A/N: Haha! Here you go! Another update so quickly! I've had this written for a while and couldn't wait to share it with you. Thank you to suzanoofnoel (who unfortunately has deleted their account) for the idea of some alternate perspectives, I hope I did it justice, even though it's quick… I'll try to add some more in later as well.

Once again, thank you all so much who have been following this story and leaving reviews. Those of you that left me kind words of support have truly touched my heart. So thank you.


Rukia's eyes fluttered open, their violet depths clearing as she blinked into the darkness. A not unpleasant weight was settled against her chest, long legs entangled within her own that moved restlessly as she partially rolled, attempting to reach the source of what had woken her. When she couldn't quite reach her soul pager, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Renji!" she harshly whispered, shoving his shoulder in an attempt to move him off her. "Will you get off me?!"

Bright red hair tickled her sides as Renji grumbled, turning his head to the side to avoid her forceful shoves. "That's not what you said last night," he teased, and she scowled at the sensation of his leering grin against her chest.

Heat flooded her face in the darkness, despite the fact that his words were only partially true. They'd only recently taken their own friendship to the next level, despite years of wanting to change their own status quo, and while they'd certainly done things that could make even Renji turn almost the color of his hair, they hadn't gone quite that far. "Oh, for the love of!" she cut herself off, pushing with more force than was necessary, until Renji rolled gracelessly off the bed.

"Hey! Ow!"

Sticking her tongue out at him, Rukia squinted against the sudden brightness from the soul pager as she flipped it open. Almost immediately, her head started pounding, and she groaned, dropping the pager onto her chest and pushing the heels of her hands against her temples in an ill-fated attempt to soothe her aching head.

"Hey," Renji's normally gruff voice was soft and soothing as he scooted closer to her, one hand gently lowering her own. When he noticed the way her face was pinched, he chuckled despite himself, one large hand smoothing down her mussed black hair. "Welcome to your first hangover."

Rukia's eyes snapped open in annoyance and she pointed one small finger against his tattooed chest. "This is all your fault."

Renji pushed his rogue locks back from his face as he grinned at her in the darkness. He slept only in simple pajama pants, his tattooed torso and arms all but glinting in the dim light cast from the window beside the bed. She was only slightly better off; a thin tank top and pajama shorts her only clothing. While she typically stayed at Ichigo's, and actually had her own room there now, she couldn't deny that having the freedom to share a bed with the man she loved certainly was appealing. Urahara didn't seem to mind her presence, since she had Ururu's support, and at least she didn't call her "Moocher".

Leaning up onto his knees and pulling her from her inner musings, Renji braced his weight on his forearms at her side, the bed creaking slightly beneath him. "I don't remember you arguing last night."

Before she could even open her mouth to argue, Renji bent lower, his nose brushing against hers. Despite the pounding in her head, her heart soared, her hands immediately moving to the loose locks of his bright red hair. He closed the distance between them a moment later, their lips meeting in a searing kiss that had her forgetting all about the soul pager until it went off again.

"I'm going to kill them," Renji growled, pulling back from the kiss and taking the soul pager from Rukia.

Breathless, Rukia remained with her eyes shut, her lips swollen from the ferocity of such a brief kiss. Renji could handle this one.

The moment Renji tapped the screen to turn the soul pager back on, he could immediately see the hollows that triggered the page, and also the quick progress of Ichigo as he moved to intercept them. Despite the fact that he was already en route, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He'd been doing an awful lot of work lately, the rift giving him even more hollows to deal with than normal. They helped him out as often as they could, but sometimes he was simply too fast, and he knew how much he hated to ask for help – he was the same way.

"Does Ichigo need help?" Rukia asked quietly a moment later, when Renji remained silently scowling at the soul pager.

Red eyes glancing back at the screen, Renji could already see the dots that signified hollows disappearing. No more were reappearing, so this time, he could leave things be. With a satisfied smile, he flipped the pager shut once more and tossed it onto the bedside table. "Nah." He climbed back onto the bed, slipping under the covers. "He's got it." Rukia's giggle as he wrapped his arms back around her was like music to his ears.


