AN

Sorry to keep you guys waiting. It would have been here sooner but apparently technology enjoys screwing with me. Damn computers and their viruses! Or it could have been the website. Anyway, if your reading this then it means I finally got this up so yay! Expect more adult themes and angst for awhile. I can't please everyone, but I try so I hope you guys enjoy.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Nine

It was almost 4-00 A.M. by the time Ichigo got back to his room. He realized, with still-festering anger, that if he had a home of his own, he wouldn't have to worry about running into his nemesis or his overly protective aunt, both of whom he'd encountered in the past at this time of night. He'd saved enough money to start building a house on some property he'd acquired by the lake, but what was the point? He didn't want to live alone out there. He wanted a whole bunch of children. He wanted a wife.

He sure as hell didn't want the woman in the next room.

He closed the door softly and tossed his coat on the bed, grateful for his only reprieve of the long, terrible weekend-returning unseen tonight. It had been a hellish few hours-he'd driven more than a hundred miles in light snowfall trying to calm down-but he was tired now. Most of his rage had burned out, and he was almost ready to face whatever happened when he encountered Rukia in the morning. He sure as hell wouldn't be surprising her with lillies and a bunny! Rukia-make that the Captain-would either write up that humiliating incident in his file or simply freeze him out from now on. Either way, she would make his life unbearable. And either way, she would still tantalize him, beckon to him, make him ache as he lay alone each night in this damn empty bed.

He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with that problem in the long run, but he was sure of three things. He would not surrender his badge to Rukia Kuchiki; he would not abandon Karakura; and he would never, ever touch her again.

He knew Rukia well enough to know that her vehement display of anger in her office might have been just for show. And he knew himself well enough to realize that maybe he hadn't given her very much choice. But knowing that he'd backed her into a corner didn't do much to mollify Ichigo's feelings. For weeks Rukia had been giving him hints that she wasn't any more satisfied with their platonic relationship than he was. She'd given him every sign she was ready to surrender to him tonight. He'd followed her unspoken lead and she'd kicked him in the shins. It wasn't a scene he was likely to forget.

Ichigo had just pulled off his shirt when the knock came on his outer door-soft, apologetic, beseeching. Aunt Yoruichi. Had to be. Uncle Kisuke wouldn't bother him in the middle of the night, and Rukia wouldn't come near him tonight for love nor money. He didn't have much money to offer her anyway, and she'd made it excruciatingly clear that she didn't want his love.

"Come in," he called out irritably. He'd just finished tugging off his shoes when the door opened, revealing a beautiful face framed in raven-black curls. It was the first time in weeks Rukia had used the outer door instead of the one through the bathroom. Dressed in her Chappy bathrobe, she hovered on the threshold, twisting nervous circles in a clump of her magnificent hair. Her party clothes and makeup had vanished-like Cinderella's trappings after the ball-but the mere sight of her filled Ichigo with every damnable emotion he'd spent the past two hours trying to eradicate.

The nighttime chill-or his instinctive reaction to Rukia-brought goose bumps to Ichigo's bare arms and chest. He was tempted to slip his shirt back on, but the audacity of Rukia's invasion of his private space filled him with fresh rage.

"Get out," he barked.

"Ichigo-"

"Unless there's a police emergency that requires my attention, Captain Kuchiki," he growled, "Get the hell out of my room."

"Ichigo, I just want-"

"I mean it." His fury was growing now. "This is my home, the place I live my personal life, and you've made it abundantly clear that you'd rather die than have any part of that." He took an angry step toward her, surprised that she looked so small and frozen out in the hallway, unwilling to barge into his room. "If you still want my badge, you'll have to wait till I report for duty."

For a long moment, his eyes met Rukia's eyes, beautiful violet eyes that had once been able to-dear God, could they still?-move him so profoundly.

She took a deep breath as her gaze dropped to his naked chest, lingering a shade too long, then to the braided rug on the floor. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Ichigo," she whispered in a small voice he'd never heard her use before. Quietly she shut the door.

Ichigo listened to Rukia start back to her own room, her footsteps rushed and faltering. The last thing in the world he wanted at the moment was another encounter with that fickle woman, but everything about their brief conversation struck him as wrong. Under the circumstances, Ichigo was astounded that she'd waited up for him, astounded that she'd sounded meek as a puppy, astounded that she'd come to his room at all. Had something terrible happened? Did she need his help? After what she'd done to him this evening, she'd have to be desperate to approach him.

