Author's Note: Everyone, I am so, so sorry that I haven't been uploading, I am not dead I swear, and this fic is far from finished. I've just been going through some things, sorting stuff out, trying to get ready for college next year. I'm freakin' sorry already! Just kidding. Anyhow, I apologize really, truly, and sincerely to all of you. Please forgive me. Please please please. And because this is spring break, I was able to write a ton of chapters, so I will be uploading next tusday or wedsday at the latest. Once again, I really do apologize for the apparent deadness of my story. Anyways, I'm really fond of this chapter, so there you are then.

Disclaimer: *sigh* Tite Kubo + Awesome art skillz = Bleach. Boats and Birds = Awesome stick figure skillz = crap. Get it?

Masks

Orihime had always seen more then people gave her credit for. Because she was somewhat clumsy, and she acted as though her brain wasn't always switched on, her friends tended to be more open around her. Less guarded. Orihime was never sure if she did this on purpose or not. But because people tended to drop their masks around her, or at least let them slip, Orihime had came to realize that these masks were common. It seemed everyone wore one. A mask to shut people out, and keep feelings in. A mask to hide pain.

Orihime sometimes wondered if even she wore masks. She imagined herself waking up every morning and walking into her closet, seeing rack after rack full of brilliantly colored masks lined along the walls. 'Which mask will I wear today?' she would say thoughtfully, and then she would stretch out a hand and choose one (rainbow colored or feathered or maybe even sequined). She would place it on her face, and the mask would mold so close to her skin that there was no space in between. Then the mask would morph, become Orihime's own face, but now there was something different when she looked in the mirror. Now there was a shield up around her feelings, and her thoughts.

At one time, a vision like this would have made Orihime laugh, but not now. Not after this. Besides, this vision was less like the old daydreams she used to have, filled with blue men and pretend dates with Ichigo and the occasional sumo wrestler. This vision felt real; felt almost frightening. Orihime wasn't even sure why she was imagining this right now, wasn't sure why she was imagining something so clearly ridiculous when the scene around her was anything but, but for some reason the image of the rows of masks would not leave her brain.

It was like someone had pushed the 'off' button inside her mind, and she couldn't quite figure out how to turn it on again. She could feel Nel clinging to her leg, sobbing and muttering to herself, she could feel the slight drain on her energy as she struggled to keep her shield intact in front of her. She could see the explosions of light, the waves of spiritual pressure that went rushing over her every time the two figures in the distance clashed, but she didn't even blink. And then she wondered if maybe, the reason she was thinking about these real, human masks, was to keep the image of another mask away.

Nel screamed, louder then she had been before, and Orihime turned dull gray eyes up to the streaks of deadly blue light rushing towards her. Time slowed, her eyes widened, and the azure blades barreling straight at her bled the strangest emerald green.

"Itsygo!"

Orihime opened her eyes (when had she shut them, she didn't remember shutting her eyes), and stared at the black clad figure in front of her, orange head bowed. Smoke was billowing from his back, and Orihime's eyes followed a drop of blood as it slid off Ichigo's tattered clothing and plummeted towards the ground. For a moment, the image of a fairytale knight flashed in front of her; the sort of handsome prince who always comes rushing to the damsel's aid, and always saves the day. But Ichigo was no fairytale prince. He was bleeding, wounded badly, and that never happened to the heroes in fairytales. This wasn't a fairytale. Maybe her life had been once, but it wasn't anymore.

Then his head lifted, and golden eyes met hers (brown eyes brown eyes Ichigo's eyes were brown, warm and brown and gentle). Orihime felt her entire body jerk, as physically as if a dagger had been driven into her chest, something was blurring her vision; and it was Sora standing in front of her, Sora (no, no not Sora, Ichigo, Ichigo) with his twisted mask and his blood red eyes and his claws stabbing into her, wrapping around her, choking her.

Something flickered in those golden eyes staring at her, something broke. Then Ichigo was gone. Orihime wanted to call out after him, to scream that she wasn't afraid of him, that she didn't want him to throw himself into a fight he couldn't win because of her. She wanted to tell him to stop trying to win, to run away, to come with her and escape. But she couldn't. She couldn't say it until she knew it was true. She didn't know if she was afraid or not. The words stuck in her throat and glued it shut.

So she simply stood there, and watched as Ichigo clashed with Grimmjow. Watched, and knew that he was loosing, watched and knew that he was going to die. Watched and died herself. Watched and saw her brother's eyes, glaring at her through the hollow mask.

This was a kill or be killed fight, Orihime knew that. She knew that. But she didn't want to. She didn't want anybody to die. Not ever. Ichigo was so full of life, a fiery passion inside him that burned through his body and a kind nature and gentle spirit that belied his scowling face. He couldn't die, not for her, not in front of her, he didn't deserve death.

And Grimmjow. He was evil, and cruel, and bloodthirsty, and... he reminded her of Ichigo. He was determined, and stubborn, and he had saved her life, even if it was only to repay a debt. Maybe he did deserve death. But Orihime didn't want him to die either. What was she supposed to do (what do I do what do I do what do I do)? Standing here, protecting herself and Nel, terror rooting her to the spot and draining the strength from her bones, watching two people in a fight to the death and knowing that she wanted neither of them to win. Did this make her a traitor to her friends? A traitor to Ichigo? That she did not wish death on Grimmjow, even though he was an Arrancar; an enemy? Emerald eyes flashed in her mind, and she choked. Even though he is my enemy… Ulquiorra…

"Hey!"

Someone was talking to her, no, screaming at her. Orihime looked down to see Nel staring up at her in tears.

"What are you doing? Why are you not cheering for Itsygo? Why are you not cheering for him to win? He's fighting for you! He attacked Ulquiorra-sama just for saying your name! He's doing this for you!"

And Orihime's insides pulled apart. How could she explain to Nel her feelings? She… she couldn't tell Ichigo to win, she couldn't tell him to fight for her. This was her fault already. She couldn't tell him to win… but maybe… maybe she didn't have to. Maybe she could give him courage in a different way, just by telling him that she believed in him, that she cared. Maybe no one had to die today. She did believe in Ichigo. And she wasn't afraid.

"Don't die, Kurosaki-kun! You don't have to win, you don't have to keep fighting. Just please! Don't get hurt anymore!"

Not for me. You see, I don't deserve it.

Well, there we are then loves. Review puh-lease, and tell me what you think. And please don't yell at me for being gone so long, it wasn't my fault. Well, yes it was, but... maybe I should just stop talking.