Various sounds of machineries and voices filled the thick air. Tension was clearly present within the confines of the fairly large room.
The grinding of the gears in some apparatus became imminent.
"Doctor, the patient is unresponsive…"
Beeeeeep! Insistent beeping sounds reverberated in the room.
"Quick! Start up the machine…"
A persistent melody of metal against metal came from all around him.
"What are the readings?"
Panic… that alone seemed to be present in all the voices that he could hear.
"It's close to critical. We need to do something, fast!"
Shuffling feet moved ceaselessly around him and then all sounds faded.
But still… everything was dark…
How long has it been, since he'd last seen his surroundings? How long has he been stuck within the darkness? This blanket of darkness that surrounded him… This emptiness that felt like it had no end to it…
It had been such a long time… It felt like months… years… decades… but no; in fact, it has barely been a week. A week since he was brought to that room. Six days since he'd been let out and kept in a relatively silent new room. Five since he was declared to be in coma. He knew it all; he knew it all well. He saw everything with his own two eyes. Disturbing as it was for him to see his own physical body lying motionless, he wasn't shocked in the least; it was as though he was already half-expected himself to be in that situation.
How long can he keep up this chore of staying alive? He was tired… too tired… He'd been waiting for years on end to finally end this life of his that became nothing more than a tedious chore for him ever since… ever since a most precious thing was taken away from him… his most precious possession… Everything about him stopped back then, including time itself… He closed himself from everybody else's perception… He shunned everything else from himself… They could never understand him… Not in the way he wanted… not in the way he did…
And then there was that fateful day… That day not too far behind… Where his time began to move once again…
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It was late in the afternoon, the golden rays of the sun passed through the windows of his hotel room. The room was spacious, the furniture in there were all classy, everything fitting in to the color scheme of a deep royal blue. A single bed occupied the most space, upon it laid a small leather briefcase, and not too far form this was an open booklet.
A melodious tone was sweeping around the four walls, a melancholic feel emitted by the musician and his song. Slowly, the harmony came to a halt and pale eyelids fluttered open. The metallic wind instrument was lowered from slightly parted lips, cool green eyes settled on the flute. Another day… still the same routine…
"Ulquiorra? Are you ready?" came a female's voice from behind him.
"Yes," the pale teen replied as he stood up, replacing his instrument back in its case, stuffing the booklet along with it. "…Mother."
A beaming woman faced him, raven-black eyes crinkled with delight. She wore a baby blue gown that fell at her knees, her wavy blonde hair curling down her back. Her gloved hands clutched at purse that glimmered when light came upon its surface. "Your father wishes to tell you of his regret that his business meeting coincided with your recital."
"It's alright, I understand that father is a busy man," was the green-eyed teen's reply as the two of them left the hotel room, his tone very well concealing the bitterness that he held within him.
It had been a long drive to the opera house, by the time their limousine stopped in front of it, the sky has already gone dark and stars filled up the deep blue canvas.
The woman left him backstage, where all the other performers were, before heading to the front rows where seats had been reserved for VIPs such as herself. As he looked around him, he could see many anxious faces and only a couple of other teens gave off a confident air. He could feel many eyes on him, which was nothing new. After all, being his father's only son and being 'gifted', as many writers had put it, with 'such surreal talents' often brought him into the spotlight much more than he would've wanted personally. But with the circumstances, he got used to it and resolved to pretty much keeping up his stoic front.
A booming voice resounded and all of the teens knew that it was show time.
The recital was nothing different from the others. Many people from high-class families, government positions and well-known individuals came to witness it. Each musician played his piece well and it was deep into the night when the show finally concluded.
"You gave such a wonderful performance, Ulquiorra." The blonde woman commented once they were back in the limousine. "Even the chancellor of that prestigious music school who was sitting beside me complimented your exemplary skills."
