WoW! Okay so first off good job with all the guesses for what happened! Some of you got pretty close! Second I just wanted to make it clear that Ulquiorra's isn't becoming human. Just fyi. You'll find out what he is (which I'm not saying) very soon but I just thought I'd clear that one up right now.
Back to the story!
Something was wrong.
Well, Orihime reasoned as she paced, there was a lot wrong with what was going on. But this went beyond that. What had just happened was wrong in a way that nothing else had been. Everything else, no matter how odd or troublesome hadn't hurt her. Not like what had just happened had. The adrenaline from what had just happened made it impossible for her to sit still, even for a moment and certainly for longer than that. She knew it had only been minutes since Urahara had thrown them out of the room, locking himself in there with Ulquiorra and yet to her frantic mind it felt as though it had been hours---years even since he had shut the screen between the two of them. She wanted nothing more in the world than to just make sure he was alright. The scream that had come from his lips was like nothing she had ever heard before in her entire life. It still echoed in her ears, that horrible sound of someone in pain--worse than pain, in agony. And the airless feeling, gasping for air without getting any in your lungs--that feeling was beyond any she had felt.
Her chest still burned from it but she was sure no matter how bad she felt, Ulquiorra felt a thousand times worse. She knew that there wasn't anything wrong with her lungs, she could breathe now just fine. The suffocating feeling she had felt only happened when Ulquiorra had been unable to breathe. Even now as she played the events back in her head she couldn't say how she had known to break the hardness encasing his chest. She had just known that if she did that, if she shattered that then he would be able to breathe and once he could, then she could as well. It had worked but she did not understand what had happened. Her thoughts were so jumbled that she doubted she could make sense of it even if the answer was simple and obvious. She hardly even cared at the moment either. Her thoughts were only for Ulquiorra, for what was happening on the other side of the screens. He had not let her see his face, he hadn't responded to her when she had spoken his name. Even if the response was negative or to try and hide any reaction, he had always responded. Whatever had happened, it was enough to make even him act strange and Orihime was quite sure she'd never met anyone who acted as strange as Ulquiorra in her entire life.
Orihime pressed a hand to her chest, looking at the door. She didn't know if her voice would be strong or if it would even come out of her mouth at all. When she woke from her nightmares, she had felt the breathless feeling before but it had never been anything like what she had just felt. She knew her chest would recover, that the problem had not been with her ability to breathe, it had been with his. It was clear that they had something in their past but she had thought whatever they had shared was emotional, not physical. This had been a physical connection, in a way Orihime was sure she'd never felt before. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that everything that had happened to Ulquiorra had happened to her. But if that was the case then why could she not figure out what was happening to him now? Did their connection come and go or was it an ever present thing? Fingers tightening in the fabric on her chest, she bit her lip and forced her eyes away from the door. She felt more unsettled then she had in a long time, certainly since she came to this strange place.
A part of her wanted to storm in there and say something or do something--do anything but sit out there like she was nothing. But for the life of her she could not make herself move towards the door. Taking a deep breath Orihime forced her hand down from her chest, running her hands over the threadbare, patchwork fabric of her dress.
But the fabric was neither threadbare nor patchwork.
Orihime stared down at her hands and the dress they rested against. Suddenly the dress she wore was not the patchwork garment that Urahara had given her to wear. The fabric under her fingers was perfectly smooth, not the jerky patches of cloth that made up the dress she had worn moments ago. It was strapless and fell almost to her ankles. A thick black band of fabric wrapped around her hips and another formed an outlined to reveal another layer of white fabric. Her feet were no longer bare but encased in black and white boots. She had thought her hair was long but now she could feel the length even longer, falling almost to her waist. Her hands were also not the hands she was accustom to seeing. Red stained her knuckles, as if she had pounded on something very hard moments ago. Orihime opened her mouth, more in surprise than to speak, but found that she could hardly think. Instead of the confusion she felt moments ago, grief and anger were the emotions that pulsed through her. She was sad and terrified and furious beyond belief at something she could not name.
At something she could not remember.
Almost afraid, Orihime moved one of her hands forward. Something tumbled from her hand to the ground. The illusion she was seeing, or the memory she was trapped in, did not dissipate. If anything it grew sharper, clearer and certainly wider. Her feet were not on the smooth wood of Urahara's floor, rather they were on dark stone. The warmth and flickering light of the house was gone, replaced with the sterile and unforgiving alien moon. A patch of it illuminated the ground directly in front of her, the light in the shape of an arch marred by evenly spaced bars. Orihime twisted around. Urahara's house was gone, replaced by a massive room with high walls and a single window in the shape of an arch. The rest of the room was lost largely to shadows but Orihime could see a table with a single chair and an oversized white couch. It was hard to tell with the lack of light but everything seemed to be white. White like the palace from her dreams. But though the dreams seemed real, Orihime was sure they had never seemed as real as this. Turning around to where she had been facing, she saw an outline of the door. Was that what she had been pounding so frantically on? Involuntarily she took a step forward. Barred windows, a door with no handle--it could only mean one thing.