When Orihime opened her eyes, she screamed, her heart dropping clear to her feet. She was back in Aizen's throne room, but how she got there remained a mystery. The stark white cleanliness nearly blinded her, making her squint her eyes as she turned unsteadily, her eyes searching her surroundings for any clue how she ended up back here. Her lungs dragged in harsh breaths, the sound of her breathing incredibly loud in the still silence as she fought down a rising sense of panic. Tears already stung her eyes, blurring her vision when she looked down, gasping in shock. The Arrancar attire that had been forced upon her during her first stay was back on her, the tightness in the chest unmistakable, the material scratchy against her skin. Grasping the stiff fabric of the skirt in her hands, she blinked through her tears, momentarily clearing her vision. "What," she breathed, looking back up to continue her search of the room. What she saw made her freeze, her heart first dropping to her toes before leaping up to her throat and choking her. Ichigo was on his knees, chained to the wall behind him with his arms spread wide. Even from afar she could tell he was beaten, bruised, and bloody – his hair matted with blood in places and small puddles of it forming beneath him on the otherwise pristine floor. Zangetsu was nowhere in sight. "Kurosaki-kun!" she cried, immediately running to his side.

She all but slid to the ground in front of him, her knees nearly crashing into his as she reached for him. His head hung forward, the skin around his wrists red and irritated, but also white from the pressure his body was putting on them. Blood dripped from a wound on his forehead and what she could see of his chest was covered in wounds as well. Shaggy orange hair obstructed her view of his face, but when she cupped his cheeks in her hands, hands that trembled, his stuttering and uneven breaths were the only indication that he was still alive.

"Pity, isn't it?"

The voice that could sound so melodious and yet so poisonous tightened Orihime's throat, but the tears stinging her eyes from Ichigo's condition gave her strength. Rising to her knees and cradling Ichigo's head against her chest, Orihime took a deep breath. She had to protect him. "What have you done?!" she snapped, turning her flashing eyes onto a man she thought was captured and secured in the Soul Society. She'd rather he was dead, and for once the thought did not surprise her, did not shock her otherwise delicate and forgiving countenance. Aizen.

Aizen's rich laughter filled the room, bringing goosebumps to Orihime's skin and making her shudder. "I preserved him for you."

"You're sick!" she screamed, hot tears falling onto her cheeks. "Why are we here?" Her chest was heaving with her panic, her breathing rapid and uneven as she held onto Ichigo as though he were her lifeline as much as she felt like his. When he groaned hoarsely against her chest, she turned to him, ignoring Aizen's presence entirely. "Kurosaki-kun?" she whispered, picking his head up in her hands by cupping his cheeks.

Ichigo's head lolled in her grasp, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he managed to open them into narrow slits. Blood trickled from his wound and into his eye, making him blink rapidly as he slowly took in her face. His normally fierce, molten gaze was dull and lifeless, the fire beaten out of him. "I-Inoue?" he breathed, his voice rough and coarse like sand paper. His chest heaved as though speaking cost him too much energy.

"I'm here," she cooed, inching forward and bringing his head back to her so she could try and take some of the stress off his shoulders. Under different circumstances, she would have been mortified by the thought of using her breasts as a pillow for him, but her thoughts were on much more important matters. "What happened?" she asked, her mind reeling. Had it all been a dream? Did she imagine making it back home? They were supposed to be going to a dance together, weren't they? He was smiling at her, laughing with her, sharing snowball fights, looks, and touches that lit her very soul on fire. She'd bought a dress, just made him chocolates! "I… I thought," she started, her voice strangled as the tears came once more.

A firm hand on her shoulder startled her from her thoughts and made her flinch at the same time. If she weren't supporting Ichigo, she would have shied away from the touch, but she had to help him, had to support him, so she stood her ground, cringing rather than flinching away.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Ichigo surprised her by shouting, roughly pulling his head from her grasp in order to glare daggers at the man that made her skin crawl. His eyes, which had been so dull and hopeless a moment before, flashed with the fire that burned within him – his hate and anger fueling his otherwise exhausted resolve. The chains that bound him rattled as he fought against them, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching uselessly with the effort.

"Oh?" Aizen's smooth voice cooed as he lowered his head down to their level. Light shone across his glasses as he squeezed Orihime's shoulder to the point of pain and this time she did shy away from him, attempting to pull free from his grasp without luck. Her struggling only seemed to amuse him as his smile grew. "And what are you going to do about it?"

