The cave chamber was still dark when Orihime awoke to Grimmjow moving restlessly beside her. She opened her eyes to the black of night, for a few moments uncertain she'd opened her eyes or not. She lay on her side on the bed, one hand resting below his ribs, just above where the six small bumps beneath his fur were located.
She lifted to her elbow as he cursed under his breath, still half asleep. "Grimmjow?"
She wasn't aware her hand was at his side until his arm slid over her fingers, momentarily locking them there before he abruptly sat up.
She withdrew her hand and sat up, too, moving away as she felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers. "Is something –?"
He threw off the hide covering them. "Get away..."
She moved back to the wall, trying to see him in the dark. The moonlight finding its way through the cracks showed little, only his silhouette in the thick night. She saw his hands go to his face, odd movements, as if he were clawing at his eyes and throat.
"Stay here," he said.
She frowned as he got out of the bed, his breathing ragged and fast, pain leasing his mumbled cursing. She pushed the hide further away. "Grimmjow, what's wrong?"
He didn't answer, standing in the middle of the room, posture throwing a rigid stance in the poor light. Orihime's eyes became accustomed to the faint light and she could see his jerky movements. He scratched at his chest with such intensity she was sure he would claw open trails of blood.
"Stay here," he grumbled and moved to the chamber's entry.
She was out of bed as he went into the black void to the outer tunnels. "Grimmjow, is something wrong?"
He disappeared out the entry.
She dashed across the room. "Grimmjow!"
"Stay there!" His voice echoed in the stony depths of the cave.
"Grimmjow! Wait!"
"Stay there, Orihime!"
Blackness greeted her at the entry as she looked right and left into the unwelcoming openness of the cavern's yawning interior passageways. "But... Are you hurt?"
Only the sound of rapid footfalls came back to her.
"Grimmjow!" She strained to see farther into the black, but only the fading footsteps were heard. "Let me help! Please! Don't...don't leave me, Grimmjow!"
She groped for the rope rail that ran along the left tunnel wall where the footfalls could be heard. She followed it blindly, running too quickly into the blackness, the rope burning through her fingers. "Grimmjow!"
"Stay there!" His voice was uneasy and distant.
She gripped the rope tighter. "Wait! Let me go with you!"
"Stay there, Orihime!"
And then the rope in her hand went slack. It dropped heavily, severed from the other side, cut loose.
Orihime felt as if the world had suddenly sliced the only trickle of oxygen from her lungs. "Grimmjow!"
The increasing coolness of the cave depths didn't quench the burn of Grimmjow's skin as he bolted expertly along the dark tunnels. He gritted his teeth and ran on, trying to outrun the blistering touch of his flesh that seemed to flame.
It wasn't, and he knew it wasn't, but that was how it felt. From under the short fur of his pelt the heat seemed to sear through him, making him want to peel it off with his bare claws.
"Grimmjow!" he heard Orihime's drift through the tunnels behind him.
She called a few more times, and then there was the silence of distance.
He wasn't sure if he actually heard the sound of sobbing or not, but he imagined it too real to be imagined.
She couldn't follow, not without the rope to guide her, and he'd cut that.
He charged into the lower cave where he kept the haul from the shipwrecks, seeking the solace of cold against the inflamed blood that coursed angrily through his veins. It felt as if rivers of molten fire sped through him.
He stopped and leaned his back to the stone wall, hoping to savor the cold there; instead the wall seemed to ignite and offer no relief. He slid down it, hands balled into fists as a rare helplessness engulfed him.
...six generations of cat-child... a curse from your ancestors...
The old woman's voice came back to him as he closed his eyes tightly against her words. His mother. The mother that had shied from claiming him as her child.
...as far back at the sands, child. Six generations makes you the last...
As a child, he'd tried to understand when she told him about the life of the curse. She always told him late at night, when she thought he was asleep in their small hut where she tanned hides for the hunters and townsfolk, keeping, Grimmjow knew, him away from the other children. An odd form of protection, but it had worked.
But still, she hadn't been able to claim him as hers.
...maybe you'll forgive me – her, your mother – someday, but raising a cat-child is a curse in itself...
As a child, he'd listened to her confessions at night when he was supposed to be sleeping, curled in the tanned deerskins before the hearth, feeling her occasionally stroke his uncannily blue hair, her fingers hard from the tannins rub at his brow, his ears, his chin, moving to those six bumps at his side.
Grimmjow growled at the memories, trying to diffuse the burning in his skin with torturous memories. But he'd grown calluses over those memories long ago – since he'd ran away from the woman, his reluctant mother – to save her any further interaction with him, so this time the distraction didn't work. It didn't sidetrack his senses from the strange burning engulfing him.
Orihime, he thought, his mind and body seeking a different distraction for the torment ravaging him. "Orihime..."
