Gin slowly ran his fingers up and down Rangiku's spine, in a motion that half an hour ago would have sent shivers of heat to wake every nerve in her body but now was only soothing; she might fall asleep soon if he kept it up.
"And here I was saying only yesterday that wives aren't vices," he said, as he took a deep breath of her hair.
"I would have thought you'd know better than that," Rangiku answered, shifting slightly as she laid against his chest. Gin really wasn't the best of cushions, too bony.
"We're officially at war, don't know if anyone bothered to tell you," Gin said. "But, in any case, vices are off limits during war. Kyoraku looked about ready to cry when he heard, but, you know, as long as wives officially aren't vices I really can't complain. Isn't it nice that nobles need heirs even more during times of war? Though why they put it off in the first place I can't imagine. The production of heirs is such a pleasant activity."
Rangiku nodded thoughtfully. "The first bit anyway, not sure pleasant is really a word you could apply to much of the rest of it."
"True. I don't think I'd even go so far as to call raising Shiro pleasant--how did you persuade him to watch the others, anyway? I know he'll watch Kin-chan on occasion, but I thought he refused to be left alone with Yukiko, too afraid of screaming and diapers, which are perfectly valid fears, to be fair."
"You scared him last night," Rangiku answered, abruptly remembering it wasn't nap time. "He wanted me to talk to you about what happened."
"Someone tried to set him on fire, and I killed 'em; not sure how that would've scared Shiro," Gin answered with impressive carelessness. "I've never actually asked, but I was pretty sure even the good guys were allowed to fight back when attacked."
Gin's voice showed no particular emotion, but laying against his chest Rangiku heard an immediate change in his heartbeat. As he remembered what had happened each beat came harder and faster. His breath caught, and she could feel the effort with which he forced each breath to remain slow and even, gradually even forcing his heartbeat to calm. He would not settle for anything less. No little feeling had ever been allowed to break that control. Only last night--
"He said you got angry," Rangiku said softly. "He said you lost control."
"Don't tell the Four Families, but I think I may still have been a touch drunk. You must have noticed I go a bit overboard when I've got some alcohol in me. Tell Shiro not to worry. I'm not about to go drinking again, not with Kyoraku or anyone else."
Rangiku sighed. "Gin, don't you think it's about time you let go of some of the super control and admitted to yourself and everyone else that you do actually feel things? Maybe then you could start to learn how to deal with your anger so next time some weakling attacks Shiro you don't kill everyone in the vicinity. Not all emotions are the enemy, and complete denial isn't the only solution."
"That's not at all fair, Ran-chan," Gin protested. "I don't see how we could be here now if I was in complete denial of having any sort of emotions. Aren't they required for this sort of thing?"
Rangiku pulled away abruptly and sat up. "You have no idea how many times I've wondered what you felt about me, do you?"
"What do you mean, Ran?" Gin demanded, sitting up and trying to meet her eye. There was a note of concern in his voice that was very rarely present.
"I know I've told you before," Rangiku said, sighing as she pushed her tangled hair back behind her ears. "But I've loved you from the very first time I met you, when you held out your hand and smiled at me, but you--Aizen's not the only one who spent the past century trying to figure out what you actually felt about your family. You worked so hard on holding everything in that nobody's known what you felt, not him, not me, and definitely not you."
"Ran, everything I've ever done has been--"
"For me," she finished, staring into the space in front of her rather than trying to meet his eyes. "I know that now. I've known that for a whole two weeks. It would have been nice if I'd known it before, but it's ok. I get why you held back as much as you could; you were trying to protect me. At least you knew what you felt about me, even if no one else did, but what about Shiro? Did you know you loved him enough to die for him? Did you?"
Gin stared at her, helpless to find an answer to her question.
"I didn't think so. Just like you didn't expect that anger you felt last night when they targeted him. You weren't expecting it so you couldn't control it. That's the problem with hiding everything you feel. You can't control it if it actually manages to get out. Whatever you really feel, you're not prepared to deal with it." She laughed suddenly, but it wasn't exactly a happy laugh. "Guess I shouldn't complain. If you were better prepared to deal with your emotions we never would have gotten here in the first place." All it had taken was a single kiss to break his disinterested facade all those years ago. A single kiss had turned into sex in every empty and unclaimed space either the Fifth or the Tenth Division had, along with the oddest courtship combining casual friendship, nonchalant joking, and completely secret dating all the way out in Rukongai, along with a fee very public and confusing moments of possessiveness, culminating in a very obviously unwanted pregancy and last minute marriage.
Gin had had absolutely no idea what he was doing then, and Rangiku had the bad feeling that as far as acting on any sort of emotion was concerned that was still where he was.
"It's an odd feeling," Gin said slowly. "Not knowing what it is you feel about much of anything. It didn't matter as long as I was playing a part for Aizen. It was better not to try to think about, really, but now--I don't know, Ran. I really don't. I look at people I've known for years, and I wonder, do I like them? Would they like me--if I hadn't been treating them horribly for absolutely no reason at all for years?"
"You haven't been treating people horribly," Rangiku protested, or tried to, she didn't sound very sincere even to her own ears.
