AN
I'm back! Sorry for the cliffie last chap but you guys are going to have to get used to it, since there will be a bunch more. Once again I say thanks to all of you out there for your support and taking the time to even read this thing. Also, sorry I kinda missed my mark last week, but I've discovered that with the free time, summer also brings laziness. Oh well. Alright, without further ado, let's get back to the story!
Disclaimer-I own nothing.
Chapter Five
Rukia hadn't meant to reveal so much of herself to Ichigo, but she was operating on only half her cylinders and was no match for him tonight. All day she'd been fighting a fever and swollen tonsils; now she was certain she'd caught strep throat from Orihime. If she hadn't been feeling so weak and vulnerable, she would never have told him about her mother. She most certainly wouldn't be standing on the Kunas' front porch fighting back tears.
And then a warm male arm settled around her and drew her into a tight hug. Everything in Rukia's brain shut down. She had no idea what to do now. What did he think he was doing? What did she think she was doing? She should pull away, right now, immediately, pronto. But it seemed as if her body was ignoring her brain when her arms, of their own accord, tightly wrapped around Ichigo and her head fell on to his chest.
"Captain," he said gently, "I'm sorry that-"
He broke off as the door to the house flew open to reveal a young woman with hazel eyes and wavy lime-green hair. "Ichigo," she said hesitantly. She looked at them entwined with each other and blinked twice. "Am I interrupting something?"
"No, not at all," Rukia said quickly, finally finding the strength to pull away and step back. The girl sent her a sly wink as if to say "suuuuure" before turning to address Ichigo.
"Hey, strawberry!" she greeted him enthusiastically. "How come you always show up just in time for dinner? Anyway, come on in, everyone's here."
"Slow your role there, hot pants," Ichigo said, grabbing her arm before she could step back. "I thought I told you not to call me strawberry?"
"And since when have I listened to you?" she asked as she gave him a sisterly hug.
"Never," he ammended. He kissed her on the cheek, then asked a personal question about her recent marriage. She gave him a saucy answer, but when she mentioned her husband's name, she positively glowed.
"Hi! I'm Mashiro. You must be Ichigo's new boss," she said with a mischievous grin as she turned to Rukia. "He just loves working with women cops. Ask anyone."
Ichigo gave his friend a mock glare, but his tone was cheerfully indulgent as he chided her. "Mashiro, this is Captain Rukia Kuchiki. Zip it up while I've still got a job, okay?"
Mashiro laughed. "Don't let him fool you, Rukia. Ichigo may talk tough but he's nothing more than a big softie." Then she winked. "Of course, I think you already know that, now don't you."
Rukia was horrified to feel her face grow hot. No, god no, she could not be blushing! She was NOT blushing! But when she heard Ichigo start to chuckle and Mashiro say, "Oops, I've embarrassed her!", she knew that she was in fact blushing. Damn!
Rukia didn't know what to say. She wanted to respond with a joke perhaps, but she was feeling increasingly weak and dizzy. She would rather blame it on her increasing sickness that was getting harder to hide than that stupid blush. "He's a splendid officer," she finally blurted, trying not to meet his eyes as he quickly glanced her way.
Slipping her arm through Ichigo's, Mashiro smiled again. "He's not too bad as a friend, either."
Ichigo grinned back, but not for long. Rukia suspected that he was having trouble bringing himself to spoil Mashiro's good mood. Sharing bad news with this family was not going to be easy for him.
For all her giddiness, Mashiro seemed to sense that their call wasn't as casual as it looked. More seriously she asked, "Is there something wrong, Ichi, or did you and Captain Kuchiki just stop by to say hello?"
Ichigo squeezed her hand as though she were a child. "A little of both, Mashiro."
Her eyes grew big. The sauciness began to fade. Rukia noticed that Mashiro swallowed hard, looking afraid.
"Tell me, Ichigo," she whispered. "It's my mother, isn't it?"
Slowly, he nodded. "I'm sorry, Mash."
His gentleness touched something deep inside of Rukia. He had to be hands down one of the nicest men she'd ever met. And she was only just now realizing it. It was refreshing really, to be near someone so kind. Though she'd loved her father, his indifferent attitude had always wounded her just a bit. She had grown up with it and had gotten used to it, but still a little niceness never hurt.