"I always give my best at everything, Mother." Ulquiorra responded with indifference, an inerasable bitter taste on his tongue. He'd long ago swore that he could never call the blonde sitting beside him as his mother, but he realized that his father wasn't exactly thrilled with his disposition. And since he recalled what happened when he went against his father's bidding, the teen knew he had to learn his place… He couldn't let another incident happen like the one that happened to Grimmjaw. The ebony-haired teen caught himself, feeling his heart skip a beat when he thought of the other boy. It had been quite a while since he last thought of the cerulean-eyed boy from his childhood. Speaking of which, how long has it been now? A decade, if not more, if he was counting right… Ulquiorra closed his eyes, willing the image of young Grimmjaw Jeagerjacques to appear in his vision. The slicked-up ice-blue hair, cerulean eyes that seemed to be always ablaze, sun-kissed skin, and a wide inviting smile… A gripping sensation enveloped his heart… He missed him… He missed Grimmjaw so much that it hurts… He had never seen Grimmjaw again ever since he got hit and run by the very same limousine that the musician was in right now… It was cruel. So cruel that he'd learned to live his everyday life without him… He lived, yes, but there was always a part of him missing… He could never forgive himself for having brought such hazard to his friend… He still blamed himself for not having enough strength back then… If he had, he would've definitely protected the boy… but he didn't, he couldn't…
Then there was a loud blaring noise.
Eyes snapped open and he was blinded by streams of white and orange light coming from the left, despite the fact that his mother's shadow was over him.
A deafening noise.
Glaring bright lights.
And then,
Silence.
The next thing he knew, he was in some whitewashed desert… Fine sand was blowing all around him and then there was another figure… appearing to have risen from the sands. He felt an unusual feeling… a feeling that crept its way all over his body… familiarity? Ulquiorra felt his throat run dry when the figure became clear to him… Ice-blue hair and tanned and muscled skin that stood out from the gray monochrome… It couldn't be, it was impossible, but it was there. He was there…
"You… What are you… doing here?" the call had escaped him even before he could stop it. He didn't know why he bothered to say anything given that he was possibly meters away from the image of Grimmjaw in this too-white desert.
However, his logic was proven wrong as his only other companion turned around and around as though looking for somebody… Grimmjaw couldn't be looking for him right?
"Who the fuck is there? Show yourself!"
The muscular teen's voice was rough; a decided glare was on his well-chiseled features as his cerulean eyes darted here and there.
He had already taken a step towards the other when Ulquiorra managed to stop himself. He shouldn't. He mustn't. But he wanted to… It was then that some twisted form of gravity pulled at the pale teen, dragging him nearer to his fellow teenager. Clouds of disturbed sand flew about him and in a blink of an eye, the ebony-haired teen was barely a few feet in front of his childhood friend. Cerulean eyes landed on him and he felt his heart stop beating.
"You are…" Ulquiorra's lips moved and he was surprised to hear his voice sound ethereal. Is this really Grimmjaw? H-He survived that accident after all… Still, the green-eyed teen couldn't shake off the feeling of dread, which was only intensified by the look the he received from the taller teen.
The frown on chapped lips widened, and a dubious look filled the cerulean orbs. "Who are you?"
Ulquiorra could almost hear some unknown ceramic object breaking into a million pieces inside his ears. Grimmjaw had… forgotten him. How? How could he forget? Didn't he mean anything to the guy? Just because he was unable to preclude their family limo from hitting Grimmjaw before… Limo… hitting… Grimmjaw. Could it be? It would certainly explain why Grimmjaw didn't seem to recognize him now. Amnesia. It could be the only explanation. "I see…" he muttered to himself, dwelling in the disappointment that he'd never seen coming at him.
"What?" the taller teen asked, eyeing him curiously.
"Nothing…" he replied, finding it difficult to contain his emotions now that the most important person in his life appeared to have completely forgotten him. He couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't face Grimmjaw now that the teen didn't even acknowledge him. Ulquiorra bowed his head, succumbing to his defeat. He felt the wind pick up around him and in a flash he found himself looming over his own seemingly lifeless body, scathed and bloodied, lying on the operating table with numerous doctors attending to it.
