"I didn't expect to see you back again." Grimmjow looked up at the bartender when he sat down.
He'd spent the morning jogging off his extra energy—though well concealed under a hoody in case Rukia noticed him. He wasn't quite ready for her to get involved. Then he returned to shower and change, still a bit sore but not nearly as wounded as he had to pretend to be. He'd examined himself in the mirror, pausing at the thin line on his right arm.
"We don't use the syringes for our doses anymore," Szayel said, voice muffled by his broken nose, courtesy of his patient.
"You don't?" Grimmjow watched his brother reach for a scalpel. He raised it to his bared arm. "Whoa, what the Hell?" He pulled back.
"It's alright, Grimmjow." They both turned to see their father enter the medical ward. "He's telling the truth. Giving Hogyoku to you through daily doses was imprecise, the timing wasn't consistent enough, and there was always the danger of being caught without it."
"Like what happened to me when those Interpol guys grabbed me."
"Exactly. After that incident, I developed an improved delivery system." He picked something off a tray, it was no bigger than a coin. "A slow release method for highly concentrated Hogyoku. This will maintain a steady flow in your system, without injections. It lasts for six months."
"Wow."
"So if you don't mind." Szayel took his arm again, not bothering to numb the region, he cut in. It took little time for him to put the device in place. Grimmjow maintained a straight face the whole time.
"There." He sewed it up with fine thread, it would barely scar. "No more injections."
"Awesome." Grimmjow hopped off the table. "So I'm good to go on my mission then?"
"Yes, son, you are."
Grimmjow returned from the memory, adjusting his shirt sleeve so it covered the spot. He would prefer not to have the scar noticed, just in case, and then he'd gone to the bar.
He looked up now, to the bartender and his landlord.
"Sorry, something came up. Thanks for not renting out from under me."
"I used your damage deposit for the next month's rent. Just pay that back and we're good."
"Thanks." He was given a beer on the house, a kind smile offered by the elderly man. Grimmjow remembered feeling a sort of comfort in the man who seemed to take an interest in him, keep an eye on him from time to time. But now those feelings were dead, and any kindness he returned was a falsity.
He was on his fifth beer by the time Ichigo arrived. He hadn't meant to be found down here, but he could play this too, he just slouched lower in his booth when he saw the teen and pretended to be drowning his pain in alcohol.
"Grimmjow what are you doing? You're barely recovered."
"I was thirsty," he grunted.
Ichigo let out a sigh. "Come here." He took his arm and drew him out of the booth. They slowly made their way back upstairs, but Grimmjow just went to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of vodka.
"Really?" Ichigo made to swipe it from him but Grimmjow took a step back and took a swig.
"Really," he said with no humour. This was less about show, and more about giving him some fortification for dealing with this brat. He got another long chug out of the bottle before he was forced to give it up.
"Shit, you nearly drank a pint already."
He felt it, but even the effects of alcohol were dulled by Hogyoku. "So?"
"So, Grimmjow, are you going to tell me what's got you binge drinking"
"No."
"Why not? Seriously, after everything, why not tell me what happened?"
"You'll tell Rukia."
"No, I won't, I swear."
He glared at him, pretending come to a hard decision. "Fine."
"Good." They moved to the kitchen table and sat.
"So they took me back," he started the story he'd rehearsed with Aizen. "I saw them, my family, for the first time in over a year."
"And what was it like?"
"Horrible. Remember what I told you about the drug?"
"It makes you empty inside."
"Yeah, hollow. They're all hollow."
"And what did they do to you?"
"Well, first, they saved my life."
"You were nearly dead when they took you."
Grimmjow nodded. "I barely remember anything after arriving at the motel. I just remember his face leaning over me, and no matter how much I hated him, I knew he would save me."
"How did he?"
"He used it on me. Hogyoku." Ichigo stiffened. "Don't worry, obviously I'm not on it now."
"How though? If he got you back, how did you get away again?"
"I was off it for a year, it's had side effects, one you already know about." He meant the depression. "But another one...it's my heart. It was damaged when I went off it cold turkey, when Interpol took me."
"What?"
"Remember what you promised. You can never tell Rukia about this. She feels guilty enough already, if she knew that she'd probably spiral into a depression."
