Title: Tell You My Sins

Warnings: Prison AU, dubious medical knowledge, minor discussions of violence/gore, slow-burn.

Author's Note: All my knowledge of how prison and infirmaries work comes from Prison Break and 'Escape from Alcatraz' documentaries, so if this reads like daytime television, let's pretend it was intentional. Suspension of disbelief is widely appreciated because factual inaccuracies can sometimes be dubious at best, hilariously off-base at worst. This is not as grim as the tags make it out to be, but please make note that this fic contains darker themes of setting-typical violence, guilt, trauma and abuse that might be unsettling to certain readers. Rated 'M' for explicit content.

UPDATE [16-04-2021]: I am still new to the ff . net interface and hence this will undergo slight changes in formatting to clean this up a bit and make it look more readable. Thank you for all the love, please read and review if you enjoy!

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Chapter One: The Inmate

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The overhead lights flashed with a straining flicker, the rapid on-and-off movement making Ichigo's head hurt. Someone was yelling - probably a warden - while gurneys and wheelchairs seemed to rattle around at an accelerated speed to make way for him. He groaned in pain. Maybe mumbled something like 'nrgh' or 'fuck' - he couldn't tell, his tongue was heavy in his mouth. Through all the chaos and noise, however, he heard someone say to him, barely above a whisper:

"Shh, you're gonna be okay."

Somehow, among all the oddities that had happened in the last 72 hours, that was the strangest thing he'd heard.

When Ichigo next woke up, it could have been hours or even days later. He couldn't tell.

His mouth was groggy- numb with the aftertaste of painkillers and a broken tooth. There were dull aches in his kidneys, in the patches of skin where the other inmates had attacked him. Most of them were cheapshots, taken while he'd been overwhelmed, restrained and outnumbered - and they hurt like a bitch.

"His blood pressure's coming down," he heard someone say above him, with relieved sigh. Soft. Feminine. "Most of his bruises are surface-level, though his broken rib right here?" He heard the flutter of paper, probably an X-ray, being passed around. "Any deeper and it could have caused pneumonia," she finished.

If Ichigo was fully conscious, he would have scowled. He was in pain, as it was. The last thing he wanted to think about was 'any deeper than it was.'

He settled for trying to recognize the voice, instead. It was unfamiliar, for one, mainly due to its obvious difference from Dr. Iemura's, but also because it sounded concerned. There was not a lot of that to go around here - especially not for someone like him.

"This is an average Tuesday for Kurosaki, Dr. Inoue," another voice joked.

Ichigo clenched his teeth. So Abarai was on call, then; that explained why Ichigo was alive for the most part and not beaten to every inch of his life. Despite being a pain in the ass, Abarai Renji was one of the few fair men that guarded the cells of Seireitei State Penitentiary. Calling him a friend was a stretch, but Abarai did have a penchant for finding him whenever he was in deep shit. And, by most bodily measures, Ichigo supposed having a broken rib counted as deep shit.

"You can't be serious, Abarai-san," she said, sounding horrified. Ichigo resisted the urge to crane his head and look at her. She was definitely new if she thought this was the most he'd gotten in his time here. "I-if this has happened before, then surely the patient should be transferred to the maximum security wing? Or at least a complaint form should be filled in, attached with the doctor's, erm, my recommendation!"

Another bark of laughter came from somewhere north of Ichigo's bed. Guard Iba, probably. He was the one that was usually partnered up on shifts with Renji.

"The runts here get antsy after being caged for so long," he said dismissively. "Sometimes they let off their steam on each other and us do-gooders," Ichigo assumed he was pointing at himself and Renji. "We go in there and pick up the pieces when things settle down." He slurped his drink and then set it down on the table with a light 'thud'. "Plenty of doctors come in here horrified at first. Our guys will do that to you. But it's not really a big deal, Dr. Inoue. Kurosaki, especially, is an old-timer. You don't gotta worry about him."

