The Furthest Planet From The Sun

by Mahi-Mahi

He took her away...far from the warmth of the sun.

27. Chapter 27

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CHAPTER 27

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The gardens of Las Noches were as unparalleled in their beauty as Orihime remembered them to be. Willow trees danced in the gentle breeze that would find its way to their branches, their long tendrils swaying softly. Grass that was neatly trimmed and trees that were perfectly shaped stretched as far as her eyes could see. Above, the sky reigned a neverending shade of blue. It never rained there, yet it was endlessly green.

Pure white chrysanthemums dotted the cobblestone path that led her to the small library. Their pristine color reminded her of everything that she had encountered in the land of the dead. The sands, the walls of Las Noches, the moon in the sky. Like a cold winter night, they stood out harshly against the otherwise lush foliage in the garden, a gentle reminder of where she really was and that all the verdant flora around her was 'fake', for lack of a better term.

Everything in those gardens could never compare to the real thing.

The old wooden doors of the library creaked open, and for once Orihime was grateful to touch a door that wasn't oversized marble. There was something about that part of the grounds that felt just a little more antique than the rest of the estates. Most of Las Noches felt cold and barren, smooth and sterile in its architecture. While here, perhaps in principle of the nature that it was a garden and not a desert, things felt a little more traditional, a little more old. The doors were usually wooden, the gates were generally cast iron and creaked when she opened them. The buildings were made of brick and stone foundations. The windows had shutters and not bars.

Most notable about the library, however, was the noisy wooden floors. A cozy chaise lounge sat near the lone reading nook – which was a small carved out window on the top floor.

Running her fingers along the rows of books, her eyes never really focused on any one title. Her mind seeming to be a million miles away.

Since her short stay in the infirmary, Orihime had been whisked away to be locked in Aizen's personal gardens. Every day that passed was the same as the last.

No one came to visit her.

Not Grimmjow, not Harribel, or Starrk and Lilynette. Wonderweiss had been forcibly removed once by Tosen.

Nnoitra had tried to break in once. His violence and fury apparently having been so severe that Aizen had been obliged to intervene. Orihime didn't know what had happened to him after that, but he had never tried again.

And Ulquiorra…

Orihime swallowed thickly as she tried to push thoughts of him away, though it was little use.

His presence had seemingly all but disappeared from her life. He'd gone missing since before she had helped Ichigo escape. His continued absence, however, was something that she had never gotten an answer about, no matter how many times she asked.

The medical staff in the infirmary had given her a general explanation of her condition, confirming what she had already suspected; that she was with child and the stress of such a risky pregnancy had apparently put dangerous amounts of strain on her body. Particularly so because she was not getting adequate care and treatment to support such a child. The 'miracle' of its conception, however, remained a mystery.

By all accounts, it shouldn't have been possible. Yet, at the news of such an event, Aizen had spirited her away to his gardens and walled her off from the world. She'd already been taken from the living realm, and now the small home she'd made for herself in Hueco Mundo had been snatched from her fingers, as well.

She tried to remember how many days it had been, but the haze of shock and heartache that fogged her mind made it difficult.

Aizen made it a point to visit her. Servants would set up a small bistro table under the willow trees for tea everyday at noon, and dinner in his private study at six. She'd ask about Ulquiorra everytime.

"Don't worry about that now, my dear," he'd tell her. "It's been taken care of."

Orihime's heart would sink each time.

Was Ulquiorra…gone?

Had Aizen done something to him? Or had he learned of her condition and decided she was no longer worth the trouble? It didn't matter which thought it was, whenever either of them would cross her mind, tears would sting at the corners of her eyes in despair.

So the days passed, and Orihime had little to do than browse the library and the flowers, biding her time until Ichigo came back for her. Her thoughts of her warden and his mysterious whereabouts were an ever present phantom in her mind.

Brought back to the present, Orihime paused in her perusal of the library when her fingers brushed over the spine of a book that caught her eye. It was dark burgundy in color, with pretty gold flourishes decorating the frayed edges.

She leaned in curiously, tilting her head a bit to read the title.

The Furthest Planet From The Sun

With her interest piqued, she carefully reached her index finger up to tug it from its place on the shelf where it had been tucked securely between two books on the universe and solar system.

Chosen book in tow, Orihime headed straight for the little reading nook on the second floor. The spiral staircase creaked slightly as she climbed up, and she took note of the temperature shift. It was always warmer on the upper floor.

Finding her place, she curled up in the corner of the chaise and tucked her skirts around her folded legs. The cushions underneath her were a royal blue, offset by the deep mahogany wood that framed the back of the couch. Reaching up, she unlatched the window and propped it open to allow a fresh breeze inside.

Orihime had never been one for scientific reads, but there was a certain romance about the planets that, at times, she found herself eager to read about. Flipping through the pages in a cursory scan, she stopped when she saw a picture flash by.

Quickly backtracking, she turned back until she found the chapter that had housed the pretty ink drawing that she'd seen.

Chapter 9: Pluto's Heart, it read.

Curiosity kindled, she turned the page to the detailed sketch of the little planet. Its image was scrawled in ink, though the artist had clearly not been heavy handed. They were very skilled. She could see the small craters and valleys that etched across its surface, as well as the gentle splotch of red that had been colored onto the side of it.

However, most peculiar and eye-catching of all, was the clear and very obvious heart-shaped desert that spread across the western lobe of the planet.

Beside it was a moon etched onto the paper, slightly smaller and housing what appeared to be even deeper trenches and craters than Pluto itself. On the adjoining page, a short memo had been noted about the satellite. Charmed by the planet's unique feature, Orihime read the data written down in cold, scientific facts;

Pluto's moon, Charon, named after the demon who ferried souls to the underworld in Greek Mythology, is tidally locked with its host planet. On the opposite side, is Pluto's icy region and heart-shaped desert, never to face one another due to the planet's orbit.

Eyes softening in sorrow, Orihime's fingers lightly traced the shape of the moon drawn on the paper.

How sad…

It seemed a cruel fate, locked in a never changing orbit and unable to face the heart of its host planet.

Sighing ruefully, Orihime lifted her gaze to rest her arm on the sill of the window behind her. Dropping her chin on her forearm, she stared longingly out into the blue sky of the dome, trying to imagine there were clouds and birds flying through the air like on earth.

She couldn't help but wonder at how much she felt like Pluto at that moment; locked in an unending cycle that hid her heart from the one she desired to share it with…

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Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Outside of his own breaths, the hushed drops had been the only sound to accompany the silence. The steady drips landed in a small puddle forming on the floor below.

Ulquiorra dragged his gaze from its dead stare of the far wall to look at his left arm. Baraggan had been sent down to do his worst several days ago. With his time powers and Ulquiorra's regeneration, Baraggan had quite possibly been the only candidate available outside of Aizen himself to inflict any worthwhile damage.

When he'd returned from the world of the living, he'd been escorted by Starrk and Harribel to report to Aizen. What happened after that had been a whirlwind of commotion resulting in his incarceration. Forced to submit, degraded in the presence of two higher ranking Espada, and beaten down with even more reiatsu than Aizen had used on him in his first punishment, Ulquiorra had accepted whatever disgrace had come his way with an air of detachment.

He'd found himself chained up and tortured in the dungeons of Hueco Mundo soon after. He hadn't resisted.

His arms and legs had been bound by chains to the wall behind him and a kido barrier was erected around him to completely block off any reishi from the outside world. The same type of collar that had once been wrapped around Ichigo Kurosaki's neck had now been placed on Ulquiorra's. Without the reishi of Hueco Mundo to sustain his power, or rations to fuel his physical body, Aizen had left him in the dungeons to starve.

The collar on his neck ensured there would be no resistance and the chains kept him from removing it.

Ulquiorra once again studied the remnants of his left arm. All of the flesh from his forearm down was missing. At the end of his elbow was the bare bone of his radius and ulna, leading out to the skeletal remnants of his hand hanging limply in its cuff. Closer to his elbow, his tissue bled and degraded slowly in rotting, necrotic webs.

His regeneration was failing him…

Up until that point, the sheer speed of his regeneration had been able to combat most of Baraggan's age-accelerating touch.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

His blood fell in ever increasing drops, though its cadence had hastened over the last 24 hours.

Baraggan hadn't said anything when he'd come down to deliver justice, merely looked upon him with a resigned disappointment that an old man would cast upon a once-promising youngster.

Ulquiorra exhaled slowly, yet again trying to regain control of his breath and regulate his body temperature.

That was another issue…

The kido barrier Aizen had erected was putting off an unprecedented amount of heat. It was something his body was decidedly unaccustomed to, being in such stark contrast to Hueco Mundo's cold, arid desert.

He blinked once in an effort to clear his eyes of the sweat beading on his brow. Though, troubling enough, he began to notice he wasn't sweating nearly as much as he had been in the beginning. That surely wasn't a good sign.

Ulquiorra clenched his one remaining hand, returning his glare to the dark, stone wall on the other end of the cell.

Certainly his trysts with the woman were not worth this much trouble…

There had to be more to the picture that Ulquiorra was missing. Aizen never would have gone to such lengths over a few dalliances with a human female. She undoubtedly held a role to play in Las Noches and the upcoming war, yet the state of her chastity hardly seemed worth the disproportionate display of discipline.

The punishment did not fit the crime.

His pesquisa had told him from the moment he returned to Las Noches the boy was gone, which was a wonder in itself. The woman was no longer in the Fourth tower, likely locked away under another barrier that kept her presence hidden from him.

Measures had been taken to ensure Ulquiorra was kept at his lowest, weakest self as the days ticked by. Aizen had gone above and beyond, and Ulquiorra, ever obedient, took it all in stride…

Until today.

Ulquiorra tensed his body as another wave of unbearable hunger swept over him. His stomach felt painfully empty, but worse than that, the hole in his chest ached.

Since the day he'd crawled out of that pit far in the deepest reaches of the desert, Ulquiorra had never quite known the same hunger as other Hollows. He had been born strong. Whatever method had been achieved to reach such a state was too far back for him to remember, before he existed as the singular being that was him. Whether he was the result of countless Hollows devouring each other until the strongest remained, or he was just a product of the darkness of that abyss, he cared not to know. It mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

He'd been unable to feed on the souls of others after that, with his mask coating his face and body in a shell that blocked everything of the outside world. Everything, that is, but the very things he could see with his eyes. Sight was his only tangible reality. His existence was maintained merely on the radiant reishi in the air.

That reality had only changed when he'd stumbled upon that thing…

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The experience had been…transcendent. That was the best analogy Ulquiorra could compare to what had just happened to him. Above him, the moon of Hueco Mundo – the singular constant entity in his existence – glowed down on him as he felt his chest rise and fall at the first true breath of air he'd tasted unhindered by his mask. He could almost swear the light from those moonbeams burned his newly exposed flesh.

Briars and branches were all around him, covering him in a cocoon of thorns. His fingers moved where his arms lay resting at his sides, touching the smooth textured branches. His skin felt the occasional brush of sand as it floated through the breeze and wound its way between the maze of limbs.

Ulquiorra had stayed there for an untold amount of time before he moved, prompted by his curiosity to see if the world was as truly empty as his eyes had made him believe it was.

He never strayed far from that bush, always coming back after days, weeks and months of exploration. Until, one day, years went by and he never returned. He'd found little outside of that bush other than what he already knew to be fact; life was meaningless. It was a void of nothing.

Gillian, Vasto Lorde and weak Menos all approached him over the years. He slaughtered and devoured them all. Each just as equally monstrous as the last, as equally Hollow. He no longer looked like them, he no longer behaved like them and he was no longer ruled by instinct like them.

His skin was pale and smooth, he had arms and legs and a face unmarred by the features most Hollow and even Vasto Lorde possessed.

He looked…human.

Though, he felt anything but.

Aside from his mask, he was an anomaly.

Sitting on the bank of a dune that overlooked the bush he'd found so long ago, Ulquiorra briefly studied his hand. Fingers with black nails, creases in his palm; no talons, no claws, no wings…only his mask remained.

He still had that power inside him, he'd tapped into it on a small handful of occasions to test the limits of his body. He could reach something similar to his old form, but so much stronger. And when he'd pushed those limits further on a secluded mountain top once, he'd found he could go even further than that, reaching a form he'd yet to see any other Hollow achieve, not even the Vasto Lordes.

He left the bush after that and never returned, finding it gave him no further answers to whatever it was he was seeking.

