AN: I'm back and proud to say that there is only one more chapter of this story until the epilogue! I actually thought this would be out faster, but I got held up, caught a bad case of writer's block, and when I finally did begin writing this chapter, I spent a week in the research and editing stage. I'm still not sure if this is totally what I was looking for (who am I kidding, this will never turn out exactly how I want it) but I figured that if I screwed with it anymore to try and fix it, there would be nothing left in the chapter to ever post. Oh and as a prior warning this chapter contains implied drug abuse and something of violence and a whole lot of profanity.
Chapter 24
Grimmjow hated that he had to realize the total and completely fucked up truth of reality, that being the fact that the world will not stop for shit. Not death. Not tragedy. And most definitely not when the prospect of one's life is being questioned. This wasn't a movie. The heavens weren't going to shed tears for his situation. Strangers weren't going to stop him on the street to give him advice or wish him luck on a task of which they were ignorant of. Crap like that didn't actually happen. People gotta work, gotta make money, gotta support themselves and their families. Most importantly though, people gotta move. Yeah, that's what the world would always do. Move. Life stops for no one.
It took hours for all the information to finally settle into Grimmjow's mind. Simpleton he was not, but he was human and all humans have their limit. New facts to process, theories to rule out, plans to gather, and emotions to store and lock up for later. Always thinking, thinking, thinking. He couldn't stop thinking long enough to even do something as simple as feel. To regret…no, scratch that. All he did was regret. Regret the fact that he'd allowed Nel to get away. Regret the fact that he'd had to draw other people in to fix 'his' problems. Regret how close he'd been to stopping it all and he'd chose to do nothing. He'd done nothing.
All that time he'd had multiple opportunities to bring this whole 'game' to a close. He'd faced the root of Nel's most present evil on at least 3 different accounts, maybe even more, without ever even realizing. That's right; he finally knew who Nnoitra was. The looming giant guy from Aizen's party. The strange man from the park who was giving him bad vibes. The guy with the eye patch at the diner. It was him every time and he hadn't even realized. But he could bet that the situation did not go vice versa. He could bet Nnoitra knew about Grimmjow from the beginning.
Ichigo was the one who had to point it out. The one who had told him exactly who Tesla was at that diner. The one who had to point out all that he'd gathered about each man's appearances just for Grimmjow to be able to make some sort of recollection. And when he finally realized it he absolutely loathed himself.
But what could he do about it now? They knew nothing. Nnoitra was the one with the upper hand. He had the territory, the time, the means, and, most importantly, the will to act. The guy was crazy, the idea absolutely set in his mind that he had to harm Nel and the only thing Grimmjow could do was make some feeble attempt to get her back.
It could all be a trap, a setup that would result in one of them losing their life, but what could he do but try? The police couldn't bail him out. He hadn't talked to any of his friends in ages. He didn't have the time or money to get professional help. Sure he had Kurosaki and Kuchiki, but what were they worth when it all came down to it? In the end it was just Grimmjow alone off to try to make a difference. Once again, he was that lone creature stalking that endless desert sand.
The anger finally flooded into his body with that thought, warping his mind, closing in over his body. He could not, would not, go back to what he once was. Dirty pasts pave way to cleaner futures and he'd rather die than know that he had the opportunity to pave that way for Nel's and didn't act.
For the first time in hours he rose off of his bed, feet guiding him across the cold ground, mind on auto-pilot. Out the bedroom, through the kitchen, deep in the living room, and into the studio. The place was a wreck, a mess of chaos that looked just as helpless as he would not dare allow himself to feel. He waded in hands feeling around blindly before coming to that hard case. Finger fumbled for the key, inserting the shirt rod into the lock, the chambers falling into place with an audible 'click'. He reached in, feeling how cool it was against his fingers, trying to get used to the weight in his hands. Trying to get the feel. The oh so familiar feel.