He waited out the blistering pain, trying to imagine her face, her hair, anything to deflect his mind from the pain. He brought back the waters of the pool. Her skin had been soft, her hair fragrant, seeming to swirl in beckon as it waved in the water's ripples. He recalled the taste of the water on her skin, the supple texture of her shoulder, her shy movements when his lips had first touched her skin. He tried to imagine her hand on his wrist, her knee beneath his fingers.
But the scorching pain overrode those senses.
Whatever was going through him and threatening to burn him up alive wouldn't touch her. He wouldn't let it. If the pain drove him mad, as was likely, he wanted to be nowhere near her.
The flaming pain heightened a notch, bringing him to his feet. He lashed out, clawing wildly, sweeping a stacked pile of recovered shipwreck goods to the stone floor. Items rolled in the darkness, settling to lower spots on the floor.
A surge of pain as if his skin was being stretched too far burnt through him. Unable to contain it, he kicked over another stack of crates, letting the contents take flight.
The movement brought on a renewed scorching in his limbs. This time there was no suppressing the pain and he roared against the pain racking his body.
He grabbed at everything he could lay his hands on, rending, throwing, smashing a few of the more delicate items.
Which was why he was there.
He stood still, panting, realizing what he was doing, glad with every crash of breakable that Orihime was nowhere near him, in harm's way, out of any danger he could level on the inanimate objects within his reach.
No, she's alone, abandoned, he thought. Left her there, safe.
Or abandoned and doomed, should he self-destruct.
He stopped thrashing, panting from pain and helplessness at alleviating whatever possessed him. He heaved over a stack of small barrels.
Alone. Blind and trapped in the cave tunnels should whatever coursed madly through him killed him; she couldn't navigate the tunnels. She couldn't get out.
She couldn't even see.
Grimmjow trembled, anger and pain coursing together though him. He wasn't sure he could control his actions if he was near her, wasn't sure he wouldn't crush her as easily as he did the crates around him.
His squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, mane falling to the floor as he bellowed his frustration of pain and rage.
The rope was cut by Grimmjow, Orihime knew. She shook her head in the black tunnel, fingers wrapped in the canvas rope she'd braided. "Wait..."
She looked down at the rope, unable to see it in the dark, and then sent a panicked look into the blackness. "Grimmjow!"
She held her breath, hearing nothing but her heart now firmly lodged in her throat. Her racing heartbeat echoed in her ears, pumping blood so fast she thought her throat would explode. She picked up the rope and slowly moved along the wall, one hand on the cool stone, the other still gripping the loose rope.
She felt the tears slip down her cheeks as she cautiously followed the black of the tunnel further into the deep darkness. "Please, wait," she said more to herself. "I, please let me help." She inched forward, bare feet gripping on the damp coolness of the stone walkway. "Grimmjow... Come back."
She made her way slowly, keeping the rope in her hand, knowing it was nothing but a mere rope now. It grew lighter as she went, and just as she expected the first curve of the tunnel beneath her feet and the trail, the rope ended. She rope slipped from her hand.
"No..." She knelt and scooted to the wall, one hand feeling around for the rope end as her other hand stayed on the wall to keep her place. It took a few moments of fumbling to find the end of the rope again; it had fallen over the edge of the tunnel's edge side. She pulled it close, tears making her eyes sting and vision blur.
It didn't matter, her blurred vision, as she couldn't see anyway. She was glad more of the rope hadn't fallen over the edge from sheer weight. She pressed her back to the wall behind her, clutching the rope in her hands as she felt warm tears slide down her throat and over her collarbone, dripping beneath her gauze slip.
He'd left. Grimmjow had left her.
She sniffed, trying to recall what she'd done, what she'd said.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hopefully. She wiped her face with her palm, and then looked into the black where she knew he could be standing only feet away from her. A glimmer of hope rose in her. "Grimmjow," she said testily, not caring if he could see her tear-stained face and pathetic weakness in the dark. "Grimmjow, I'm sorry. If you're there, please come back."
Silence answered her.
She pushed the strands of hair caught at her damp cheek away from her face, not daring to release the rope or move from the wall. "Are you there?"
The only sound was her heart beating.
Orihime tried to still her breathing so she could sense him, any movement that he made. "Please tell me if you're there."
She waited. She waited for a long time. She wasn't sure how long it was, but her face dried, leaving a salty tautness to her skin. She sighed, and then slowly eased up the wall and stood, the rope still in her trembling hands.
"You're not there, are you?" she asked the darkness. She waited again, and hearing nothing, she slowly moved back down the tunnel to the chamber.
Her mind was cold and numb, aching. She found the entry to their room and went in. She dropped the rope and spent fifteen minutes fumbling in the charcoal black of very early morning moonlight trying to make a fire. Flint after flint, her shaky fingers failed.