Time seemed to stop existing altogether after that and he fell into a deep, dormant sleep, until one day…

"How fascinating."

Ulquiorra's eyes slid open.

Having never known fear, all Ulquiorra could muster was intrigue as he stared up at the figure that appeared before him.

Ulquiorra had been settled deep in the belly of a dark cave, a knee drawn up for his forearm to rest upon. His burlap cape was draped loosely around his body and a good amount of sand had gathered around him in the years that he had slept uninterrupted.

"I've never seen one that looks like you," the person said with a harmless smile. He held a torch in his right hand, its flames dancing in the faint breeze that reached so deep into the cavern. The shadows danced through the crags and crevices around them, casting the area in a warm glow.

Ulquiorra took in the sight of the man in front of him, from his brown shaggy hair, to his thick rimmed glasses, his cordial smile and fair complexion, down to his black shinigami robes. He had never seen one before, only heard of them, but he intuitively knew that was what he was looking at.

"I could say the same of you," he replied calmly, because it was true. Ulquiorra had seen nothing but monstrous Hollow forms and cheaply imitated humanoid manifestations in the guise of Vasto Lordes from the inhabitants of the land of the dead.

"You look so human. How did you come about reaching such an appearance?" the man questioned. He was by himself, completely alone in an area even the most provoking Hollow dare not venture.

"What business do you have here?" Ulquiorra responded instead, irritated at having his sleep interrupted.

"Ah, forgive me. My name is Aizen Sosuke," he introduced himself. "And I've been looking for someone just like you."

"What matters could a Shinigami want with a Hollow?" Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at Aizen challengingly.

"I'm building an army, but lack the soldiers. Your form is the first stroke of inspiration I've stumbled across in a very, very long time."

"Ridiculous. Do I look like a soldier to you?"

"You are strong and I desire to make others like you."

"Then go look elsewhere." Ulquoirra turned away, not caring to develop the conversation further. Wars were nothing new to Hollows or to him. He'd seen them come and go over the years.

"There is no one else like you. I've looked. You are the first. I assure you." Aizen sighed, as if he were distraught at this fact. Reaching out with his left hand, he offered it to Ulquiorra. "Please, follow me and help my vision come to fruition."

"I care not for your vision."

"Then perhaps an offer of power will entice you, instead?" Aizen kept his hand extended, undeterred. "I assure you, with your level of power, I will be able to fulfill my research and create more like you. In doing so, I will undoubtedly be able to increase your power along the way."

"I have had enough power to destroy any who has had the misfortune to cross my path. What use would I have for any more of it?" Ulquiorra stood and stepped away from the man, flinging his cape once to dispel the sand that had gathered in its threads.

"Then what is it you desire?"

At this question, Ulquiorra paused.

"What do I desire?" he repeated under his breath. His brow furrowed slightly as he contemplated this.

He did not know…

"There must be something?"

"There is nothing." He closed his eyes again, dismissing the thought entirely.

"Then, perhaps, you will find something you're looking for along the way?" Aizen smiled, the flames from his torch blanching out the sinister gleam of his glasses.

"Find…something?" he repeated again, slightly confused.

To search, to look, to long for the intangible…was that what he had been doing all this time?

"You need only follow."

Ulquiorra turned back to face Aizen. He was a stranger in a foreign land, an outsider.

But he was also the single most interesting thing Ulquiorra had stumbled across in centuries…

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The sound of the heavy wooden door of his dungeon cell sliding open pulled Ulquiorra out of his memories. Black, reinforced metal framework bracketed the structure, causing it to shriek through the silence in a grating way.

Ulquiorra blinked lethargically against the sound.

He hadn't thought of that day in decades…

A servant quickly scurried inside carrying a small tray. Without once looking upon the chained Espada, it set the tray down atop a small table standing on the opposite side of his cell. Beside the table was a simple chair.

It was at that moment that Ulquiorra knew he was in worse shape than he'd originally thought. The heat from the barrier made his cell feel like a sauna, causing his vision to blur for an instant. In that one second of disorientation, the servant had disappeared and Aizen had somehow materialized in the seat, half of his tea already gone.

"Ah, how nice of you to finally come to," Aizen began cordially. He sat drinking his tea like he wasn't bothered by the shadows, like he wasn't sitting in the darkest bowls of Las Noches.

Ulquiorra lifted his head to stare vacantly at his master, his eyelids slightly heavy.

"I'm sure your body is nearing its limits by this point," Aizen commented as his forefinger ran a lazy circle around the rim of his cup. "It's actually surprising you've lasted this long. Then again, maybe not. You always were a rare specimen."

Ulquiorra just wanted him to get to the point. There was nothing he could say or do at that moment to placate whatever rage Aizen had burning inside of him, stoked to life at Ulquiorra's apparent wrongdoings. He wasn't wrong, though. Ulquiorra was nearing his limit. He was blacking out for longer periods each day, his gnawing hunger was growing exponentially and half the time it was all he could do to force himself into a meditative state of mind capable of withstanding the physical torment of his arm slowly eating away at itself as his regeneration failed inch by inch. The bone on a few of his fingers had begun to crumble recently and the flesh was receding closer to his elbow by the hour.

"It pains me to see you like this, Ulquiorra," Aizen said, his brown eyes locked on his Espada's less than stellar physical state. "To think you, of all my Espada, would put me in such a position." There was a brief glimmer of true remorse in their depths, but the look was fleeting and disappeared quickly. Just as fast, his calm and knowing mask had slipped back into place. "You've done this to yourself."

"Seems a lot of trouble for a human woman," Ulquiorra remarked quietly.

One of Aizen's eyebrows ticked up at his words, in that way he did when just learning something interesting.

"So you don't know…" Aizen's remark was almost a whisper, speaking more to himself than Ulquiorra.

"Know what?"

Leaning back in his chair, Aizen crossed his legs and rested his hands atop his lap, fingers steepled.

"Why do you think you're down here, Ulquiorra?" he asked.

The corner of Ulquiorra's mouth turned down.

The man was really going to make him say it?

"I want to hear it from your own mouth what you've done."

Ulquiorra lowered his head and turned away.

"Go on. I'm waiting." Aizen's eyes and smile glowed with sinister amusement.

"Is this necessary?" Ulquiorra uttered.

"If you are unwilling to answer a simple question, perhaps you should have thought twice about following me all those years ago." Aizen let out another rueful sigh as he remembered the day. "You were always so obedient. So let's hear it, Cuatro Espada. What has prompted this uncharacteristic rebellious streak in you? I am nothing if not a fair and just master. I wish to hear your side of things before passing judgment."

Ulquiorra's eyes slid back over to him. Aizen had clearly already passed his 'judgment'. It mattered not to him at this point. Often enough in the past, he'd been the one Aizen would send down to mete out his Lord's wrath upon prisoners. Ulquiorra already knew how this was going to end, Aizen would do as he pleased, regardless of Ulquiorra's excuses.

"Well?" Aizen coaxed, seemingly patient beyond reason in the face of Ulquoirra's silence.

"I…took her," he finally admitted.

"And why is that?"

"The girl would be an obvious tool to use against Ichigo Kurosaki. She was easy to manipulate."

"Is that all?" When there was no further response, Aizen stood from his chair. "Against all my warnings, you took her again and again. Not once, not twice, but more times than even you likely remember." Strolling forward, Aizen came up to the edge of the barrier. "If you truly wished to throw the boy into a pit of despair, once would have sufficed. Admit it, Ulquiorra…you took her because you desired her." Aizen's voice darkened as he spoke the last words, like he was delivering a sentence, a final verdict.

Ulquiorra's fist clenched, causing his chains to rattle slightly. Memories of touching her, kissing her, holding her, all rushed to the surface, causing his eyes to widen slightly in shock at hearing his master accuse him so forthrightly.

Orihime Inoue.

The name had haunted him throughout his time in the dungeon. He suppressed any lingering thoughts of her when they dared to tease at the corners of his mind. The way she smiled at him regardless of how coldly he'd treat her, the warmth in her arms when she wrapped them around him, the strength in which she withstood his attacks on her heart…all these things and more would stubbornly enter his thoughts no matter how hard he tried.

The less cognizant he became by the day, the easier it was becoming for her to seep through his carefully built mental walls.

Along with the unbearable hunger, came something Ulquiorra had been completely unfamiliar with; yearning.

He'd longed to caress her skin and taste her on his tongue. He wanted to feel that gentle, warm reiatsu of hers swirling softly around his when they laid together. The sight of her eyes gazing up at him when he'd kissed her in the linen room…he needed to see it again, to understand why.

He wanted to hear more about her ridiculous heart and then crush it in his hand right before her eyes just to prove her wrong…because since his imprisonment, he'd realized the truth of the matter.

As the hunger inside him grew, he became increasingly aware of the cold, hard truth; that he was a beast, just like every other Hollow, incapable of love and thus incapable of understanding her heart. As such, he desired nothing more than to devour it and her and everything she stood for in desperation to grasp the intangible.

He'd drag her and the boy and even himself down into the pits of hell if it meant having his way. Just for a taste of the one thing he'd been denied at his genesis.

A heart.

Her heart.

"You have no idea what you've taken from me, Ulquiorra," Aizen continued in quiet anger, his voice finally beginning to hint at the true depths of his ire. "She was meant for more greatness than you can even imagine. Because of you, she is now tainted."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed slightly as he listened. He'd never originally thought the woman held more value to his master outside the obvious. He'd always assumed it was Ichigo Kurosaki that Aizen had grand plans for that reached beyond the ordinary.

Aizen's wrath in the throne room had been expected, even logical, in retribution for his misdeeds. However, throwing one of his most powerful Espada into the dungeons for the mere affront of bedding his ward simply didn't ring right.

Ulquiorra had suspected there was more to it than he was being told, but hearing it from Aizen's own mouth only confirmed his suspicions.

What was Aizen not telling him?

Laying with the woman couldn't have possibly 'tainted' her, as Aizen claimed. She had one of the strongest resolves he'd come across. Her soul, despite being remarkably small, was near unbreakable. No matter how he'd tried, she never bent to his will.

"Not one hair, I told you," he said, reminding his subordinate of the multiple warnings he'd issued to all of them. "Don't touch one hair on her head. Though I cannot fault you entirely…I should have known her allure would be too much, even for the likes of you."

When Ulquiorra held his silence, Aizen merely sighed in resignation.

"I expect you to survive to the end of the war, Ulquiorra," he announced as he turned from the sight of him. "You're the strongest fighter I have. I won't let you meet your end here, but in the meantime, I expect you to suffer as you have made me suffer." He made his way to the exit, speaking as he walked. "I will be sending Szayel down later to finish your last round of 're-education'. Do try to survive until the end."

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"She's pregnant."

Grimmjow hadn't thought two words could shake his world as much as those two had. He'd been standing outside the infirmary when he'd heard the staff inform Aizen of the news.

Before that, he'd heard them inside murmuring to themselves about it, thinking their whispered words were discreet. They weren't. He'd heard every word but somehow was too shocked to believe it. That is, he had been, until they'd dared to admit it to Lord Aizen himself. Reality had set in cold and fast after that, leaving him stunned like the floor had been swept right out from under him. Now, he was struggling to find his footing again.

He'd stayed by her side as long as he could, as long as he'd been ordered, until Aizen returned to take her away, never to be seen again.

The pain in his chest was confusing to him, setting him further on edge than he already was. The stupid girl had nearly died in his arms, Kurosaki was gone, and Ulquiorra was missing, he could be dead at this point for all he could tell.

He'd taken his frustration out in the only way he knew how after that: destruction.

Pure, unadulterated destruction. He'd ravaged everything in sight, razing anything and anyone that stood in his way.

Grimmjow had gone on an utter rampage through the villages inside the dome.

For once, Aizen kept his nose out of it and didn't try to rein him in like an animal that had gone wild.

He blew up buildings, ripped out a few throats, and punched holes in walls until structures crumbled under his fists, but nothing, nothing, satisfied him. It didn't surprise him. Few things had ever offered him relief in the face of his uncontrollable thirst for destruction. Fighting Ichigo Kurosaki had been a one in a million experience for him. Trying to get a rise out of Ulquiorra had often been a close second, only falling behind the times he'd felt the princess's soft skin under his hands or watched her crying from something he'd done to hurt her – because those tears were for him, because of him.

Never could he quite remember a desire to really stop that need for savagery until he'd spent time around that woman.