He instantly went beside his corporal body, realizing that he was now but a spirit of some sort. He stretched his right hand, finding it had become translucent, and tried to touch his body's form but he found it quite impossible. An unknown invisible barrier seemed to keep him away from it. Still, he stayed there, unseen to everyone, and watched over the entire operation.
Was he afraid?
He couldn't tell for sure. What Ulquiorra had felt back then was something bordering on willingness to just die and not wanting to give in to death. Grimmjaw is alive. That sole fact kept his will to live strong. 'Grimmjaw is alive' he told himself fiercely, 'that is all that matters.' He wouldn't mind not having his friend remember him, so as long that he could see the guy living, breathing, smiling… everything was alright. So he stayed, feeling quite relieved when his physical body managed to survive the operation… even if he had been declared to be in comatose.
Comatose was okay. He still had a chance of getting back to his body. Ulquiorra spent hours thinking of what might be the reason that he was unable to return to his corporal self. He was honestly thoroughly willing to, and yet his own body seemed to reject him… Why?
A day after the operation, he witnessed his father entering the room, a collected expression on the man's face. Not a shred of remorse or worry could be seen on the brunet's features. A female nurse followed after the man, anxiety clearly painted on her youthful mien.
"I'm sorry, sir, I understand that you grieve for the loss of your wife but we cannot give you our word that your son will survive-" the stuttering voice of the head nurse filled the almost empty hospital room.
"Repeat?" a strikingly calm and cool tone cut the first one's statement; an underlying tone of irritation molded into the voice.
"I-I… Sir, you must understand that your son's case is grave and even if our doctors had given it their best, like they always do, we still cannot assure you that the operation would be successful."
"This hospital's credibility isn't at all up to par, it seems…" a rather delighted voice echoed.
"Sir!" an indignant feminine tone came, "Our staff are nothing below the standards, it's not-"
"I'm sorry, but if you cannot give me anything less than perfect, I'm afraid that may cause certain problems… Am I making myself, clear?" brown eyes bore into a deep green pair.
"Yes, s-sir." A forced calm tone replied.
"Good."
The only other witness to the conversation kept his silence. Ulquiorra remained standing at a corner of the room, invisible to the eyes of the two visitors that he'd received. He watched mutely as his father stood by his bedside, brown eyes staring into his seemingly lifeless form.
"I'll be expecting you to recover, Ulquiorra…" the man spoke coolly, eyes on the before heading out of the room leaving the pale teen lying on the pure white hospital bed. The head nurse cast one last worrying look at the patient before heading after the man; she was shivering, a cold and dismal air seemed to be surrounding the whole room. And yet, the young woman couldn't shake off the feeling that the room's sole occupant was just waiting… waiting for someone…
The room was filled with silence once more. Green eyes gazed upon the body that almost blended in with the stark white pillows and bed sheets, the cream-hued hospital gown appearing to be the only thing to distinguish his body from the bed. His inhumanely pale skin had closed and scabbed wounds all over, most of them located on his arms. A large gauze patch was taped to his left cheek, and other than that no other serious cut was on his expressionless face. An I.V. dripping clear water-like liquid was injected on his left forearm, which was banded to a straight board to keep it stable. An oxygen tank was on the other side of the bed, providing his comatose body with air through a mask that was strapped in place directly in front of his mouth, breathing tubes placed just inside his nostrils. Another wider machine was situated next to the tall oxygen tank, a wide screen on its surface showed a moving line graph.
His body certainly looked to be a hopeless case. His father's reaction wasn't quite unexpected… somehow, he'd already perceived that the man he called his father wouldn't even shed a tear for him… not that he expected him to. The blonde woman was deceased; another realization for him, another realization that didn't quite hold much meaning to him.