"Yeah, okay."
"So they gave me a small dose to save my life, but anything more would kill me, that's what they said anyway. They ran a bunch of tests, and Aizen told me I would never be able to take it again. He was so angry, but all I felt was relief. Except then I wasn't sure what he would do to me. I was useless to him."
"But you're his son."
Grimmjow nodded. "I guess that means something to him, even if he's a cold bastard. He spared me."
"After he beat the shit out of you?"
Grimmjow shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "He was pissed he'd lost his soldier. He lost his temper."
"Did he lose his temper with you alot?"
"Oh shut up, don't try to psycho-analyse me or some shit, kid. So I had a bit of a messed up childhood, don't think that has anything to do with this whole depression crap."
He rose, the outburst had been a little too real. Ichigo watched him return to the kitchen for another swig of the vodka. He set it down hard on the counter.
"I'm sorry."
"Screw you, Ichigo. I don't need your pity."
"I'm not trying to pity you, Grimmjow, I'm trying to understand what's going on, what happened to you." He rose too and followed him into the kitchen.
"What happened is he beat me half to death and then kicked me to the curb because I'm useless and damaged."
Ichigo leaned against the counter next to him, his hand wrapping around the bottle. They had a quiet stare down, but Grimmjow relented, letting it go.
"You know it's not true."
"What good am I, Ichigo? I don't have any purpose, any reason to want to...well to want anything."
"Don't say that. If you've been in that place for your whole life, then you're just starting to see the world and figure it out." He waited, but something changed in Grimmjow's features. "What is it?"
"I...I didn't live there my whole life."
"What? He's your father, isn't he?"
"Yeah but...I think I was five when found me."
"Found you?"
"At my mother's..." His eyes were far away, maybe it was the alcohol, but a memory swam before him, and this was all real, this was all him, Hogyoku or not. He gripped the counter edge, straining his memory. "I had almost forgotten her."
"So...you lived with her the first years of your life?"
"...yeah."
"What happened?"
He stared into the black night outside the window, but his eyes trailed down to the bottle in Ichigo's hands. He saw flashes of bright light, saw a slender figure on the floor, unmoving, clear liquid ran from a bottle in her hands, across white tile, pooling at his feet. Ichigo was gone, the apartment was gone, all he saw was her open eyes, staring at him, yet lifeless, scattered pills lay all around her head and the stench of vodka filled the air.
"Grimmjow." Ichigo was gripping him. He'd gone a few paces without even realizing, as if he was five years old again and just finding her body.
He was shaking.
"Hey, it's okay." Ichigo stepped into him, held him like some weak pathetic thing. But the vision wouldn't leave him, a memory that had been pushed deep down—or forced down, by another, and now it had escaped.
Now he remembered just how Sosuke Aizen had come to claim him as his son.
No matter how much Hogyoku was in his veins, his stomach could only take so much and Grimmjow retched again into the toilet bowl. He swore, flushed, and cleaned himself up. Ichigo was waiting for him, but he said nothing to the teen and went straight to the bed where he lay down face first, moonlight bathing his bare back as he had to remove his shirt due to the vomit covering it.
"You feel better?"
"Not really," he said into his pillow. He wasn't lying anymore. He was horribly confused. The memory wouldn't leave him and yet he couldn't figure out how he ever could have forgotten the beginning of his life. How had he never noticed before? Had Aizen really conditioned his mind that much?
Even drugs that took the humanity from him weren't enough to dull the feeling of betrayal, the ache in his chest that told him he had forgotten probably the most important night of his life: the night he'd found his mother dead from an overdose on pills and boos. And then Aizen had come, he'd taken him away from the pain and sadness and given him a new family.
He was Aizen's son. He knew this. They all were, of different mothers, but they were his sons for certain, because that was the only reason he had entrusted them with the power of Hogyoku.
That was the reason, right?
"Grimmjow?"
"Go away," he growled, not wanting his thoughts interrupted. Playing this fucking game was messing with him, he told himself. Pretending to be weak was making him weak.