Now she was slipping through his fingers…

Now she had that bastard's crotch spawn growing inside her.

He'd raged and ranted, unable to properly or rationally express the strange and foreign feelings inside him in any other way but violence. It was all he'd ever known. At times, it frustrated even him how completely it clouded his mind. It prevented him from being able to take a step back and evaluate his emotions in a healthy way.

Those facts had never bothered him. Not once had he looked upon his penchant for hellfire and brimstone as anything more than a benefit to his purpose of becoming the strongest. It was who he was. No if, ands or buts. No confusion. His brutality was just another weapon at his disposal, a part of him as much as his Zanpakuto or his release form was. Even the loss of his loyal fraccion had failed to shake his resolve.

Before, he never cared.

Now all he could think about was that girl.

He'd bruised her before, he'd lost his temper and shoved her around. He ceaselessly tormented her and teased her. He dreamed of pushing her around until she cried so many tears that Ichigo Kurosaki sought him out for a fight, for once.

Yet, in recent days, particularly after he'd accidentally thrown her into the wall of the arena, he felt less inclined to hurt her…at least not so lethally. Instead, he was drawn to just look at her.

He was loath to admit that he'd begun to look past the lustful lure of her body. Instead, he began to notice how smooth and sleek her hair was, or how kind she was to the residents of Las Noches despite being Hollows. He took note of the sound of her laugh, which was becoming more and more rare. He was floored by how pretty her smile was. Her eyes would light up like a candle when she saw things she particularly liked.

She fussed over Kurosaki like a mother hen. He'd kept his distance since Ulquiorra had disappeared, but he didn't fail to notice how she scarcely left her comrade's side, ever the loyal companion.

If he could have, he would have stalked Ulquiorra down and taunted him until the man had no choice but to fight back, just to get her out of his head. Or maybe because Ulquiorra often smelled just as much like her these days as she smelled like him…

Grimmjow simply didn't know how to process whatever issues he was facing.

So, he'd went on a reign of terror.

Then, he'd seen her.

It was the sixth little village he'd hunted down and decided to stamp his fist into nearly every surface he could find.

Servants had milled about the small market place, low-level Arrancar going about their life outside the palace. They had been minding their own business, but he didn't give a shit. He destroyed things anyways. He'd always been a selfish bastard and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

The girl had been selling wares in the market, smuggled goods brought in from the living world.

She had long blonde hair, falling in straight layers to her waistline. She was small, young and petite. Her eyes were light gray and soulful, with a little mask framing her temple in a feminine way. The resemblance had apparently been enough for Grimmjow. She lacked the breast size of the princess, but her hips had enough flare to them that the male part of his brain responded like a starving animal.

It was about time he got his anger out of his system in the only other way he knew how…

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.

Orihime paced and paced…and paced.

The restlessness in her was becoming near unbearable.

Her nausea and fainting spells had all but stopped once the medical staff began tending to her daily, the pregnancy apparently requiring intense care in light of the nature of the child's lineage.

The days were endlessly the same, relentless in their monotony. Never once under Ulquiorra's care had she been so bored.

She used her time in varying ways. At times, she went over baby names, both boy and girl ones. She wondered if Ulquiorra would have a preference, or if he even cared about having a baby at all.

She wondered if he knew, and had thus disappeared in the face of such news. This idea was quickly dismissed, partially due to the pain it caused her, but also partially because she knew in her heart that wasn't the case.

Ulquiorra had been far too curious about her and her humanity to ever run from such a curious phenomenon. Despite how he often held disdain for her supposed heart, he'd clearly been drawn to it all the same. It was plain for her to see now, especially after what happened between her, Ichigo, and Ulquiorra out in the desert.

Ulquiorra was trying.

Regardless of his cruelty, regardless of his coldness, and regardless of whatever degrading things he had to say about her and Ichigo and humans in general…he'd obviously tried, in his own twisted way, to grasp the meaning of her heart.

It saddened her how badly she had missed those facts. She'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings, and about growing stronger, that she had overlooked the finer details in his behavior. The frustration he sometimes held her with, like he didn't know how to express his desire any other way, should have been a dead giveaway. His forcefulness, the way he frequently buried any rising emotions he held for her with sex, the way he always pushed her away when she got too close, the way he quietly refused to believe the authenticity of her feelings; all of it painted a bigger picture that once she'd stepped back to look at, she finally saw the truth.

Ulquiorra had wanted her.

He just didn't know what to do with her.

She had needed to approach the situation from the view-point of a Hollow, rather than a human; an endeavor that seemed impossible in hindsight. Orhime was a human, and a very loving one at that. There was little she could do to try and see things from the point of view of the living dead.

She fully intended to try anyway.

There was a third player in the game now, one that was innocent and small and had no say in the face of the faults of its parents.

Orihime was going to pull out all the stops.

Then, one day, while exploring a small pond in the gardens, Orihime heard a little bark off in the distance.

Her head perked up at the sound. She'd had her boots tossed on the shore and her skirts pulled up as she waded in the ankle-deep water.

"Hm?" she hummed curiously and turned her head slightly towards the noise. There was a faint breeze and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she waited.

Had she been imagining things?

A few more seconds ticked by and her hopes sank with each moment.

Then, again, another bark.

Orihime's eyes brightened at the sound, knowing for sure she wasn't hearing things. "35-chan?" she whispered to herself hopefully.

Suddenly, a little white furball bounced out from behind a Rhododendron bush, and Orihime's face lit up with happiness.

"35-chan!" she called exuberantly. Rushing out of the water, her bare feet covered the length of grass between them quickly. The small mutt had also run towards her, meeting her in the middle where it jumped into her arms.

"What are you doing here?" she laughed merrily as it began enthusiastically licking at her face. Sinking down onto her knees, she continued to cuddle the little creature mercilessly. It was the first time she could recall smiling in days.

When she ran her hand down its back to scratch its fur, she stopped short when she felt something there. Looking down, she noticed a piece of paper strapped to the dog's back. A tiny harness had been fashioned from old tweed to fit Kukkapuro's miniature frame snuggly.

Setting the dog down, she grabbed the paper and unfurled it carefully.

'ARe you WiLL?

-K-chan'

It read in poorly scrawled letters, both the spelling and the grammar left much to be desired, but it touched her heart all the same.

However, upon reading the note, a thought occurred to her.

She could finally ask someone about what was going on outside of the garden.

Running back to the library with Kukkapuro on her heels, Orihime tossed open the writing desk and shuffled around for a pen. When she found one, she also pulled out a fresh piece of paper and sat down to begin writing.

Her pen briefly paused above the parchment.

Logic dictated she should ask about her friends and if there was any news.

However, Orihime found logic had little say in matters of the heart.

Her and Ichigo had made a pact before he left. He swore to return for her and that he would be safe. She had sworn to reach Ulquiorra's heart before he had to come back and fulfill his promises. This time, she was going to trust in Ichigo's strength unquestioningly. They both had vows to uphold.

Quickly writing her note, she kept her words brief, knowing the illiterate servant would be incapable of deciphering any notes that were too long and complicated. She thanked him for his concern, told him she was fine, and inquired about Ulquiorra's whereabouts.

Her hands shook and her heart beat in a fast staccato as she jotted the letters down, half scared that Aizen would barge in at any moment and discover her. With a few more loving pats on the head, and parting treat as a gift, she sent Kukkapuro on his way.

She had steadfastly remained by the waters edge after that, only retiring at night to sleep. The next morning saw her up early and returned to the spot the dog had found her the day before. Thus, she had paced…

The grass had been worn down in a tight oval by the time she heard the faint bark heralding Kukkapuro's return.

However, instead of joy, Orihime's heart sank to her stomach at the news the letter brought her. Unrolling the ink-stained paper, her knees went weak as she read. Falling to the grass, Kukkapuro sat steadfastly by her side as tears welled in her eyes.

"Ulquiorra…is locked in the dungeons…" she whispered in disbelief. Her vision blurred for a moment, clearing only once she blinked her lashes free of the tears. "...because of me?"

She remained still for a few moments, stunned into immobility as the weight of that information settled on her like a blanket of guilt.

Pressing the paper to her forehead, Orihime bowed forward on the ground until her arms folded under her in the grass. Her shoulders shook as she cried to herself, feeling hopelessness set in.

She hadn't known until that moment that Ulquiorra had been defying orders by being with her.

Why would he take such a risk? Was whatever he wanted from her truly worth it?

Now, because of her, because of the life growing inside her, Aizen had locked him away as much as he'd locked her away…however, she knew in her gut that Ulquiorra wasn't getting the same gentle treatment she'd thus been shown.

On the banks of the pond, her white skirts haloed her form and her red hair fanned out beside her as she stained the grass with her tears. The scent of the earthy ground so close to her face was a strange comfort as her shoulders continued to tremble as she cried.

Beside her, Kukkapuro whined and moved until he was closer to her face. A small paw gently tapped her arm before the dog finally settled on its belly, his snout resting close to her neck when his efforts proved fruitless. He simply lay beside her as she let out her sadness.

"How am I supposed to do anything now?" she lamented. "Aizen has taken everything from me! How can I possibly change anything when I can't even help myself?"

Kukkapuro sat beside her silently.

"He's torturing him, 35-chan…I just know it…" She shook her head where it rested on her arms, hardly able to bear the thought that he was suffering because of her.

Sniffling once, she slowly pushed herself back up. Resting her weight on her hip and the palm of one hand, Orihime stared blankly out across the water. The scenery was beautiful and serene, yet it did nothing to assuage the pain inside her. A breeze touched her moist cheeks, snapping her out of her daze.

"I have to do something," she whispered to herself. In her hand, the letter wrinkled as she slowly clenched her fist in determination. "I have to keep my promise to Kurosaki-kun. Everyone is out there doing their best. I won't just sit here and remain powerless!"

Beside her, Kukkapuro jumped up with a supportive bark.

Suddenly standing in a flurry of skirts and hair, Orihime raced back to the library.

If there was one thing Ulquiorra had shown her during her time in Las Noches, it was that she was never as powerless as she thought she was. He'd pushed her to her limits, forced her to find her strength and opened her eyes to facets of her personality she had yet to discover until him, even if the lessons had sometimes been painful.

For all of his brilliance and cunning, Aizen was still one thing above all else…and that was arrogant. That much was apparent when he'd left her with her fairies. He may have erected a kido barrier around the garden, but he was underestimating her strength. She had trained with Hachi, after all, who was a master of such arts.

She had also made friends…real friends, regardless of being on opposite ends of the war.

If there was one thing Orihime knew above all else, it was to count on friends. To rely on them when times got hard.

On a new piece of paper, Orihime quickly jotted down a request for a map of the dungeons and their location, as well as Ulquiorra's cell, if K-chan happened to discover such information.

In this situation, there was little Orihime could do but rely on friends…and she knew just the man she wanted to ask.

.

.

.

Grimmjow tried his best to savor the female in his lap.

He ran his hands roughly up her sides and gripped her waist to help guide her in their movements. She was soft, he had to give her that. Pretty, too.

Regardless, he struggled to remain in the moment. Admittedly he was unaccustomed to the type of woman he currently had the hard length of his masculinity buried in. The girl was painfully shy and had clearly been terrified of him, and likely for her life.

Grimmjow was used to more…fiery affairs. Females sought him out far more than he approached them. His escapades in bed consisted of women who were nothing short of wildcats in the sheets. They generally fought him for dominance every step of the way. It was something he greatly enjoyed. Dominating, biting, sweating in a good, rough romp, because he always came out the victor.

This girl had already submitted before things had even begun.

He was used to women that were willing participants. The young thing currently straddling him hadn't necessarily protested, but judging by the tremors wracking her body, she likely believed it was one of two options for her; his bed or death.

His teeth grit in frustration as he recalled the way he'd tore her clothes off and nearly devoured her flesh. She'd timidly allowed him to have his way, only reaching forward to help divest him of his clothes once she was stripped bare.

He wondered, briefly, if the princess would be like that, too…

"M-master Grimmjow," she had stuttered in fear.

"Don't call me that," he'd grunted at her in annoyance. Her voice was throwing him out of his fantasy, and her calling him 'Master' was definitely something the princess would never do.

He'd hauled her up easily, his muscular arms wrapping around her as he sat back on his bed. The little female, whose name he'd already forgotten, had obediently spread her legs atop his thighs. She'd been impressively tight when he slid inside, groaning and trying to remember how warm the princess's flesh was every time he touched her. He knew in his gut her pussy would have been just as scorchingly hot.

