Shoutout to polynya for spotting the 'inmate #' detail in the last chap! Onto the next!

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

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Chapter Two: The Innocent, The Guilty

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By most inmate standards, Ichigo was a fairly new addition to the penitentiary. He'd been brought in four years ago, two of which he spent mostly by himself, staring out of windows and grieving a life long-gone-by. It was the most paradoxical state of mind he'd been in – half-torn apart by loss and half weighed-in by guilt.

He knew he wasn't allowed to grieve, that this was punishment – but it didn't make the pain or loneliness any less evident than it was. On nights spent staring up at the cracking gray walls, he could almost feel his guilt – a real, live person lying on top of him – suffocating him.

Last night, however, he'd mainly been knocked out by the drugs. Prison sedatives were powerful and he had been tired.

He glanced over the glass barricade. Not as tired as some people, however. Over in Dr. Inoue's office, he saw her slumped over her desk, fast asleep. Her hair was still in a loose bun, but a few stray strands had made their way into her mouth. The puffs of breath that escaped her mouth came through slightly parted, candy-pink lips. Even in slumber, she was serenely colorful. Bright, like some kind of natural light source.

He didn't think she'd even gone back to her quarters last night. Last he was awake, she was still reading by her desk light and checking in every now and then to monitor his body's reaction to the injection doses. In the ward, the doctors were usually banned from telling their patients what drugs they were on - just in case a guy decided to get an idea, hook himself up with a man on the outside. Whatever she'd given him though, it had been strong enough for her to be vigilant of his status for most of the night.

In the morning, she hadn't changed positions from her seat, except to fall asleep then and there. Part of it was his fault, considering he had to be rushed in the second she set foot on premises. He bet she hadn't gotten a minute's rest since then.

He sighed and rolled over, wincing at the pain in his lower back. This is punishment, he reminded himself. I am guilty. No matter what Inoue had said last night, it didn't change a damn thing. He wasn't human, nor was he allowed to be. He'd been stripped of it the night things changed, the rainy night from five years ago. She didn't know about it, wouldn't want to. This whole experience was just some blemish on her record that she'd laugh off a few years later. Talk of the savage and heartless men she'd met within the heart of Seireitei, how they far from human they really were. How glad she was to get away from a place like this, a place so devoid of hope. Of redemption.

He fell back into troubled sleep, seeing half-dreams and muffled memories. The next time he woke up, Inoue and Hanataro were standing over his bed. He blinked blearily.

"Vitals are stable," Hanataro reported, checking the little bag of IV fluid, the tubes twining through his handcuffs. Ichigo lifted his free hand to his hair and groaned unwittingly. She had tried to coax the overnight guard into undoing them, but the guy was kind of a bastard - Ichigo was sure he'd hit him in a riot once - so he refused.

"Oh! And it looks like he's awake already. Aren't we lucky, Dr. Inoue?" Hanataro cheered.

"Hmm," Inoue said pleasantly, dragging two fingers under his eye sockets to check the fleshy pink nerves below his sclera. "Looking good, Kurosaki-san! What's the pain level this morning?"

"Zero," he mumbled grumpily, huffing out a breath.

"You'll have to excuse him, he's not a morning person," Hanatoro said cheerfully. "Say ah, Kurosaki-san –"

He shoved a bitter-tasting liquid into Ichigo's mouth without waiting for a response. It took everything within Ichigo's body for him to not spit it out. The medicine was caustic, a terrible weight on his already hurting tooth.

"Perfect," Hanataro singsonged. "Well, I'll be by Ukitake-san if you need me, Doctor-san." He nodded at Ichigo and Orihime, then trundled off to the far end of the ward.

"Brat," Ichigo murmured, dragging himself to sit up. Inoue was watching him, making some kind of markings on a clipboard. Then, she set it aside on the bedside table to come and sit with him.