"I guess I sort of knew right from the start," Mashiro sadly admitted. "I just didn't want to believe it was really her!"
"I know," Ichigo said reassuringly.
"I've always thought of her... off somewhere, living a life of glamour, a free spirit. Sort of like me." Her eyes suddenly pooled, and Rukia realized why Ichigo had been worried about this family. If the news could reduce this spunky girl to tears, she could imagine how it would strike the rest of them. "It's going to kill dad, Ichigo!"
Suddenly Rukia understood the tears; the tone in Mashiro's voice said it all. It wasn't Meiko she was grieving for. It was her father.
Ichigo put his arms around Mashiro, then said softly, "Oh, I don't know, Mashiro. Think of it this way. Seno's always believed his wife didn't give a damn about him. At least he's going to know that Meiko didn't abandon him. I bet he loved her with all his heart."
Mashiro looked mystified, but somehow soothed as she stepped back. "Do you really think so, Ichigo?"
He squeezed her arm once more. "I think it'll help a little. For sure it will help cushion the blow."
Rukia wasn't so sure. In the back of her mind she was almost half-sure that Seno had killed his flighty wife. But if she was wrong, Ichigo's kind words would certainly give him some measure of comfort.
The fact that he'd trusted Rukia's judgment enough to share her insight gave her comfort, too. Of it's own volition, her mind returned to that fateful hug. It had felt so nice, so right, so comfortable, when she was feeling so low. She'd had to really fight not to shed a few tears in his arms. Rukia shook herself as she realized that even if she weren't feeling tearful, it would be all too pleasant to spend some time in Ichigo's arms. It was a fantasy she couldn't indulge for even a second. Some things weren't even safe to dream.
Rukia followed Ichigo inside, where he gently shared the news with the rest of the family-Seno, Mashiro's husband, Kensei and another young man and woman about Mashiro's age whom Ichigo introduced as her lawyer cousin, Lisa, and her husband, Love. Kensei got up and quietly moved to stand beside Mashiro, his mere presence a mute buffer between her and the world.
After Rukia's preliminary discussion of Meiko's disappearance with Jushiro Ukitake, she was fairly certain that the old chief knew-or at least suspectted-more than he was telling. She feared the same might be true of Ichigo. Jushiro claimed that ten years ago Seno had reported his wife missing and filed for divorce on the grounds of desertion. End of story. The retired chief claimed to have no recollection of any personal problems the couple might have been having, any extramarital affairs, any previous displays of temper, any weapons kept at the house, any evidence of foul play. In fact, he showed not even the most rudimentary interest in what had actually transpired-odd for any cop.
But Rukia's interest was keen, and despite how she was feeling, she watched Seno closely as the whole family waited stiffly for Ichigo to explain why they'd come. Rukia suspected every one of them was sure what he was going to say before he said it. Still, when Seno actually heard the words, "I'm sorry, Seno, but Meiko's dental records match the coroner's report on the woman found by the lake," he slumped as though somebody had punched him in the stomach. He didn't seem to notice when Ichigo laid a kind hand on his shoulder. To Rukia, he looked pretty genuine, but still... Lisa burst into tears and she and Mashiro hugged while the rest of the menfolk stood with solemn frowns.
Rukia and Ichigo stayed about fifteen minutes, until the shock had subsided and it became obvious that the family needed some time alone. Rukia said little, letting Ichigo handle everything. It was obvious that this wasn't the time to grill Seno Kuna. Besides, by then Rukia knew she was in no condition to be grilling anyone.
After Ichigo had shaken hands with all the men and hugged all the women, he walked in silence to Rukia's cruiser, keeping remarkably close to her side. As she slipped into the passenger seat-afraid she was too weak to drive-he took the wheel and said softly, "Captain, I have a confession to make."
Not now, she wanted to tell him. Whatever you've done to betray me, it'll have to wait until I'm well.
But he continued, "I suspected that you were hoping to catch Seno off guard tonight. I thought you might take advantage of the situation to interrogate him."