An hour later and he was in the car with Kurosaki, the trading of MapQuest directions being the only thing to break their tense silence. The girl wasn't with them, left at home on Kurosaki's 'suggestion'. The guy didn't want to risk it. Grimmjow was jealous that the other man even had the opportunity.
They pulled up to the warehouse without a plan of action. There was nothing they could plan for. They knew the who, Nel and Nnoitra, but were ultimately lacking in the when, where, what, and why. They didn't know exactly when anything would happen, where it was truly going to go down, what would play out, or even why it would have to go that way. The lack of solid or even theoretical information all translated into a loss of a firm plan. They'd go in, look for the guy and wing it. What could they really do better?
From the moment the car was put in park though, Grimmjow realized they had a major miscalculation in their plan. The fact that it would just be Nnoitra and Tesla. It was obviously more than that just by the noise. There were others. Many others.
Grimmjow walked in stone cold, Kurosaki following after, the bass pounding against his ear drums, vibrating his skin. A thick cloud of nearly tangible smoke flooded the air, seemingly never-ending, the area warm in comparison to the cool night air just outside. Was this really the place they were supposed to be at? Did they get it wrong? Or perhaps, that was the point. He'd show up, but couldn't do anything. Not with all these people in the way. But Nnoitra, he knew the man didn't care if anyone else got hurt in the process of his game. He'd pull in and harm anyone as long as he received some sort of success in the end. It was a smart move on the tall man's part. Grimmjow was out of his element, unable to think too much and completely unprepared.
They split up, weaving in and out of people in hope of finding one of the 3 people who could give them leverage in the situation, out of each other's sight, but not out of reach. And there Grimmjow saw him, the large figure on a couch in the corner, looming over the 2 women he was with, arms draped across their shoulders, smoke blowing out his lips, glass in hand, cigarette in the other, feet propped up on the table in front of him.
The anger once again flooded his body, surfing through his veins, clenching at his chest. Fingers twitched in anticipation, foot ready to storm over there and end it all at once. He could. He knew he could. No. He knew he couldn't. Mind over matter, the challenge was in battling his instincts. Forcing his brain to go against the primal wishes inside him that urged him on to rip the man in front of him in two.
He stepped back, painfully, regretfully, doing his best to fade into the background. He had to find Nel first. She was the main priority. He couldn't risk his actions screwing her over. So he stuck it out, allowing the crowd to sweep him away. He barked at everyone who got too close, while trying not to cross the line of appearing a bit too out of place, though by the end, he'd long since stopped caring.
It was in that lost moment of caring that she finally appeared. Green hair swept messily over her shoulder, dress clinging to her body, sultry smirk on her face, eyes half lidded and smoldering. She was with another man, hanging onto him like a her life depended on it, laughing at whatever half-witted wad of shit was coming out of his lips. She led him to the area once occupied by the ever disappearing Nnoitra, her lips nuzzling the other man's neck. She whispered something in his ear, giggled, before Grimmjow finally had to rip his eyes away.
When he looked back, he could finally understand the point of the whole venture, the little white lines stretched across the flat surface, the rolled up bill in the man's hand. He looked off, not wanting to force himself to bear witness. It made sense. Find a willing participant and coax them into 'trying out' the product so they'll come back later looking to seal the deal.
He didn't hate her for it, couldn't hate her for it. Not even if he wanted to. And damn, did he want to. He wanted to blame it on her, all the problems all of the things she made him feel. And damn, did he feel. Confusion. Anger. Sorrow. Betrayal. It wasn't for her though. None of it was at her, but rather at himself. At how he couldn't keep the control he'd always wished to have.
The sound of a gunshot being set off ripped him out of his thoughts, tore him back into a startled reality mixed with shrill screams and coarse laughter. He jittered in place, looking left and right. Nobody was panicking. But he was. Because Nel was no longer where she last was, her place next to that man now filled by some other woman.
When he did see her, she was making her way across the room. He pushed through, trailing after, not wanting to lose sight of her, while not exactly wanting to be in her sight. Not yet. Not yet.