"They're discharging you at eleven this morning," she said, carefully. "You'll be back at your cell – to where you were before the attack happened." He half-expected her to pressure him for answers again, but she just smiled at him instead. Then, she stood up and walked to the store closet, returning with a heavy padding cushion of sorts. "I figured if they're not going to let you rest here for longer, you might as well wear this."

"What's that?" Ichigo asked, already leaning forward so she could start draping it around his bare shoulders.

"Chest pad," she explained, her warm fingers gently gliding on his skin as she adjusted the straps. He shivered. "You can wear this under your shirt for a while, until your rib decides to stop being wonky. It'll hurt less."

"Iemura used to tell me I'd just have to get hit again if I wanted my bones to set," he muttered, surprised to hear her soft laughter over his ear as she retreated. When she was back to standing in front of him, arms crossed, he suddenly felt very guilty again. "Listen, Inoue…" He glanced at her to see her response to the lack of honorific. She said nothing. He sighed. "I'm sorry about last night…"

She shook her head. "I should be saying that to you, Kurosaki-san," she said. "It didn't occur to me that I'd be putting you in further danger by asking you to reveal your attackers. I might be new here, but I promise I'll figure out the dynamics soon enough and come out on top!" To his surprise, she hopped back and brandished her bicep – an oddly child-like look on a woman her age.

He fought back a smile. "God, you're gonna get yourself mauled here," he said, suddenly feeling exhausted and anxious. He wondered if he could repay her for her kindness by asking her to run away as far as those tiny feet could scamper. It was the least he could do for her, considering how she'd put up with his bad attitude and even treated him as a friend, of sorts.

She frowned. "That's not very nice, Kurosaki-san," she said. "I passed the physical, you know? I'm a black-belt in karate. My best friend, Tatsuki – she's from Karakura, too – she taught me. She said, 'Orihime, if you're going to be a dumbass and ship yourself off to prison, you should at least know how to knee a guy in the…' well, you know."

He struggled to curb a lopsided grin at her – an odd look on his grim mouth. It was kind of handsome, in a very Ichigo way. "I know."

She grinned wide and bright at the look on his face. He smiled at her! Home-run! It was always satisfying to have a patient warm up to you, but with one that was so…him, it was different.

The door rattled open behind her, making both of them jump at the noise. Renji was there, discharge slip in one hand, stick-weapon in the other. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyes darting between Ichigo and Orihime. "Are we ready for discharge?"

"Yes!' Orihime exclaimed, turning around to help Ichigo put his uniform back on. To her surprise, he'd already shrugged on his clothes and taken off the catheter on the back of his hand. He cocked his eyebrow as if to say, 'not my first rodeo, remember?'

"Right," she clapped her hands together. "You'll need to check in with me at least once a week, for the next two weeks. Until then, I had Hanataro pick up your antibiotics from the pharmac." She pointed to a low table, where his meds were.

He stood up, slightly wobbling. Orihime reached forward to help him, but he held his hand out to stop her. "Thanks, Inoue," he said; then, as he walked past her, he murmured softly for only her to hear. "Be careful."

As he grabbed his meds and began hobbling to the door, Orihime felt like she should say something, anything back. "See you!" she blurted, then realized that him seeing her was actually a bad sign, since it meant more bodily harm on his end. She grinned sheepishly, as he raised two fingers to wave goodbye at her.

She idly wondered if it was wrong to want to see him again, then brushed the thought out of her mind and began getting ready for the day.

"Hey-hey, look who's back!" Ikkaku yelled, thumping Ichigo's back as he dragged his feet over to his cell. "Thought they'd put ya in the boneyard after that one."

"He's been left in the dirt for worse, Ikkaku," Yumichikka said, airily, knowing full well that the authorities seldom handed out protective custody to anyone and everyone – not that Ichigo would ever take it, if he was offered. There was an unspoken rule of men around here and Ichigo seemed to have understood it implicitly.

