Title: This is How We Break

Pairing: Ichigo/Rukia

Spoilers: The whole manga up to 193 – there are just a couple specific spoilers, but the rest is heavily implied.

Theme #49: Conversations in the Dark

A/N: Okay, I do have some things I need to say about this. It may be slightly AU because we don't know entirely what the deal is with the things happening in the manga right now or where it's headed. In fact, this fic will be AU in a very short amount of time because whatever is going to happen next in the manga will probably pull the rug out from under this. But that's alright with me, because I liked this idea, and wanted to have a go at it. And I always thought Anti-Ichi was interesting in the context of Kaien's fate, so if you're unclear what Rukia's freaking out about…. yes, that's it. I know the situations are different, but at the same time, they have some striking similarities. I just wanted to tackle the concept, and I have no idea how successful (or not) I managed to be. Wow, I am so nervous about this one.

Ichigo had never wanted to see her afraid again - had sworn she wouldn't be. At the moment, though, she undeniably was, and the worst part about it was that he had caused it. The second worst part, however, was he didn't know how.

It had been just another one of their nighttime conversations. Most often when Rukia came to him, it was at night, after he'd already retired. She'd explained why - night was when the squads dealt with most Hollows, and if there were few - or none, on a lucky day - she had the rest of the night to herself. It didn't take much after that to slip away and find him.

There was no way of judging how often this would occur, or how long it would be before their next reunion. They weren't really trying to hide it, not anymore... everyone seemed to know, anyway. Everyone being their "group", the other Shingami, and his family. Still, she had so much she had to make up for, and he also had new conflicts to deal with, that left them without the luxury of a leisurely courtship. They didn't have time for half-lived moments.

Ichigo had needed to learn to not expect anything. If he thought she would appear one night, and she didn't, he was invariably disheartened. However, if he went into that night with no hopes and was awakened by small hands gently stroking his face, nothing could have done a better job of raising his spirits. It made the wait even more worth it

Expectations were discarded even more often recently, when it wasn't just the Hollows that were being dealt with. He never thought he'd find the day when a Hollow would be considered a simple nuisance compared to what he usually had to face. He found not only did her times of visiting him become more erratic, but that he'd sometimes not be there himself when she called. Those days, when he returned to his room, he would see a Hell Butterfly sitting calmly at his desk, its raven-dark wings the exact same shade as her hair. The instant he entered, it would glide away, a silent message from her - "I was here tonight - I'll be here again, when I can." In truth, it might have been kinder for her not to have left anything at all, so that he did not feel the inevitable aching jab of regret… but it had been he who'd asked her to do so.

Rukia had been lying on her side on one of their first nights, her back against his chest, gazing out at the window. His arms encircled her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, head against hers, trying to see what she found so interesting. The combination of being sheltered by his body and tucked under the comforter made it so that her luminous eyes were the only part of her visible.

"The nights are getting shorter," she murmured, a hint of discontentment in her voice.

"Well, summer is getting closer," he replied, placing an affectionate kiss on her shoulder. "Nothing we can do about that."

"Yes, I suppose, but it rained last time - it's strange it would rain, so close to summer."

He stilled as his mind ran over this statement, and then raised himself onto one arm and gazed at her suspiciously. "The last time you were here, it was clear," he said sharply, tone questioning. He always remembered their nights - he made a point of doing so. In a relationship like theirs, memories became essential. Sometimes it made him wonder if all of his recollections of her would be tinged by moonlight.

Her eyes widened in what looked like guilt, and she opened her mouth as though she were going to try and explain. He cut her off before she could make an excuse. "In fact, that freak rainfall was just a few days ago, and I haven't seen you for three weeks."

After a moment of silence, Rukia sighed in defeat. "I came here then. You weren't home." She curled closer, seeking his warmth, and he gave in and settled back down beside her, limbs fitting perfectly in the curves of her body. He had to frown at her words, recalling that yes, another battle had come up that night. The uncertainty and frustration from yet another undecided fight rushed back to him, but he pushed it down. There was no reason to let it mar their time.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here? Leave a note, or something?" Even as he asked, he knew what her response would be. He probably would have done the same.

"I didn't…. I didn't want you to feel badly about it," she whispered, casting him a look that begged him to understand. "I know I would."

