"You're going to die."

Those had been the words uttered from Urahara's lips, and for a moment, Uryuu paused in his studies, tapping the eraser of his mechanical pencil to his lower lip. Those words had froze him; they'd frozen Ichigo as well, and at the time, it even felt like they'd frozen the rain around them. Like it had refused to fall... refused to accept the answer Urahara had given them. To this day, that memory, among others, followed him everywhere he went, including into his dreams, and with a sigh and a stretch he dropped the pencil next to his notebook. His arms lifting above his head, his back arched in the office chair and a yawn passed through his lips before he closed the calculus book, knowing his mind wouldn't be focused enough to continue.

It was something he had learned to live with: when the memories came back, there was nothing for it but to focus on something menial. For Uryuu, that meant cleaning.

"NO!"

Uryuu stood out of his chair even as his mind flashed back to the scream that had ripped itself from his own throat at Urahara's words. He could still feel the panic settling in his gut, just not as intensely as it had been that night. Ichigo hadn't deserved to be punished for something he himself hadn't done; even in the state Uryuu had been in, he knew that clearly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let his mind re-paint the picture of Ichigo's terrified but hopeful gaze, as well as Urahara's analyzing stare. He was sure he must have looked a mess, wild eyed and huffing from trying to remain standing through the pain in his head and shoulder, but he must have gotten through.

Opening his eyes, Uryuu glanced around his room and moved to the only thing out of place; a wayward corner of the duvet on his bed. Straightening that out, another glance around the room showed him the usual meticulous lifestyle he lived. Everything was put away in its proper place, the office chair almost underneath his study desk, the laundry basket full of dirty but folded clothes and tucked away into the corner of his closet where all his clean clothes hung paired and sorted by color. His sewing machine and his current projects lay neatly in the opposite corner of the closet, and what shoes he had made a sparce line between the two.

The walls were a gentle shade of blue, and the ceiling a complimentary white, even though the color of the wood floors threw off the color scheme. It had irritated Uryuu when they'd moved in, but he had almost gotten used to it after a few years.

Almost.

"You know as well as I do, Uryuu, that the Soul Society is involved now. There's nothing I can do for it."

Uryuu cringed at the words, his heart trying to dive into his stomach even as his stomach protested in a violent churn. Taking a slightly shaking breath, Uryuu forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, moving slowly to the door to his room.

Eight counts in, four counts out.

Grasping the brass handle, he swallowed down the bile that threatened its way up his throat and opened the door. Behind his eyes, he was still being forced to watch the memory, his mind unrelenting as the words slipped past his defenses,

"They came to take care of the mess that Ichigo's Hollow left, and since his Hollow is part of him... that means taking care of Ichigo in the process."

It felt like he was being pulled into that memory again, tears prickling at the sides of his eyes, and with a lot of effort, Uryuu gripped onto the handle a little harder, and began Keto's steps for the second time that day.

Five things he could see: the hardwood of the hallway floor stretching out past the kitchen and into the living room. He could see a corner of the blue and white embroidered pillows that sat on the couch in the living room. The walls, which no longer followed Uryuu's favored color scheme, instead a plain white that still somewhat complimented the furniture that had been moved in. The coat rack that stood proud beside the front door with his wind breaker resting upon it. And a speck on his glasses.

With a frown, Uryuu took another deep breath, already starting to feel better than he had seconds ago, and reached up to his face, taking his glasses and gently swiping the hem of his shirt over the lenses. While doing so, he stepped forward, leaving the door to his bedroom open as he headed toward the kitchen.

Four things he could hear: the quiet creak of the floor boards beneath his bare feet as he moved. The thumping of his heart, returning to a semi-regular rhythm. The annoying, constant drip from the kitchen faucet that they still hadn't called maintenance about. And the almost inaudible squeak of the hinges on his glasses as he returned the now clean lenses to where they belonged.

"If that's the case, I'm ready for anything. Even death."

Uryuu's gait faltered, and he thrust out a hand to grab onto the kitchen counter, barely catching himself before his knees gave out on him. The memory wasn't going to let him go. He could still hear the defeat in Ichigo's voice as clearly as when the words were spoken all those years ago. He could hear himself arguing with Urahara, his voice raising an octave or two as he fought to stay conscious through the pain. He could hear the door to the roof slam open and a very irritated and bloodied Byakuya striding quickly over to them.