There was a brief silence. Dr. Inoue- or at least, Ichigo presumed it was her - seemed to fidget by his bedside, playing with the clasp of his blood pressure cuffs.

"I still think we should be more concerned about this, Iba-san," she said, softly. "My job is to take care of your men. If this kind of thing happens all the time to my patient, then my priority is to heal him, sure. But..."

Your job is to make sure his ass doesn't get kicked in the first place, Ichigo finished in his head for her. And she was right, but he hated himself for agreeing with her. This was a maximum security state penitentiary, not kindergarten. He could handle his own and he could have handled his own, had he not been ambushed at sun-down. Having the new doctor stick up for him was an embarrassing reminder of his failure to protect himself adequately.

"She's right," Abarai cut in, sounding impressed. "The warden doesn't usually care for complaint reports, but we should file them anyway. Do it by the book." There was a rustle of movements, a few chairs dragging like Iba and Renji were ready to leave. Renji murmured something, asking Iba to carry on without him. When the latter left, the room was quiet again.

"You know, I was like you when I first started here, Dr. Inoue," Renji said, kindly, "This place - it's hard to fix a system that's been running this way for eons. But maybe you'll bring about a change, who knows?" There was the sound of retreating footsteps. "Che. You'd definitely be the first one that tried, anyway."

"Thanks for your help, Abarai-san," Dr. Inoue said sweetly.

"No problem," Renji called out. Then, as an afterthought. "Looking forward to working with ya, doc."

Orihime's first impression of the penitentiary was that it smelled. Not in a bad way, just...overpowering. The draft of brine carried over from the vents in her office, drowning the entire room in a sticky, watery heat. Not to mention, there was low lighting pretty much everywhere, making it hard to see around her office.

Right. Her office. The board on the door still said 'Yasochika Iemura' - the name of her predecessor, but to all intents and purposes, it was hers now. Renji had said he would send someone by later during the day to take it down, but she was in no rush. Her employment as Seireitei's primary prison doctor had been pretty last minute, seeing as their old one had suddenly quit without warning. Between packing her things, a full tour of the prison, and getting settled into her office, Orihime hadn't the time to breathe or reflect on her new job or what it entailed. She had recently finished her residency, and this opportunity had just landed in her lap like a miracle. She'd been too broke and too excited to mull it over, much to the dismay of her friends, who had gone on to work for private hospitals and other clinics scattered across the city.

She rummaged through the boxes of supplies, ensuring everything was where it was supposed to be. The last doctor was not very well organized, nor did he seem keen on personalizing his office, but he did have a very strict administration of medical records. Those would be useful.

Orihime fished out the box that held details on all patients 'H-N'. Humming to herself, she pulled out the record on 'Kurosaki, Ichigo.'

Flipping through the admittedly short file, Orihime had to bite back a laugh at his mug shot. Unlike the unconscious man who was lying in the wards at the moment, the picture showed him with a full-blown scowl, drawing his eyebrows and mouth into a downward line.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," she read out loud. "Age: 26, Sex: Male, Blood Type: A. Spare a broken nose and a few other, non-consequential visits to the infirmary since his arrival, inmate #1503 has no concerning medical history. No history of tobacco or alcohol consumption, psychiatric evaluations normal upon examination, save a..." Orihime squinted at the blurred ink. "Shy temperament?" That was definitely not it. There were a few letters smudged in there, possibly due to the age of the document. She didn't have time to examine it closer, however, upon hearing a resounding crash coming from the wards.

Oh no! her brain chimed. Tatsuki had told her that prison would be filled with violent delinquents and criminals that would try to jump her on spot, but surely it wasn't already happening, was it?

Crash!

Orihime sucked in a breath and braced herself, feeling her palms get damp. The wards were just north of her office, separated by a glass door. If she looked carefully, she could see the ruckus had been caused by her newest - and first - patient, who was trying to stand up.

That had her shifting to panic mode. The nurses weren't even in yet! What was he doing?