"Fuck off," Ichigo growled, without heat. He fell into his bunk bed with a soft 'thump,' ignoring both Chad and Ishida's concerned glances and the sharp pain in his chest at the contact. "It was a cheapshot; Grimmjow and his gang know better than to take me on a good day, so they picked a bad one."

He couldn't see his friends, but he suspected they were all exchanging glances with each other behind his back. He sighed. "Don't you guys have better places to be?" Ikkaku and Yumichika were not his cellmates, but they dropped by whenever they sniffed stories of a good fight.

His altercation two nights ago had been anything but. Grimmjow and his cellies had cornered him around a dark bend, tackling him against the wall. Two men had held him down, another solely in-charge of holding his legs.

He was lucky Renji had found him before he could sustain any blunt force trauma, luckier so that that night was the night Iemura's replacement had chosen to walk through these darned walls. Had she been a day later, Ichigo was sure he would have gone straight into a coma – or even eventual death.

Not that he was opposed to it, in theory. He had not much to live for, sparing this ragtag group of people he loosely called friends. While he knew he could hold his own, it was safer in groups. It was safer for Chad and Ishida with him around. Though neither of them had said it, Ichigo hadn't missed the relief in either of their eyes when he walked through the cell doors.

He heard Ikkaku slinking around somewhere, his feet heavy on the cell floor. "Sure, I know better places to be," he drawled. "Hawaii, Honolulu…"

"Mount Fuji…" Yumichikka added, teasingly.

Ichigo turned around to glare at them. "You know what I meant, wisecracks."

"Is that a chest pad, Kurosaki?" Ishida asked, suddenly setting his book down to peer through the collar of Ichigo's shirt.

"So what if it is?" Ichigo asked, feeling suddenly defensive. Leave it to Ishida to ignore everyone most of the time, only to spring back to life with questions that sounded more like jeers, or even challenges.

"What's that, like a bra?" Ikkaku asked, poking his pinky through his ear. No one laughed at his joke.

"It's a cushioning meant to ease up trauma on the chest, especially around the thoracic cage," Ishida explained sagely, pushing his glasses back in disapproval as Ichigo straightened his shirt. "Either the budgeting for healthcare just went up, or Dr. Iemura's been replaced by someone competent."

"Oh, yeah," Ikkaku said suddenly, crowding in on Ichigo with a curiously menacing glint in his eye. "Maki from Block C said they've got a lady doctor now. That true, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo didn't say anything, choosing to climb up to sit next to Chad on his bunk instead. Chad wordlessly ruffled Ichigo's hair, while the others gave up on waiting for his response.

"Oh dear," Yumichikka fanned himself. "Unless she's a Hikifune, she's going to have a hard time tempering these hooligans." He playfully clocked Ikkaku in the head, for emphasis. Ikkaku clocked him back.

"Hikifune is certainly…different," Ishida said with a frown, thinking back to the boisterous chef a few floors below. He glanced at Ichigo curiously, however. "Was this new doctor any good?"

"Why, you got an itch somewhere?" Ichigo teased, earning him a deep scorn from Ishida.

"I heard she's hot," Ikkaku interjected importantly, scratching his own ass. "Wouldn't hurt to go down for a visit. Whadya think, Yumi?"

Yumichikka rolled his eyes, knowing full well Ikkaku didn't swing that way – hot as this new doctor seemed to be - but he tried to convince himself of it anyway, from time to time. Like being gay or stuck in prison were things you could talk yourself out of. Like they were choices.

"Ikkaku," Chad rumbled warningly, however, seeing as Ichigo's shoulders had just tensed in annoyance.

"My sources tell me she's young, unmarried…from the city," Yumichikka listed in a stilted hush, as if that was supposed to mean something. Yumichikka usually had all the information, but he waited it out – either for the drama, or the attention. Or both.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ikkaku asked, saving Ichigo the trouble of seeming curious.