As if he sensed the truth behind Aizen's words, Ichigo grew silent, the muscles in his jaw standing out as he ground his teeth, the creaking of his jaw audible in the silent room. He scowled menacingly; his lips pressed into a thin line, his cheek twitching, the crease between his eyebrows deep with his rage, as his eyes drove stakes into Aizen's heart. Aizen simply smiled.

"What do you want?" Orihime finally asked, drawing upon all the inner strength she had to raise her eyes to Aizen's. They were such a similar shade to Ichigo's, and yet lacked any and all warmth that his so clearly had.

"To kill the Substitute Soul Reaper," Aizen drawled, moving back to retrieve something. "Ulquiorra was kind enough to let you say goodbye. I figured I should extend the same courtesy."

Orihime gasped at his claim, turning to look at Ichigo when chains rattled as he struggled against his bonds, but his gaze remained fierce and strong on Aizen. "Y-you can't!" Orihime cried, lurching to her feet to stand protectively in front of him.

Aizen had found his zanpakuto and pulled it from its scabbard lazily, as though their whole encounter was a waste of his time. The blade glinted brilliantly in the bright light of his throne room, Aizen eying the sight with obvious appreciation, but the sight only made Orihime feel sick. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him!" she pled.

"Inoue, no!" Ichigo harshly reprimanded her and when she turned to look at him, he shook his head, just once, but the movement and its meaning were unmistakable. On instinct, her hands moved toward her pins.

The movement was not missed by Aizen. "Your pitiful little fairies can't help him," he threatened, just before disappearing into a flash step. "Now say goodbye."

Cold steel was suddenly pressed against her neck and Orihime swallowed, feeling the tension in the blade press into her throat even more at the movement. Her hands, which had already been trembling, shook so fiercely she gripped her skirt in order to still them. Without knowing when she'd done so, she found her eyes squeezed shut, Aizen gripping her arms to keep her still. The only sound in the suddenly silent throne room was Aizen's breath, so close she could feel its sickening warmth on the back of her neck.

Ichigo was the one to break the silence. "Inoue," he called. "Inoue, look at me." His command was quiet and gentle, but no less urgent, the sound of his rattling chains finally causing her to open her eyes. The way Ichigo looked up at her, his eyes dark and resigned, broke her heart, the pain akin to a knife in the chest.

"Kurosaki-kun," she breathed, attempting to take a step forward and surprised when Aizen released her. The sudden lack of restraint made her stumble, and she fell to her knees, all but crashing into Ichigo's chest. He grunted with her sudden impact, the chains rattling once more as he fell back slightly before catching himself, but what surprised her the most was his quiet sigh as his cheek came down to rest against the top of her head. His arms strained uselessly against his chains as though he wanted to embrace her, a thought that caught her breath in her throat and tore at her heart.

"Inoue, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his words and breath warm in her hair. His voice was tinged with regret.

Careful not to add any more insult to injury, Orihime slid her arms around his chest, pausing when he sucked in a pained breath, and hiding her grimace at the slick sensation of blood along his back by burying her face in his chest. "I'm the one who's sorry," she corrected, her eyes closing as she listened to the unsteady beating of his heart. This can't be happening!

"Don't be," he murmured, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "I'd die a thousand times if it meant saving you."

His words, his warm breath against her suddenly freezing skin, made her shiver and inch closer. It was such an Ichigo thing to say. Tears sprung to life behind her lids as she fought to keep them at bay. When she tried to respond, her throat didn't work – a thick lump stuck there from his words. "I'd rather you live," she choked out.

He pulled his head up, moving just far enough away to rest his forehead against hers. When he smiled, it was wry and sad, and Orihime was shocked to realize how pale he was, the blood on his face standing out in stark contrast to his lightened skin. He moved so little she barely sensed it, until suddenly his nose was brushing against hers, his breath a cold ghost against her lips. "Inoue," he murmured, and her eyes quickly dropped to his lips, just as she realized his had fallen to hers.

No words were needed as she moved when he did, closing what little distance remained between them. His lips were cold and chapped, but gentle against hers and she couldn't help the surge of happiness that rose within her breaking heart. The rattling of his chains and shifting in his shoulders told her he wanted to hold her properly, so she did her best to make up for their loss, moving her arms up around his neck and carding her fingers through his hair as best she could. She was the one to move her lips against his, sighing pleasantly when he followed her lead so quickly it was almost hard to tell who deepened the kiss first.