This was not a room, it was a cell.
Her foot touched something, something small. Moving her foot to the side, Orihime bent down to the ground. Framed in between two of the shadows of the bars on the window was a pair of blue flower hairpins. Orihime reached out and picked up the hairpins. Just like the dress she wore and the cell she stood in, these felt more real than any dream she had suffered through. Straitening up, she ran a finger over the blue enamel of the flower. Her fingers knew the surface, as if she had ran her finger over it every day for almost all of her life. But just like every other part of the strange equation she had no idea why it would feel that way. She had never seen the hairpins she held in her entire life. Orihime felt her brow furrow in confusion as she looked down at the hairpins in her hand. Of all the strange things that had occurred, the hairpins were the thing that truly stopped her. These were important, she could feel that more than she had felt anything in her entire life. Her head said that these were just hairpins, that they could not be that important but her heart said that they were.
As she stared at the hairpins she heard the sound of the door opening.
But the doors that opened were the ones separating her from Ulquiorra.
Orihime inhaled sharply as the world spun back into focus. Suddenly she was in the warm main room of Urahara's house. She looked down to see her hands were empty and unblemished and the dress she wore was the threadbare, patchwork one that Urahara had given her to wear. Gone was the cold cell and the hairpins and the perfect white dress. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, desperately trying to get her bearings. Her eyes finally landed on the doors. Urahara had already stepped out and was sliding them closed. Orihime shoved away all the confusion and fear aside, she took a step towards the doors. Urahara turned around towards him. The doors were already closed by the time the blond man turned towards them, purposefully stepping in between her and the room where Ulquiorra was.
"What's wrong with Ulquiorra?!" Orihime demanded, her voice coming out high and terrified, "why did he scream like that--why couldn't I breathe when he couldnt--w-what happened?!"
Urahara looked at her but the look on his face was not one of concern or amusement. He looked surprised and content, as if he had reached the end of a long race that he did not think he would finish. Somehow that look did not do anything to help the fear that was coursing through Orihime. He had not looked like that when he had seen Ulquiorra on the ground and now that he did, it did nothing to make Orihime think that there was anything good going on behind those doors. Urahara seemed too shocked to even say anything. Though he looked at her, he didn't give any sort of reply. Then Orihime's eyes landed on the white, dust covered jacket that he held.
It was all that Orihime could take.
Risking being put to sleep or thrown aside by whatever power Urahara possessed, Orihime ran forward. Reaching out she threw open the doors and ran into to the room, turning around and slamming them shut before Urahara could pull her away. She was surprised that she made it without him stopping her. Closing her eyes she pressed her hands to the doors. She had made it into the room but now she had no idea what she was going to do. But him hiding away, her keeping her face to the door, it wasn't going to do anything for either of them. Not with what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, Orihime lowered her hands and turned to face the interior of the room.
It was dark. Every candle, every source of the light was extinguished. The room had been plunged into darkness. Orihime stepped forward. Without the warm light the room was almost interchangeable with the cell she had just found herself in. Only her hand on the threadbare garment she wore assured her that she was in the present. Carefully Orihime raised a foot and took a step forward, moving away from the doors. It took her three steps before her foot touched dust. For a second her breath caught in her throat as her eyes went immediately to the shadows that hid the ground from her. But she knew Ulquiorra was in this room and if the lights were out then something physical had happened, something that he was not alright with. Gasping at the dust by her foot was not going to help either of them and, worse, it was going to make him feel bad. Instead, Orihime sidestepped the dust, moving as much to the side as she could to avoid it. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she realized that she could make out some shapes. The shape of the bed was familiar enough and her eyes easily picked out the figure sitting on it. He was bent over, arms resting on his knees so that he was almost doubled over. It was odd to see him like that but Orihime was undeterred. Carefully she moved closer to him, keeping her movements slow so that if he pushed her away she'd have time to deal with it.
"Are you alright?" she asked, relieved when her voice did not come out high and hysterical, "I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "that was a silly question. Of course you're not--but--" she trailed off as her feet came to stop right in front of his knees, "can i sit?"