"Why the hurry to get away?" Grimmjow heard a smooth voice purr into his ear, the hot breath tickling his skin. Not exactly pleasant, definitely unexpected, and completely frustrating. A woman pressed against him, giving him a devilish smirk. "We have all the time in the world."
"Not interested." The words tore out of his mouth lightning speed as he made to tear away, stopped as another woman came from the other side.
"You're so tense. I bet we could help you relax a bit. Enjoy yourself."
"Not interested," he ground out again, this time more firm. But the women were relentless, holding him up as Nel walked right out through another door. His nerves went haywire, lashing out against two as the Mr. Nice guy act finally collapsed. "Get the fuck off-"
His words are lost in the midst of the sound of gunfire. It visibly startles the women who jolt off him in shock, leaving him with the opportunity to finally break off in the direction he saw Nel head. The door she went through was left ajar, leading him down an old flight of stairs and down into a much quieter level of the building.
It was dank and cold, the light much dimmer, casting shadows over everything. He hears murmuring, the voice low and rough, none of the words the slightest bit intelligible. Silencing his footsteps, he creeps in, unable to put a place to where the sound is coming from, wary of his surroundings. The low mumbles flood through his ears until his brain can process who it is. Nnoitra. Nnoitra with Nel.
He freezes, body locking up, mind racing to fuel his brain with images of the thousands of different scenarios that could be playing out right in front of him. All the 'what ifs' cloud his senses, pumping thought after tragedy struck thought into his mind. And then he hears it the, stark crack and whimper of pain followed by shouting.
"Answer me! Fucking answer me or I swear-"
The anger and anxiety fueled his body, controlling his senses, sending him into motion. He didn't think, just rushed in, the weapon he'd been hiding away all night drawn and ready to unleash its power. His mind went haywire, clouded with red hot rage, staining his vision in its dangerous film as he dashed around. Her, him, he didn't care which he saw first. Protect her, kill him. Kill him, protect her. Either way was fine with him. Perfectly fine, that is, until he saw the situation.
Over in the corner stood a hunched over Nnoitra, Nel keeled over, blood dripping from her mouth, barrel of a gun held in spindly fingers pressed to her temple. Her eyes were closed, body taking in shaky breaths of air. Nnoitra's head was down, trained on the woman in front of him. An opening, an easy opening. Grimmjow's finger was already itching for that finger; just pull the trigger and it would all-
"Don't even bother trying that." The words came from the taller man's mouth, shot clear across the room, halting Grimmjow in his actions. "Of course, if you really want, go ahead, pull the trigger. Just take a go at killing me. I'll pull too. I bet we know which bullet will hit its target first."
Grimmjow didn't shoot, wouldn't dare risk it. Cornered and helpless like a scared cat about to meet its maker. And his life wasn't even the one on stake. He took a step forward, gun still drawn, anger barely suppressed, but he was sure if either of the two were to look up they'd see it in his eyes. Not the anger, but the fear. The all-consuming and overwhelming fear that came with the fact that he was being forced to realize just how extremely real this situation was. This was no action movie. She'd die if he took that moment to try and play the hero.
He took a step forward, inching closer, closer until he saw that finger on the trigger twitch to shoot. At that moment he froze, locked into that one position, as close to Nel as he could possibly get. He needed to be close. Close enough to play on the only advantage in this situation that he'd ever get.
The advantage was the difference between Nel's two evils, Aizen and the tall man in front of him. Aizen was cool and collected. Calculating to pieces, planning for any and every situation, probably even for this situation. Nnoitra did not possess that. Obviously he could plan, could think, could take the time to calculate, but he could not control the most important factor in his plan. The fact that anyone could realize is that Nnoitra was a man who could not control the emotion inside him. Whatever he felt for Nel must have festered and warped over time. That emotion was the only thing that could tear him apart.
"It was useless for you to have come here, ya' know?" came that half crazed voice across the room.
"Useless?" Grimmjow prodded, easily taking the bait, or perhaps it was the other way around. "The hell it ain't!"