Even as her heart soared at their kiss, Ichigo's tongue gentle as it rolled against her own, the uncertainty surrounding their feelings for each other no longer a mystery, it quickly sank when she tasted the blood in his mouth. They retreated from the kiss at the same time, Ichigo's eyes still closed as he fought to regain his breath. The tears she'd been fighting to hold back broke and slid down her cheek as she cupped one hand against his cheek.

"Orihime," he breathed, his brow furrowed with the effort of speech.

He'd never said her first name to her, the sound foreign in the air and yet right. She never realized how much she wanted to hear him say it until his gentle voice rang in the utter silence surrounding them. "Ichigo," she murmured, pulling them back into a hug so tight that he groaned, but rested his head against hers despite the pain. She was startled to feel his entire body trembling and the fear licking at her insides grew into a burning flame.

"Such a touching reunion," Aizen's sultry voice interrupted their moment, causing both their heads to snap up and turn in his direction.

"I can't let you do this!" Orihime cried, reluctant to release Ichigo but forced to in order to turn around. That small movement was all the opening Aizen needed (not that he really needed one to begin with). One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone; the only indication he'd moved in their direction was the breeze generated by his flash step throwing her hair back over her shoulder before the force of his movement all but tossed her to the side. "Santen Kesshun!" she cried, purely out of reflex even though she didn't have enough time to utter the whole command as she turned in an effort to keep Aizen at bay. A sickening crunching sound filled her ears, accompanied by the rattling of chains behind her. Ichigo's grunted gasp told her she was already too late as she spun, her hair flying back over her shoulder again just in time to see Aizen release his sword, the blade plunged into Ichigo's chest up to the hilt as blood quickly blossomed around the blade and dripped to the floor. "NO!"


"NO!" Orihime screamed, bolting upright in bed with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were held out in front of her, reaching for the body that had been there, her fingers shaking in terror as a cold sweat dripped down her back. She could still feel his lips against hers, taste his blood in her mouth… Drawing in a ragged breath, she scarcely suppressed a sob as she pulled her knees up to her chest and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, almost to the point of causing pain. Her fingers were rough claws in her hair, mussing it as she gripped it like a woman possessed. The pain was usually a way to ground her, to reinforce what was real and what wasn't; only it didn't work as well as it usually did and the sobs she fought to bury finally burst forth and she cried into her knees.

Minutes passed. Her chest heaving and her tears finally dry, Orihime slowly uncurled, relaxing her arms as she rolled to grab her cell phone to check the time. It was just after three in the morning. "It was all just a dream," she murmured, closing her eyes and drawing a weary hand down her face. "Just a dream."

She'd had these kinds of dreams before, more frequently just after returning home from Las Noches. They varied, but in general they revolved around Ichigo. He'd die over and over again, not to be revived, or he'd be captured and tortured, turned against her, or return home with her only to hate and resent her; but he'd never kissed her before, never called her by her first name, not even in the other dreams that tormented her; memories of Ulquiorra's bland expression, his monotonous voice as he held her captive and fought Ichigo, or of Aizen himself, his presence so intimidating he made her feel small and insignificant, like she didn't deserve the warmth of her friends. She dreamed of the other Espada; the girls that beat her and of GrimmJow, forcing her to repeatedly bring Ichigo back from the dead just so he could subject her to the agony of watching him kill him again. As time went on, the dreams came less frequently and were less severe, until she had been able to think she'd be free of them; turned out she was wrong. Even after the wonderful days they'd had skipping class to go sledding, engaging in a one on one snowball fight, fighting side-by-side, sharing coffee and splitting the oddest combinations of ice cream despite the weather, her mind was able to conjure up such a horrible event that she wanted to vomit and she suddenly found herself swallowing the bile rising at the back of her throat.

A sharp knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she jumped, a small squeal escaping her. It only took a moment for her to recognize the reiatsu on the other side of her door, and the fact that it was so strong and unwavering made her smile softly, even if her heart was suddenly pounding out of nervousness. What is he doing here at this hour?! Even as she questioned it she knew, and immediately felt her cheeks heat with shame, even as she slowly crawled out of bed.

She didn't get to the door before he pounded on it again, more forcefully this time; hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges. "Inoue?!" his worried voice came through from the other side.

