, not wanting to comment or answer, but she stopped in the doorway, awaiting on something from him.

"He was on another call. I wasn't talking to him, Orihime." He'd tried to say it as unbiased as possible, but the irritation seeped into his tone.

She sighed, nodding.

"Let's see if our money is here," he said, putting one hand on her shoulder and gently escorting her into motion.

He felt another sigh pull at her shoulder, her posture sag a bit under his hand. He didn't try to find the right thing to say; chances were his mood would eat into any good intentions he had, so remaining silent on the subject, for once, was the better option.

It took less than ten minutes to find out that Soul Society had come through, and their recent deposit of what Renji hoped to be enough for a truck was there and available. The bank cashier gave him a shrewd look at his request to withdraw said funds, but when Renji presented the identification she asked for, she filled an envelope with bills and pushed it across the counter to him.

Encouraged that a truck was within reach, Orihime and Renji set off back onto the sidewalk and found the used car lot.

It was already mid-morning, and the skimpy breakfast of oatmeal was wearing off and Orihime's stomach noticed. She crossed her arms as they walked, trying to keep the grumblings of hunger to a minimum.

"You want to get something to eat first?" Renji asked as a muffled growl echoed from her.

She held her arms tighter across her stomach. "No. I'm fine."

The car lot was already busy when the got there. It was located on the side of town where the mountain sloped steeply behind the modest parking lot, an assortment of vehicles, most trucks, lined up and freshly washed and sparkling in the hot sun. A pleased grin crossed Renji's face as he found the row of not-so-new trucks in the row farthest back, behind the pricier prospects.

Three men were at one truck, one lying underneath as the other two, one in a causal suit, talked. The hood was raised, and the salesman in the suit was gesturing and nodding.

Renji and Orihime stopped at the first truck, a bright red one with balloons hanging off the side view mirror. He looked at the large sticker on the window, hopes dropping. "Damn, this might not work, Orihime." He frowned at the sticker, the row of black marked numbers seeming to laugh at him. "I don't care if its yen or dollars, it's not worth that much."

She giggled, noting where his stare was focused. "That's the phone number, Renji."

He looked closer at the smaller print on it. She was right. "Hell, I hope so." He looked down the line of newer trucks, and then to the back line. Near the three bay garage a cobalt blue Ford early model pick-up was parked, no stickers on its windows yet. "What do you think about that one?"

She looked to the blue truck. "Is it for sale?"

Renji glanced to another salesman walking quickly their way. "We'll find out. Come on."

They outdistanced the salesman, making a beeline for the blue truck at the garage. A grin spread over Renji's face as they neared. It lacked the shine of the other trucks already lined up for inspection, but there was something about it that appealed to him. Maybe it was the knobby tires.

"Ooh, I like the color," Orihime cooed when they got close to it. "It looks like a lake." She smiled as they stopped and he looked into the open driver's window.

It was a standard Ford pick-up, less showy than some of the others in the front. Orihime stood on tiptoe to see into the open window.

"Hello! Hello! Can I help you folks?"

Renji looked to the salesman catching up to them, a name tag reading Bradley on his suit coat lapel. He was middle-aged, balding, a friendly, unforced smile on his face. Renji nodded. "How much money for this truck?"

Bradley scratched his temple. "It hasn't been detailed yet, not really for sale. You sure you're not in the market for something newer?"

Renji shook his head, pulling from his back pocket the pertinent information Isane had said he'd need. "How much?"

Orihime leaned her arms on the driver's window edge as the men talked on, most of the chat lost on her as she looked at the navy and gray interior of the truck. She heard and felt a bump, and then the hood of the truck lifted and Renji and Bradley disappeared from her view at the front.

Renji listened to the man, wishing he knew more about what he was supposed to ask, supposed to know about what he was looking at under the truck's hood. All he saw was a mess of hoses, wires, and a large hunk of metal between the wheel wells.

The salesman named a sum, and Renji nodded, handing him a few slips of paper. "We'll take it."

The salesman's face claimed an incredulous look, glancing first to the papers and then back to Renji. "You're sure? You don't want to take it for a drive first?"

It sounded like something they should do, so Renji nodded. "Does it run?" He looked to where Orihime was leaning half into the window of the driver's side door.

"Runs fine." Bradley smiled wider and waved a finger at him. "Since we're talking cash, I'll get the paperwork started and swap your insurance." He looked at the card Renji had given him. "Same information? Renji Jones?"

Renji nodded.

"I'll get this run and get you set up, Mr. Jones."

Bradley left with a whistle, and Renji gave Orihime's form a quick look before he dropped to his knees and crawled under the truck. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing lying on his back beneath the truck, but it seemed to be the thing to do. He found himself staring back at the dirty, greasy underside of the vehicle, facing an unknown assortment of metal.

He looked to Orihime's sandals as they shifted on the pavement at the opposite door from where he lay, watched her walk to the back of the truck bed.

"Don't go far, Orihime."

"I won't."

Renji looked from tire well to tire well, sighing in his ignorance. A moment later Orihime's feet appeared near his legs under the truck, and then she knelt.

"What do you think, Renji?" she asked, dipping her head to see him, ponytail falling beside her.

He stared back at the floor pan overhead. "Everything seems to be here."

To his surprise, she tuned on her back and wedged herself beside him under the truck, scooting carefully on the cement, chest barely clearing some of the lines and metal crossing beneath the pick-up.

"You shouldn't be under here," he said as she eased up next to him. "You'll get dirty, Orihime."

Her eyes moved over the dusty metal above them. "I've never been under a truck before."

He chuckled. "Neither have I."

She frowned at the nearest heavy duty spring over a front tire. "What does all this stuff do? Do all trucks look like this?"

He sighed. "Probably."

She glanced down the body of the truck to the bed and he took the opportunity to gauge the distance between the highest part of her torso and the lowest part of the truck.

"Uh, you're going to get dusty," he said, feeling it necessary to remind her. She sighed, the movement leaving an additional half-inch clearance between her and the truck.

He saw the familiar pout at her lips, recognizing it even with her face mostly turned from him.

"I heard what Ichigo said over your phone this morning, Renji," she said, her voice soft but not quite weak. She slowly turned her head to see him, eyes resting on his black t-shirt with the sneaker logo on his chest for a moment before looking to his face. "He was talking to Rukia."

"Don't think about it, Orihime," he said, voice lowering as men's laughter could be heard from across the lot. "You've got enough to think about."

"Does it bother you?" Her eyes clouded for a moment, but her voice was steady. "I mean, Rukia."

He looked back to the truck's underside, not caring that she was looking back at him amid the dust and greasy. "No. She's like a little sister, and that's how I'm going to look at it." He nudged her side with an elbow, watching her smile a little. "That means I can kick his ass if he gets out of line."

She giggled, the sound more relief than laugh. "I guess it's best; that they're happy."

"Really?" He searched her eyes for the wounded humor he'd seen before. She usually hid it, but he realized, over the time he'd known Kurosaki, that when he wasn't watching Rukia he'd been watching Orihime's reaction to Ichigo. Usually it was a natural tendency to look away from Rukia's newfound attentions, and usually that meant Orihime was there, too, also witnessing, hanging back out of the way. "Uryuu convince you of that?"

Her eyes flicked to his quickly. "No. Not really. He, he's a good friend." Her fingers closed over her stomach as a growl surfaced from it.

"Come on," he said, glancing to the concave lavender material beneath her hand before looking to her slight blush. "Let's buy this thing and get something to eat."

She nodded. "Okay."