She abandoned the fire pit and searched for more rope. She searched through every inch of the chamber, but there was no more rope. They'd used it all for the rope rails. She still had to make more. Grimmjow wanted to rail down to the colder caves where they had stored food and other supplies.
She stopped searching in the dark and stood in the center of the room, fighting the forlorn feeling of isolation. "I'm sorry," she whispered, still baffled by what had driven him from the chamber. "Please, I'm sorry..."
She pushed her tear-dampened hair from her face and went back to where she'd dropped the rope at the entry. It was still inky black out the opening, with no sound of footsteps. No sound of Grimmjow's return. She pulled the rope tight in her hands, taking up the slack. There wasn't much; the rope length barely made it back to the chamber, being the second section of rail secured to the first spike Grimmjow had made in the tunnel leading to the left out of their room.
Orihime took a deep breath and coiled it a single wind around her wrist, and then stepped back out into the passage.
She followed the rail rope still attached to the wall back to where the second section was supposed to begin, finding her way easily, keeping the loose rope in her clutch. As soon as the second section picked up, however, the loose end at her wrist was the only rope rail left, attached at the spike, but now useless. It went nowhere, cut and loose.
She put a shaky hand to the wall to her left and cautiously stepped forward, without a rail or light, with only her hand on the wall for a guide. She felt as if each step could be her last, and given that the passage stone floor was damp and slick beneath her bare feet, it may be, but she slowly moved on.
It wasn't long before she'd come to the end of the loose rope in her hands. She stopped, looking into the blackness, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Her fingers felt the sharp cut of the end of the rope, bringing on a new bout of tears seeping down her salty cheeks.
She was still looking into the black when a bellow of pain shook the passage from deep below. She flinched and took a quick step before the rope pulled her to a stop.
"Grimmjow!" She waited for his response, but there was none. "Grimmjow! Come back!" She sobbed at her words echoing back to her, bouncing off the lonely cavern walls. "Grimmjow!"
She slowly sat down, hugging to the wall. She let one foot venture out, only to pull it back quickly when her toes reached the edge of the drop-off to her right. Her mind ached from terrified wonder and the alarming realization that he was gone.
Orihime sat there for over an hour, body stiffening with unmoving coldness, seeing nothing despite her strained vigilance. Growing weary, she scooted back along the passage a few feet and tied the rope around her waist. She leaned to the cold wall, waiting.
It was near morning when Grimmjow returned to the chamber he shared with Orihime, but the passageways were still black. She was awakened to his hand on her shoulder, and it took a moment for her to realize what had happened.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, stooping to pick her up. He lifted her to her feet, arms around her waist as she unsteadily rose.
"You're...? You're back?" She grasped his arm in the dark, feeling up his skin to his neck, fingers frantically reaching for his face. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"You were supposed to stay in the room."
A sob broke from her and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him tightly to her as her face pressed to his chest. "You're back! Grimmjow, I thought you were gone!"
He instinctively embraced her, holding her smaller form close in a powerful hold, locking her against him as she now wept for a different reason. He let one hand ease from her back to brush her hair over her shoulder, feeling her low sobs on his chest. "It's over. You're okay, Orihime."
"But you," she said, words muffled against him. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"No. Let's go back." He chuckled, his hand sliding down her back to her waist, fingers following the rope to where it was knotted between them. "What's this? You tied yourself here?"
"Oh, I didn't want to fall off the edge." She laughed in relief that he was back, feeling him deftly untie the rope. It fell slack from her. "Why did you cut it?"
"So you wouldn't follow."
He took her hand and kept her close, at the inner wall side, as he took a few steps. She slowly kept at his side, but stopped after only a few steps.
She frowned, trying to see him in the dark.
He stopped and looked to her. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, hand tight in his. "Something's different."
"You won't fall, Orihime." His arm came around her shoulders, draping to cross most of her back.
She didn't move, every movement he made registering differently with her. "You, you've..." She wasn't sure what she was going to say.
He sighed, fingers smoothing over her shoulder. "What?"
Orihime faced where she knew him to be on the stony passage, letting one hand follow up his arm at her shoulder. Beneath her fingers the skin was smooth, sleek and nearly hairless over the muscles of his forearm, upper arm, to his shoulder and neck. She frowned in disbelief, fingers curiously rising along his skin until she felt his throat, gently curving over his chin and to his face.
He let her fingers wander, let them glide over his jaw, his cheek, until they rested at his temple. Her other hand moved to his chest, sheepishly at first, and then with more fascination as her hand went around his waist, roaming up his smooth, bare back in eagerness, and then settling at the waistband of his pants.
"You're not... You don't have..." An awed smile came to her voice.
He moved her hand along his waist despite her shy misgivings to do so. "I'm not a beast."
Orihime let her fingers rove the back of the waistband, her fingers telling her it was true. "At all?"
His arms engulfed her again, and this time every fear she had of falling or abandonment disappeared. "At all."