Gin smiled. "Now who's in denial? I've been a monster, found every last weak point of every single person I've ever met, and tortured them with them. Poor Kira's out there right now, being torn between his duty to me as my lieutenant and his devotion to Hinamori. He's absolutely miserable, and I know it. I did it to him on purpose--and I'm pretty sure I like him.
"But as far as hobbies go, I have to say I find it a great deal more enjoyable than drinking until I'm sick. If it's a choice between the two I'll stick with what I know. I'm pretty much the definition of a monster, a petty monster, I suppose, but I've also killed plenty of people, so there's that, too."
Rangiku raised her head to meet Gin's slitted eyes, waiting for the mask to drop. After a long moment, narrow blue-green eyes met hers, and all traces of the fox's smile left his face. "Is that what you want to be?"
He sighed. "Probably not."
"Well, that's good, because you're already an excellent husband and father, and don't argue with me, because I'd know better than you, and you are a good captain. You'll have to work on that sadistic streak; no one expects you to get rid of it entirely, but you don't want to keep winning the Seireitei Communications vote for most terrifying person in the Gotei to annoy. Ten years in a row is excessive."
"It's not my fault. It's all because of that anonymous letter to the editor about how some poor little moron accidentally served me dried sweet potatoes instead of persimmons and ended up being assigned to every miserable duty in the Gotei. After that, everyone started comparing notes on all the awful things they'd heard I'd done--"
"I happen to know you wrote that letter," Rangiku said. "And it's time you let Byakuya have a year. You are horrible, but you aren't as horrible as you needed them to think you were. Now you can let go of all of that. Stop being a monster for the sake of being a monster and figure out who you are."
"I know who I am, Ran. That hasn't changed since Aizen's gone, neither has what I want. How to get there is just a bit less clear. I thought I could play my part and stick by Aizen's side till an opportune moment came to end him, but it looks like I'm going to have to work with everyone else to get you through this safe. You're right. It doesn't help that I've spent the past century squashing down every feeling I possibly could. It was foolish to tell myself Shiro and the others didn't matter; they're yours. How could they not? And it appears I have a temper. I don't think you need to worry about it, though. Now that I know to expect it, I doubt it'll get the better of me again. My control is usually quite good after all."
A frown grew on Rangiku's face he spoke. She was beginning to realize that despite all her hopes to the contrary Gin's view of the universe had not shifted in the slightest; it still appeared to revolve entirely around her. "How can you know who you are when you don't even know how you feel about anyone outside your family? Or even how you want to interact with them? You have had no freedom to be anything but what Aizen wanted for your entire adult life--how can you possibly know?"
"Because it doesn't matter," he answered simply. "As long as I can live for you nothing else matters."
Rangiku didn't even try to fight the tears that escaped her eyes. She remembered the starving little boy who'd rescued her on a barren road in Rukongai, and the absolutely enormous smile he'd given her for accepting his help, accepting his offer of friendship. He'd been the one with food and shelter; she'd had nothing, but he'd always treated her like she'd given her everything. Was simple acceptance worth so much? "Someday, Gin, I think I'd like to see you live for yourself," she said, and then she added, "At least a little bit," when it looked like she might have hurt him. "I don't want to be selfish."
"Be as selfish as you want--"
A knock cut him off there and a very frightened sounding Kira called through the door. "Sir, I know I'm not supposed to disturb you unless one of the things on the list happens, but--"
Gin was up and at the door almost instantly, pulling it open only a crack for which Kira was very grateful.
"What happened?" Gin demanded, excitedly. As there were no alarms going off it had to be something quite entertaining.
"Kusanagi Taro-kun is here from the Thirteenth, and he says Captain Ukitake almost killed Captain Kurotsuchi--"
"And I missed it!" Gin exclaimed, sounding like he'd missed Christmas.
"What?" Rangiku shrieked, grabbing her kimono and yanking it on as quickly as she could.
She shoved Gin away from the door with a "go get dressed" and stepped out into the outer office.
"What happened?" she demanded, eagerly, of a young shinigami she'd never seen before.
The boy cowered back. "Lieutenant Ichimaru?" he said uneasily. His Kyoto accent was very like Gin's in the lilt of his words.
Rangiku sighed. Gin certainly was creative when it came to finding ways to get in with people, especially lonely people; a new recruit in the Thirteenth who didn't know anyone or feel like he shared any common ground—Gin could use that. She hoped he hadn't used the boy too horribly.
"That's me," she said, much more gently. "You came here to tell Gin what happened to your Captain? It he alright?"
"I think so, Lieutenant," the young man said uneasily. "Is Captain Ichimaru—"
Gin flung open the door, smiling hugely. "Hello, Taro-kun! Kira, what on earth are you doing here? Didn't we agree yesterday that you would spend your on duty hours protecting Lieutenant Hinamori? We cannot expect the Fourth to take care of everything on their own."
"Sir?" Kira said, sounding completely lost, and looking back and forth between his captain and Rangiku, who winked at him.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Gin asked. "Shoo!"
Then, turning his friendliest smile on the Thirteenth Division's young member, he said, "Now, Taro-kun, tell me all about it."