Nnoitra gave a sick chuckle at his words. "If that's what you think, you must be the dumbest fucker on the block. This bitch ain't worth nothing. She's damaged goods, not useful for anything anymore. Went out and got herself fucked up in the head and she'll always be like that. You know that, right? You know she's crazy and will make you play her little games with her. But no…no. I don't play games with damaged shit.
"She can't do nothing. Ain't worth nothing, just taking up space. Practically broken. Like diseased puppy. She's sick. Sick! But that's fine. She can think she is whatever she wants. But if she's truly sick I can do her a favor. Show her what happens when bitches have no use anymore, get sick and can't do nothing. They get put down."
With a sharp intake of breath Grimmjow's finger tightens, ready to pull-
"She fucking deserves it!"
The words catch him off guard. He didn't care to hear this guy's sob story, to listen to the tragic romance that happened between the two. All he wanted was Nel. That was all. But she was something hard to take when the finger on that other man's trigger began wavering with the overflowing release of emotion shooting from that man, gun pressing harder against her temple.
"Hey, dude just-"
"I'll fucking kill her for what she did to me! She ain't just gonna keep followin' me like this! Fucking screwing up everything, huntin' me down like I'm some kinda' animal! I'll show you an animal! I'll show you what you wanted to see all along, a fucking monster! Is that what you wanted? Huh?" He trailed off there, body shaking in quick spasms, before he began to speak again, his voice dropping several octaves. "I hate the fact that you're still breathing. I can't live knowing that I didn't put an end to it."
"Then don't."
The soft voice is unexpected by both men, Grimmjow stepping back even though all he wanted was to get closer. She didn't look up at either of them, body still limp and unmoving, as if the words had never even left her mouth. She didn't put up the slightest resistance, didn't even attempt to stop her captor.
She gave a soft sigh before saying anything else. "If you can't bring yourself to understand why I left, then don't exert yourself into the stress of trying." She paused for a moment, before finally lifting her head up, eyes slightly dazed, blood drying on her bruising jaw. That was the extent of what Grimmjow saw. She wasn't looking at him, or anywhere near him for that matter, attention fully and one-hundred percent focused on Nnoitra. "It's not worth it. In truth, it was your lack of comprehension that led to why I left and it is with undignified arrogance that you assume my actions were fueled by something as strong as hate. In fact-"
"I don't care about your fucking facts and shitty logic! Don't fucking patronize me! I put up with you! I even looked for you! Every fucking day! You were contagious! You made me like this! You did it! And I fucking let you and that's how you repay me! You sent everything to hell! You-you-you…ARRAGH!"
The gun in Nnoitra's hand pistoned out, striking Nel across the side of the head, sending her onto the ground, before he pulled the trigger. At the exact same moment, Grimmjow's finger finally pulled back, body withstanding the slight recoil as the bullet shot out.
"Fuck!" The cry ripped from Nnoitra's open mouth as he glared down at Nel's body, his breaths labored as crimson began to seep through his abdomen. "I'll kill you! I'll fuckin' kill you!"
And Grimmjow knew this was still not directed at him, the other man's focus solely trained on Nel. Nel who lay on the ground, not even attempting to get away, practically beckoning the crazed man to put a bullet in her because he obviously missed the first time.
"You're weak! Why don't even you try move! Do something! Do something! Don't fuckin' belittle me like this, bringing me down to your level! You deserve to die! I'll splatter your blood up and down these fucking walls for all the shit you've done! I'll fucking kill-"
Nnoitra never finished his sentence, his own finger pulling down on the trigger as gunshots rang out.
AN: Well there it is. Sorry if the ending upsets anyone (well…not really, but that sounds way polite, right?) but I love a cliffhanger and I've been planning for that ending to the chapter for the past few months (the idea for the transition from the end of the chapter to the beginning of the next is one of the few that I never changed). Feel free to tell me what you think! Well, I'm off to eat some buffalo wings!