"Oh, you know," Yumichikka said, looking mildly bored. "They say if a girl is running to a city, it means she's looking for something. If she's heading away…well, she's got something to hide, then, hasn't she?"

Everyone considered his words for a moment.

"Well," Ichigo stood up, heaving a sigh. "If she's hiding something, it's none of our business." He began shoving Ikkaku and Yumichikka out of the cell doors. "Now are you gonna get out of here before Iba comes in to kick our asses or what?"

"I'll kick Iba's ass any day, let him try!" Ikkaku hollered, as Yumichikka guided him out of the cell by his shoulders. "Iba, you hear me?" he called out over the railing as he made his exit. "I'll kick your ass!"

A couple of inmates groaned around the many cells, clearly tired of Ikkaku's volume.

Ichigo turned and regarded Ishida and Chad, now that all their uninvited guests were out. "Well," he shrugged. "Home sweet home, I guess."

Having retreated to her new home beyond the prison boundaries, showered, and come back to the office, Orihime felt slightly refreshed. She was used to long hours at med school, but there was something about the way the air stuck to her skin here that made her want to shower constantly. Besides, Shunsui had a rash and they all knew she couldn't be too safe with those.

She gazed out of the window, at the neighboring brick wall. Coming in yesterday and directly receiving a case might not have been the best start to her career here, but it was what she was technically here for. While her tour had to be cut short - she'd only managed to see the guard's barracks, the boiler rooms, and library from afar - Renji had promised her they would finish up on her lunch break today. The heat outside was strong, so inmates were staying in. No risk of her patients needing her.

As she waited for Renji to arrive, she decided to finish reading through Ichigo's file.

For future reference, she told herself, and not because she was curious at all.

'April, 1995: Inmate #1503 admitted to the infirmary with concussion after altercation with inmate #1109. #1109 escorted to Tokyo General for minor surgery,' she read inwardly, before skimming down.

'January, 1995: Inmate #1503 suffered split laceration on left quadriceps after unnamed inmate attacked with makeshift scalpel; #1503 visitation rights revoked,' she sighed.

'November, 1994: #1503 Appeal rejected, judicial review denied.'

'March, 1994: #1503 Appeal rejected, judicial review denied.'

'October 1993: Inmate #1503 attacked –' Orihime skipped forward.

'September 1993: #1503 Claim of Innocence motioned, appeal processed, judicial review denied.'

"Claim of innocence?" Orihime murmured to herself. She tried to extricate more details, but apart from the existing reviews, there was no further information on what Ichigo had done – and what he claimed to be innocent of.

A 'whoosh' of air entering the room snapped her attention to the door. Renji had just come in.

"Hey," he grinned. "Ready for your tour?"

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"You said you have a wife, Abarai-san," Orihime said, following him through the narrow passage that led out of the wards and towards a main set of corridors. The farther outside they got, the brighter the archaic building became. Orihime tried her best to keep up with the taller man in front of her, as they chatted idly. "What does she do?"

"You read the papers, doc?" he asked, with a small grin.

She blinked, a little surprised by the non-sequitur. "Sometimes?"

"My wife does cartoons for the local paper," he explained proudly. "Kuchiki Rukia. If you ever pick one up on your shift, look out for her name."

"Wow," Orihime exclaimed, half because that was a cool job and the other half because they were back to heading into a darker penetralium of the building, even darker than her office - which was saying something. "It's not very bright here, is it?"

"The building isn't well-insulated and kinda poorly-lit by modern standards," Renji acquiesced. "The warden lives in a little outgrowth off-premises, so he doesn't really understand these things very well."

"Do you know him well?" Orihime asked curiously, leaning against the wall as Renji jangled his keys around near a latticed entrance. She had met a couple of day doctors and guards, but she hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet the warden. She wondered what he was like.