What's more, he could hear the subtle intake of breath from Ichigo despite the look of resignation on his face.

Struggling to take a breath, Uryuu tried to bring him as far out of the memory as he could, going onto the next step:

Three things he could feel: the cool marble counter top beneath his fingertips, unyielding even to the fingernails that were trying to gouge their way through. The hardwood floors beneath his bare feet, and the slight dip in the wood where the sink had busted out while they'd been away, and the maintenance man didn't get to it before the water warped some of the wood. He also felt the soft, cool breeze of a late autumn evening gently caressing his overheating flesh as it came in through a barely open window.

For a moment, he stood there, reveling in what it felt like to know there was a window open in the apartment and not be freaking out about it, and the thought of just how far he'd come in four years made him smile shakily to himself.

"Well..."

Urahara had offered up, just as Byakuya had unsheathed his Zanpakto, obviously intending to end everything then and there, and while Ichigo had just stood there, awaiting death, Uryuu had jumped in between him and Byakuya, his own instincts taking over. For no reason, he added to himself. He'd had no reason at all to protect Ichigo after everything that had happened, but... the defeated look on his face still to this day haunted his every thought. He had missed everything, the look seemed to tell him. He had forgotten that Ichigo would never willingly hurt him, or anyone else.

He had let himself forget.

"Actually, Captain Kuchiki... our little Quincy here might have already solved the problem for us."

With another breath in and a steadier exhale, Uryuu forced himself to push down the feelings of anxiety, gripping onto the counter top for support. Focusing back on Keto's remaining steps, he continued.

Two things he could smell. The scent of sandalwood incense that had been burning in the living room not too long ago, and the smell of a certain musk that was embedded into every corner of the apartment by now. A smell so familiar, it was almost comforting; taking a moment to indulge himself, Uryuu took another small whiff of the air, relaxing against the counter top. When the next portion of the memory hit him, he was prepared for it this time.

"Take a good, hard look at Ichigo. Do you sense anything? Anything... peculiar? Out of the ordinary? Or rather, anything ordinary?"

Ordinary. The word still sliced through Uryuu's heart like butter, nagging at his nerves and clawing at his chest. He had known in that moment something was wrong, despite Urahara's obvious love for beating around the subject at hand, even when it was a life or death situation. He could still easily remember the look of confusion on Ichigo's face, and the frustration bringing Byakuya's brows into a furrow.

"I watched him shoot the Hollow. Quincies have the power to destroy Hollows, and I'm not sensing Ichigo's Hollow anymore; are you?"

Uryuu opened his eyes without realizing he had closed them again, staring at a single dirty cup sitting alone in the basin of the sink. On any other day, his meticulous nature would dictate that he took the time to wash it, rinse it, dry it, and put it away before he moved on, but he pushed himself off the counter top without another thought toward it. Turning away, he took a few steps toward the living room before halting in his steps, a shiver running down his spine as he felt the breeze from the window caress his neck like fingers.

Swallowing, telling himself it wasn't a regression, but that it was getting to be nighttime and the window didn't need to be open any longer, he turned sharply and had the window closed before Urahara's next words were able to find him.

"Then perhaps, our work here is already done. If you want to, monitor the boy. If the Hollow reappears, even slightly, then by all means, feel free to return and finish the job you started tonight. But for now..."

It seemed like Urahara had been right that day; the Hollow was gone. The knowledge made him feel somewhat better, somewhat safer, but it was still hard to kick certain habits. Especially when said Shinigami kept randomly visiting the apartment every month or so, asking about the incident in question. He stared at the now closed window for a few seconds before turning again and heading back, toward the living room. He stopped just inside the small living space, blankly staring around as he remembered the final step of Keto's 'grounding'. A sequence of recalling things around himself to bring himself out of the vivid memories and back into the present; a place where he was safe now. Taking a final, deep breath, he finished out the exercise,

One thing he could taste. It took him a minute of trying to figure out if saliva was even a taste before he settled on the fact that it was, indeed a taste. Just a taste that he was so used to, so familiar and inconsequential, that it wasn't normally thought of as a taste. The same thought that finally managed to bring him out of the anxiety and panic attacks every single time; and this was no different. So when Urahara's final words of the ever persistent memory rang out in his mind, it was with almost no effect. Just... words from the past.