Unconsciously, his thoughts strayed towards a certain teen. 'Grimmjaw…' his lips mouthed the name. Was that cerulean-eyed teen the reason that he was unable to return to his body? It couldn't be so and yet he felt quite an unusual mixture of emotions filling up his veins whenever he thought of him.
His pale jaw dropped open as a sudden thought filled his confused mind. If Grimmjaw had amnesia… it could be that the guy had never forgiven him… Trepidation erupted from the deepest parts of his being… If Grimmjaw could only remember, then the teen would surely hate him now… He felt his insides churn… but… Grimmjaw wouldn't hate him… He wouldn't…
Befuddlement. That was the sole thing that occupied the musician's mind. Would Grimmjaw hate him if his memory were returned? For days on end, Ulquiorra stayed in his pensive mood until the time came that he decided that sitting there in the hospital wouldn't do him any good. The ebony-haired teen left his physical body and began to wander out. Going anywhere and everywhere that he assumed to be Grimmjaw's location.
His so far fruitless search left him exhausted, finding himself inside a vaguely familiar forest clearing, the musician allowed himself to rest there for a while. Eventually, Ulquiorra found that he missed his instrument. Not a second later, the teen was startled to find quite an exact replica of his flute lying on the grass a few feet from him. Curious as he was, Ulquiorra picked up the instrument. Just as he raised the metal flute to his lips, a flash of gold caught his eyes. Turning about, the green-eyed teen walked towards the source of the golden glow and found a field of orange-hued poppies just outside the dense grove of trees where he'd been before.
Poppies… a symbol for beauty, consolation, and eternal life… How interesting, the pale teen thought to himself as he ventured into the field of orange hues, a soft breeze lightly caressing his features, stopping when he was completely surrounded by the golden-orange flowers. Once again he raised his flute to his lips, he closed his eyes and began to play a piece… It was random but it calmed his nerves. A beautiful melody reached his ears and he found himself content for the moment. It was a lonely tune but he liked it nonetheless.
The wind blew softer and softer until he could no longer feel it, but Ulquiorra paid that no heed and continued playing the song that he'd memorized since childhood. The song that he'd been playing when Grimmjaw had first came up to see him… It had instantly become his favorite piece back then. The sound of grass crunching under heavy feet reached his ears but he knew he must be just imagining things and so he kept playing.
"U-Ulquiorra…" a choked voice called from behind him; a strikingly familiar voice.
At the call of his name, the musician abruptly halted playing. It couldn't be, and yet every fiber of his being wished that it was so. He slowly turned around, fighting hard to keep his face impassive when he found Grimmjaw making a beeline towards his location.
The muscled teen stopped right in front of him, staring at him with eyes that were clouded with disbelief and confusion. "Ulquiorra…"
Grimmjaw called out his name again and the pale teen felt shock course throughout his body. A tingling sensation filled his veins. His self-control was put to the test as he internally calmed himself before posing up the question that plagued his mind ever since the cerulean-eyed teen appeared before him.
"Y-You recall…" Ulquiorra asked in the most controlled voice that he could muster. He felt his heart racing in his chest; this wasn't right in a way that he couldn't quite grasp.
"Yeah, I remember… a bit of it… Actually, I've only started to remember you when you appeared to me first…" Grimmjaw's sentence trailed off as their eyes locked.
"…I see…" was the sullen statement that came out of his pale lips. So Grimmjaw had amnesia after all, and it was his fault… His right hand clutched his flute tighter. But what was Grimmjaw doing here? He knew that he was already near death but Grimmjaw? The guy shouldn't even be here! "You must leave now…" he informed the taller teen.
The ice-blue haired teen, however, seemed to take it as an insult. "It took me a freaking long time to find you and you're just sending me away like this? I don't think so, you little bastard. I've got a hell lot of questions for you and I'm not leaving wherever the fuck this is until I get some goddamn answers. Got it?"