He opened the circle of his embrace a bit, allowing her to turn over and face him. Pale arms slid about his torso, holding him tightly to her smaller form. She was right about what he would feel, but at the same time…

"Next time, make sure I know."

She looked up at him in confusion. "But why? There's no point in -"

He silenced her with his lips, feeling a surge of pride in the way she instinctively melted into him. When he pulled away, his eyes were serious. "Sometimes it's been months before I see you, Rukia. If you leave a note, yes… I'll be… irritated, but…" At least I'll know you're safe.

This was a reasonable worry, considering the injuries they were constantly receiving on their side. It was bad enough not knowing even during a short absence, but during the longer ones he began to wonder seriously if there was some way he could contact Soul Society, aside from barging right in (again).

Her eyes softened, but a hint of steel crept into her tone. "Ichigo." She hated it when she thought he might be underestimating her.

"Please, Rukia." It was rare he asked her for anything, and so she liked to give when she could. She let out a heavy breath, and nodded her assent.

"Okay," she whispered, and he made sure she didn't need to say anything for the rest of the night.

Because they so often only had nights, they spent much of the time talking, telling each other about what was happening in their respective worlds. Sometimes they made love, but not always. There were the times when she would arrive, exhausted, sore, and all she wanted was to be held as she slept. The same went for him - if he was particularly angry, or frustrated over the new revelations and conflicts that now seemed to define his life, then she would lie still for him, her mere presence a comfort. He would bury his face in her hair, gripping her so tightly he almost left bruises, as though he was trying to leave himself and become a part of her. It was a constant give and take, but in all honestly, both were reassured.

On the nights they did, however, there was not a certain routine. If their time apart had been longer than normal, then usually they were eager to reconnect and it was only afterwards that they would begin to talk. Sometimes, in that scenario, the sex could be rough. But there were also the nights when the conversation simply started when she entered the room and he lifted his covers, wordlessly inviting her in. On those evenings, they would talk for a long time and then near the end one or the other would begin replacing their words with touches, softly working the passion between them until their coming together was only the natural end of it. Those were the gentlest times. They could never predict what sort of a night it would be.

He certainly could never have predicted this.

It had been one of those nights when they had started their conversation right away, her having slid under the sheets beside him, quietlly slipping from her outer robe. He held her as she shuddered away the cool of the night, feeling the warmth permeate her skin as she stilled into contentment.

The subject of their talk, as it often was, were the new troubles they were facing. He would quietly tell her of new challenges, horrors, secrets, injuries they endured fighting the strange new enemies, whatever they called themselves. Rukia never reacted strongly to it, merely listened with a quiet acceptance, her expression solemn and thoughtful. She'd long ago learned that trying to keep Ichigo out of harm's way was impossible - all she could do was fight on her end as best she could to lessen what might be coming his way. As he spoke, he busied his hands - fondly playing with her hair, tracing the curve of her jaw, gliding down the arch of her neck. Her eyes were half-lidded, focusing on his words while she reveled in his casual touches.

When he stopped talking she would start in, filling him in on the Soul Society news in much the same way - how they were trying to recover after the conspiracy, what actions were taken to defend themselves against the next attack, and whatever little information they could collect on the Vizards and Allankars. She was rarely injured, something she sounded a bit bitter about, but he was grateful for it. She may have found it unfair that she was spared so much pain while he had to endure it - but he endured it better knowing she didn't have to.

Besides, she'd been through enough. He knew he wasn't aware of all of what she had undergone, but... he'd had hints.

The result of this night's conversation had brought that sharply to the forefront of his thoughts.

Ichigo didn't know why he chose that night to tell her about his increasing fears. About the…. Hollow… thing… inside of him. About what he was told about being... one of them. He had denied it, of course, denied it a long while ago, but it had been weighing on him more and more, and that night he had let a bit of it slip. As attuned to him as she was, she immediately caught on to it, and had proceeded to prod him for more information. Unwilling to make the effort to distract her, he had ended up explaining it all - about his training with Urahara, how he almost became a Hollow - almost, Ichigo? - and it's increasing prominence in his life.

Ichigo had been lying on his back, her resting on his chest, one arm around her casually stroking her back. He stared at the ceiling as he spoke.