There was a long, slow silence. Damn, he was sharp! Rukia didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to share her theories yet, either. She was fairly confident-or merely hopeful-that Ichigo wasn't involved in a cover-up, but she wasn't entirely certain yet. All she knew for sure was that she was too woozy to make intelligent decisions tonight.
Guardedly, she admitted, "To be honest with you, Lieutenant, you were half-right. It bothers me that nobody pushed harder to identify Meiko's body before I came to Karakura. Obviously it wasn't that difficult to do. I think someone would just as soon leave the questions surrounding her death unanswered. The only question is who."
Ichigo studied her quietly. "You think it's Seno."
"He's the most obvious suspect. I have no trouble imagining that a man might fly into a rage when he finds out his wife is about to leave him. But there are lots of other people who've lived here long enough to kill Meiko, or long enough to want to protect whoever was involved in her death." When Ichigo didn't answer, Rukia reminded him, "I think somebody murdered that poor woman, Kurosaki! I don't care how many years have passed. I want the killer to pay for that!"
For a long moment Ichigo studied her face, as though he were trying to hear something she hadn't said. At last he assured her, "Captain, that's what I want, too."
His eyes held a curious look that Rukia was too weary to ponder, but she knew that the quiet smile slowly stealing over his virile face made her feel terribly happy...and afraid. She needed Ichigo's friendship... longed for it almost too much. Rukia told herself that wanting the cheerful companionship of one's peers was a sensible, healthy thing, but as much as she'd cared for her former partner, she knew that her heart had never flip-flopped when he'd warmed her with a grin. Her heart was flip-flopping now!
Dutifully Rukia reviewed her litany of reasons why she could never consider getting involved with Ichigo, but tonight they seemed to ring a bit hollow. She'd never particuilarly wanted to break her own golden rule about not dating subordinates, had never given any thought to risking her career. She wasn't giving it serious thought now, either... but it bothered her that she couldn't just shut Ichigo out of her mind as easily as she did most men. Her father had tought her early on never to lean on anybody, never to let emotion cloud her judgment. She never had, and in order to keep the hard edge that was vital to her success as a woman cop, she'd vowed she never would. But it wasn't easy to keep a hard edge when she was fighting a fever.
Ichigo drove silently for a mile or two, then asked, "You haven't had dinner yet, have you, Captain?"
"No, but-"
"You want to swing by Isane's and pick up something?"
It was the most casual of invitations, an exact match in tone to Rukia's offer to take Ichigo to lunch the first day they'd ridden together. It was the first time anybody in Karakura had asked her to do anything social. It was the sort of offer she had longed for. The sort of offer she couldn't possibly accept tonight.
"Lieutenant, that sounds like a great idea, but I'll... I'll have to take a rain check."
He shot her a wounded glance. "Hot date tonight, huh, Captain?"
"No, it's nothing like that. It's just-"
"You don't need to explain, Captain. I was just trying to be civil. No disrespect intended. Don't get your backup."
His tone was caustic, more caustic, it seemed to Rukia, than she deserved. She was sick, dammit! Couldn't he see that? Oh, she'd gone out of her way not to tell him. Professionally, it had seemed quite wise. Personally, she was beginning to regret it.
Awkwardly she hedged, "I really would like a rain check, Lieutenant. The truth is, I've had a very long day and all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed."
Ichigo pulled up to the curb, turned off the engine and tossed Rukia the keys. "Your call, Captain." He quickly hopped from her cruiser and headed for his truck. He was already halfway there by the time he said goodbye.
Rukia echoed him bleakly. She was tempted to stop him, to gush out all the feelings that had been building up inside her since her first week on the job. She wanted to tell him that she enjoyed his company greatly, that she was flattered and touched that he wanted to spend even a moment of his spare time with her, let alone risk a ribbing from the guys by taking her to their hangout on a Friday night. She wanted to tell him how very ill she was. She wanted to confess that she was tired of her solitary battle with job frustration, loneliness and holiday grief.