The blonde hadn't been a novice, but she clearly wasn't very experienced either.

He closed his eyes, imagining it was cinnamon colored hair running through his fingers instead of blonde. Inhaling the hierro along her neck, he imagined the smell of the living world lingering all over her.

Grimmjow groaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration when his keen senses failed to detect any of the desired features on his current partner. His lean hips rocked hard in time with the slow, hesitant pace she set.

The breasts pressed to his solid chest were small and perky, nothing like the heavy pair he longed to have filling his hands. He leaned down regardless, tasting the flesh offered up to him when she arched on a deep thrust. His lips closed over a blushing pink nipple, reveling in the tautness of her firm skin as the head of his cock settled firmly against her cervix.

"Master Grimmjow!" the girl cried, her head falling back slightly when she loosened up enough to enjoy the moment. Perhaps it was the way he strived to be as gentle as possible, envisioning the princess responding to his softer touch, or perhaps it was that she finally realized he meant her no real harm that caused her to relax enough to stop trembling like a leaf.

"Stop calling me that," he growled into her neck again, getting tired of reminding her.

She panted softly, becoming slightly winded when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her hips down to hold her there. The girl positively keened and squirmed against the thick invasion.

"Oh, fuck yeah," his low, guttoral voice exhaled against her breast as got himself settled inside her good and deep, at just the right angle. He rolled her against him to revel in the cushiony tightness she provided. His hand squeezed her rump roughly once before releasing it to feel it jiggle. "You got a tight pussy…" he praised quietly. "You know that?"

Swallowing nervously and shivering now for entirely different reasons than before, the blonde hesitantly reached out and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

His breath shook against her skin when she shyly rotated her hips along with him.

Finally, very slowly, his fantasy took over his mind completely. Soon, he had immersed himself unreservedly. Utterly absorbed, he trembled when he felt small fingers rake through his blue hair. Reaching up a hand, he returned the favor and tangled his own in her long locks.

"Ulquiorra fuck you like this?" he growled into her ear, ignoring the way the body atop him paused briefly. He merely leaned further over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck. Wherever his lips could reach, he devoured greedily. Overwhelmed by both his size, strength, and ardor, she submitted easily enough. The princess would respond the same in his imagination. She'd bend to his touch without a fight, always submissive even in the face of his aggression.

Picking up on whatever inner strife was currently tormenting the man beneath her, the blonde laid a trembling hand on his cheek. Curling forward into him, she timidly pressed her mouth close to his ear.

"Grimmjow-kun," she whispered bashfully.

Grimmjow groaned deeply at the pleasure that ran down his spine.

Apparently, the girl was smarter than she let on…

"Princess…" he murmured desperately over her heart, trying to imagine the dark void of the Hollow hole on her sternum wasn't even there.

"Grimmjow-kun," she called again, lulling him further into his fantasy. Her voice was so feminine, and the way she said his name was just like…

Unable to hold back anymore, he kept an arm secured around her as he turned them onto her back. His frame was large and imposing over her, but she welcomed him with legs that tugged meekly at his hips.

For the first time in his life, Grimmjow leaned down and captured the lips of the girl beneath him when he slid back inside her. She returned the favor in kind, apparently no stranger to the affectionate display. Unlike her obvious lack of experience at riding a man to completion, her tongue slid effortlessly with his.

"I knew you'd love my cock inside you," he nearly hissed when she clenched down on him. "I knew you'd fucking love it."

Drawing his hips back, he thrust back down into her, giving her the first true taste of what his dick really felt like sliding into her with force behind it. The weight of him rocked her under him, causing her to gasp and grip his shoulders tighter for support. His hands quickly found themselves planted on her hips after that, keeping her pinned as he repeated the motion again and again.

The whining mewls of pleasure, the sudden gasps at the onset of deep thrusts, the soulful gray eyes that melted into sweet brown ones, the tremulously wandering hands, the tightness wrapped around him; all of it felt like a dream.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you?" he confessed against her hair. It was so soft and silky on his face, it was like she was really under him. Her nails didn't break his hierro like other Arrancar women did, instead she carefully raked them down his back and hips, considerate in every way down to her core.

"Grimmjow-kun, I…I'm going to-"

His muscular frame covered her completely, as if he wanted to utterly absorb himself in her. He didn't think he'd ever gotten off during such a slow fucking before, but the way she was crying his name and with the slow tightening of her cunt on him, it was pushing him there quickly.

"Fuck, yes, princess," he urged, his strong hips now relentless. "Come for me, just like that." The girl was modestly quiet as she came, releasing sweet and docile gasps as she clung to his back like an anchor. "He'll never fuck you like this. He'll never…oh, hell…fucking shit."

Grimmjow's face dropped to her shoulder when he felt just how tight she was gripping him.

He grit his teeth, knowing in the back of his mind this wasn't her. It never would be her and he'd never touch her the way he wanted.

He thrust hard, anger taking root now that reality was starting to set in when he was so close.

The blonde in his arms held onto him tightly, clenching her eyes shut and enduring as he struggled through his oncoming release. He'd been surprisingly careful with her until that point, causing her to wince slightly at the force of his thrusts. He closed his eyes again, trying to imagine her.

Before he could reach what he was striving for, a hesitant knock sounded at his door.

"Grimmjow-kun?"

Grimmjow's eyes shot open in shock at the familiar voice coming from the other side of the door.

"Grimmjow-kun, are you in there?"

"Oh, fuck!" Burying his cock deep into the blonde, he felt himself explode inside of her. Unable to stop himself, he sank his teeth into the shoulder in front of him to keep the string of curses from tumbling out of his mouth that would inevitably follow. His arms shook from the force of the orgasm ripping through him, lighting all of his nerve endings aflame. His cock throbbed hard, causing the girl beneath him to whimper at the heat filling her.

His hips plunged into her rougher than he could control, pinning her to the mattress as he groaned like a helpless animal.

By the time it was done, he could hardly catch his breath. His arms no longer supported him and his weight rested solely on the timid little Arrancar female under him.

"Um, Grimmjow-kun?" Orihime's voice called from the door again. "Please open up, I need your help…" she pleaded sweetly.

Just at the sound of her, he felt himself hardening again. Simply at her call, he'd come undone.

Annoyed beyond reason at the situation, he carefully pulled out of the girl and leaned back onto his knees.

"Grimm-"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first time!" he shouted harshly over his shoulder, causing the Arrancar female to look up at him in shock. She wasn't stupid. It was Lord Aizen's human ward on the other side of the door, and it was her voice that had clearly gotten the man off like he'd been desperate for just a taste of her. It was her that he'd been imagining in his arms. All of Las Noches knew who she was.

The way he unintentionally called her 'princess', the way he responded when she called him Grimmjow-kun rather than Master Grimmjow, the mentions of Ulquiorra – the very Espada who'd been humiliated and locked in the dungeons because of his illicit affair with her…it had been clear to her what he'd been looking for after she'd heard these clues.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had never been known around the palace for his outstanding self-control. With the rumor mills running rampant, the man had clearly been pushed over the edge…

Now to hear him speak to the human so roughly was stunning. Standing from the bed, he pulled his pants back on in short, impatient jerks.

"I swear, if this is about some stupid shit…" he complained as he made his way over to the door. "Honestly, I wish I'd never met your ass, always interrupting my business!"

Throwing the door open, Orihime turned back to smile at him, damn near torturing him at the sight of her. He was still too worked up…

Glad to see he'd decided not to ignore her, she sighed in relief. "Grimmjow-kun!" she smiled up at him, her eyes gazing into his in a strange mixture of desperation and hope.

Stepping forward, Orihime abruptly paused when she took in his appearance.

Lacking the usual jacket of his uniform, and with his wrinkled hakama hanging loosely on his hips, Grimmjow leaned his forearm against the doorframe. His electric blue hair was tousled and laying in messy layers around his face, not slicked back in his typical style. A thin sheen of sweat was on his body and across his bare muscular chest, his cheeks slightly reddened as if he'd just exerted himself.

"Well?" He scowled at her impatiently, sharp blue eyes pinning her in place. "The fuck you want?"

Blushing slightly at the state of him, Orihime took a step back and averted her eyes.

Peeking around the bulk of him, Orihime blinked in both curiosity and embarrassment when she spied a petite figure in the room, currently trying to hide in the blankets of his bed.

"Am I…interrupting something?" she trailed, a little surprised as her nose scrunched up when she got a good whiff of the scent coming out of the room. She blinked once. Twice. "Grimmjow-kun…you smell like-" Orihime abruptly shut herself up when she realized it was the same smell that lingered in the room after she and Ulquiorra had been together.

With realization dawning on her, Orihime's face lit up like a rose blossom.

"Smell like what, princess?" Grimmjow chuckled darkly and leaned down closer to her. His sharp teeth gleamed at her from behind his grin. The frantic stuttering and stammering that followed was enough to piss off a corpse. Scowling at the flustered woman, he reached forward and grabbed her chin roughly. "You know you're welcome to join." He leaned even closer, taking sick delight in the way she gasped, and the little 'o' her pink mouth formed. "Or, if you want just you and me…"

"Stop teasing me!" Orihime jerked her head free and pushed lightly at his chest, her face scrunching up into her usual angry pout. "You're so mean sometimes, Grimmjow-kun!"

She failed to notice the cold mask that settled over his blue eyes at her words, or the way his muscles slacked as his arm fell away from her.

"How would your lady friend feel about you talking like that?" she chastised.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Grimmjow looked at the blonde Arrancar who had been watching the exchange closely, clutching the sheet up to her neck in an effort at modesty. Narrowing his eyes in warning, she quickly averted her gray ones, not saying a word about the oblivious girl or the clearly lovesick man and his fruitless endeavors. As he turned forward again and pushed Orihime back out into the hall, he shut the door behind them and left her in the dark to go about her business.

Out in the hall, Grimmjow crossed his arms as he glared down at her. "You want to tell me why you decided to come barging into my tower and bang on my door in the middle of the night?" Orihime wrung her hands together nervously, trying to bring her focus back to the matter at hand. "And just what are you doing out of the garden and dragging your ass to my doorstep? Sometimes I think you're trying to get me in trouble, princess. It follows you around like the plague."

"Grimmjow-kun…" she began, taking a deep breath and looking up at him solemnly. "Ulquiorra is locked in the dungeons."

"So that's where that sorry bastard's been…"

Orihime swallowed the lump in her throat. "Lord Aizen has been torturing him."

Grimmjow arched an eyebrow at her, like he should care. "So?"

Orihime's face sank as she looked down at the floor. "I was afraid that would be your reaction."

"Why would it be anything but?"

"Because, I thought…I hoped you at least cared a little bit. In your own way."

Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed. "Damn, that's a good one, princess! What led your pretty little head to that conclusion?"

"Because of how you acted when you thought Patros killed him."

Grimmjow abruptly stopped laughing at her blunt statement.

"And because you always do what he says, even though you claim you hate him," she continued. "Also, you only want to fight people who catch your attention. The only people I've ever seen you pursue in battle have been Kurosaki-kun and Ulquiorra."

A part of him bristled at being called out so blatantly, and without an ounce of fear in her on top of that.

"You got some balls speaking that kind of nonsense in front of me like that." He sneered.

Orihime nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry, but I have no other choice. Please, help me, Grimmjow-kun."

"And just what, exactly, do you think I can do about it?" He scoffed at her naivety. "What makes you think if Ulquiorra can't get himself out of the deep pile of shit he's found himself in, that I can 'help' in any capacity?"

Orihime's shoulders sank slightly. "I don't know, but I have to try."

There was a long silence that stretched between them as he drank in the sight of her.

"Why me?" he suddenly asked, his voice unusually quiet.

"Because you're the only one who can help me."

"What are you talking about? There's plenty of other Espa-"

"You're my closest friend here, Grimmjow-kun!" she interrupted passionately. Lifting her face back up to meet his gaze, his breath caught in his throat at the intensity of her brown eyes. "Sometimes you confuse me and I don't understand why you get so angry, but I still care about you as a friend all the same. Starrk-san and Harribel-san would never help with something like this, and Nnoitra-kun got beat up pretty badly when he tried to come see me…and Wonderweiss-san, he wouldn't understand the risks. Please…" Placing a hand on his arm, she took a small step forward, fearless in the face of him. "Help me."

A flash of her laying in the hall blazed through his mind, bleeding out on the floor as she reached for him and asked for his help.