She clutched the file in one hand, used her other to grab a stethoscope. Then, she ran towards the wards. Towards Kurosaki Ichigo.

Upon coming to the ward doors, she swung it open and quickly closed it behind her. All prison protocol dictated that doors opened always had to be closed as soon as possible, and she didn't want to make such a mistake on her first day working. Once the door came to a close, she regarded her patient.

Her first impression of him was, again, his scowl. His shock of orange hair covered his eyes as he looked down at his feet. Orihime tried to see what he was looking at. The crash had come from a cup of water that had been knocked over in Ichigo's attempt to get up from the bed. What was holding him down were the handcuffs slapped on one of his wrists. And, probably, the fact that he was in a lot of pain.

The beds beside him were mostly vacant, spare one or two rolling around in a disturbed slumber. One of them, Kyoraku Shunsui, she had seen to last night. Some kind of infection. The other, she was told, had been in a coma for months now - nothing she could do. The nurse was completely in charge of that one.

"Ah, Kurosaki-san, good afternoon," she said sweetly, edging closer to the bed. Part of her was a little afraid to do so without a nurse in the room, considering she hadn't exactly gotten to the 'offenses' part of his file yet. But the other part of her, the one that trudged through medical school, was eager to help her patient.

He grunted. Then, he sank back into his bed and pretended he'd never tried to get up.

She stifled a giggle. "I hope you weren't trying to escape before I could get to you."

Then, her brain caught up on where they were and her joke suddenly felt ill-timed. If anything, his glare told her he didn't find it very funny either.

Okay. Difficult patient. She could handle that.

She toed away the shards of glass with her shoe, inching closer so she could take a look at his vitals.

"So," she soldiered on. "How are we doing this morning?"

"Great," he replied curtly, crossing his arms with a wince. "Any idea when I'm due to be discharged?"

Orihime paused. Discharged? "Er...Kurosaki-san," she said. "You have a broken rib."

He looked up at her and raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'so?'

Orihime felt a ball of anxiety coil up in her belly. She didn't exactly know how Dr. Iemura ran things around here before, but it was clear Ichigo was expecting the same treatment. She cleared her throat and continued examining him, giving him a cursory smile while she was at it. When she got down to his midsection, she pointed at his dull, gray uniform, hoping he would get the cue and open it.

He did, but not without an annoyed huff. His free hand came down to unbutton it, but his fingers were trembling - of course, she mentally slapped her forehead. He had been out for hours and probably dehydrated. What kind of doctor was she, letting him do all the work? It was obvious he was thirsty, even though he didn't seem like the type to mention it.

"Kurosaki-san, I've got it," she interrupted gently, before reaching for another glass and a tumbler of water to fill it. "You should drink this while I take care of your shirt."

"I can do it myself," he snapped, and she flinched at the sudden break in silence, edging backwards despite herself. Her heart had kicked up with adrenaline - a shaky fight-or-flight that had taken root at his sudden movement.

"I - okay," she exhaled, hearing the tremble in her own voice as she wiped a bead of sweat down on her white coat. "I'm sorry. You can do it, if you want to." She stood up and looked away as he unbuttoned his shirt.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, the only sounds being the rustling of Ichigo's uniform shirt and Kyoraku's snoring. Then, Ichigo cleared his throat to indicate he was done. He reached for the water she filled out for him and mumbled his thanks.

Hands still trembling, she sat down on the chair beside him and pulled herself closer to examine his rib. There were still angry, reddish splotches of bruises across his chest. She tenderly checked for swelling with a gloved hand, skirting her fingers across his skin. The muscles twitched upon contact, his body tense and alert.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he mumbled quietly, the hand that was clutching the bedsheet tightening. "I know you don't have any reason to believe me but, uh...I'm not gonna hurt you."

She looked up at him, surprised. There was an embarrassed flush in his cheeks, but his sharp gaze had softened when he looked at her. Kindly. Almost apologetically.