But Rukia knew that opening up to Ichigo when she was at such a low might well be fatal. There were too many risks at stake. She should have gone to bed hours ago when she'd first become aware of her symptoms; by now the virus had leveled her completely. She was feeling so faint and tearful that she'd be lucky to make it up the stairs by herself.
It took all Rukia's strength to drag herself out of the car and up the sidewalk. Her greatest fear was that she might collapse in front of Ichigo and he'd have to carry her up to her room. If that happened, she knew he'd never let her live it down.
Ichigo spent the next day cleaning out the basement as a favor to Uncle Kisuke, who always worked too hard. It would take some digging to find the Christmas tree ornaments Aunt Yoruichi would want any day, so it was a good time to sort through the rest of the family junk and throw some of it away. By late afternoon Ichigo had spent hours going through boxes of his childhood mementos and his parents' things. He still kept several pieces of their favorite furniture-and a beautifully patterned quilt his grandmother had made for his parents' wedding-in hopes of recapturing a sense of their home when he furnished his own someday. Until recently, he'd been happy enough with the Uraharas, but a loving Aunt and Uncle didn't take the place of a wife.
When Ichigo found an old black-and-white TV-a relic of his childhood-he decided to haul it upstairs and see if he could get it working. His favorite football team were having such a great season that he didn't want to miss a single game-a difficult task when he had to share TV time with Rangiku. A few new wires and a replacement tube would give him a backup set for his room in no time. He was rummaging for parts when he heard the phone ring in the kitchen. As soon as he answered it, Ichigo recognized the voice of Nanao Ise, one of the police dispatchers. Nanao was a crusty old gal, a lot tougher than Orihime, so Rukia didn't intimidate her much.
"I've got a message for Captain Curvaceous," she declared sarcastically, "if Her Highness will take the time to come to the phone."
"The Captain isn't here, Nanao. I haven't seen her all day," Ichigo replied. "I figured she was working. That's all she does when she's awake. The woman is absolutely indefatigable." Last night she'd been singing a different tune, he remembered sourly, but that had only been a courteous way to reject his invitation. What had he been thinking of, asking her out like that? At the time it had seemed like a natural thing for two cops to do at dinnertime, but Rukia's stilted response had made Ichigo reconsider his motivation. It was scary to think that he might have been asking Captain Kuchiki for a date.
"Well, she's not here, either," said Nanao, "and she left word last night that she could be reached at home in case of an emergency."
Ichigo stiffened, his professional instincts moving into high gear. "Give me the scoop, Nanao. I can be there in five-"
"No, you don't need to come in, Ichigo. In fact, if Jushiro were still in charge, I'd just take a message and wait till Monday. But you know how she is..." Nanao sighed dramatically. "Marechiyo Omaeda hurt himself when he fell off a ladder putting up his Christmas tree. Got dizzy from the diet he's been on to get the Captain off his back. Wrenched his neck. Retsu Unohana checked him over, says he'll be all right, but that he shouldn't work for a few weeks. She might want to juggle schedules or something. And she'll probably come up with eight new forms to fill out to cover any and all contingencies."
Ichigo wanted to tell Nanao she was exaggerating-she was-but he understood her frustration. The new paperwork was excessive, and even if Rukia did insist it was required by the county, the fact remained that she approved of the system. Aloud, he said, "Look, Nanao, I'll just leave her a note. She stuck a little bulletin board on her door so we won't lose her messages. She's even got memo forms at home!" After he hung up, Ichigo did the one thing he figured Rukia would never do- call Omaeda's family to see if he needed anything.
Once assured that his friend was okay, he wrote a careful note for Rukia-with three times the details he would have left for Jushiro-then glanced out the front window before clumping up the stairs to leave the message. It was odd that Rukia hadn't checked in with Nanao if she'd been gone all day... and odder yet that her cruiser had been out front since he'd parked it there last night. Rukia's BMW still sat in the driveway. Surely she hadn't gone off for the weekend with someone else-some man? Had her phony excuse about feeling tired last night been a deliberate ruse to help her slip away without arousing his suspicions?