"What's in it for me?" He frowned slightly.

"I'll give you anything within my power. I don't have much here, but whatever you want, it's yours." The sincerity shining in her eyes and dripping from her words made the hole in his gut twist in longing.

"I agree."

Orihime blinked in surprise, not expecting him to cave so easily.

"R-really?" She tilted her head.

"So long as I get what I want."

"I…actually have something you want?"

"Yes…" He stepped forward, completely invading her space.

"What is it?"

Reaching out, his hand took hold of her jaw like he'd done many times before. Only this time, he didn't bruise her or dig his claws in to see her tears. This time, he made sure he was careful.

"A kiss."

For a long moment, he stared into her eyes, watching them widen in shock as what he was asking for slowly dawned on her.

"...to collect upon when and where I want. When I want it, it'll be mine."

Taking his time to savor it, he slowly ran his thumb across her bottom lip, his mouth near-salivating at the thought of such a prize.

Goosebumps ran up his spine when she swallowed, causing her plump, fleshy lips to move against the pad of his thumb.

Blushing now, Orihime was left speechless. With his messy hair and hazy eyes, he didn't look like the Grimmjow she was familiar with. He was a little less violent, and a little more tamed. She was certain she'd never viewed him in such a light until those words left his mouth.

"Ok."

They stood for a beat longer before he broke the spell.

Smirking in satisfaction, Grimmjow released her and turned back to his room. When he opened his door, he was glad to see his bedmate had managed to slip out through one of the side exits of his room.

"I'm assuming you have no idea where the dungeon is, let alone where they're keeping him?" he asked over his shoulder as he picked up his jacket and slipped it on his shoulders.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Orihime gave an arrogant smirk of her own. Though, on her, it merely came off like she had a few screws loose. "Don't underestimate me!" Pulling a piece of paper out of her dress pocket, she opened it and held it up for him to inspect. "Look here! A map of the dungeons and Ulquiorra's precise location!"

"Hm," Grimmjow hummed as he leaned down to examine it, simultaneously sliding his Zanpakuto back on his hip as his other hand pushed through his hair. "I'm impressed. Where'd you get the info?" It took a few tries, but he eventually slicked the blue strands back into place.

"That's top secret!" Grimmjow scowled at her idiocy, suddenly reminded of how witless the girl could be at times. "And I never share my secrets!"

"Whatever," he scoffed and pointed to the little symbol that had been drawn on the map to indicate Ulquiorra's location. "That's all the way to the north. It's also the deepest layer of the dungeon. This is going to take us a while, princess."

Orihime nodded. "I'm ready."

"You sure about that…?" Unable to stop himself, his eyes dropped to her belly, still flat and smooth despite what he knew was brewing inside.

Suddenly self-conscious, Orihime turned away slightly and tried not to cross an arm over her abdomen protectively.

"It's…is it noticeable?" She was unsure why she even asked, or why she sounded so worried about it.

The Sexta Espada didn't respond for a beat, his eyes trained solely on her stomach. To think some little hybrid brat was growing in there…it was puzzling and mysterious. He, along with the rest of Las Noches, had never heard of such a thing.

Genuinely curious, he stretched his pesquisa out, sending a tendril of his reiatsu with it just to feel.

Like a switch, Orihime's defenses went up with a density he'd never felt from her before. A wall of her own reiatsu flew up in the blink of an eye, her body suddenly going rigid where she stood.

"Hey, calm down," he threw his hands up, giving her the space she was clearly demanding. "I was just curious." He was a little surprised. That was the type of reaction he normally felt from Arrancar women towards men who went prying where they weren't welcome. It wasn't something he normally felt from humans, let alone the princess. "And for the record, yeah, it's noticeable. You look like a fatass."

Grimmjow laughed maniacally when, just as quick as she turned, she shifted back into a blushing, angry mess.

"You don't have to put it like that!" she countered in a huff.

He merely smirked at her. He'd been lying through his teeth. She looked as thin as she did the day Ulquiorra had brought her to Las Noches, however he knew that likely wouldn't last long.

"As much as I'd love to sit here and talk about your expanding waistline, we have shit to do." Scratching at the back of his head, he led the way out of his room, Orihime trailing at his heel with enough nervous energy to set even him on edge. "And quit fidgeting. If you're so worried we're going to fail, you shouldn't have approached me to begin with."

"Sorry, I'm just worried the two of us won't be enough."

"In all likelihood, we won't be." He could practically hear her hopes plummeting behind him. "Good thing it won't be just us."

"What do you mean?" Glancing up at him, she noticed he had stopped in front of her.

Rolling his head back to look at her over his shoulder, Grimmjow jabbed a thumb in front of him. "Looks like you had some brainless freak follow you over here." Leaning around his arm, Orihime froze in horror at the sight of Yammy waiting for them at the entrance of the Sixth tower.

"What's he doing here?" she gasped. Every memory she had of the man was a terrible one. He'd stated in no uncertain terms that he hated her guts the last time she'd been left alone with him. Any other time, he'd been trying to batter her into the ground with his fists. With everything that had happened since; the child inside her, and the current state of Ulquiorra, he would likely blame her for every bit of it.

He had frequently followed Ulquiorra around as much as Kukkapuro followed Yammy. No matter how much Ulquiorra smacked him around, he was as steadfastly loyal to him as the little Arrancar dog was to the Tenth Espada.

"Whatever you guys have planned…" Yammy's loud, gravelly voice called out to them and Orihime tensed, waiting for the worst. "...I want in on it."

"Who says we're planning anything?" Grimmjow bluffed, raising his chin arrogantly as a sneer spread over his lips. "And who invited you, anyways?"

"Wait!" Orihime jumped out from behind Grimmjow, willing to face her fears if it meant another ally to help Ulquiorra. "D-do you really mean it?" She hated the way her voice shook in the face of the man, but he truly frightened her.

Yammy growled at her, hatred filling him in the face of the woman he viewed as the one responsible for Ulquiorra's current predicament.

"You're such a useless bitch. I have no desire to help you, so don't get the wrong idea," he clarified. "Ulquiorra's literally the strongest person around here next to Aizen himself-"

"Debatable," Grimmjow interrupted under his breath.

"To see him in the sorry state he's in right now just pisses me off. Especially when I think of how it's all because of you, a mere human woman!"

"It's that bad?" Orihime pressed a hand to her heart, pained to think of how he may have been suffering.

"You have no idea," Yammy frowned. "But you will soon enough…"

"We'll get him out, I promise." She stepped forward. "I'll do everything I can to save him. Thank you for helping him, Yammy," she said sincerely.

Grimmjow merely stood between them, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them during their exchange.

"Like I said, I ain't doin' it for you," he saw fit to remind her.

"Great," Grimmjow sighed and ran a hand down his face as he finally began to question just what the hell he was doing. "A brainless gorilla and a fairy princess…I guess if I'm going to go blazing to my death, at least it will be interesting."

"Really?" Orihime chirped from beside him. "I think we actually make a pretty well rounded team!"

"At least one of us does…"

Grimmjow tried to block out the logic of how crazy the entire plan was. If he thought too hard on it, he'd turn around and forfeit, and that was the same as conceding defeat. He never accepted defeat when he'd dared to take on a challenge.

Glancing down at the girl that walked beside him, leading them to their possible demise, he couldn't help but think there were worse ways he could die…

.

.

.

It pained Grimmjow to admit it – and he never would out loud – that she had been right about them. They had actually made a pretty well rounded team.

Yammy had been a bulldozer, a tank plowing through walls, buttresses, and enemy forces alike, serving as their primary defense. While Grimmjow had taken up the role of their offense, with Orihime bringing up the rear as their secondary defense to guard their back and healing any of their wounds along the way.

There weren't many wounds to speak of. Most of the guards were small fry, a mere formality to keep an eye on the place. Neither did many of their paths intersect with each other, meaning none of them were able to gather enough forces to rally against the 'intruders' in any measurably significant number.

"This is way too easy," Grimmjow noted to himself as they made it another level deeper.

Orihime pulled her head back from peeking around a corner. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe we're just too strong!" Yammy laughed to himself.

Grimmjow had to fight off the urge to rub his temple. The man was beyond stupid. "What I mean is, there's hardly anybody around the place, even the weaklings. There's also fewer and fewer guards the deeper we go."

Orihime rubbed her chin in thought, her brow furrowing as she tried to decipher what he meant and why he was so worried.

"Ulquiorra is on the next level down…there's hardly any guards left…so, someone really strong must be guarding him?"

Grimmjow actually smirked at her. "Wow, there's hope for you yet, princess."

Orihime chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not sure if that's supposed to be an insult or a compliment, Grimmjow-kun."

"Sounds like an insult to me…" Yammy deadpanned beside them.

"Only because you never receive any compliments!" Grimmjow retorted, finally losing his patience with the buffoon.

Orihime wasn't sure how a full blown fight didn't erupt between them after that. Insult after insult got tossed between them, their mission momentarily forgotten.

"Guys…" Orihime tried to stop them, but was frankly too intimidated to get between the two large men. "We have to work together," her small voice edged warily.

"Don't interrupt-!" Grimmjow's mouth suddenly snapped shut when he heard something coming down one of the halls, his head lifting slightly as if to catch the sound.

"Grimm-?" Pressing a hand over her mouth, he pushed her closer to the wall.

Behind them, Yammy hunkered down as much as his large form would allow. The murky darkness of the dungeon played to their advantage to help hide them.

Just as they quieted down, two rotund Arrancar came wobbling down the hall.

"Hurry,"

"Yes, hurry," they echoed each other.

"The master is-"

"Waiting for us!"

"That Espada-"

"Is really unique!"

Their voices began to fade the further they moved on, and their shuffling feet hastened along. However, despite the distance, their next words still somehow managed to reach Orihime's ears, making her heart race in fear.

"The parts of his internal organs Master Szayel took out-"

"Didn't regenerate after all!" they laughed in sync.

"His eye-"

"Also stopped coming back!"

They couldn't possibly mean Ulquiorra, could they? She thought in near panic.

"So strange," they murmured in unison, as if the two shared one mind.

Slowly, the voices disappeared altogether.

"Lumina and Verona," Grimmjow scowled as he stepped back from Orihime and peered around the corner to see which direction they went.

"This doesn't look good," Yammy muttered in silent agreement to whatever unspoken things were going through Grimmjow's mind.

"What does that mean? Who are they?" Orihime asked hastily, her anxious voice betraying her concern.

The Sexta Espada hesitated to say it out loud to the girl. Yammy, however, beat him to the punch.

"It means it's likely that Szayel is the one looking after Ulquiorra." The brute broke the news to her bluntly, not even trying to be subtle.

"Szayel?" Orihime's blood went cold at the name. "But he-"

"Cuts his subjects up and experiments on them." He nodded in confirmation of her worst fears. "He's probably got Ulquiorra's guts strung out like a sausage by now."

Orihime didn't wait for them after that. She took off around the corner and raced down the hall to follow the two Fraccion.

"Damn it, wait!" Grimmjow reached for her, but surprisingly, it was Yammy whose hand suddenly jutted out and stopped her.

"Cool it, red," he stated as he none too gently shoved her back towards Grimmjow. Moving out into the hall, Yammy lumbered a few steps towards the direction the Fraccion had vanished towards. "I'll take care of Szayel."

"You sure about that?" Grimmjow asked from behind him. "There's no telling who or what else might be down here. It may not be a good idea to split up."

"You got any better ideas?" Yammy growled over his shoulder.

"Not particularly." Grimmjow held his hands up in surrender. "He's all yours. I never gave two shits about that four eyes, anyways."

"Fine."

"Thank you, Yammy-san," Orihime said as she stepped forward, her hands clenched tightly over her heart. "Be…be careful." She swallowed hard, finding it surprisingly difficult to speak to him so casually.

"Worry about yourself." Yammy scoffed and waved her words off dismissively. Just as he was about to walk away, he paused. "Oh, and red?" He glanced at her over his massive shoulder one last time. "You best bring Ulquiorra back with you. If I find out you've left here without him, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself. Even Lord Aizen won't be able to save your ass from my fists!"

Orihime flinched back. She didn't doubt his words for a second. However, instead of cowering behind Grimmjow like she, quite frankly, wanted to, she took a brave step towards him and looked him square in the eye.

"I promise." She nodded in affirmation. "I'm going to bring Ulquiorra back."

"Then you best be getting on that," Yammy scoffed, untouched by her show of bravery. "We each got work to do."