She smiled. "I believe you."

He scoffed dubiously, but didn't say anything else.

He was a lot more open after that, loosening up almost deliberately so she could examine him better. Orihime was almost done with him, when the door swung open and shut again.

"Morning Dr. Inoue," Hanataro replied. "I'm the resident nurse here, so sorry I'm late! I didn't mean for you to start without me." He extended a hand, and Orihime reached for it from where she was sitting, smiling back at him. He jerked his head towards the bed. "I see you've met Kurosaki-san. He's a regular here."

"Hey, Hanataro," Ichigo grumbled.

"I have," Orihime replied, cheerfully. "We were just doing a general once-over before you showed up, right Kurosaki-san?" When she turned to Ichigo, he still looked a little guilty for snapping at her earlier, but he nodded.

"Have you been good to Dr. Inoue?" Hanataro asked, not facing them as he bustled around the store closet. "It's rare for us to get any new applicants, y'know. Try not to chase the nice doctor away, ne?"

Orihime flushed, busying herself with her hands. Ichigo regarded her with a curious gaze. There was no doubt that Dr. Inoue was going to be an oddity around here - what, with her neat hair pinned to the back of her head in a low bun, her soft smile. Even the light from the nearby window bounced off her softly, like it was afraid to hurt a hair on her head. She wasn't the kind of doctor suited to a desolate, dangerous place like this. Ichigo had never particularly feared what went on within these walls, but looking at her, he felt a strange sort of fear for her - for what she might encounter with the men at this penitentiary. If she was as timid as she looked, he didn't suspect she would last long here. He shook away the pang in his chest at that, blamed it on his exhaustion.

Besides, they never had lady doctors here; more so, lady doctors that looked like her. So he didn't have to chase her away - this place would do it just fine.

"So, are we administering the anesthetic injection?" Hanatoro was asking, coming up to her with a syringe and a tiny bottle of viscous liquid.

"This soon?" Orihime asked, worrying her lip. "Kurosaki-san needs plenty of rest with the kind of blow he took, Hanataro-san."

"Generally, the warden doesn't like keeping patients in here for too long," Hanataro replied, with a sigh. "Trust me, it irks me too, but that's the protocol. We'd be best, keeping him here for another day or so on steady doses of the injection."

"I'm fine," Ichigo insisted, at her worried look. "Just give me the damn injection and I'll be out of your hair, Dr. Inoue." He shrugged at her with one shoulder, as if to say 'not my first rodeo, definitely not my last.'

"Okay," she said, standing up to take the syringe with a sweet smile. "Pull your pants down for me, then, please, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo flushed.

By nightfall, the injection had kicked in full strength, effectively numbing him down. Knowing how these things worked, he'd be discharged by tomorrow morning with a buttload of painkillers in his arsenal. The silence surrounding the outer walls contrasted with the light movement within. From afar, he could hear the rumble of inmates walking in and around the place, probably just let out for dinner.

Dr. Inoue had spent most of the morning learning the in-and-outs of the ward, with Hanataro's help. Regardless of her physical demeanor, Ichigo observed that she had great bedside manners for a prison doctor. She took Kyoraku's teasing in stride as she examined his butt boils, didn't seem to mind Ichigo's one-word answers, and chatted amiably with the other day doctors. Despite having been here only a day, she was already making her mark here as a friendly and kind doctor, if not a little naive to the callous ways of a penitentiary.

So when Abarai Renji barged in at the end of his shift to dine with her, Ichigo wasn't surprised. He himself was an amicable guy, befriending every guard, prisoner and dust bunny on the premises, so it made sense that he wanted to make fast friends with the new doctor.

"I hope you like a shitload of furikake with your rice, Dr. Inoue, because that's what they're serving at the staff canteen tonight," he said, setting down two food bags on the table.

"Oh, thank you, Abarai-san," she cheered, setting down the files she was perusing. "I'm a fan of red bean paste myself, but I was told prison didn't have any red bean paste."