Ichigo felt a sudden, tense fury that he knew had no place in their relationship, a fury that seemed suspiciously close to jealousy. He didn't like the idea of Rukia turning him down, but he couldn't stand the idea of her lying to him so she could slink off with some other man! He shook himself as he realized that Rukia couldn't leave town without telling him- he was second in command after all. Granted, they weren't on intimate terms, but they were at least trying to work together, and she was a stickler for playing by the rules.
Besides, he wondered, what man in his right mind would want to spend a weekend with Rukia Kuchiki? Ichigo's neck suddenly flamed as he realized the answer he'd been dodging now for days- he would. It was crazy! He wasn't sure just how he felt about Rukia; he knew he didn't quite trust her. But there was something about her that kept drawing him closer, something that went beyond her beautiful eyes and magnificent legs. Maybe it was the paradox he sensed in her-she acted so tough and invulnerable, doing her damnedest not to let anybody know that inside she was a sweetie. Maybe it was the paradox she brought out in him. Ichigo kept finding himself cheering Rukia on, but deep inside, he knew he still expected her to fail flat on her face.
Vigorously he pushed away everything he'd learned to feel for Rukia-sexual need, deepening empathy, a healthy dose of respect-and forced himself to leave Nanao's message on her door and get on with fixing the TV. But as he tacked the note on the bulletin board with one tap of his fist, he was startled by the sound of a small voice calling from inside her room, "What is it?"
At least, that's what he thought the voice said. Rukia must have thought he was knocking. But how could she be home? Ichigo had been home for twenty-four hours and hadn't seen hide nor hair of her!
"Captain?" he called out cautiously. "Are you in there?"
She muttered something unintelligible, so he tryed again.
"Captain, you just got a call from Nanao. Marechiyo Omaeda has been injured. He-"
He heard her bare feet hit the floor before he could finish. "Injured? Is he alive?" she cried out, rushing to the door.
The panic in her voice shamed Ichigo. If Rukia had been anybody else on the force, he would have been careful to word the message to avoid causing a moment's fear that another cop might have been shot. It simply hadn't occurred to him that Rukia would worry so intensely, especially about a man she'd publicly shredded. He'd misjudged her again.
"Captain, he's fine. He just fell off a ladder. I'm sorry if I..."
She pulled open the door, and Ichigo was too startled by her appearance to continue. Rukia didn't look like the severe, orderly police captain he knew. She was wearing a ruffled blue-plaid flannel nightgown that almost touched the floor, one that made her look like a little girl instead of a superior officer. More amazing was her raven-black hair, wavy and flowing, wildly askew. Her lips were colorless and her cheeks were flushed. Her heavy eyelids made her look almost comatose. It took no doctor to diagnose that she was very ill.
For just a moment Ichigo saw a glimmer of relief pass over her fragile features. "Not shot? Not dead?" she whispered, dizzily leaning against the open door.
"No, Captain." He was shaken by the depth of concern that gripped him. Rukia was certainly in worse shape than Omaeda, yet at the first hint that one of her officers was injured, she'd leaped from her sickbed in alarm. "He won't be able to work for a while, but-"
After the first word or two, Rukia stopped listening. She turned around and started stumbling back toward the bed.
She didn't make it. Her legs seemed to crumple beneath her, and she pitched headlong to the floor.
"Rukia! For god's sake!" Ichigo called, too stunned to remember the rigid rules of conduct she'd laid out for him. He rushed into the room and knelt beside her, feeling her neck for a pulse. He got one, strong and steady, but he also could feel the raging heat of a fever. He wasn't a doctor, but he'd felt enough neck pulses to know that Rukia's glands were badly swollen. Worse yet, she'd passed out cold.
Ichigo didn't want to leave her there on the rug, but he didn't want to move her, either, until she came around. If all that was wrong with her was lightheadedness from getting out of bed too fast when she was ill, she'd come to in a minute. He told himself that she'd be fine, but the claw of worry in his chest made him fear otherwise.
"Rukia!" he said urgently. "Rukia, come back to me. Just flutter your eyelashes, sweetheart. Come on."
He took a deep breath as she groaned and rolled toward him. Instinctively he cradled her head in his arms.