.

.

.

Orihime's heart raced as she and Grimmjow came face-to-face with the room that marked Ulquiorra's cell on the map.

The door was slightly larger than the standard doorways around Las Noches, crafted from dark, porous wood and rusted iron framework. The hinges looked old, but the latch looked brand new, as if it had recently been replaced.

Orihime reached a hand up to clutch at her chest, suddenly realizing that it had literally been weeks since she had last seen him. At least two, if she'd been counting the days correctly.

All this time…she had thought he was simply gone, on a mission or just distancing himself. Instead, he'd been locked away in this prison, behind these doors, left to endure whatever harm Aizen had apparently saw fit to discipline him with.

"Ulquiorra." She took an unconscious step forward, her heart breaking at the thought of it, of the fact that because of her, he was being punished. "He's in there," she must have whispered the words aloud, because Grimmjow had grabbed her wrist to stop her.

She quickly turned back to him, ready to question him. She wanted to storm the doors, to burst inside and have the reunion of her heart's desire. However, the troubled look in his blue eyes stopped her short.

"Listen, princess," he began, his usually strong voice lacking its typical spark. "Just…prepare yourself. You're probably not going to like what you see…"

Orihime's eyes widened in realization. His words sank in slowly.

Before he could stop her, she ripped her wrist free of his grasp and rushed to the door.

Lifting up the latch, she turned the large knob and threw it back.

The door opened with a noisy screech as Orihime stood frozen at the threshold.

A green eye slowly lifted to meet hers as tears filled her vision.

Chained to the wall and sealed behind one of Aizen's kido barriers, was Ulquiorra. Across his body ran a myriad of scars, both old and fresh alike. Most were centered around his right side near the lungs, like he'd been opened up there again and again before he body just quit healing it altogether. His left eye was missing, and the blood trailing from the wound and running down his cheek looked old and dried in place.

His wrists and ankles were in shackles, though he no longer seemed to be supporting his own weight very well on his feet, and instead bore the brunt of his mass where he hung limply from his wrists. However, the worst of all these things was his left arm…or what was left of it. It was mere bones at first sight, the tips of his fingers crumbled away. The flesh near his shoulder was barely intact, although something seemed to be eating away at it, apparently faster than his regenerative capabilities were able to keep up with. His left wrist, merely bones, remained tightly ensnared by the chains, bearing his weight despite the lack of flesh, only little bits of cartilage remained to keep things intact. Though even those seemed to be tearing at the seams. Whatever healing capabilities he held had long since abandoned him and redirected its energy solely to stopping whatever force was currently eroding his arm away like decaying flesh.

Orihime felt guilt and sorrow fill her heart like never before, torn between turning from the sight and running forward to help him. His chest was heaving slightly, as if he were having trouble breathing, and sweat ran down his neck and bare torso, causing his hair to cling to his face and neck like a second layer of skin.

"Ulquiorra…" she whispered, lifting a hand up to cover her mouth in shock, the other resting over her abdomen protectively, as if she feared the tyrant could possibly have such a fate in mind for her child as well.

She had known Aizen Sosuke had done terrible things in his path to fulfilling his desires…but she would never forgive him for this.

"Shit," Grimmjow hissed behind her when he stepped into the room, voicing his own shock at the sight. Aizen had dealt the Sexta Espada a heavy hand many times in the past, but never had he seen a punishment that extreme. He'd never seen Ulquiorra in such a mess. The man looked on the brink of death, as if he'd been dragged to its doorstep and left there to rot, one foot in the grave and the other out.

However, when Orihime finally bolted forward and pressed her hands to the barrier, Grimmjow's eyes narrowed in alarm. His gut was telling him something was definitely off with the Cuatro Espada, besides the obvious.

Orihime flitted about the barrier, pressing and testing it and calling out his name, but he took note that Ulquiorra hadn't responded. Instead, his one remaining eye followed the girl like a piece of meat. His pupil dilated at the sight of her, tracking her movements like a cold, calculated predator. He hadn't once looked in Grimmjow's direction.

Before Grimmjow could stop her, Orihime stepped back and sent her fairies out with a wave of her arm. He was about to tell her it was pointless to try. That was one of Aizen's kido spells, after all. There was no way she could breach it. None of them could.

Nevertheless, just as she surprised him so long ago in the throne room when she returned his arm and his rank, he watched in stunned silence as her eyes hardened and her face dropped into a determined look of concentration. She sent out an attack strike first, piercing straight through the glowing wall like she was merely breaching the surface of water, and then immediately followed with a shield that expanded in the tiny opening that was made like a valve, dissolving it and causing the rest to shatter like glass.

"No way…" he uttered in disbelief, having just witnessed the impossible bend to her will.

The barriers disappeared in a burst of light, filling the room and sending her hair and skirts fluttering back. She stood unflinching in the face of the glittery aftermath, her hand outstretched before her.

Without batting an eye, she lowered her arm, and with it she sent out her attack fairy again. The light left her hair pins like a little arrow, aimed straight at Ulquiorra's chains.

Grimmjow snapped out of his shock a moment too late. She was already moving her feet, rushing forward as the shackles shattered. "Wait! Don't-!"

However, instead of the bloodbath he had fully expected to witness, Orihime was already there, catching him when he fell.

Tears were in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him and felt his body sag against her. "Ulquiorra," she whispered his name close to his ear as her knees buckled under his weight. They sank slowly to the floor, her hands holding tightly to his back as she closed her eyes in relief at finally having him close again. His face fell to her shoulder, his eye suddenly snapping back into focus at her touch.

The smell of her engulfed him, drowning out the staleness of the dungeon. Her heat sank into his bones, setting him on fire like he'd never felt before.

Reaching his remaining arm up, he set his hand carefully upon the shoulder she had cradled him to, the appendage near numb from immobility.

"Woman…" Shock dripped into the edges of his voice, hardly able to believe that she was in front of him.

How?

And, more importantly, why?

Why would she risk her life for him? Why would she defy Aizen for him? Why would she care enough to even bother to come after him?

"I'm so sorry."

Sorry?

She sniffled against his neck and he could tell by the sound of her voice and the moisture on his flesh that she was crying. Once again, crying over him, just like she'd done when she thought he'd died at Patro's hand.

"This is all my fault."

Her fault?

For once, Ulquiorra fully and completely admitted to himself that he didn't understand. He didn't understand her strength and resolve. He didn't understand her feelings or why she desired to rush to his aid despite all the things he'd done, all the wrongs he had wrought upon her. He didn't understand why her sudden presence was such a relief. He didn't understand her heart; the driving force behind all her confounding actions.

His mind spun, near drunk with the burden of over a week's worth of pain and starvation.

Instead of staying away, she'd come barging into the dungeons like her and all the other ryoka had done in the Seireitei to retrieve their comrade. Like he was a friend…like he was someone important to her.

No one had ever done such a thing for him, had risked so much.

Almost like a mockery of the cold around him, he felt her hand gently touch his cheek as she pressed herself closer and buried her face deeper into his neck to hide her tears.

He may not have understood, but for once he didn't care. Letting his hand slide down her back and into her hair, he carefully gathered the strands in his pale fingers. Raising his palm slightly, he stared at the color pouring through his fingers like water.

His stomach clenched painfully, and almost in sync, his Hollow hole suddenly ached.

He wanted her.

More than he'd ever wanted anything, he desired this woman.

Despite her working fast to heal his wounds and the internal damage that Szayel had caused, Ulquiorra was still starved.

His hand clenched around her hair as a hunger unlike anything he'd known before consumed him. Clenching his eyes shut, and not even taking note that she'd already healed his eye, he grit his teeth against the gnawing urge to feast upon her like an animal.

Her soul had always been so sweet and gentle, and now that dark void inside him demanded to be filled, to gorge upon the girl and consume her soul like a sacrifice.

He wanted to devour her. Inside and out.

Snapping his eyes open, he glared darkly at Grimmjow, who stood several paces back observing the two quietly.

The Sexta merely met his icy gaze with a knowing one of his own, apparently already understanding the internal battle Ulquiorra was currently facing.

"Why did you bring her here?" he frowned, trying to maintain his usual air of control. Though, he suspected he was failing miserably.

Grimmjow just lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes in contempt. "She wouldn't leave me alone. You should already know how much of a pain in the ass she is when she wants something."

"Get her away from me," he snapped, causing the girl to flinch against him.

"Ulquiorra…"

He clenched his eyes shut against the hurt in her voice. For the first time, he was sick and tired of being the cause of her pain.

Leaning back from him, Orihime searched his face for an answer. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she came to save him, but it certainly hadn't been the near disdain he was currently showing her.

"Why…" She began to reach for his arm, the one currently rotting away and leaving behind nothing but frail bone.

"Don't-!" His hand suddenly snatched her wrist, stopping her before she could make contact and infect herself with the rot Baraggan had left him with. "Don't touch me," he tried to finish the words calmly, but it was a struggle.

Orihime froze, stunned by such a strong reaction from him. The bones of his arm hung limply at his side, his other hand clutching her wrist between them. His eyes stared intently down into hers, the dried blood on his face doing little to dampen the intensity radiating off them.

For a moment, time seemed suspended around them. Despite the dark rings under his eyes from lack of rest, the green color of them was just as vivid as ever. She blinked up at him in confusion and concern, failing to decipher his strange behavior or the cause behind it. His hand was tightening on her wrist uncomfortably, as if he didn't actually want to let her go, despite his demand for her to stay away.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and then again lower to her chest where her heart beat erratically.

Then, sudden enough to shock her and throw her off balance, he jerked her closer, causing her to collapse against him. Leaning down, his lips trailed down her neck and lower…and lower…

"Ul-Ulquiorra!" Orihime gasped in both shock and embarrassment, her hands pushing lightly at him when his lips settled between her breasts, as if striving to taste the heartbeat beneath her clothes. Between discovering him in such a state, then his lashing out, and now this uncharacteristic display – and in front of Grimmjow, no less – Orihime was left suffering emotional whiplash that nearly incapacitated her. "What are you-"

Before she could protest any further, and before his lips could explore any deeper, Orihime was suddenly ripped away from him. She stumbled back onto her backside as Grimmow stepped forward and slammed the hilt of his sword across Ulquiorra's temple, hard, knocking him out cold.

"Ulquiorra!" Orihime cried as she rushed back to him.

"Been wanting to do that for a while now." Grimmjow cocked a grin down at the unconscious man slumped over on the floor. "Think of it as payback for fucking up my sword, ya arrogant bastard." He scoffed at the glare the girl was giving him. Had Ulquiorra been in his right mind, and had he not been in such a sorry state, he'd known a blow like that probably wouldn't have knocked him out so easily, let alone landed in the first place.

Still, he was going to enjoy it regardless of the circumstances. He'd take what he could get.

As for the girl…

Grimmjow quickly reached down and snatched her hand back when she began to reach for his damaged arm again.

"Don't you learn?" he barked down at her. "You're playing with fire, princess," he warned, half suspecting she didn't fully recognize the gravity of what Ulquiorra had clearly been wanting to do to her just then.

The man had been on the verge of consuming her very soul from her body.

"What are you talking about?" She glared back at him. Judging from the fire in her eyes, he'd venture a guess she was moments away from launching one of her little fairies at him if he continued to keep her from the Cuatro Espada any longer. In light of what he'd just done, and her current state of mind, it was clear she was starting to see him more as an enemy than an ally.

"Ulquiorra isn't in his right mind," he tried to explain. "You need to stay back."

"I won't!" She tried to reach for his arm again to heal him.

"Damn it! Listen!" Grimmjow yanked her around to face him. "That reiatsu eating away at his arm belongs to none other than Baraggan, ex-king of the dead. His powers are like time itself, and ages anything it touches. Ulquiorra's regeneration has likely been the only thing stopping it from completely dissolving his body. If you touch that, it will kill you!"

Jerking her arm free of him, Orihime turned back to Ulquiorra like she hadn't just heard what he'd explained to her. Grimmjow watched in stunned silence as she knelt at his side and reached forward without fear.

The soft, tranquil light of her powers glowed around her hands and surrounded the remnants of his arm.

Breaking through Baraggan's reiatsu clearly wasn't as easy for her as shattering Aizen's kido barrier. Her brows furrowed hard in concentration as she poured her willpower into her efforts. For a moment, the flesh merely continued to deteriorate, his own regeneration remaking it in small tendrils after each centimeter the rot gained.