Ichigo felt his lips quirk slightly at her pout, but his face fell just as quickly when Renji turned to look at him.

"Oh, Kurosaki's up," Renji said, with a smirk. "You get a chance to see his world famous scowl yet, Dr. Inoue?"

"He's not so bad, Abarai-san," she dismissed, with a wave of her hand. "Where I used to work for my residency, I kinda got used to difficult patients, anyway." Then, she froze in horror at her words, regarding Ichigo with a shocked look. "N-not that Kurosaki-san was difficult! He was perfectly nice! If anything, I was being pushy when I asked him to take off his shirt -"

Ichigo's cheeks darkened at Renji's amused eyebrow-raise. Asshole.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm a dodo sometimes." She turned helplessly to Ichigo, hoping he wouldn't be too mad at her. To her surprise, he just gave her an amused half-smile before going back to staring out of the window.

"So," Renji started. "You got someone, doc?"

"Got someone?" Orihime repeated, through chews of rice.

"You know, married," Renji said, with a shrug. "Or a partner, even." He leaned back in his chair. "Not a lot of guys I know who wouldn't be shitting themselves with their wives working so late in a place like this."

Ichigo suddenly found himself staring at his kneecaps with heightened interest.

"Oh," she said, her mouth forming a small 'O.' "Not really, Abarai-san. I used to live with my brother, up until a few years ago. I don't really get a lot of time to, um, date." She blushed. "What about you?"

"Been married ten years." Renji grinned, and Ichigo rolled his eyes. It almost seemed as if the sun wouldn't rise if he didn't make it a point to mention his wife within seconds of meeting literally anyone that spent more than twelve seconds with him. He got a lot of shit for it, from the guys back at the cells, but he didn't seem to mind. "Hey," he said, like he only just remembered. "Wanna see a picture of my kid?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" Orihime squealed, holding her hand out for the wallet that Renji was already drawing out. "How old is she? Six?"

"Turned five this summer," Renji replied proudly. "She's a big girl for her age."

"Very healthy," Orihime agreed, seeming pleasantly satisfied.

Ichigo scoffed. Sometime around nine, Hanataro brought his own dinner - some kind of mushy-looking potato thing that didn't taste half-bad, just a little chalky. That was probably the only thing that was good about being sent to the ward. The smell of brine here was so heavy, however, that it overpowered any hunger or relish one would have for food. Ichigo almost pitied the doctor, wondering how she'd spend the rest of her days here without getting sick. He regarded her from the corner of his eye; boisterous as she was, there was something graceful about her demeanor. She devoured her food and made small-talk with such enthusiasm that you would think he'd landed up in a diner somewhere, not the infirmary of a penitentiary. A spirit like that - Ichigo closed his eyes. It dulled easily. This place had a way of sandpapering around the edges, turning hope and determination into some kind of fantasy that only found place in books and dreams - not within these walls. He sighed. It didn't matter anyway. By morning, he'd be out of here and if she knew any better, she would be too. Kindness was the last thing brutes in this place deserved, himself included.

While Inoue and Abarai continued their casual conversation, he tried to catch some sleep with little success. By tomorrow morning, he'd be back in his cells again. There was a good chance his attackers had either been sent to solitary or thrown in the Maggot's Nest, but the prickle of annoyance went up his spine anyway. He could only hope his cellmates weren't in too much trouble over the ruckus.

"Well, I'm out of here," Renji said, standing up. "Gonna call it a night. I'll finish your tour tomorrow, take you round the blocks we left off today. The DC is gonna come down this weekend for inspection, so make sure you have Hanataro teach you how we do record-keeping around here. The last thing you want is to lag behind on paperwork as a newbie."

"Is he a good man?" Orihime hadn't heard a lot about the district commissioner, but she had done a lot of research about this penitentiary and it seemed generally well on the upkeep.