She pulled the door open a moment later, opening it just far enough that she could peer outside through the crack. Her eyes should have looked sleepy and tired; instead they looked haunted and tortured. "Kurosaki-kun?" she asked, her voice oddly small sounding.

Ichigo had been out fighting hollows (the hollows Rukia and Renji decided to leave to him) when he'd felt Orihime's reiatsu flare uncontrollably. The flare in and of itself was unusual – she was an expert at controlling it even if it wasn't done consciously – but it had also been rife with sorrow and pain, and without even pausing to consider it, he'd immediately rushed to her side. Even once she'd calmed down, he could sense the underlying torment, her deep-seeded anguish still hiding just beneath the surface despite their distance apart and had to go to her – there simply was no other option. "A-are you okay?" he blurted, not realizing how wide and worried his eyes were.

Orihime wanted to say she was fine, the words were on the tip of her tongue, but she also didn't want to lie to him. He clearly knew she wasn't okay, or he wouldn't have come. Although that thought warmed her chest, it also tightened it painfully. Regardless, she opened the door and stepped back to allow him inside. "It was just a nightmare," she quietly admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Following her invitation, Ichigo stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Even though she wouldn't look at him, Ichigo could see the pink to her cheeks, the way her skin still looked damp as though from tears, and the way her eyes were red and too shiny when he looked into them. She's been crying… Without allowing himself to think twice, Ichigo reached out and pulled her into the circle of his arms. It wasn't the same as their embrace after sledding, nor after they fought the hollows in the baseball fields, but the feeling was still there as he slipped his arms easily around her shoulders. She came willingly, her body limp with relief as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. When he felt her tremble in his grasp, he lowered his head to rest his cheek against her temple, pressing his head gently against hers as he squeezed her tighter. "It was just a dream," he murmured, not understanding why Orihime trembled again at his words.

Feeling Ichigo's solid arms surround her immediately made Orihime feel at peace. She felt secure and protected by his embrace, and when his low voice rumbled in her ear, the tremor that worked its way down her spine made her heart race for an entirely different reason. When tears pricked her eyes once more, it was because of his kindness. "Th-thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she breathed, her voice slightly muffled against his chest.

He answered with a gentle squeeze before reluctantly pulling back, keeping his arms loosely around her. When she followed his lead, blinking back tears as she looked up at him, he had to resist the urge to wipe her tears away, his hand twitching on her back as he almost moved to do so. "Can I make you some tea?"

"You don't have to do that," she scoffed, a smile gracing her features for the first time since he arrived even as she moved to wipe her own tears away.

Seeing her smile set him at ease, but Ichigo still didn't want to release her. Not yet. "I know."

When he made no move to move – to release her or otherwise, Orihime frowned in confusion, her nightmare fading into the back of her mind at his presence. If his grip on her before said anything, it spoke to his health, his strength. He was there with her, alive and well, back in Karakura Town. He wasn't dead or trapped in Las Noches, and neither was she; because he'd rescued her. His molten chocolate eyes looked at her with care, concern, and something she couldn't name reflected in their dark depths, shining with life as he searched for an answer. She finally gave it, with a soft giggle. "Okay."

Finally releasing her, he smiled, quirking an eyebrow. "Okay?"

Nodding, Orihime's smile only grew. "Okay."

Without further ado, Ichigo easily made his way into the kitchen, pointing firmly at a chair so she would sit, before turning to ready the teakettle. It was then that he truly realized they were alone in the apartment. He'd expected Rangiku and Toshiro to be there. "Hey, where's Hitsugaya and Matsumoto?" he finally asked as he leaned against the counter, giving her some space.

Pursing her lips to the side, Orihime thought a moment before her face lit up as though she'd just thought of the answer to some extremely tricky trivia question. "Oh! They were drinking at Urahara's!"

Chucking, Ichigo shook his head. "And by 'they', you mean Matsumoto, right?"

Giggling herself, Orihime nodded, relief flooding through her at the ease with which Ichigo erased her worries. "Of course!"

"That explains why no one else answered the page," Ichigo quietly grumbled before turning to grab some mugs for their tea. He didn't say it, but it also explained where Rukia was.

With his back to her, Orihime studied him – his broad shoulders emphasized by the obi at his waist, Zangetsu slung easily across his back even though the zanpakuto was nearly as tall as he was. He moved quickly and efficiently, appearing completely at ease, which helped to put her at ease. "Were you out there long?" she finally asked, unable to stand the silence between them.

