Author's Note: What had been an idea for a oneshot featuring a sad, romantic encounter between Ishida and Nemu has, with Debbiechan's gracious and excellent collaboration, grown into a full length story. Thanks once more to her for the inspiration. Bleach belongs to Kubo Tate. Slight spoilers for references to latest chapter of manga, chapter 206.

Healing Chapter 2: Dreams and Reality

Madarame Ikkaku was having a wonderful day.

Earlier that morning, in the cratered and broken field that was the eleventh division's training ground, he had an excellent workout with members of the small expeditionary force that was soon to be dispatched to the living world in anticipation of conflict with a new enemy—a new, more powerful, enemy. The prospect of lethal combat so excited Ikkaku that he didn't mind so much that Renji had been his only sparring partner, Matsumoto preferring to practice with her captain who knew when to hold back and Yumichika repulsed by the thought of breaking a sweat.

That was just the beginning however, because his day was about to get even better, so much that he even started humming as he headed to the courtyard that contained the portal to the living world. Her assignment was four days long, so she should be back around now…

Ikkaku was not disappointed: There in front of the gates, punctual to the minute, was the person he'd been waiting for. He jogged the last stretch across the stone paved courtyard to where she stood, reigning in his excitement so as to not break into a full-out sprint. "Nemu-san, welcome back!"

Nemu acknowledged the third-seat with a slight bow; even though she ranked above him, status and Mayuri's presence had not prevented Ikkaku from attempting to befriend her, something she found unusual but not at all unlikable, for even though she could not show it, the brash and energetic man's optimism and forwardness with his feelings was something she admired, qualities which she lacked entirely.

She did not see themselves as friends; no fault on his part, but Mayuri had seen to it so that she was incapable of such relationships.

The two of them talked as they walked side by side towards the twelfth division's headquarter. The conversation was one-sided, with Ikkaku doing most of the talking while Nemu responded occasionally and briefly, but this was the norm and Ikkaku was not bothered. "… and so Renji comes begging me to be a new captain, all groveling and subservient and shit, but I of course blow him off because paperwork's bad for ya. I mean, just look at the boy-wonder and how it's stunted his growth and turned his hair white! Not that the last part matters to me… but you know what I mean?"

The third-seat's eyes widened when, to his great delight and even greater surprise, Nemu nodded… and smiled! He'd told her countless, funnier jokes before, but never has she responded this way; he was tremendously intrigued. "Say, did something happen over there? You seem… different."

For a split second a startled look fleeted across the girl's face, but was soon recovered by her usual nonchalance. She shook her head, and Ikkaku was not wont to press the issue.

Not as long as it's making her smile.

-----

Ishida awoke from a dream. He dreamed that a shinigami—a cool ethereal beauty who saved his life from the poison of Mayuri's sword back in Soul society—had come to earth and saved him again, had brought him home and cured him with magic; with the smoothness of her touch, the tightness of her embrace, the heat of her kiss and the breathless whisper of his name into his ear… a beautiful dream that he wanted to fall asleep and experience the sweetness of again.

Then he turned his head and saw lit in the morning's rays the pitcher of water by his bed, the medicine packed in white paper, and his glasses folded and placed upon a drawer. It all came back to him.

Not a dream.

He sat up: The warmth in his bed was long gone, but the impression of another body remained, in the futon, in the red marks—scratches of clutching fingers across his chest and shoulders, and a scent not his own, all spoke of the intense throes of pleasure that had taken place here.

Then he saw it, irrefutable evidence of last night's passion: Lying a foot away from his bedding, a length of black ribbon about an inch wide. He picked it up, recalling the scene as he rubbed the silken material with his fingers:

He sprawled on top of her, muscled legs straddling lithe waist as he leaned into her, hungry lips and greedy hands exploring every inch of her body. He nuzzled against the arch under her neck, licking and grazing teeth on sensitive skin that elicited mews of pleasure, driving him mad with desire. Slick fingers came up from below and deftly undid the ribbon around her neck, the last clothing they had on, and flung it aside haphazardly before he turned his attention to the last patch of unexplored territory.

Lost in the memory, the young Quincy got out of bed and quietly dressed, body falling into the automatic morning routine. He felt refreshed but had no appetite, took some of the supplements with a glass of water, then went to school thirty minutes early as if nothing had ever happened.

But the ribbon remained in his pocket, and from time to time he reached for it and felt for its smooth surface, relishing it.

She was here, this was hers.

He recalled her words and the passive look on her face.

"I will stay… but just this one night."

So what was this? A memento? A reminder of something that they will never share again?

School and the rest of the day flew by without his notice. Then, when it came time to sleep that night, Ishida was struck by how oversized and empty his one-person futon had become.

-----

Nemu walked into her father's lab, dimly lit and filled with pungent fumes of boiling and reacting chemicals as shadowy silhouettes of a few nameless assistants shuffled about. She found him at the surgery table, hands busy taking apart the remains of some Soul Society resident who was, mercifully, already dead; sometimes Mayuri performed autopsies while the subjects were still breathing and conscious.

Realizing the presence of his adjutant, the masked scientist turned around, and Nemu bowed. "I've returned from my mission in the human world, Mayuri-sama."

The masked scientist wiped his gloved hands on a rag seeped in dark red grime. "Did you show off your healing skills to the supervisors like I told you to?"

"Yes." Nemu maintained perfect composure. I'm not lying—healing Quincy-san did not interfere with carrying out my duty. Raising her hand, she brushed her fingers against the new ribbon she put on before she came to report in.

Mayuri was none the wiser. "Very well, go to the back room and wait for me there."

Nemu bowed, then headed towards the door in the back of the lab that led to the room which only Mayuri and she ever saw the interior of. She'd been in there many times, was "born" in there, and knew that if the Quincy ever learned of the horrors that took place in there between her and her master…

She stood still before the door, hand rested on the handle to the entrance. She became aware of a faint throbbing in her chest, one that threatened to spread and unsettle her mask of self-possession; it was a strange feeling, sometimes constricting, sometimes stinging, sometimes hollowing… but it grew more intense whenever the events of last night entered her mind, the face of him, his fierce, clear eyes, softened and locked with her own, peering into her soul.

But I'll never see him again… and he'll never have to know. With that thought in mind, the throbbing gradually faded, and the familiar numbness that blocked out all feelings returned. Nemu opened the door, stepped into the darkness within, and closed it softly behind her.

To be Continued