One year later.

The sun burned hot through high windows. Even in the morning the room was cooking by eight. A young man stumbled down the stairs to the empty bar, glasses rowed the counter still needing to be cleaned.

"Shit," Grimmjow swore, shrugging into a sleeveless shirt and resetting the air conditioning. Machines clicked to life and he let out a breath as cooler air washed over him. "That's better."

"Still not used to it?" Kenpachi laughed coming through the front door.

"I don't think I'll ever be. Hey Yachiru," he greeted the little girl who came in after her uncle. "Want to help me clean up?"

"No way." She hopped up on a stool. "I want breakfast!"

"Well I hope Ken's cooking," he said. "Cause I have work to do."

"Yeah, I promised her," the large man answered. "And I thought I'd check on you while I was at it."

"I'm fine. My first solo night went smooth."

"Then you think you got a handle on this management shit?"

"Hey, I am a supersoldier after all."

"Yeah, and I still get paid to make sure you remain a law abiding citizen." Kenpachi grabbed Grimmjow's chin and looked him in the eyes. "You doing okay?"

"You mean have I gone psycho lately?" he said yanking back from the hold. "No, Kenpachi, not since that first month."

"Hey, I have to ask." He turned on the stove and dug around the fridge for supplies. "That was no picnic."

"Yeah, I was there, I remember."

Grimmjow began loading up a tray of half-drunk beer to take to the sink, trying to forget the highs and lows of that first month. Nothing about that time had been easy: namely being detained by Interpol the moment he stepped off the plane and the days of arguing and convincing it had taken to get him released into Kenpachi's care. But worse, he hadn't been quite balanced after the mass dose. The instability in his brain chemistry had caused him to do and say a lot of things that tested Kenpachi's limits as his handler. But he was balanced now and he had been for nearly a year. And what they'd discovered as time went on, was that he wasn't hollow—not the same way as before anyway. After the first interruption in his doses, he'd gotten back much of his emotions. So this second time, he felt even more human.

No, he would never be the Grimmjow he killed in that court yard. He would never feel things the same way again.

But he was learning.

"Bacon!" Yachiru cried happily as Kenpachi lay out strips on the fryer.

"Want some Grimm?"

"When do I not?" he shouted back and picked up the tray.

Fire and ice lanced through his arm. The tray clattered back to the table, glasses shattering. He tried not to scream but he did, stumbling back into a chair and he would have fallen but for Zaraki's quick catch.

"Careful kid," Grimmjow swallowed hard, pain tightening his throat. "Where's you're brace?" He hauled him up onto a bar stool, careful to lay his arm out straight on the counter.

"I'm trying not to wear it."

"You need it."

"For how long? They keep saying a few more weeks."

"Well they're doing what they can." Kenpachi yanked back on a plunger and poured Grimmjow a fizzy beer to help him with the pain. He drank it back as he was scolded. "Do you want to throw away four surgeries?"

Grimmjow sighed.

"Do you?"

"No." He rolled his eyes. "It's under the cash."

Kenpachi retrieved the heavy black brace and hooked it back around Grimmjow's scarred and thin forearm. Then he took hold of Grimmjow's other hand and held it up. "And what's with this, some sort of fashion statement?"

He meant the bandage that was always wrapped around his arm.

"No. I'm just tired of questions about my fucking suicide scars."

"What's a fucking suicide scar?" Yachiru chirped beside him.

"Watch your friggin' mouth," Kenpachi admonished. "Here." He distracted her with bacon and eggs. "She's sensitive."

"She's overly aware for a friggin' four year old and she likes you way too much. Next thing she's going to start smoking and drinking with us at night!"
"I want to smoke and drink!" she said between mouthfuls of meat.

"See."

"Hey, she's not your problem. These are your problem." Kenpachi pointed to his wrists.

"Well there's nothing I can do about this one." He indicated the scars. "And I'm tired as hell of having to baby this one." He meant his braced wrist. "What's it been, a year of therapy?"

"Just about. Actually, today is exactly one year since my retirement."