However, it wasn't long before her efforts paid off. Before he could even process the depth of her unique abilities, he watched as, right before his eyes, she negated the powers of time itself. The necrotic muscle and tissue near his shoulder finally stopped receding and instead began growing. The once crumbling bone of his arm turned fresh and white again, before sinewy muscle quickly came down and wound around it like vines. Tendons locked back into place and veins reemerged.

As Grimmjow watched, a mere spectator in the background, as she reached over and carefully brushed a lock of hair out of the pale man's face, it was at that moment that he understood.

He didn't stand a chance.

The depth in her eyes as she looked at him, the compassionate way she touched him, the sheer lengths she'd gone to in order to reach him…all of it spoke to the true magnitude of her affection for Ulquiorra Cifer.

Seeing the both of them on the floor in front of him, he took in the sight of her lightly leaning over him, trailing her fingers over his markings and down his bare chest to rest over his Hollow hole. She looked so out of place in the dungeon, so clean and pure against the filth.

Her other hand lay over the palm of the arm she'd just miraculously reformed, hair spilling over her shoulder to brush Ulquiorra's side, never once stirring him from unconsciousness.

She would never look at Grimmjow like that. All his actions had ever garnered from her were looks of fear, confusion, and betrayal. He'd reaped what he'd sewn, and although he doubted Ulquiorra had been the ideal lover to her, he'd apparently done a better job than Grimmjow, who'd only ever pushed her away with every anger-fueled outburst towards her. No matter how many times she'd tried to reach out to him, to forgive him and be kind to him, he'd hurt her at every turn.

While Grimmjow lashed out and often shoved her around, Ulquiorra had a softer touch despite his cruel tongue. Grimmjow pushed her away, while Ulquiorra grew closer even when he wasn't consciously trying…

Grimmjow had frequently berated Ulquiorra for being a coward, and that he was always trying to hide how much it truly bothered him that the girl would likely hate him if he knew what a monster he really was, what lay beneath the facade of a man. In truth, much of that had been self-projection. While Ulquiorra was able to hide what a bastard he really was, Grimmjow wore it on his sleeve.

A single teardrop fell from the girl's face to land on Ulquiorra's chest.

Longing like Grimmjow had never known settled deep in his gut, radiating around his Hollow hole like a parasite.

There were no windows in the dungeon, only torches to illuminate the darkness. Turning away from the sight of them, he scowled when his eyes still couldn't escape the shape of her shadows dancing on the walls.

Finally just closing his eyes against the onslaught, Grimmjow cursed whatever bullshit spell she'd cast over him and reminded himself that none of it even mattered, not in the end anyways.

After all, he'd never cared about anything outside of himself and his desires.

Not once.

Not ever.

.

.

.

"Be careful with him, Grimmjow-kun!" Orihime berated the man when he threw Ulquiorra none too gently down upon his bed, her face scrunching up in that way she always did when annoyed with him.

"Don't worry, princess, he ain't gonna break," he sneered in response to her fussing. He'd had to listen to it the better half of their journey back to the Fourth tower and now his ears were nearly bleeding from the torture.

"You still shouldn't be so rough with him!" she protested.

"Shut up. The freak would probably like it if he were conscious. I always figured he'd enjoy getting tossed around a few times by me," he chuckled under his breath, unsurprised when the comment went right over the naive girl's head. Looking around, he frowned at the decor of the place, or rather, lack thereof. "Geez, I always knew his room would be as bland as his personality, but this is just sad."

Disregarding his words, Orihime turned from him to grab a rag from the closet and rushed to the bathroom, emerging a few moments later with a basin of water.

"You don't seriously intend to stay with him?" Grimmjow said in near disbelief.

Orihime ignored him as she settled the basin on the nightstand and dipped the rag into the water. When she began wiping the dried blood and sweat from Ulquiorra's brow, he knew she was, indeed, serious.

"I'm not leaving him," she said as she continued about her business of cleaning him up, dabbing his neck and chest.

"Like hell you're staying!" He suddenly announced and took a few steps closer. "I already told you, that-" He pointed to the unconscious Espada. "Isn't the Ulquiorra you know and are used to dealing with."

Orihime merely gazed back at him silently, calmly listening to him rant.

"There's no way I'm going to leave you here and answer to Aizen when your blood ends up on Ulquiorra's hands. I'll inevitably get blamed for it in some way. I've already stuck my neck out far enough helping you with this idiotic stunt to begin with!"

"I know." Orihime lowered her head guiltily. "Thank you, Grimmjow-kun, but you don't need to help any more. I'll be fine. I promise," she stated. "Ulquiorra won't hurt me."

"Funny, he already knocked ya up and left you when you nearly died because of it," he scoffed cruelly, ignoring the way she flinched and lowered her head further. "You must be a glutton for punishment, princess."

When she still didn't say anything, and simply sat with the rag clutched tightly in her hands, Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair and growled to himself in frustration.

Suddenly stomping up to her where she sat on the edge of the bed, he grabbed her chin tightly and forced her to look at him.

"You better not die," he said the words harshly through gritted teeth. "Don't forget you owe me something…"

With a small smile, she nodded.

"I'll repay you. I promise…"

.

.

.

Pain was the first thing that registered in Ulquiorra's mind when his eyes slid open.

His head was splitting.

He could sense he was back in his room, the ceiling a familiar enough site to him. Bringing his left arm up, he held his hand in front of his face to study. His fingers clenched and flexed in his first real use of the appendage in days. Not since Baraggan had silently come into the dungeon the previous week, looking upon him with disappointment when he'd set his powers of time loose on his arm, had Ulquiorra felt anything but blinding numbness and pain in it.

Touching his face, he felt his eye and down his cheek, noting that he'd been cleaned of the blood and sweat on his flesh. The last thing he remembered was being in the woman's arms and then blackness.

His vision swam for a brief moment, only clearing in the wake of the absolute hunger that washed over him. Dropping the hand onto his chest, he gripped at the hole that resided there, unaccustomed to the deep ache.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Ulquiorra glared into the darkness of his room, getting his bearings and searching out the screen that led out to his balcony.

His hand remained clutched over his chest, scarcely able to tame the lure of the instinct inside him to consume. Never, in all his years, had he been brought so low as to be put in such a state.

Crawling out from that pit that had birthed him, with blackness clinging to him like tar, he'd been unable to feast upon anything but the reishi in the air, which his body had done automatically, and had given zero experience or pleasure as far as taste or the mere act of 'consumption'. He'd somehow managed to evolve in spite of this, perhaps even because of it. After which, he had, like any Hollow, feasted upon souls when the desire struck, but he'd never hungered for them – for anything – like this.

Aizen had locked him in the dungeon behind a kido barrier that not only seemed to scorch his skin with the heat of it, but blocked him from any of the radiant reishi in the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, essentially starving him of any sustenance – both physical and spiritual – for his undead soul.

Now, no amount of reishi was going to quench his thirst. He'd been starved to the brink of death and only souls – many, many souls – would undo the damage.

Ulquiorra clenched his jaw against the urge to curse in a combination of pain and disgust. To think he'd ever be degraded to such a pathetic level…anger filled him in uncontrollable waves.

Standing, he hunched over slightly, still holding his chest as he made his way to the doors of his balcony, needing to escape the stifling walls of Las Noches and everything that resided inside it. His defenses had been all but stripped from him, leaving him vulnerable and open to thoughts and desires he was unaccustomed to.

Reaching the wall, he grabbed the handle of the divider. With a harsh shove, the folding panels flew back, revealing the unforgiving landscape of Hueco Mundo. Lifting his green eyes, he took in the sight of the moon shining down onto the sands below. The storm Runaganga had summoned so long ago was still roaring outside, though decidedly less powerful than it had once been, meaning the Lord of the Sands had either somehow been destroyed completely, or had gone dormant.

Stretching out his pesquisa, he took account of all that had been blocked off to him behind Aizen's barrier. Further out in the Menos Forest, the guardians were all dead. At the outskirts of Las Noches, the Privaron had fallen.

He shouldn't have been surprised, and yet…

Sand blew in across the surface of the floor, scattering like little grains in fanning waves. They blew past his feet as his forearm leaned heavily against the wall at the threshold of the balcony.

A sudden, loud clatter behind him jerked his head around.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Orihime standing near the entrance of the bathroom, a basin of water having fallen from her hands to land at her feet. Her eyes were as wide as his were as they stared at each other.

Ulquiorra's chest literally throbbed at the sight of her, causing him to dig his fingers in further at the foreign sensation.

She was still there?

Had the woman lost her mind? Why hadn't she run from him?

"Ulquiorra?" she called quietly.

For once, he wanted to just leave. To escape her and all her confounding human traits that twisted his mind in ways so vexing that he no longer recognized himself at times. Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot, his wide eyes staring at her from over his arm where he'd braced himself against the wall.

He remembered that look she'd given him in the linen room. He remembered how she'd offered him her heart when he was forcing himself upon her in the infirmary, the way she stood steadfastly with her convictions despite his efforts to tear them down, the way she defended Kurosaki like he was another extension of her heart that needed protection. He remembered the way she cried out his name at night…

She was so beautiful, so human and so pure against his wickedness…seeing this now, with his defenses blown down like a castle wall demolished under the force of a cannonball, he realized how little of a chance he truly stood with this woman.

He'd been outmatched the entire time.

The whole time he'd been using her, she'd been sidestepping his every malicious lie with grace.

Despite this, he couldn't help but want her…

Badly.

He wanted her heart, even though he didn't understand it.

He wanted to taste whatever mundane life she always seemed to prattle and daydream about. He wanted to listen to her read her idiotic poetry about romance. To see all the stupid things she had seen, to feel all the things that she felt.

She stood staring at him, her eyes large and watery against the gleam of the moonlight. Her eyes flickered once between him and the desert, and it was impossible to miss the hope in their brown depths, the pleading with him to stay.

Turning back to her, he took a step forward.

Like that was all she needed, Orihime rushed towards him. Her steps carried her quickly as he took another, unable to look away from the sight of her running to him, sand flowing against the floor at her feet as her cape fluttered behind her.

He'd barely reached out to her when her body collided with his, her arms going around his neck as her heels came off the floor and she leaned onto the balls of her feet. His arm immediately enveloped her waist, his other hand coming up to grasp her shoulder as they melded tightly together.

Closing his eyes, he sank his nose into her hair to inhale her deeply. He could feel her heart slamming against her chest, echoing into the void in his own. Her fingers clung to his shoulders like she feared he would vanish at any second, while his dug into her shoulder harshly, trying to rein in the pressing need to devour the woman in whatever capacity his body could manage.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," she whispered breathlessly.

Holding her like she was the last bit of light left in the world, intangible and out of his reach, his lips trailed from her ear down her neck. His breathing hardened as he forced himself not to sink his teeth into her to taste her flesh and blood. He shut his eyes in revulsion, wondering why just holding her never seemed to be enough for him.

"Don't be ridiculous," his voice wavered as he spoke the words. "You should have stayed away, foolish woman."

"Never."

Ulquiorra groaned and his arms tightened around her like steel bands.

No one had ever spoken to him like that before, like they wanted him at all cost, even at a detriment to themselves.

His fingers sunk into the fabric of her cape, pulling on it hard enough for the zipper to split apart and the fabric to slip from her shoulder. His searching mouth pressed farther down until he felt the strong pulse drumming against her skin.

"Tell me what you need, Ulquiorra," she uttered meaningfully near his ear, sensing he clearly wasn't himself.

"I need you," he nearly panted the words against her, realizing he would have literally given anything in his power just for her permission at that moment. The arm around her waist reached down, taking a handful of her backside in his palm and pressing her close. She gasped at the hardness that dug into her belly at the action, her skin heating under his touch.

For once, Ulquiorra could see the folly in his emptiness. He had nothing to give her…nothing to barter with in exchange for her heart.

Sliding her face closer to his, Orihime pressed their foreheads near and brushed her lips tremulously across his, her entire body shaking from the strength of her emotions.

"Then take me."

If ever there was a time Ulquiorra had felt unworthy of something, it was at that moment, at her mercy, giving herself to him when he had literally nothing to offer in exchange.

However, he was a Hollow, and he desired her both body and soul.

Leaning down, he captured her mouth with his, feeling his entire body shiver at the sweet mewl that echoed in the back of her throat from the contact. His hands buried themselves in her hair, pulling her face further under him as he bent over her, tongue darting in to refamiliarize himself with her taste. The warmth of her flesh heated his hands and lips, urging him to hold her tighter, for his tongue to explore her further.