The shadow did not respond so Orihime lowered herself onto the bed. This close she could hear him breathing, the sound rhythmic and steady. In the darkness she couldn't make out most of the colors but she could see the lines of his body that had become familiar. He was shirtless and wearing only the hakama that Urahara had given him. A part of Orihime wanted to go for the candles but she sensed that Ulquiorra wouldn't take kindly to that. There would be time for that later. What had just happened had, well, just happened. She could at least give him a moment of indulgence. She could make out his hair and, from the angle he sat at, how it came to fall in front of his face. Even so she knew he was aware of every motion she made, though she didn't know if he watched her with his eyes or not. Orihime looked down at her hands, unsure if she should continue to speak or just to sit there quietly or even to sit there at all. Rushing in had been hasty but she couldn't just stand there as Urahara stood looking awestruck and not speaking.
"When we knew each other before," Orihime said, "did we--affect each other? Physically I mean. Because when you couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe either. Is that--is that supposed to happen? Has it happened?"
"Yes," came the reply after a silent moment, "once. It happened once."
His voice was tired and hoarse--hoarser than it should have been from the single scream she had heard. But the weariness was something new. She was so used to hearing him sound emotionless, or cold even that the sudden tiredness was jarring. It was as if he was too exhausted to hold the pretense of not caring up any longer. The defeat and exhaustion in his voice was a sharp contrast to the surprise and content in Urahara's gaze, as if the happiness of one had come at the cost of the other. Orihime felt an abrupt burst of loyalty towards Ulquiorra and anger coursed through her at the thought that Urahara was happy because of what had happened to him. Her concern towards him eclipsed the content in his response. She wanted to ask what had happened before when something had happened to him and it had affected her but she found she couldn't bring herself to press him. Not now, not when he sounded like speaking was even hard for him. She had wanted to make sure he was, in some way, alright and she had done that. Pressing him for information wouldn't help either of them now.
"You should probably get some rest," Orihime said, "I'm sure Urahara has another room somewhere in this place that I can sleep in--"
"No," he cut her off, "we need to leave, quickly. My loss of control will have attracted others. Urahara can defend himself but we must leave this place before they get here."
"Well if they're after me then I can leave," Orihime said, "but what just happened to you--you can't go anywhere yet."
"That does not matter," he replied, his voice evening out.
"Of course it matters!" Orihime gasped looking at him, "even if you aren't human you still need to rest after you've been hurt. We--I--you--you couldn't breathe. And I broke a staff across your back! Of course you need to rest."
"I am not like you," Ulquiorra said.
"I know," Orihime said, scratching at the patch of fabric over her knees, "but if we really are in that much trouble, wouldn't it be better to make sure you're alright before we go running off?"
Ulquiorra was tempted to open his mouth and tell her no. No it would not be better to make sure that he was alright because the truth was that he was not. Not anymore. And he was never going to be alright until they found a way to reverse something that wasn't supposed to happen for a very long time. Now their best hope, possibly their only hope, was for them to put as much distance between themselves and the rest of the players in this conflict. If they could do that then they stood a chance. But if they stayed then they were in a huge amount of trouble. But the fact was that she was right. He could deny it all he wanted but the fact was he was struggling to remain conscious and hold a conversation with her. He could hear the emotional edge in his voice but found it impossible to prevent it from slipping in. He had even admitted to her something he was sure he should not have, and yet she was both conscious and sitting there arguing with him. Ulquiorra wished that he was not too weary to push her away, physically, emotionally--or preferably both. But he found that he was almost too weary to do anything of the sort.
The image of how he had seen her, moments before the agony took him, was still stark in his mind. Every one of their interactions before that had been laced with a bittersweet sense of regret. Ulquiorra had never really had someone to miss before, not when he could still see them in front of him, and most of the time they had spent together he had been so occupied with holding people at an arm's length he had not realized how accustom he had become to her personality. How she had acted had been actually rather helpful. Every fight she fought, every harsh word she spoke was a constant reminder that the woman in front of him was powerless and angry and hurt. That she was not like the woman who had changed everything so drastically. But after he saw her in that moment when her guard was down, everything was different. He had been sure that the woman he had protected without a second thought was gone that it had never occurred to him she was hidden somewhere in the sadness and anger that Orihime now showed to the world. Now as he sat there, as she did not press him for details or act as she had been, he realized that he did miss her. On some level, in his own way, he missed the very person that he had once been so anxious to get rid of.
"We cannot stay long," he said finally.
"Absolutely not," Orihime said, getting to her feet, "you should get some sleep. I'm sure Urahara will let us know--"
"Nel," he said, "if Nel begins to act strangely or disappears, that is when we leave."
"Okay," Orihime said, "she's really skittish so I bet that's a better indicator anyway," she sidestepped the dust pile, "oh, and Ulquiorra? I'm sorry I had to hit you with your staff."
"You do not need to apologize," he said.
Orihime nodded before she turned around and slipped out of the room.