"It is?" Grimmjow thought this over. "So I've been here for a year."

"Yup. Time flies when you're melting in the heat."

Grimmjow smirked. "Yeah, or not getting shot at every friggin' minute."

"So you haven't thought about it?"

"About what?"

"Don't pretend you don't know. Urahara's offer, to join Rukia's team."

"Me work for Interpol, it's a joke, right?"

"He wasn't laughing."

"Yeah well, I don't know."

"Listen kid." Kenpachi dropped a plate before him and poured himself a breakfast beer. "You're doing a good job here, your Spanish has even improved though that Japanese accent ain't helping." He swallowed an egg practically whole. "But you are a soldier, whether you want to be or not. You've got something powerful in you that you should be putting to use."

"Yeah, a drug created by my lunatic father that I shot in the head."

"That's not what I mean."

Grimmjow eyed him. "Since when did you get so touchy feely?"

"Since I've been seeing you running marathons every day just to keep level, to get rid of that energy. Since I've seen you read a book a day in your second or third language because you're way too smart to be serving beer to drunks all night. Come on kid, you must want more."

"Trust me, I don't." He stood up. "I'll clean up later."

"Someone is grumpy," Yachiru commented when Grimmjow stomped up the stairs.

"Yeah well, someone's having trouble moving on. Come on Yachiru, let's go."

Grimmjow returned later to finish cleaning. He stared hatefully at his brace as he dried mugs and put them away. But the door handle rattling made him drop the task and reach under the counter for what he kept hidden there. It wouldn't be the first time someone thought to break in while they thought the place was empty. He held it at his side and waited for the door to be forced in, then he realized Kenpachi hadn't locked up when he left.

He kept the gun in one hand and waited to see who opened the door.

The moment he saw who it was, the gun came up. The sights came to rest over the heart of the young man before him and his finger clenched over the trigger.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Grimmjow..." Ichigo breathed, stepping into the air conditioned room despite the threat.

"Get. Out."

He stood firm. "No."

"I said get out!" He cocked the gun meaningfully and saw the ghost of doubt in Ichigo's features. "Do you not remember what I said to you a year ago?"

"Of course I do! I remember it every day. I hear it in my head all the time."

"Then why did you come here?!"

"Because I don't believe it. Because I need to know if you really do hate me."

"Trust me, I do. Get out."

"I came all this way and you're going to kick me out?"

"Yes. How did you even find me? Rukia swore she'd never say."

"It wasn't her."

"Urahara?"

"No."

He thought about it for a moment. "Fucking Kenpachi."

"He said you needed to see me."

"He fucking lied!"

"So what? You still feel hollow? That's not what he said."

"That fucker doesn't know what he's talking about."

Grimmjow dropped the gun on the counter and marched forward, taking a grip on Ichigo. "I never wanted to see you again, so get the Hell out of Texas." He dragged him to the door.

"Grimmjow stop!"

"Get out!" He shoved him over the threshold but Ichigo spun and caught the door. He couldn't win the battle of strength but he caught Grimmjow's eyes and the other waited before shutting him out.

"I dropped everything when Kenpachi called. Because for three hundred and sixty five days I've been thinking about this moment. I searched for you, even when Interpol told me you were gone. I thought about you every day, every night. Because you gave up everything for me, so how could I not do the same? Even if this is how it ended up, even if you slammed the door in my face, I would give anything, pay anything, do anything, to find you, to see you again. To know for myself you're alright, after everything, that you have a life."

"Well I do. I'm fine. So you can go back to Japan."

Ichigo lifted his hand from the door. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Fine. Then good bye, Grimmjow." He backed up. Hard blue eyes watched him for a long moment before the door slammed and Ichigo heard the lock clank in place.

Grimmjow stormed through the pub and swiped the gun off the bar, putting it back where it belonged. He took a bottle of vodka and choked back a long swig.

"FUCK!" He threw the bottle against the far wall. "Bastard!" He slammed his brace into the counter then reeled in pain.