Her hands caressed him soothingly, gently brushing over his arms and back under the harsh demand of him. He drank from her like a man dying of thirst and she was the last vestige of water in the desert.

Backing them up to the bed, he pulled at her clothes, stripping them off her one by one as she tugged at the torn fabric of his pants, her fingers trembling as fiercely as his body was, both of them alight with desire.

Ulquiorra wanted to savor her, to get on his knees and devour her like he did the first time he'd taken her. However, his body demanded he claim her and he no longer held the self-control to deny it.

Naked in each other's arms, he lifted her easily and lined himself up with her entrance. Her legs wrapped around him as securely her arms did around his shoulders, his mouth pressed hotly to the base of her throat as he slowly lowered her over him.

Ulquiorra groaned hard and deep as she engulfed him, pausing when she gasped once in pain. It had been so long…

His eyes closed in relief when she finally adjusted enough for him to sink himself into her completely, inch by torturous inch. Tremors raced up and down his spine at the sheer heat and tightness of her wrapping around him, sheathed to the hilt.

Lowering her head, she pressed her forehead to his again. "Ulquiorra," she murmured against his lips, fingers tracing gently down his face.

Holding her securely, Ulquiorra eased her onto the bed. With one hand gripping deep into the soft flesh of her thigh and the other sliding under her shoulder to brace her in place, Ulquiorra thrust roughly once, twice, and came hard – barely managing two partial strokes before unloading himself in her like a fountain.

His breath left him all at once when he felt his sack tighten up and constrict as his cock throbbed inside her.

Orihime gasped and lifted her legs higher up his sides, taken off guard by the stretching and the sheer amount of heat that was suddenly filling her in heavy, pulsing waves.

Her vision swam with tears as she felt the intensity of his movements rocking into her, working in time with each thick eruption of his length. Feather light, her fingertips floated down his shoulder blades to rest on his backside, gently urging him to continue when it seemed he still wasn't completely done.

His toes dug into the bed, bracing himself as he rolled his hips into her roughly, so unlike the control he usually had with her. Orihime panted heavily at his ear, realizing that he quite literally couldn't help himself, each straining rut of his hips like a slave to the whims of her heart, moving in tandem with its beat.

When he'd finally seemed to empty himself, his member hadn't yet begun to soften. Instead, the hand gripping her shoulder buried itself in the hair at the back of her head, pulling her to him with a carefulness he'd never handled her with before.

Slow and methodical, he pulled his cock back only to drive it forward again, thrusting into her fully for the first time in weeks. Orihime's head fell back against his hand as her body arched into him.

As if he hadn't just spent himself entirely inside her, he continued on. He drove into her gently, his hands soft and tender like she was the most precious thing he'd ever held.

Burying his head into her shoulder, Ulquiorra moaned at the feel of her slick, narrow walls clinging to him like a vice. She clamped down on him at each withdrawal, as if struggling to keep him trapped inside, and then again just as the head of him reached her entrance before plunging back in, tightening down on him in tugging little contractions to pull him deeper. He wanted her heart, he wanted to taste it, to feel it and to see it. He wanted to understand it…

Groaning in near pain, Ulquiorra could scarcely pull himself out when her pussy suddenly clutched him like a fist, fastening around him like a glove that fit too tight.

"Let me have you," he implored against the flesh of her throat. His arms wrapped around her back and waist as they moved together, deep and striving motions that kept them locked close. Instead of pulling back and thrusting, he stayed rooted inside, yielding to what her body was clearly demanding of him. "Let me have you…" he urged again, despite the fact he was already buried to the hilt within her.

Orihime struggled against the tears and the pleasure, realizing what it was he was really asking of her.

"I'm already yours, Ulquiorra," she replied tearfully, sad to realize he still hadn't figured that out yet.

Whatever it was about her words, they succeeded in undoing him again. Dropping his head to her chest, he pressed himself there between her breasts and near her heartbeat as he stiffened on top of her. His back tensed as his hips sealed against hers, rutting her hard as he felt his body once more spill into her with more cum than he knew he was capable of producing.

Orihime writhed under him, trapped against the onslaught and the sheer volume of heat he kept filling her with. His insistent, ceaseless strokes, the deep grinding, their bodies bonded together as close as glue, the strong pressure of him on her clit, caused Orihime's eyes to roll shut. She'd gone so long without him…and the suddenness of having him back inside her, moving like he couldn't get deep enough, drove her over the edge.

Feeling her core tightening by the second only seemed to spur him further. His hips ground against her harder, rolling and undulating in purposeful movements, his cock still thrumming inside her as he came.

"Ulquiorra!" Her nails dug into his back, her legs locking on him like a pair of hooks to keep him ensnared.

He was suddenly there again, kissing her like he was starved for whatever nectar her mouth could provide. He drank in her cries, coming hard with her as her vaginal walls tightened, and tightened, and tightened…until they snapped. The silent sob that poured from her lips was swallowed by him as she clamped down on him in sharp, contracting throbs. He very nearly growled into her mouth as their bodies plastered themselves to one another, sinking heavily into the mattress with his weight fully atop her.

She gripped him hotly, milking his shaft time and time again…and his body only bent to her demands. He'd give her whatever she wanted, and at the moment, her tight little sheath was squeezing him for every drop his cock could produce.

"Ul-Ulquiorra…w-wait!" she could barely breathe for the combination of the weight of him and the full scale of which her orgasm was seizing her body. Her hips were tilting up to his, opening herself to him as she let him fill her up. For a brief, agonizing moment, she worried for the child growing inside her. If he went deep enough or hard enough, could he-? "W-wait," she pleaded again, her fingers skimming shakily down his cheek.

"I cannot," he confessed harshly against her lips, his ravenous hunger seemingly beyond his control.

The storm continued to blow through the desert behind them, creating a backdrop of endless night against the silhouette of their bodies writhing together on the bed. Sand occasionally dusted across the floor, and swirls of it blew past the dunes outside, heedless of two locked in a tight embrace.

Again and again, they took each other. The emptiness inside him apparently deciding only she could fill him up, no matter how many times it took. Between his empty, nihilistic Hollow nature and her, he'd chosen her that night. He'd tasted the way her voice broke down and changed when she cried out, 'I love you!' so gently it made his chest ache in a way he'd never felt before, hunger or no.

She'd professed it again and again, seemingly unable to hold herself back anymore at the flood of emotions that overwhelmed her. He didn't know the meaning of the words, not truly, not in the same way she knew them, but for once in his life, he thought he was finally close.

He held her close, he listened to her heart, he kissed her without forcing the sharpness of his teeth on her, he did his best not to hurt her, and he touched her in the ways she deserved to be touched.

She was more beautiful than that bright, luminous thicket he'd discovered so long ago, evolving him into something new, something he hadn't known he'd been searching for until he found it. He'd stumbled upon her in much the same way, an unknown anomaly discovered along the way, changing him in ways he often disliked.

Her soul – small, frail, warm, and alive – was like that strange bush…and he buried himself in it completely.

.

.

.

Like little tendrils of silk, Orihime ran her fingers lightly down the length of Ulquiorra's back and then up again. She traced small, random shapes on his pale skin, imagining flowers, suns and little stars.

He lay atop of her, out cold, with the full brunt of his weight bearing down on her. He was still rooted deep inside her, having finally passed out there. She adjusted her bottom slightly, given her hips were so open and enduring the brunt of his weight with him nestled so heavily between her thighs. She felt full, and blushed slightly at the thought of what was going to come running down her thighs when they separated and she stood up.

Orihime had never felt so complete.

She watched the sands continue to float by outside the balcony, nearly looking as pure as snow, and the moon slowly track across the sky.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the sound of his breathing and the feel of his back rising and falling with each breath. Hesitant at first, she gingerly let her palm come to rest over the Hollow hole at his back. Unlike instances in the past, he didn't react at the contact.

For one brief moment in time, she reveled in the silence, only taking in the sound of his breath, the winds outside, and the thumping of her heart.

She was mentally preparing herself for the confession she had to tell him, informing him about what was growing by the day inside her womb. He'd not been in the right state of mind before, and a part of her wondered if he would be when he woke up, too.

It had been unavoidable, and she thought it was better that way. That they'd somehow cemented their tenuous bond, before she shared the news about the child. Perhaps then, in doing so, she prayed it would give him more incentive to care.

She didn't understand it all, not fully. Yet, she could grasp well enough his behavior had something to do with the dark void in his chest currently resting under her palm. He'd seemed hungry, in a way she couldn't explain. Starved, even.

Regardless of what was to come, Orihime couldn't help but just settle into the peace of the moment, feeling secure in the way one of his arms was laying under her shoulder by the pillows, the other still locked around her waist, having literally fallen asleep rutting her on his last orgasm.

For the first time, Orihime felt like her feelings had finally reached him. She'd touched him on a fundamental level. Along with the shift, came with it hope.

Hope that she and Ulquiorra had finally found a balance…and hope that he would accept the news of impending fatherhood.

Hope, however, was never meant to burn for very long in a place like Hueco Mundo…

Orihime froze when light sliced across the floor as the door to the room slid open.

"Hime-chan," the sly voice of Gin Ichimaru called out as his shadow slinked into the room. "Wow, you two are just like a couple of rabbits." He chuckled lightly, his smile standing out in stark contrast to his dark silhouette.

Mortified and trapped under Ulquiorra's dead weight, Orihime's fingers scrambled to grab a sheet and pull it over them as much as her position would allow.

"Ichimaru-san!" Orihime pleaded tearfully. "Please leave!"

"Sorry, little flower girl," he sighed ruefully and she suspected the sentiment behind it was only half genuine. "You just did a big no-no breaking Cuatro-san out of jail like that."

Orihime blushed hotly as she laid a protective arm over Ulquiorra's unconscious body. Humiliated didn't even begin to describe her discomfort at the moment. Ulquiorra was still inside her and having Gin waltz into his room like nothing was unusual about that fact was making her want to dig a hole and bury herself in it from shame.

"And him-" Gin's eyes slid over to Ulquiorra. "Committing the same sin he just got licked for…Lord Aizen isn't going to like this news at all."

Orihime gasped in shock, despondent at the confirmation that he had, indeed, been locked away on account of his relationship with her. Had he truly known it had been forbidden the entire time and did it anyway?

More guilt assailed her.

"However, despite all this, I'll be gracious and give you a couple options." Gin stepped closer and Orihime discreetly tried to shake Ulquiorra's shoulder to wake him, even pinching his skin when that failed. "Oh, he's not waking up anytime soon, Hime-chan," Gin remarked upon noticing her efforts. "I think you used up whatever energy that man had left in him." He chuckled again and she turned red.

Holding up one finger, Gin smiled down at her cunningly. "Option number one; you can come with me right now back to the gardens and I never mention anything about this to the Captain. Leavin' the both of you to go about your business – separately."

"And the other?" she asked quietly, trying to hide behind Ulquiorra's shoulder as she curled further in on herself.

"Option number two." He held up two fingers. "I can leave you here to bask in the afterglow…and also inform Lord Aizen of everything that's happened, who will likely have him dragged back into the dungeons to face the consequences of his disobedience again."

Burying her face further into Ulquiorra's shoulder, Orihime struggled against the tears filling her vision.

She was so sick of crying, so sick of having reasons to cry.

Yet, the choice in front of her was obvious.

"I…I didn't even get a chance to tell him yet…" she whispered pitifully through her tears.

Gin remained unusually quiet as he looked down at the couple, her small fingers clinging to her lover like it was the last time she'd ever see him. He swallowed hard as he blinked and for a moment, just a split second, he saw Rangiku – holding to him on the last night he'd been with her, tears filling her eyes as they kissed, like she knew something was off with him, but had been unsure what.

Turning away from the sight, Gin frowned when he could still hear her quiet sobs.

"Save your tears, Hime-chan," he uttered back to her. "Trust me, even if that man was awake, he couldn't do anything for your tears even if he wanted to."

Gin thought forlornly, despite their polar opposite characteristics, that was likely the only thing he and Ulquiorra Cifer had in common…

They both knew how to make the women in their lives unbearably miserable.

..

…

TBC

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Thank you so much, PatriachOnAVespa for beta'ing this at light speed. Bless you for all your hard work and encouragement!

Also, listening to the Gris soundtrack while writing this got me feeling some kind of way...