By 7:00 the following morning, the doctor emailed Grimmjow and Kenpachi the results of his blood test . There was not a trace of cocaine found in his system. Grimmjow knew from the start what the outcome would be, but to have it confirmed brought a smile to his face.

After he read the email, he lay back in bed and didn't move for a while. He still had one month left of rehab but he was clean. From time to time, his body missed cocaine, but he knew now that he didn't need coke to feel good in life. He felt good when he ate right, he felt good when he worked out, and he knew he would feel good playing soccer.

Best of all, Kenpachi gave him an evaluation before he got his blood work done and deemed him fit to play. After so many years as a slave to cocaine, his body and mind were his again.

Grimmjow wasn't sure how to react to these realizations as they washed over him one by one, submerging him. He should feel like a prisoner, kept in darkness all his life, who'd seen the sun for the first time.

Instead a voice, laden with dread, fretted, What if I relapse? What if I'm fit to play but I can't play without it? What if I was only a good player while I was high? What if I'm shit without it?

He gnashed his jaw as his breath grew shallow.

What if my fans have forgotten about me?

What if they're still disappointed in me?

What if I can't win back their respect?

If I don't win us Iran, that's it for me. I'll lose face for good this time.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I have to play my best this game. I have to. I can't afford to lose. What if I'm not ready? What if—?

Grimmjow slung his legs over the bed and stood up. He was anxious because he hadn't hit the gym today, he'd feel better knowing he'd attained his fitness goals of the day. He would increase his reps and try to work out for an extra hour today. As long as he took strides towards being at his best, he would feel more at ease as the game approached.

He went to the gym for an hour and a half. He'd hoped to stay longer but he pushed himself too hard and he wore himself out. His aching muscles and the fatigue that made him sluggish on the walk home told him he'd hadn't slacked off.

He showered at the clinic since the gym showers were freezing. Then he retired to his room and devoured a salad. He gulped down a protein shake and relaxed in bed as snow fell outside his window.

I don't need coke to work out, so I don't need coke to get me through this game or the next. I can do without it.

He couldn't control whether his fans respected him or not. All he could do was play his very best and if he impressed them, they would come rushing back.

Or they'll realize I'm shit without cocaine and they'll leave. What's stopping them? I sure as hell wasn't good enough for my mom to stick around, or my dad.

Even if he did win Iran, he was still alone. Nothing would change that. Grimmjow scowled at himself. He wasn't being wholly truthful with himself; one person still believed in him. He fumbled inside his end table until he felt smooth paper under his fingertips. He pulled the unsigned card out of his drawer and opened it.

He knew the contents by heart from many sleepless nights spent awake as frustration and doubts gnawed him. The message brought him peace of mind through those restless nights. As familiar with the message as he was, it never failed to bring him peace of mind.

Get better soon. You have people awaiting your return to the field. People still believe in you. Don't disappoint them, or me. I know what you're capable of. Congratulations on two months clean. Keep that number rising.

Grimmjow wished he at least knew the name of the person who'd written him this card. He wasn't sure why he wanted their name. He wasn't a sentimental person, so he couldn't imagine he'd be able to repay the favor in kind.

If I knew their name, at least I'd know if it was a girl sending me this stuff, he grinned to himself, Maybe it is a girl, I don't know. Oh, man…I hope so. I hope she's got hella jugs. That'd be hot.

If it was a girl, now he wanted her to approach him after the game against Iran. Regardless, it meant the world to know someone out there believed in him when he couldn't do it himself. He didn't know how much support he had to win back, but he knew that he already didn't have to try for at least one person.

He had to keep trying and he wouldn't try only for himself. It would be bad enough if he failed, but it would be worse to let someone who believed in him down.

The storm of doubt and insecurity raging inside him began to subside. Grimmjow watched the snow fall outside his window until he finally fell asleep.

After his nap, Grimmjow jumped on the metro and rode it to the Dome. It still felt strange to be back after so many months. The last time he was here, he memories of his addiction haunted him.

He felt better since then. He regretted ever touching cocaine and he hated to remember how dependent he'd become on it. He would never do that to himself again.

As he entered the changing rooms, the chatter of his teammates stopped and all eyes were on him. Grimmjow he held his head high even as his skin prickled when he imagined what they might be thinking of him.

Even if they still doubted him, or if they thought lowly of him, he would prove them wrong. Not today or tomorrow, but someday soon. Luppi looked angry enough to spontaneously combust, and Grimmjow grinned at the sight.

"What? Want coke? Haven't got any, sorry." His teammates looked away and continued to change. Chuckling to himself, Grimmjow muscled his way through to his locker. His shoulder knocked into someone else and he turned to find Ulquiorra looking his way.

This was the second time Ulquiorra had met his gaze since they started playing together. Since when did Ulquiorra start looking at him? For a long time, Ulquiorra's disinterest infuriated him. Now that he was beginning to catch Ulquiorra's attention, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He couldn't place the reason behind Ulquiorra's shift in demeanor towards him.

"What?" Ulquiorra turned away and resumed dressing. Bemused, Grimmjow changed into his gear and at the sight of his jersey he couldn't fight back a grin. He was finally back on the field and in his excitement; he hurried out to greet Kenpachi as he assembled the team.