"Grimm-"
"GET OUT!" He lurched off the bed and looked back at Ichigo, eyes on fire. He was bit surprised to see the teen unfazed. He supposed he'd had some blow ups at him before, still there was something about the look in brown eyes that told him Ichigo Kurosaki was not easily intimidated. He calmed a bit, while Ichigo watched him. "What's your friggin' problem?" Grimmjow finally muttered, slumping back onto the sheets.
"I don't know. What's your problem? You're twice as volatile as before."
"Maybe because of all the shit that happened to me, idiot."
"Yeah, I know. It's just...what happened back there in the kitchen? You just froze, like you were a million miles away."
"Nothing, I just remembered something. And no, I don't want you to hold my fucking hand while I talk about it, okay? I just want to sleep. Can you go?"
"If you're sure you'll be alright."
"I'm sure."
"Okay, then I'm going." Grimmjow listened to him leave, every muscle in him tense, but he never moved from where he lay on the bed.
Whirring sirens down distant streets. The slow drone of the few cars on the road. An ice wind blew up from the frozen river, his enhanced body didn't even shiver as it tore at his unbuttoned collar.
His sigh puffed before him and hung long in the moonlight. It must have been three or four in the morning, the moon was close to the horizon, it was really quite beautiful.
But he couldn't appreciate it. He'd just needed out of that stuffy apartment full of the scent of beer long soaked into old wood. He needed to calm his thundering heart, and ease the slow spread of tension and pain that had grown in his chest.
Yes, he remembered his mother. But it wasn't just that playing in his mind now. It was the thing in arm, the pain in his chest...
"You've had a seizure, Grimmjow."
He blinked awake. "What?" his voice was weak. "Why?" he asked his father.
"Your system is readjusting. It is strenuous on you."
"I don't remember this happening before."
"It's different this time."
"Oh." He let it go but a few days later, he passed out cold after a sharp pain in the left side of his chest. This time, it was Szayel who explained, and he was much more forthcoming.
"Your heart is failing."
"What?!"
"Don't worry, it happened to all of us."
"You're going to have to explain that better."
His brother sighed, but continued. "You hadn't been on Hogyoku very long before you were taken, it's the only reason you survived withdrawal. You see, the strain on your body eventually causes your heart to fail. However, Hogyoku sustains you and compensates until you recover. Your heart will be stronger than ever after—but it could never continue beating without the drug. Do you understand? Once this happens to you, you will be just as strong as the rest of us."
"But if I ever stopped taking it, I would die."
"Precisely. But I assume you have no intention of stopping."
"Of course not."
"Good. Besides, the new method of administration will ensure this can never happen."
"So when will it happen, when will my heart give out?"
"A month or two, it's hard to tell, since you are a unique case as you stopped and started again. But soon, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow watched the moon kiss the horizon. He had anywhere from one week to one month left before there was no going back. But he didn't want to go back, did he? He had finally gotten back his strength, woken up, and escaped that pathetic life. Even if he remembered his suicidal mother, what difference should that make?
He clutched his chest tighter. Shit. He'd felt this before. Szayel had warned him he would most likely continue to suffer chest pains and other side effects until the process was complete. If he felt an attack coming, he was supposed to call, but his phone slipped in trembling fingers, he felt the cold air thin around him and the frozen sidewalk came up hard to meet him.
"How did you break your nose sleeping?"
Grimmjow just held the ice to his face where he sat at the kitchen table. It was seven thirty am, Ichigo had stopped in on his way to school to find Grimmjow fully dressed at his kitchen table, cloth held over swollen nose. Now that he looked him over, however, wet boots, clothes damp, hair wet, he realized there was more to this story. "You were out last night."
"I just went for a walk," he moaned into his hand, barely awake. He'd woken face down on the ground, unbearable pain in his chest, throbbing nose, and chilled to the bone.
"And broke your nose?"
"I fell on the ice, geeze kid, leave me alone. Go to school."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "Something's up with you."
"Yeah. I got a shit life and shit luck to go with it."
"No. You're hiding something from me."
But he left for school anyway. Grimmjow went to the window and watched him go.
"You better not catch on and screw things up for me you little bastard."
He whipped the ice across the room, not caring where it landed and melted, and dropped onto the bed.
Thanks for reading and reviewing! Some of you have some really good predictions! Perhaps I'm getting too predictable, lol, oh well! Until next time!
Riza