"For now, let's leave well enough alone."

Uryuu sighed heavily, reaching up to readjust his glasses as a wave of relief passed over him. The memory was over; he had won again, and while it was just a small victory, it was a victory nonetheless. He really had to write to Keto at some point again, and tell him just how well his advice was doing for him. Absentmindedly, he picked up a candy wrapper lying beside the couch and placed it in the trash even as his eyes glanced at the pictures hung neatly on the walls.

On the south wall, just above the tv, hung two pictures; one of Soken, the last picture he had left of his grandfather, and the other picture was of his father. It felt somewhat strange, even after everything that had happened, but he couldn't help but feel happy that things had turned around. It had been obvious, of course, that Ryuuken would have rather Ichigo be killed after endangering the lives of the patients in the hospital; not to mention most of all, his own life. It had taken a time of tragedy to shake up Ryuuken and his views, but... Uryuu had to admit, it was kind of... nice. To have a father he could depend on, talk to, or anything of the like. Knowing the man was only a phone call away, and that he could actually enjoy a conversation with him now... it was something he doubted he would ever get used to, no matter how nice it felt.

It had been hard, Uryuu admitted to himself; hard to trust the man who had once shunned everything he was, and for a time, Uryuu hadn't forgiven him. For a long time, actually, he'd harbored a grudge that he'd buried with niceties and formalities. As time went on, however, it felt less like he was faking being happy around Ryuuken, and more like he was faking still having that grudge. Unsure of when he truly did forgive his father, he still felt lighter knowing that regardless of the past, family could still be family. ... Give or take a few decades.

On the east wall hung only one picture of himself, Chad, Ichigo, and Orihime on graduation day. It would have been nice to have Rukia in the picture too, he admonished to himself as he sat himself down gently on the sofa, but after that day, she had gone with Byakuya and the other Soul Reapers back to the Soul Society to wrap up loose ends created that night. Her final farewell was a teary one, in which she had made Uryuu promise to take care of himself, and to not forget her. She'd said she would be back, though in those four years after, he had only seen her once. Of course, he still had to wonder if it was just his imagination, seeing her in the overwhelming crowd on graduation day.

A sad smile lifted Uryuu's lips as he stared at the faces grinning back at him from the picture. He wished in a way he had Chad's success in life; just before graduation, Chad started a band with a few other wanna-be rock stars and managed to hit it big just outside Karakura Town. Even though Chad still gives him and the others free tickets whenever his band hits close to town, trying to push past the throng of screaming teenaged girls is almost not worth the effort. Almost. Of course, it's always nice to see Chad up there on stage, pouring his heart into the music he -

With a gasp, Uryuu jumped off the couch as his front pocket vibrated. With his heart still slightly pounding against his chest, he had to laugh at himself; alone in the house and of course he would still find something to jump at. Taking a deep breath, Uryuu pulled his phone out of his pocket, barely even registering the text itself. Rather, his eyes drifted and lingered on the name, just like they always had since the two of them moved into the apartment. He knew without a doubt the same three words would stare back at him if he were to glance at the text: on my way. It was then he could feel his heart in his chest; maybe it was a little bit faster, but it pounded against his chest as if with each throb, it wanted to break through his ribs.

It was almost as if the room darkened along with his thoughts, and the sensations shoved him back into the couch he'd leaped from as he wet his suddenly dry lips. It would be okay. This happened every time. Breathe. Focus on something else.

Right; Orihime. He'd wanted to give her a call earlier today, and instead lost himself in his studies. With a glance at the time, he could feel his heart beginning to still as a small frown worked its way onto his face. Was it really that late already? If he had called a few hours earlier, he might have caught her on her way home from the flower shop she was running nowadays, but this late? He would be lucky if they had ten minutes to talk before she turned in for the night. With a small sigh, he resolved to call tomorrow, before he encased himself in a wall of books and forgot again.

Finally relaxing, Uryuu laid his head on the back of the couch, his earlier intentions of cleaning long discarded as he stared at the ceiling, unconsciously counting each and every dip and groove in the old plaster. He hated that he still couldn't help the panic attacks; how suddenly they would come on, or how long they would last. The only thing he could take solace in was that he was getting much better at working through them himself. It no longer took an outside force to snap him out of his anxiety, which was monumental as far as Keto had been concerned. For Uryuu, it still felt like he could be doing so much better in the time that had passed, but he couldn't argue with the sense of relief he felt with just the few baby steps he'd taken.