"A word, first!" Kenpachi barked. "We've got a lot to cover today so I don't want any horsing around. Let's get to the obvious; Yes, Jaegerjaquez is back and he will be joining us for our match against Iran. Thank you, Luppi, for covering for him. Now, get your asses in gear. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Luppi seethed at the floor. Grimmjow smiled so hard, his cheeks hurt. The little shit deserved to a good kick off his high horse. Practice commenced. Grimmjow breathed in the smell of the pitch and his legs burned as he weaved in and out between cones. He wondered why he'd denied himself the gratifying ache of hours of honest, hard work.

He hadn't been living while he was high. His senses had been on edge but he'd muted himself to everything. By the time practice was over, Grimmjow's whole body ached but he relished in the sensation. Cocaine numbed how amazing it felt to wear himself out doing something he enjoyed.

Before he could head for the showers, Kenpachi took him aside. "Give me an update."

"I'm feeling great." Grimmjow assured him.

"Today wasn't too much for you?"

"Hell no."

Kenpachi looked him in the eyes. "You being straight with me?"

"Yes!" Grimmjow snapped and Kenpachi slapped him on the shoulder.

"Good. Now get outta here. See you tomorrow. Good job today."

Grinning, Grimmjow hurried into the locker rooms. As he stripped off his sweaty jersey, he saw Ichigo wave farewell as he left with Renji, his hair wet from the showers. Ulquiorra waved back and set a pair of towels on the bench. Grimmjow realized he hadn't grabbed a towel on his way in and hurried over to get one.

The basket was empty and Grimmjow wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to get his clothes wet on the walk home. He supposed he'd have to bum one off of Ulquiorra. The thought made him scowl but he imagined he could pester Ulquiorra into giving one up. He turned and encountered Luppi, naked and with a towel in his hair.

Grimmjow's stomach lurched at the sight. Luppi had an extra towel and Grimmjow's blood boiled. Before he could beat the towel out of his hands, Luppi wrapped the towel around his lower body. Grimmjow realized he'd have to bleach his whole body if he dried himself with that thing now.

Scowling, he marched around Luppi to Ulquiorra and glowered down at him. "Give me one." Ulquiorra picked up the towel and handed it to him. Grimmjow's mouth almost fell open.

"Take it." Ulquiorra waited and Grimmjow stared at him in bewilderment. He'd been expecting this exchange to be akin to pulling teeth. Since when was Ulquiorra so agreeable towards him?

"Forget it." "

I don't want it. I packed an extra. As long as you don't use the orange one, I don't care what you do with it."

"Why not the orange one?" Grimmjow asked, finding the man to be bizarre.

"It's my favorite one." Ulquiorra told him, his face and voice dead pan and yet Grimmjow knew he was being serious.

"Are you for fucking real?"

"Yes, in fact keep the towel. I don't want it after you've touched it."

Grimmjow stared down at the towel Ulquiorra offered him, lying draped over the bench. Grimmjow didn't understand what was going on in Ulquiorra's head. Why was he looking him in the eyes, letting him have his extra towel? Five months ago, Ulquiorra had hardly been able to look him in the eyes.

Grimmjow couldn't accept the towel. This situation was too bizarre to him. He'd walk home wet before he accepted anything Ulquiorra willingly gave him. "Fuck you, Ulquiorra." Grimmjow turned on his heel.

"You asked me for a towel, I offered you one."

Grimmjow whirled around to face him. "You weren't supposed to offer me one. You aren't supposed to offer me anything! What the hell is up with you?"

"How do you mean?"

"Talking to me, looking me in the eyes, offering me things! What, so I'm hospitalized, I come back and now you're playing nice? You think we're friends because you sat with me when I had my fit? You're wrong!"

"You want me to fight with you over a towel?"

"Yes!"

"No, that's a waste of my time."

"So was looking at me a few months ago. What's going on, you like me, Ulquiorra?" He was hoping to reverse their situations and make Ulquiorra uncomfortable.

"No. I was taken aback. I wasn't expecting you to make any progress in rehab, so the strides you've made in your recovery is surprising."

Grimmjow was speechless and his skin was itching. He didn't know what to do or say. Everything he thought he'd known about their relationship was being thrown into question right now and it was about to get worse.

"No, fuck this; I don't want your towel." His voice was unsteady and as he turned, he collided into the bench and knocked over Ulquiorra's gym bag. Ulquiorra's shampoo containers bounced out and rolled across the floor. A brown, crumpled paper bag had fallen out and the label was all too familiar. Hoping this was a coincidence, Grimmjow picked up the bag and opened it.

Inside was an almond croissant, flattened but still edible. The kind he'd eaten for months during his stay in rehab. The kind that brought back memories of his mother. The kind that reminded him of childhood, roaming the streets of Paris as if they were a playground all his own.

His stomach twisted around inside him. He recounted the gifts given to him the past five months; the croissants, the flowers…The cards. His mouth went dry and the bag slipped from his hand. His emotions were all over the place, swirling around inside him like a hurricane.

I guess I can cross out a hot girl with big jugs, he thought and he felt sick.

His mystery gift-giver who gave him the strength to keep on believing in himself in the midst of his darkest days was Ulquiorra.

Grimmjow looked up at him to find Ulquiorra averting his gaze much like a dog caught in the act. Grimmjow didn't know what to do, what to say, what to think. Everything he thought and felt about Ulquiorra was thrown into turmoil.

Grimmjow didn't shower. He threw on a jacket over his shorts and he ran from the locker rooms.