"Why? I let him go! I let him have his fucking life, so why did he come back?"

His chest heaved, his mind raced.

And then it stopped: the panic, the confusion evaporated. Because it was clear. Because he knew why the kid had come, and he knew why he couldn't let him walk away.

"Shit." He ran back across the bar, undid the lock and threw open the door.

Ichigo smiled. He was standing right before him, as if he'd known. Grimmjow lost his breath, and just stood there before him.

"I'm not the same," he finally said.

"I know."

"I don't feel things like I should."

"I know."

"I'll never be able to stop Hogyoku."

"I know."

"I hated you."

"Because of what I did to you."

He nodded. "And because I killed my father for you."

"And you regret that?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I feel, but it hurt, for a long time."

"And now?"

"I left it behind. I started over."

"So you want me gone?"

"I did. I never wanted to see you again."

"And now?"

Grimmjow took a step forward, seized him by the shoulders with hands still bound by past pains, by what he'd done to save the boy he held. They watched each other in the sweltering heat, the escaping air-conditioning made a weak wind at Grimmjow's back, teasing wild blue hair, ghosting over Ichigo's face, and the tension held, neither spoke beneath the Texan sun.

Then Grimmjow let him go, took a step backward toward the cold. "I left you behind for a reason."

"To save me one last time."

"To save us both."

"And that's why I'm here now, Grimmjow. That's what I flew half way around the world to do."

"To save us?"

"Yes."

"You're an idiot."

"Then walk away."

Grimmjow stood still.

"No." He grabbed Ichigo again, and held his face between his palms. "No," he repeated more firmly. "Not again."

"Good," Ichigo breathed, closing his hands over Grimmjow's and drawing them down from his face, holding them against his chest instead.

"I don't know what to do," Grimmjow said. "I don't know what I feel."

"That's okay."

"But you can't put your life on hold, while I figure out my fucking feelings—or lack thereof."

"I won't be," Ichigo smiled. "I just got accepted into Texas State."

"Here in San Marcos?"

"Yeah."

"You little bastard. What if I'd stuck to never seeing you again?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

"It was still a gamble."

"It wasn't."

Grimmjow shook his head and smiled. "Hey, if it doesn't work out you can always get yourself a cowboy."

"Shut up." Ichig pulled his hands back but then added seriously, "I won't. I'll wait for you, as long as you need."

"How long is that degree?"

"Well, I hope you don't take four years, but if you do, that's okay."

"Man you are determined."

"Yes, I am."

"Okay then." He stepped back inside but held the door open for Ichigo. "Then let's see where this goes. You can start by helping me clean up before the customers get here."

And though many decisions lay ahead of them, more uncertainties awaited, they found peace in clinking dishes and running water, and the simple task of clean-up.

Because they were together.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Epilogue.

Ichigo wiped the sweat from his forehead despite the air conditioner after mopping up. He caught Grimmjow watching him as he rolled the bucket over the floor. Water sloshed and it was too much for him to lift to the basin by himself.

"Can you give me a hand?"

But Grimmjow pulled the mop from him and pushed him back against the wall.

"Fuck it."

He gripped his face and hook his other arm around his back while his dove into a full, unrestrained kiss, so intense Ichigo was glad for the wall supporting him. Grimmjow pulled back panting, but keeping their foreheads together.

"Well," he breathed with a smile, "I guess you don't have to wait four years, kid."

There you have it! Grimmjow made his decision, I had always ended it this way but then I started to wonder if I should leave the ending open (without the "epilogue"), but I decided to give the conclusion I had originally intended. Thanks so much for staying with this story, I didn't intend for it to take such dark turns when I started writing it and I it was hard to publish at first but as I got support it made it easier to take certain risks and keep going, so thank you very much.

As for where I'm going now with writing, I have more Apocalypse to revise and write and I have been working on Redemption (I posted the first chapter in "beginnings"). I had also started a sequel to this story but it's incomplete and I'm not sure whether I want to tamper with our boys anymore after they finally found happiness. We'll see.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing,

Riza