AN: This is the fastest update I've done in a while. And for a note, though this story is usually in 3rd person from Grimmjow's perspective the ending is 3rd person Nel's perspective.

Chapter 20

He followed her out of the hustle and bustle of the main party area into the much quieter area of the backend of the building. She made a right, her steps sure and determined, leading him to believe there was someplace she had actually planned to be.

Another turn, and they were in a new room, her stepping in first and him trailing in after taking a peek to make sure the coast was clear. She stepped into the room connected, leaving him behind the partition of the wall. So he walked in a little further, taking note of the lux furniture in the room. Two lush white couches, black pillows, and a polished black table. There was a mirror hanging on the wall, casting his reflection back onto him. It was fancy. It was spare.

From the other side of the wall he heard water running, alerting him to what he was in, the room turning out to be a bathroom, and a very fancy one with one of those lobby areas at that. So he figured nothing she was doing was all that scandalous, taking steps over to the separating walls and peering silently across them.

She was hanging up her phone, lying it down on the counter before looking into the mirror, face anxious and eyes tired, yet as hard as ever. Her hair, now died black, that had once seemed so glossy to him now appeared a more dull and limp. That confidence that had been so tightly built up appeared to be cracking. She looked horrible. She looked broken.

The knuckles of her hands turned white with the vice grip she had on the edge of the counter, muted subdued shivers wracking her body. But was she crying? No. It was even worse than that. In just a few moments she had managed to switch from being the stunning beauty of the party to the worn down woman before him. She was a mess. Hell, that wasn't even the tip of the ice berg. And not once did the strength in her eyes even waver.

This woman was Nel. This woman is Nel.

With that thought he felt himself stepping forward, body on auto pilot, revealing himself to the crowd of one. "Neliel." It was the first thing to come to his mid, the first word to come out of his mouth. And nothing else seemed fitting to take its place.

Brief recognition flashed through her eyes before turning to a fierce agitation. "My name is Tia. I've told you already." She eyed him warily through his reflection in the mirror. "I don't know who Nel is."

"Lies." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. And even if he could have, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted to. "That's a fucking lie Nel and you know it."

"No," she let out slowly, "it's the truth. My name is not Neliel. I've never met a Neliel, I've never seen a Neliel, and I most definitely have never known a Neliel. All I know is what I've heard. And from what I've heard, this Neliel woman is dead."

She said it so stone cold and heartless, not just as if she were sure of it, but as if she believed it. As if…she believed it herself.

"Liar," he growled out, stepping closer to her person.

She shook her head lightly, then harder. "No. No, no, no. I don't know what the hell kind of answer your looking for, but you're not going to get it from me. Now I would appreciate it if you would get the hell away from me."

A deep growl of frustration bubbled out from within his chest, the anger flooding his veins. And yet, he chose not to act on it. He chose to be "civil" and act as he had learned from her.

"What the fuck do you think this is going to accomplish, Nel?" he asked, the words coming out slow, voice dangerously low. "What do you think this is going to fix, huh? Do you think it'll take it all back? Do you think it'll patch everything up? Cause if you do, you're wrong. It's not going to ch-"

"Shut up!" The sharp shriek of the words cut him off unexpectedly. She was breathing heavy, fingers tangled in her hair as she switched her glares from the sink to the mirror and back again.

"You don't know," she whispered harshly. "You don't know anything!"

His hands curled into fists at her words. He wanted to hit something, he really truly did. But he didn't, he couldn't. "I know enough to realize that I won't let your fucking idiotic tendencies rip apart whatever the hell kind of shit we have between us."

"Stop!" The word cut him off abruptly. "Just stop. I'm not…she's not…Nel is dead. Nel is dead. Nel is dead."

"Quit saying tha-"

"Stop!" Another shriek. "Nel is dead, okay! The police accepted it. My friends accepted it! So why won't you? Nel! Is! Dead! And she's not coming back."

His temper flared at her words. He was mad. No, that was an understatement. He was in catastrophic fury. At who? Her. Him. Them. They. Everyone and everything. And all he knew was that he had to get this through her thick skull.

Grabbing her arms, he pushed her up against the wall, glaring at her. "Look at me!" he shouted as she looked in every direction but his. "Look me in the eyes and repeat everything you just told me!" The heat in her eyes burned right through him, yet he wouldn't be moved. His grip tightened as his anger grew. The look in her eyes went from upset to the more familiar one, as if she was seeing right through him before turning to a softer expression. Poor and defenseless. Not a good look on her.

"Stop it," he seethed out through clenched teeth. "Fucking stop it."

The glare came back with his words, this time in a much milder state. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, voice soft and dangerous at the same time.

"Nothing."