"And… I don't know how long I can control it. I know I have to… but… lately, I get…" he couldn't say it. Afraid. No! He couldn't say it. It wasn't allowed, not even with her.

He tilted his head to the side to try and explain it to her further, but all his words were lost at the expression on her face. She hadn't spoken at all since he'd begun, and the look in her eyes chilled him. There was fear, and sadness, and regret, and something he couldn't name - but it was worse than all the others. He was terribly confused. Was she… was she afraid of him? At first she had been shivering delightedly at the strokes of his hand, but she hadn't moved at all since he'd told her about… his becoming a Hollow…

"Rukia!" He moved onto his side, feeling a strange sense of panic, and held her face in his hands. "Rukia, are you - are you afraid of me? Are you scared that I..." If she had given up on him, then...

"No!" Her cry was almost a scream, strangled and desperate. She tilted forward and showered his face in kisses, her lips ghosting over his forehead, eyelids, cheeks, in a desperate attempt to assure him of her trust in him. He felt relief at that, but she clearly didn't - instead of calming down, like he would have expected her to, her mental state just seemed to deteriorate. Her tiny hands shook as they grasped at his light shirt, her breaths shallow and choked. It sounded as though she were crying, but no tears rolled down her cheeks.

And that left him where he was now, cradling her against him, rocking her gently as she spoke rapidly, incomprehensibly, against his neck. Ichigo's mind raced in an attempt to explain the situation, and he tried to piece together the fragments he could understand - "Not again,", "Can't do this," and the most surprising, "My fault - always my fault!"

Wait! At that he held her away from him to look into her eyes. She averted her gaze and immediately tried to pull him back again, as through trying to keep him from looking at her out of shame. "What the - what are you talking about, Rukia? This has nothing to do with you, of course it's not your fault! It was my choice to do the training…" but she didn't appear to be listening, twisting so that her face was buried in the mattress.

"Not again, I would rather die-"

He hissed through his teeth at her words, and locked her in his arms, holding her face so tightly against him it was impossible for her to keep talking. He did not understand her reaction, and he needed to - he needed to know what could shake her so badly - but what he did understand was that this was not the night he was going to find out. Calming her was more important.

And she did calm, Rukia always did - she never lost her composure for long. But she had never lost her composure like this, either, and that unnerved him. When he felt her breathing start to even, he pulled away from her a little. Her eyes were tranquil, staring past him, the few tears that had escaped drying on her cheeks. He regarded her for a moment, and her gaze shifted to him, along with a small, tense smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from strain. "I don't know what happened."

"You have no reason to be sorry," he told her roughly, using the sheet to dry the remaining wetness from her skin. "But you do know what happened. And I'd like to know what it was."

The sudden pain in her eyes stabbed him, and he rushed to add, "Not tonight. You don't have to tell me tonight. When you can."

That had always been their arrangement, after all. They would confide in each other, but only when they felt they could, and one would not force the other a moment before they were ready. But this night Rukia made no sign of agreement, and merely went lifeless against the pillow, not meeting his eyes, looking frighteningly like a broken doll. He didn't like it, and wanted to yell at her for doing it - but he worried that doing so would simply make it worse. They were among the strongest of people, but that merely meant that when one of their few cracks was found, it was all the deeper. Deep cracks were the easiest to break open.

He was supposed to be the one worried about losing himself. He couldn't handle her breakdown, as well. If one wasn't still standing strong...

No. There was no point in thinking about that. Since when had he allowed himself the possibility of defeat before? He wouldn't allow it for her, either.

He blinked when he realized she had spoken again, and it took a moment of thought to figure out it had been another apology. He shook his head and lay back beside her, tucking her head under his chin. "Stop being stupid."

She gave in with uncharacteristic obedience, and he felt the tension flow out of her body. He allowed her to see his worst moments... if she wasn't allowed to do the same in front of him, then when could she?

The night passed with no further incidents, the only sounds in the room occasional unintelligible murmurs and soothing responses. When she left in the morning, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Ichigo did notice, however, that her visits began to occur more and more frequently - and however much he tried not to see it, there was an undeniable look of relief in her eyes every time she saw him there.

For the moment, though, they were still whole - still together - and that was the important part.

The rest they could worry about later.