"Well," Renji held the door open. "I'd like to think I do. He's my brother-in-law, after all." At her astonishment, he smirked. "The Kuchiki family is one of the four founding families behind the Seireitei Penitentiary. They funded most of the construction back in '55, a little after the crime rate started going up in the city, y'know - cause the war had just ended," He turned to see if Orihime was following, so she nodded. "Anyway," he continued, running one finger over the low ceiling, feeling the thrum of idle noise from the cells up ahead. "They built a base that was practically impenetrable, strength and sophistication beyond any architect's dream, it was called."

"Right," Orihime said, curiously looking over the railing to see boilers and heaters down below. "This entire place was designed by Urahara Kisuke, wasn't it? The genius architect!" She remembered reading about it, before she came here.

Renji chuckled. "Well, a lot of people say he was a little crazy," he said, with a shrug. "I mean, most of the plumbing staff really hate the guy's guts."

"How come?"

"Let's just say most of the infrastructure around here - well, there are some pipes and tunnels that don't lead anywhere in particular, a couple of staircases and boiler rooms in the blueprints that we tried and failed to find," he explained, running a hand through his ponytail. "On the outside, it's pretty solid. But the inside is a structural nightmare." He pushed open another door, leading into a crossroads of sorts.

"I smell food!" Orihime said suddenly, whirling her head to take a whiff of whatever stale spice was floating around.

"Heh. That's the elevator to the canteen below," Renji said, pointing up ahead. "Staff-only, obviously, accessed by keycard. Inmates take a corridor from the west, leading straight to the courtyard."

Orihime peered down below. Sure enough, there was an open courtyard - but it was empty. Of course it was. It wasn't lunch time yet. She wondered what was on the menu today.

"Usually a buncha goo," Renji said, when she asked, leading her down the elevator. She pouted.

Seeing her expression, he smiled. "You're not used to being in this kind of place, are you?" he asked. "The men in there are some of the most violent, crime-hardened convicts in history. Bloody murder, rape, espionage - sorry," he amended quickly, seeing her eyes widen. "My point is, they're not exactly the kind of guys you prop up pillows and make meals for. I don't believe in the rough-and-tough approach some of the guards take, but I wouldn't want to rub elbows with any of 'em too deeply either. A hello there, a stern word here - that's usually all you need."

He led her through the sunny courtyard and towards a patch of grass that led to a neighboring field. Her stomach dropped in fear, despite herself. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sure they're not all that bad," she said, thinking of Ichigo. Claim of innocence, her brain chimed. "Say, Abarai-san, have there ever been guys locked up in here for crimes they didn't commit?"

Renji frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Usually, a declaration of guilt is in the hands of the court. We only pick up the strays when they're deemed criminal enough to be sent here, so I don't know a lot about the guys' histories," Renji turned on his heel. "Why? Someone say something to you?"

"Well, not really," she said, swinging her hands behind her. "I was reading Kurosaki-san's file while I was putting it away today and I noticed he'd made appeals on his sentence. A...claim of innocence, it said?"

Renji barked a short laugh. "They all say they're innocent, Dr. Inoue."

She frowned. She supposed she could believe that - even if she didn't like assuming the worst in people - but three times? Would someone really appeal three times if they weren't innocent? She hadn't noticed the falter in her step, but Renji had. He paused his walking to regard her curiously.

"A word of advice, Dr. Inoue?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"Kurosaki, he's one of the more decent guys, sure," he said slowly. "But I'd suggest you don't get too personally involved with him, doc."

Despite having done nothing worth of guilt, her heart quickened pace. "How come, Abarai-san?"

"Because, Dr. Inoue," he said, putting a gentle hand on Orihime's shoulder. "He arrived at Seireitei shortly after he killed his own mother."

A/N: *dun dun dun*

You won't believe how much fun I'm having writing this AU that started out as a plot bunny and now has a full-fledged Plot. Let me know if you liked it, but if you didn't then don't because it's a pandemic and I have low self-esteem! Thanks for reading!