Ulquiorra waited until he heard the doors slide shut behind her and for the small sliver of light that was allowed in by her exist to disappear before he moved. Carefully he eased himself to the side. Every inch of skin seemed hypersensitive, every muscle ached viciously and the lower part of his torso seemed to burn with the remnants of what had happened. It hurt but he eased himself back, laying down as carefully as he could. Flat on his back, he looked up at the ceiling. He did not know what he was going to see when he dreamed, only that it would most likely be very unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, he gave into the pull of sleep, letting his eyes drift shut.
He was already asleep by the time Orihime returned with the blanket she'd taken from one of the other rooms.
She had taken it because she remembered that the blankets on the bed weren't that thick. Still unsure of what happened to Ulquiorra, she knew that she always slept better when she was warm. There was an odd sort of chill that seemed to exist in this place and with all the candles out she knew that it was worse in that room than in any other. Making her way over to the bed she had a feeling it was Ulquiorra's fatigue and injury that kept him asleep. A part of her wanted to look at him, to see what he was so reluctant to show but the rest of her knew better than that. She didn't want to force him, not now. Stopping at the edge of the bed, she placed the blanket at the food of it and pulled it forward, spreading it over him. He didn't stir as she covered him with it, making sure he was completely wrapped in it before she stepped back. Deciding not to push her luck by studying him, Orihime turned and tiptoed back to the door. At it however, she paused, turning to look at his sleeping form.
"Sleep tight," she whispered, hoping both that he could and couldn't hear her before she slipped out of the room.
Ulquiorra did not hear her.
He was not laying on the bed, covered by a blanket brought to him by a woman who he had covered with a blanket many times before. No, Ulquiorra was somewhere else entirely. He was standing on a column that reached out of the water. There were thousands of them within his sight, all made of the same ebony stone. The world was dark, the sky was one of night but it was illuminated all the same with countless stars. There was no moon here and that, at least, Ulquiorra could appreciate. He had seen enough of the moon to last his whole life but the stars were an entirely different matter. Ulquiorra looked down at himself. He was dressed in a loose shirt and pants, rolled at the sleeves and cuffs to reveal the skin underneath. He had no Hole or tattoo or any of the markers he had become accustom to seeing. Past his bare feet he could see the polished black stone of the column, the surface almost bright enough to be reflective. But it was the ocean that stopped him. The ocean was still but it was full of lanterns. Pale blue, dove grey, even emerald green they all floated by him painting the ocean and the columns in a multitude of color. It was night in this place but Ulquiorra was sure it was brighter than anywhere he had lived.
He did not feel worried or upset as he stood there. He knew he was not asleep, not entirely anyway. The strange familiarity of the world, the calm he felt inside of it, it could only mean that this place was him. It was his inner world. He supposed ti made sense that he would come here, given what had just happened, and he supposed that it was better than whatever strange and twisted nightmares his mind would create, but he still found the idea that he had an inner world to be unpleasant. Because if he was in his inner world than that could only mean the strange creature his Zanpakuto and powers had materialized as was in this world as well and he was beginning to think that things such as desecration, understanding and compassion were beyond the scope of what the creature was capable of feeling--or of expressing. As though his own inner world was conspiring against him he heard the beat of wings a moment before the unmistakable sound of talons hitting the stone column behind him reached his ears.
"Damn! You look awful! You don't even need to turn around for me to see how bad you look! I had a chick that hot tucking me in at night and you wouldn't see me looking like someone's torturing me. But you," there was a low whistle, "man you always gotta be so damn dramatic," there was a chuckle, "you know I bet if you smiled more you'd be better at these big life changes."
Slowly Ulquiorra turned to face the creature behind him, the manifestation of everything he had once so seamlessly been.
"Hello, Murcielago."
So whose got a new idea for what's happening to Ulquiorra?
And to Orihime!
And to both of them?!
I'm sorry about the delay in the chapter things but we are getting very VERY close to the big reveal of what actually happened and I wanted to make sure I had it all worked out. I do and it seriously was one of the most fun things to write ever! I hope it'll be satisfying to read too!
So first off I wanted to say in response to a few messages that when I say what'll happen next tim here, its usually more of an obscure sketch than a hard truth. I've got a basic outline for what's going to happen but that evolves and grows as the story does. so any 'next time' notes are more 'next time but maybe not' than actual definites of what'll happen next chapter.
Last time you guys rocked my freakin socks off with reviews and I hope you'll do it again! Its more fun that way. You're excited, I'm excited and then I update and we get more excited! I promise too that when we find out what's really happened that won't be the end of it. There is a whole reason everyone's here and we'll get into that starting very very soon. And it can be even sooner if you review!
So please review!