He crushed his lips onto hers, pushing her harder up against the wall. He pressed into her, hand moving down to rest on her hips before trailing up her sides. He wanted her. He wanted every single thing she had to offer and more. And all she had to do, all she had to do was say yes.

Peachy lips remained closed, denying him the access he so desperately craved. His left hand traced circles on her hip bone, right hand trailing to the zipper on the back of her dress. He nipped at her lips, finally coaxing them open, allowing him the entrance he so craved for.

He ravished her, fueling all his pent up anger and frustration into the kiss. As far as he was concerned, she was his for the taking. He wouldn't say he owned her, but there was definitely a possibility that it worked the other way around.

His left hand left its post on her hip to wind into her hair, roaming over every ounce of her that it could reach along the way. It was good. It was so good and he wanted so much more. But then he felt it.

He felt the hot tears falling from her eyes to press gentle kisses against his skin. He pulled away momentarily to see what this had become. That moment became his moment of vulnerability and it must have been all she needed. For in that moment of time, she must have drawn back into that crazy ass sense of control she had been holding onto.

The sharp pain in his nose came as a surprise to him, his body not recognizing what had just happened until he saw her fist drawing back. One second, it was them, and the next her hand was pistoning full speed into the center of his face. Pain resounded in the area in an on-off pattern, on being the dull thudding aches and off being the uncomfortable numbing.

In his moment of confusion she had managed to turn to tables on him, having him pressed up against the opposite wall, legs sprawled on the ground before him. Her hand clutched his shoulder tightly, holding him down, before loosening ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing a tissue to the nose he hadn't even realized was bleeding. "I'm so sorry it had to happen like this."

He pulled he in closer, voice filled with all the malice he could muster. "I'm sorry too."

Her eyes softened and she pulled the tissue away despite all the blood still on his face. Her lips brushed gently against his before she pulled away, breath ghosting his skin in soft puffs. A few moments passed and her lips were on his once more.

He couldn't think, all complex thought slipping from his mind to be replaced with the green light. Go. Move. Move closer to her, move his lips with hers, move her into him. His whole being seemed to mesh with hers in a way that he felt so sappy and not him, yet so undeniably right.

He heard a sharp click, felt a quick sting to his neck, and water falling onto his skin. Opening eyes he couldn't even remember closing, he stared up at the automated sprinkler system above the, then down to Nel who was focused on his neck. Neck…neck…neck…his neck. The neck that she had just removed a needle from.

His heart thudded slowly in his ears as he looked around without a clue. "Wha-" he couldn't even finish the question. His tongue was dead weight in his mouth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes red rimmed and puffy. "I'm so sorry."

Nel's lips pressed to his but this time he couldn't keep up. She finally broke away and he dully felt her face press into his chest as he looked up into the water pouring down, his vision growing blurry.

"I'm really, really sorry this had to happen," she whispered. "But you must understand that I can't let you throw your life away for a lost cause. Nel is dead. So please make it easier on the both of us by accepting it."

And everything went black.

Silence. Complete and empty, filling every fiber of the room. There was not a soul left in the whole venue, save for the two occupants who had missed their chance to leave with the rest of the crowd.

In the center of the room stood a woman, green hair dyed a now murky black. Eyes half lidded and glassy, she gazed aimlessly at the only other life form in the vicinity. Shocking blue hair matted to his face. Nose swollen and crooked. Face washed in a mixture of watery blood. Eyes closed, brows knitted, and mouth left open as if he were in the middle of a sentence when he went out.

Regret. Anger. Horror. Grief. The feelings welled up inside of the woman like a crazed rainbow. But it had to be done. It had to. Because she'd rather face death than see him end up like her. A life for a life. And she was more than willing to trade hers for the sanctity of his.

From across the room there was a shrill ringing, causing the woman's gaze to be ripped from its blue haired target. She looked at her phone on the counter, ringing and buzzing its way through the slosh of water, overwhelming dread filling her as she watched it. Eyes unfocused, she picked it up on instinct bringing it up to her ear.

"Have you done what I've asked of you?"

No greeting, no hello. Just straight to business with him. Calling just to rub salt into the wound before the blood even had time to clot. But she knew why he did it. She was his favorite. Totally dispensable yet something he would never allow another to call their own.

"Yes. The message has been delivered." Her voice was so small in comparison to his.

"Good girl. I knew a second chance was all you needed to get your priorities straight. Let's just hope for everyone's sake that they stay that way."

With that being said, the line went dead, the dull buzz echoing out the room, the phone held limp in the woman's hand before slipping out her grasp and tumbling to the ground.

AN: That was hard to write, especially the more "romantic" scenes because they always feel so awkward to me. I mean, really, making out with someone who is in the middle of crying or someone with bloody nose just doesn't do it for me.