"He does his job, if that's what you're asking." Renji shrugged on his coat and picked up his stick-weapon. "Make sure you lock this door behind you when you're leaving." He glanced at Ichigo, who was pretending not to watch them. "You better behave yourself, Kurosaki, or I'll have my new buddy here tase you for misdemeanor."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and flipped him off. Orihime giggled, ushering Renji out of the infirmary.

Sometime after Abarai left, Orihime returned to clean up her makeshift work-desk in the wards. Ichigo didn't know a lot about the prison's private quarters, but he'd heard it was on the fringe of the building itself - right past the thick stone bridge that moored the penitentiary. That's where he supposed she'd be headed tonight. If someone decided to shank someone else in the eye, they'd ring the alarm - the bell would be loud enough to carry across the water - and she'd be back within minutes. No sleep, no rest. That was the life of a prison doctor here. Iemura himself didn't seem to have minded; Ichigo wondered if she would. In this selfish way, he wanted this place to break her - send her far enough to a place where the most dangerous case would be an old man with arthritis, not an ex-con with a shanked eye or a ruptured spleen.

She went to check on Shunsui, changing the curtains around his bed as she chatted happily with him about dinner. His bed was a good few feet away from Ichigo's but Ichigo could still lightly hear their conversation.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this, Dr. Inoue?" Shunsui asked teasingly, watching her as she worked. She had shrugged off her coat, now in just her blue-green scrubs. "I mean, charming as I am and all, I'd rather see you someplace...well, cleaner."

Orihime laughed, a pretty sound that rang like a windchime across the room. "There's a lot of good work to be done here, Kyoraku-san," she explained. "I mean, my entire research paper had been on humanizing correctional medicine - it would be a little hypocritical of me to not stand by what I said."

"Beauty and brains," Shunsui commented with a whistle, before jerking his head to the side. "You hear that, Ukitake? We really lucked out with this one."

Orihime glanced at the lithe body a few beds over, sympathetically. "You must miss him."

"Eh, I stop by every now and then," Shunsui said wistfully, before turning teasing again. " So you'll be seeing a lot of me, Dr. Inoue, don't worry about it."

She giggled, stepping away from him and back to Ichigo.

Ichigo kept his head down, not wanting to say anything. As she quietly examined him, however, he couldn't help but say,

"You're not gonna change anything around here, you know."

He had said it so softly, he wondered if Orihime had even heard it.

"I know," she said quietly, to his surprise. When he looked up, she was smiling at him. "That doesn't change the fact that I want to help."

Ichigo kept quiet, staring at his hands while she redid his bandages. Her fingertips were tentative, brushing his shoulders with a tenderness that was out-of-place in the dark ward. He thought their conversation had ended there, but she leaned over slightly, her stormy eyes staring at him in concern.

"Please, Kurosaki-san. Tell me who did this to you," she whispered. "As your doctor, it's my job to make sure your safety is not compromised. The men out there - if they're dangerous, then we should do something about it."

"This is prison, Dr. Inoue." He laughed without humor. "We're all fucking dangerous." Besides, he wasn't a snitch. There were rules here, confines that he had learned all too well how to operate within. He didn't need her to handhold him through a couple of bruises and scratches.

There were predators and prey within these walls, a natural survival of the fittest that she would have to learn if she didn't want to see the bottom of the ladder. There was a hierarchy to these things, a method to follow. One that Ichigo could work on alone, without her help. He flashed his eyes at her, not mean, but challenging.

Orihime tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, soft, as soft as the words she spoke when she said,

"That doesn't make you any less human, Kurosaki-san."

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A/N: Short first chapter, but I have a lot planned for this story (and the fact that I already have the ending planned out makes this 10x easier to write).If you can guess the significance of Ichigo's inmate number, I'll give you a shout-out!

I know the characters I selected for this story are a little different compared to the usual ensemble in an IchiHime fic, but I felt they fit the tone of the story better. If you like this, let me know! I plan to update regularly, fingers crossed.