Welcome to the second reel, glad that you can make it,
We thought your fate was sealed, it's not what we expected,
But you punch above your weight and you're stronger than you look,
And the ending's not the same, they changed it from the book.

I'm the boy with the bubblegun, I'm taking aim,
I cannot hit to hurt or cause you pain.

If words could kill, I'd spell out your name.

It's time to kill the king, it's written in the scripture,
See what tomorrow brings, got to get a bigger picture,
So forgive me, forgive me,
for I am born to be what I must be, and I must be,

The boy with the bubblegun, I'm taking aim,
I cannot hit to hurt or cause you pain.

If words could kill, I'd spell out your name.

I'm the boy with the bubblegun, the boy with the bubblegun,
I'm the boy with the bubblegun, with work to do.

If songs could kill, this one's for you.

'The Boy with the Bubblegun' by Tom McRae

"You're not so empty…after all."

Ulquiorra tilted his head a small fraction to the side, his green eyes unblinking as he silently watched the sleeping girl.

He was always watching her, even when she didn't seem to notice. He would stare at her, trying to fathom what it was about her that had captivated his interest. He would watch and then suddenly watching didn't seem enough, he wanted to touch. He resisted for so long, maintaining his distance as he watched her from afar. But in that crucial moment, when she lashed out and tried to hit him, he had instinctively seized her tiny wrist in his hand. He had not expected the pain as the warmth of her hand burned his skin where they touched. It still burned.

And then he noticed the change in her. It was subtle at first; she slowly stopped being quite so frightened, no longer flinching when he walked into the room. Then she started returning his stare and had taken a strange habit of touching him too. He remembered the feel of her fingers when she had voluntarily touched his cheek and gently followed the tracks of his teal tears down his face. It was uncomfortable, yet he couldn't seem to stop her. It burned when she touched him, it always burned.

Before her, it had been simple. The world was dull, empty and white. Now his world was different, it was full of her. He had never realised humans could be so intriguing.

No. That was wrong.

Humans were not interesting, yet somehow this one was.

But why?

She appeared to possess the same weaknesses which tainted all other humans; impulsive, ignorant and above all weak. Pathetic.

Was it her stupidity? Indeed she was naïve to a point of ridiculousness and her ignorance with the al-co-hol earlier was beyond the boundaries of idiocy. Her emotional inadequacy served only as a crutch to her belligerent need to be affiliated with her humanity which meant she consistently failed to realise that her emotions were superfluous to purpose. Foolishness.

Was it her hair? It was indeed a strange colour. He could tear a clump away from her skull right now and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Was it her eyes? He could rip them out of their socket and study those grey orbs more closely at his own leisure. Would he find his answer there? No, that would not be viable, Lord Aizen needed her intact.

His gaze moved down to her mouth. Her lips were parted slightly, breathing softly. He felt strange, like he needed to move closer. He placed his hands on either side of her pillow and leant down, slowly edging his face closer to hers. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his cold cheek. Was that what fascinated him? He quickly pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The heart, he couldn't see it, but he could hear its strong rhythm as it thudded against her chest. His long, elegant fingers reached out and lightly grazed the smooth skin over where her heart should be. The warmth of her skin burnt him, her touch always burned him. He could feel the strong, steady beat flowing through his fingertips, sending a pulse of electricity shooting up his arm. He could so easily push his hand through her fragile chest and find out what it was that made it beat so strongly. Was this what had captivated his interest?

He snatched his hand away, recoiling at the unsettling feeling her proximity appeared to ignite within him. His hand continued to travel upwards, his long, skeletal fingers curiously reached his hollow hole and he slowly traced the cold, smooth edges. There was nothing but a hole. Empty. Void. Dead.

"You're not so empty…after all."

How those words taunted him now. She was wrong. He was empty. He did not have a heart. He was nothing.

He stood up abruptly, he had stayed long enough. He had to get away from her and that peculiar feeling which plagued him whenever she was near. He walked towards the door.

What was this feeling? Was this why he found her intriguing?

He considered this revelation for a moment. Yes, this feeling was something new. He searched his mind for what it could mean and finally settled on a name. Yes, that must be it.

He looked at her sleeping form one last time, confirming his hypothesis.

Yes. That was definitely it.

He felt like he might hate her.

A/N: Oh dear! Poor,confused Ulquiorra! Admittedly it is only a short little snippet into the mind of Ulquiorra, but I really enjoyed writing it so maybe I will include a few more of these little nuggets in the future-thoughts? Yeather- unfortunately I do have form in mis-spelling important names so I welcome all feedback and thanks to you, I have now corrected all dodgy spelling, thank you! And have no fear Albinos, I have been reliably informed that Tibi is completely fine (phew!) and hopefully we will see him again soon. Thank you all for your lovely reviews of the last chapter, please keep them coming! xxx