Turning back with two steaming mugs, Ichigo handed her hers before indicating that they should move to the still dark living room. Although he looked calm, his nerves were on edge. He was in unfamiliar territory, and it seemed taboo that he was in her apartment so late at night, despite the circumstances. As she situated herself on the couch, pulling her legs up beside her, he placed Zangetsu against the couch and joined her, sitting right next to her for a change. In fact, he sat so close that the cushion tilted, and she slid against him whether she wanted to or not.

The moment her knees bumped his leg, Orihime shot Ichigo a look – her eyes wide, but didn't move. When he not only met her gaze but carefully slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her snug to his side, she thought she had to still be dreaming. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, his hand grazed the side of her head, allowing it to fall easily against his shoulder before dragging his fingers through her hair. He had no idea what possessed him to do it – perhaps it was something he'd seen his father do with his sisters – but it felt right to hold her and comfort her. Her quiet sigh told him it was the right thing to do.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice strangely deep and gruff even after he took a sip of the still scalding hot tea. Although he sounded calm, he was amazed his voice wasn't shaking as much as his insides were.

Orihime stared into her mug, the steam holding her attention in an effort to keep her heart from pounding right out of her chest. The last thing she expected upon waking was to have the object of her nightmare be there for her, comforting her in a way that only he could. It made her heart feel too big for her chest, butterflies filling not just her stomach but her heart as it threatened to fly away from her. Every touch of his fingers in her hair or against her scalp sent goosebumps down her arms, and although she wanted to just lean into him and close her eyes, she focused on keeping them open. She didn't want to fall back asleep and miss something.

"Inoue?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle when she remained silent. He nudged her gently with his shoulder as though it were something he'd do any day, and not something that made his insides clench nervously.

Swallowing thickly, Orihime raised her mug, her eyes only flicking to his before she blurted, "We were back in Las Noches," and took a quick sip to hide her discomfort at even saying the name of the place.

Beside her, Ichigo immediately stiffened, his fingers stilling in their trek through her hair. In truth, it was obvious she would have nightmares about her experiences there, he just wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it. She'd seemed fine upon her return from Aizen's clutches, but everything he knew told him deep down she couldn't be. He still didn't know the extent of the emotional and physical trauma she'd undergone while Aizen's captive, and while he wanted to know, he also didn't. It was a topic he'd been too cowardly to broach with her, afraid of opening barely healed wounds and of what exactly she'd have to say. But he couldn't keep avoiding it forever. Both wanting to hold her eyes and avoid eye contact at the same time, he dropped his gaze to his mug, feeling her stiffen beside him as well. It was the moon, wasn't it? I thought it looked eerily familiar…

"You died," she breathed, her voice nearly inaudible even in the deafening silence that surrounded them. Her fingers unconsciously made their way to brush against her lips, recalling the feel of his kiss.

Sighing, Ichigo closed his eyes. He misunderstood her words, for he did die – twice – and gripped her shoulder tighter. "I'm here now," he murmured, finally opening his eyes and turning to more fully gaze into hers. It was dark in the living room, the only light that managed to reach them from the kitchen, and so her face was cast mostly in shadow. Even so, he could see her wide eyes searching his, feel them attempting to look into his soul, as she so easily did; but then they darkened and she dropped her gaze to her hands, her fingers suddenly fidgeting with the mug in her lap.

"I-it wasn't like that," she murmured, her breath a warm ghost against his lips. "Aizen was," words failed her as her throat tightened once more. "You were," she tried again and failed, shaking her head gently as she closed her eyes and swallowed, struggling to force the lump in her throat to go down. "This was different," she blurted, forcing herself to meet Ichigo's surprised gaze. "Aizen was," she reached one shaking hand out to his chest, where she'd seen Aizen's blade lodged to the hilt, Ichigo's life force bleeding out along its edge. "He was… cruel." It was the best description she could think of without telling him exactly what had happened. The man was cruel in life, yes, but not to the extent of what she saw in her dream. Without realizing she was doing it; she bit her lower lip as her thumb rubbed a soothing pattern on his chest, attempting to chase away the image of Aizen's zanpakuto.