"You don't understand, you must leave this place immediately," was Ulquiorra's reply in a dead serious tone. "Prolonging your stay here could-"
"I don't give a shit, okay?" Grimmjaw snapped at him, grabbing the green-eyed teen by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. "You suddenly come into my life, appear in every freaking dream I have, fuck up my life, and now you're asking me to just leave when you don't want to bother your pretty little self with me. Think again, bitch, coz there's nothin' you can do to make me leave."
"…You're as stubborn as ever…" the musician commented calmly despite the constricting feeling suddenly enveloped his chest… a strangely wonderful feeling that he hadn't felt for years…
The muscled teen let go of him with a huff and crossed his arms indignantly
"Fine, I shall answer any queries that you wish to know… but you must take haste, forget not that this place is not for you to stay in." The pale teen surprised even himself that he was concealing his emotions to Grimmjaw now, despite being much too open with the guy in the past. He cast his eyes up at the taller teen, feeling much afraid to expose himself to the other; a feeling of insecurity surrounding him.
"Fuck…" Grimmjaw breathed out, a great sigh escaping after. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
It took all of Ulquiorra's willpower not to gasp when the tanned teen placed his hand on top of his head. It brought back all those sensations that he'd held back for so long as he quietly relished the familiar gesture. He closed his eyes, allowed his expression to soften as memories of the past came flooding into his vision. And then without any warning, he felt Grimmjaw's hands combing through his hair, making his breath hitch unnoticeably especially when those warm tanned hands settled upon his hair once again. This was truly one memory that he would forever remember.
"…What happened to you…?" Grimmjaw's low voice filled his ears.
Did he just hear concern in that tone? Ulquiorra slowly opened his eyes, instantly meeting with a cerulean pair, softly calling out the name that he so wanted to speak for so long. "Grimmjaw…"
The muscular teen straightened up and broke their eye contact, opting to look at the orange-hued field that surrounded them. "Tell me… What happened… to us?"
That was the sole statement that had effectively crushed Ulquiorra's prepared defenses. This was it… Grimmjaw would find out… but then again maybe it wasn't so bad… He knew he didn't have a choice if he truly wanted to find peace… To finish his unfinished business…
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He had thought that showing Grimmjaw everything would solve his problem. Letting Grimmjaw witness for himself what had happened between them in the past was supposed to bring out the teen's hidden anger on him but no… Grimmjaw didn't hate him. Realizing this filled Ulquiorra with a newfound confusion… Now what? But even before he could delve deeper into his predicament, he was painfully reminded of one thing: Grimmjaw was still alive; he wasn't supposed to stay long in his dimension. Although parting with the teen was quite hard, Ulquiorra now knew that he had a reason to go back in his physical body… But he must do it quick, he'd been far away from it for days now, he had no idea of his corporal self's condition.
He whisked past nameless and unidentifiable scenarios. An adrenaline rush coursing in his blood until he finally reached his hospital room. Everything looked to be the same as always, nothing appeared to have been moved. He moved to one side of his bed, staring down at his bedridden body. Even in comatose, his expression showed none but impassivity.
It was time.
His translucent hand reached out to touch his corporal self's forehead. Closing his eyes, Ulquiorra willed for his return to his physical body. He felt a cool glass-like barrier under his touch, pressing his hand against it, the musician slowly felt himself tip in. A weightless feeling overcoming him… Darkness surrounded him once more… He knew he was in his body again… He tried to move his body… Tried to move his hands… Tried his fingers… nothing… An imposing feeling of imprisonment enveloped him. Ulquiorra found that he couldn't move, like a cage had close in on him rendering him immobile.
'What…?'
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A/N: To anyone who's been wondering WTH happened to Ulqui-boy, well this chapter here's my explanation.. Yesss its damn sappy… urgh… Not much on Grimmy here, I know...
What happened to Grimmy? I plan to put it in the next chap… As per usual, the more reviews, the faster I can work on it…
Cheers!