Perfect example; now that his head was clear again and he'd had that initial freak-out moment, he could sit back and let his mind wander to all the times he'd received that very text. He could remember the first few times after the agreement was worked out, like when he found himself pacing back and forth in front of the locked door, pausing with every turn to stand on his toes and peer out the peep-hole only to see an empty hallway. It had been frustrating, nerve wrecking, and he was pretty sure he bit off his fingernails every night for a solid two weeks before he started getting used to the routine.

Or that one night the text had slipped his mind, and the door opened without any warning one night. How long had he been shaking in a corner? Two...? No, if he was honest, it was probably closer to three hours, considering he'd come halfway out of the attack only to slip right back into it seconds later. That was a bad night, but thankfully, ever since that night Uryuu always received a text before he came home.

With his mind on the subject already, Uryuu smiled faintly as his pocket vibrated again, and without even reaching for his phone, he stood off the couch, gathering up his will for a slight shock to his system. It was always like this, and no matter how excited he was for the end result of his panic, that initial sight always sparked a primal fear within him. Gingerly, he padded the few steps toward the door, knowing exactly what the text would have said, had he read it.

I'm home.

Standing in front of the door, hand outstretched toward the knob, he didn't bother to look through the peep-hole. Still, despite his will, he hesitated there for a few seconds. No knock came at the door; no call of 'Hello?' or 'Anybody home?', no sound of footsteps leaving or even sign anyone was there at all, yet Uryuu knew what awaited him as his hand finally stopped shaking long enough to turn the handle and swing the door open carefully. Just like always, that shock of orange blurred out everything else in his vision, and he held onto the door knob for dear life in that single moment.

Swallowing, he forced himself to take in the details around him; one of the few things that could calm him down from that spiraling panic. Like the fact he was just standing there, arms at his sides, holding onto absolutely nothing deadly. Or the fact he had a human face, and worried, chocolate eyes that were focused on him, ready to act if something happened. Taking a wavering, but steadying breath, Uryuu backed up a couple steps, letting go of the door as he went, and gave Ichigo a nod, to which he released a breath like he'd been holding onto it as hard as Uryuu had held the door handle.

In that second, Ichigo had stepped inside the house, closed the door with his foot while reaching for Uryuu and gathering him up for a hug. Uryuu found his face squished against Ichigo's chest to where the frames of his glasses dug into his cheekbone, but this too was all too familiar. Despite his body's instant want to stiffen, he forced himself to relax into the gesture, knowing all too well that after four years of the same exact routine, there was nothing to fear. Now that the sudden shock of orange had faded from his vision, he found a smile gracing his lips again.

It had taken a lot of talking - a lot of screaming and hyperventilating, on Uryuu's part - in the beginning; a lot of patience and deals and promises, but now, after four years, Uryuu truly felt like he was back to living a semi-normal life. He could sleep with the lights off, with the covers on, with a window open (Just ever so slightly cracked), he no longer jumped at his own shadow, or had to use pain to defeat the shadows when they tried to drag him back into their world... And sometimes... just sometimes... he could fall asleep in the arms of the one who promised to never let him go.

He was thankful for his roommate.

Out of everything he had now, he was truly thankful for his Ichigo.

A/N: WHOOO! We're DONE! That's IT folks, that's all she wrote! Literally! Hahaha, it feels good to finally put this baby to rest, and I hope you all enjoyed the ride as much as I did. However, don't feel like you can relax just because Fragility has come to a stop. In all actuality, I've got a little project that this story has inspired me to work on. I loved the idea that came together and came to life under my fingertips, and so I want to create a Visual Novel based loosely around Fragility's plotline. I know, Copyright Infringement. There will be nothing to do with Bleach in this new story; and I'll have to re-write many of the plot lines I had used in Fragility previously. However, please take a look at this Gofundme link - w w w . gofundme . 8d6rjgfg - even if nothing else, share it to a few friends who might be interested in helping me achieve this dream! I'd greatly appreciate it! Until then, this is LyontheDemon, signing off!