Her eyes had fallen to his chest as she spoke, leaving Ichigo to gape at her in shock unnoticed. He'd followed her hand until it touched his chest, her trembling touch just as soothing as it was nerve-wracking. What the hell happened?! He wanted to shake her until he had answers, but also would never push her. Instead, he focused his gaze on her eyes, their depths dark and anguished once more as she relived whatever torment had ripped her from sleep. With a sigh, his head drooped, his forehead gently touching hers. The movement startled Orihime, who gasped and moved to pull back until he stopped her; his hand gently wrapping around hers, gripping her hand against his chest and keeping it there until their gazes finally locked and held. I'm not going anywhere, he breathed inwardly, not sure if she would understand the meaning behind his gaze even as he thought it.

A gentle smile tugged at the corner of Orihime's lips as she felt devoured by Ichigo's gaze. The light shone on his face more than hers, since he was turned toward the kitchen, and not for the first time, she was struck by how handsome he was. His features were striking, especially in the dim light, and the depth of the concern she saw in his gaze only made the warmth within her intensify. With his forehead gently pressed against hers, it wouldn't take much to change their position, just as in her dream, and a part of her wanted to. She wanted to feel his lips against hers for real, not just in the realm of her dreams. She wanted the kiss from her dreams with his arms around her, his warmth surrounding her with the safety he so easily provided, without the taste of blood in his mouth. Maybe such a thing could put her nightmares to rest for good, but despite what she wanted, she resisted, afraid of ruining the moment; afraid of pushing him away. For Kami's sake, he was holding her hand! Not just that, he was keeping it pressed to his chest, as though he liked her touching him with the reverence she was! She never expected Ichigo to hold her in such a way, to comfort her with such close physical contact so easily. But then again, should she really be surprised? How often had they been touching, now, regardless of the reasoning behind it? Kami, they were touching each other just for the sake of touching each other. Him soothing her with touch shouldn't be so shocking, especially once she realized she was starting to consider it normal, even though she knew it wasn't. As warmth slowly flooded her entire being, heating her cheeks before spreading, she slowly closed her eyes and sighed, her breath tickling Ichigo's lips. "Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she breathed, her hand reluctantly sliding out from beneath his and trailing down his chest before she retracted it to help still the tea in her lap.

Without her hand in his, Ichigo felt strangely void, and slid his arm around her shoulder once again, squeezing her tightly just for a moment and shifting them slightly closer. With her eyes closed, Orihime couldn't see the way his own eyes slid shut, his heart feeling both complete and yet too full. "You don't have to thank me," he answered just as softly, his voice nothing more than a gentle murmur as his own breath tickled her lips once more.

For once she didn't argue, simply remained as she was, surrounded in Ichigo's reassuring strength and warmth. She didn't want to move – wasn't sure she could even if she wanted to, he was holding her so firmly – but the nightmare was now far from her mind, her thoughts now full of the man who held her and how wonderful she felt to be enveloped in his arms.

It didn't take long for Orihime's breathing to slow, growing deep and even as she slipped back into the bliss of sleep. Ichigo was nearly gone himself before he realized they were both holding mugs of now lukewarm tea; and gently, so as not to wake her, he leaned forward to place both his mug and hers on the coffee table before them. Orihime scarcely moved as he did this, her head resting easily against his shoulder. His task done, there was only a moment's pause as Ichigo settled back against the couch once more, his arm still holding Orihime to his side. He'd already resolved himself to stay, as improper as it was, but now he faced the decision of whether he should move Orihime to the sanctity of her own bed or just remain with her on the couch. Part of him wanted to put her back to bed – she'd sleep better there after all – but then he wouldn't be able to continue to hold her, to physically be there for her even after she woke up, so he chose the latter. With a quiet sigh, he shifted into a more comfortable position and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Within moments his own breathing deepened and slowed as he drifted into sleep.


A/N: I honestly had more to this, but I decided to include it in the next update instead, rather than make you wait for this lovely little bit! I know I already have a story about Orihime having nightmares (ironically, it's titled Nightmares), but I just couldn't resist the chance to throw something like that in here again! Haven't gotten there in the anime yet to know if they do this or not, but anyone who goes through something like that and seems completely unscathed just isn't normal…. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I'll do my best to get the next bit out ASAP! Thanks for reading! Your thoughts and reviews feed my writer's soul!

Sadly, I still don't own Bleach or any of the characters. Tite Kubo still does…