"Rukia, you just passed out. You're in your room. I think you're sick as a dog and shouldn't have rushed out of bed." His stomach tightened as he waited for her to answer. Say something, anything, he silently begged her. Let me know you're all right! "Is there anything else wrong? Do you hurt anywhere?"
She murmured something Ichigo couldn't make out, so he lowered his ear to her lips. "Tell me again. Do I need to take you to the hospital? Are you in pain? Are you sick?"
"Strip," she mumbled.
The word took him by surprise. He blinked, thrusting away the sudden vision of wild-haired Rukia without this heavy nightgown. She was burning up with fever, yes, but-
"Strep throat. Got it from Orihime."
Ichigo steadied himself. Strep throat. He could cope with that. No clothes off. Deep breath. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing a few days in bed and a call to Unohana couldn't fix. So why did he still feel so odd, so upset, so protective? And so damn guilty because he'd thought she was lying to him last night?
"Rukia, listen to me," he said softly, ashamed of the tenderness in his voice. "I want you to put your arms around my neck. I'm going to pick you up and put you back in bed."
"Neck," she murmured. "Don't make me move!"
"Come on, honey. I can't just leave you here on the floor."
He squatted, to protect his back, then gathered her close. He was unsurprised to learn that she was lighter than a feather when he stood up with her in his arms. She didn't feel like a hard-nosed Captain while she lay limply against him looking so weak and fragile.
Ichigo laid her on the bed, carefully stretching out her exsquisitely shaped legs-so smooth and silky!-before tugging her nightgown into place. Gingerly he started to pull the blankets up.
"No," she protested. "So hot!"
He stopped, once more feeling powerless.
"Water. Wanted water since last night. Should have got it before I went to bed."
Ichigo could not account for the terrible pang that shook him then. For twenty-four hours this woman had lain here, hot and hurting, unable to call out for him! Unable to get past their differences to reach out to a stranger... or a friend. He was angry with himself for failing to realize that she was in trouble, and he was angry with Rukia for not trusting him. Had she figured on lying here feebly until this disease ran its course? She needed more than water. She needed medication. She needed nursing. She needed to know that somebody cared whether she was alive or dead!
"I'm going to get you some water, Rukia, and a wet washcloth. Then I'm going to call a doctor."
"Can't go see a doctor!" she whimpered. "Can't drive. Can't stand up." Can't trust Ichigo Kurosaki enough to ask him for help, he could have finished for her.
"I can get one to come here, Rukia. I've got one who's an old friend." Ichigo hurried from the room, dashed into his room to grab an empty soda can, then rinsed it in the bathroom. When he came back with water and a washcloth, Rukia hadn't moved a millimeter.
As he sat down on the mattress beside her, she whispered, "Don't leave me, Ichigo!" so softly that he had to strain to hear. "I feel so weak! So helpless! I hate feeling this way!" Her voice cracked tearfully. "Nobody to call. Nobody to care! Nobody to turn to if I get worse and need help."
Ichigo didn't tell her that she was already in need of help and too sick to know it. He couldn't believe how deeply her vulnerability touched him; he couldn't believe how much it made him ache! Last night he'd had some half-formed fantasy about Rukia laying in this very bed, naked and-he could admit it-moaning for him. Now all he wanted was to know that she was well.
"I won't leave you, Rukia!" he promised, embarrased by the urgency of his tone. "I'll be right here as long as you need me and I'll sleep with the doors open between us tonight."
With infinite patience, Ichigo cradled her neck and shoulders, lifting her up with one strong arm while he trickled the water on to her parched lips. Rukia opened her mouth and licked it with her tongue. During the slow, painful process, he saw that her face was awash with silent tears, tears he could have sworn Captain Curvaceous did not know how to shed. Even when he laid her back down and cooled her face and hands with the dripping washcloth, the tears didn't stop.
"Sweetie, don't cry," he whispered. "I can't bear to see you cry!"
But Rukia must of misunderstood his aching plea. As Ichigo pulled her tenderly against his solid chest, she put her arms around him and started crying harder.
AN
I know what most of you are going to say, they were OOC. But it was so sweet! God I love fluff! I wish the real Ichigo was that sweet. Okay, I'll let you guys get on with your lives but please drop a review before you go.