Angrily he yanked open the door and followed her into the hall. "What the hell do you want?" he barked, worried now but still too tense to sound civil.

"It doesn't matter," Rukia answered without turning around. "It's too late, anyway."

As she pushed open her own door, Ichigo grabbed her elbow, releasing it quickly when he remembered her last threat in the office.

"Captain," he growled, "There must be some reason you found it necessary to come to my room in the middle of the night. I won't get any sleep until you tell me what it is."

He watched her shoulders straighten, watched her struggle for composure as she turned around. She faced him squarely, but her eyes were shiny, pooling with tears. The sight touched Ichigo in a way that surprised him. He had only seen Rukia Kuchiki cry once before, and that was when she'd been quite ill. Whatever had happened since they'd last talked was clearly tearing her apart.

"I came to apologize for my... outburst this evening, Ichigo. I don't want you to worry about your position in Karakura because of our... misunderstanding." She stopped, gulped once or twice and finished clumsily, "I shouldn't have threatened you like that. I just didn't know how else to make my position clear."

"You made your position crystal clear," he snapped at her. "The only thing that confuses me is why you showed up at my room tonight."

She blinked rapidly. One tear spilled over. "I can't bear it when you're mad at me!" Rukia tried to say the words with dignity, but they came out forced and desperate. "I want you to know that I'll miss you terribly! I'm sorrier than you know that I can't risk being your friend!"

She moved quickly toward the safe haven of her room, but Ichigo was inside before she could shut the door.

"I don't want you in here," she ordered, the tears flowing freely now. "It's not appropriate and-"

"Rukia, stop it! You've waited for hours to talk to me and you're falling apart at the seams. You're not making any sense! We've got to get things straight between us so we can go on working together."

"I just wanted to apologize. I did!" Pain riddled every syllable. "Now I just want to forget the whole thing."

He stood in the dark, barely able to see her face by the dim light of her bedside lamp. But he could smell the soft scent of her, hear the sound of her stifled sobs.

"So do I," he admitted slowly, hating himself for wanting her all over again. "But I can't."

For a long, terrible moment, Rukia did not reply, but she kept on weeping. He longed to take her in his arms, but he didn't dare. He couldn't count the times she'd given him every reason to believe she wanted him, then pushed him away at the very moment he'd been certain she was going to give in.

"Dammit, Ru, did I really read you so wrong?"

To Ichigo's astonishment, Rukia leaned forward and rested her forehead against his bare chest. It jolted him like the most erotic of skin-to-skin contacts.

"Of course you didn't read me wrong!" she confessed, her moist lips vibrating against his skin. "But you only read part of the book."

Gingerly he touched her shoulder. "Rukia..."

"I want you! I admit it!"

The words electrified him. His whole body surged with need. But the moisture of her tears robbed him of any joy he might have taken from her confession.

"I tried so hard not to let you know it, but I failed over and over again! When you kissed me in the office with Nanao out there and the radio squawking, I knew I couldn't tiptoe around it anymore. I couldn't even risk being your friend!"

"Jeez, Rukia, I went in there mad as hell! Nanao wouldn't have risked poking her nose inside. Besides, I locked the damn door! It wasn't as though-"

"You reached me, Ichigo!" She was sobbing openly now, pressing her wet cheek against his chest. "When you stomped out of that office, you took something with you that I don't think I can get back again!"

Ichigo shed the last of his common sense and wrapped his arms around her fiercely. He kissed the top of her head, her temple, her ear. Rukia clung to him, still weeping, her nails digging into his ribs.

She lifted her face to his and whispered huskily, "Don't kiss me, Ichigo! Don't ever kiss me again!"

He kissed her. She kissed him back. Her lips felt hot, wildly urgent. His lips were hotter still.

Ichigo's hands slipped up to the back of Rukia's neck, cradled it, while she pressed herself against him. He could feel every intimate curve of her body seeking every ridge of his own. He sizzled. She burned. The kiss went from soft to hard, from loving to aching, from tentative offer to demanding claim.

A full minute passed before Rukia broke away from him.

"I mean it, Ichigo." Her lips still grazed his even as she spoke. Her yearning tongue bathed his, begged his, and it was some time before she could plead for his mercy again. "I don't want this," she insisted, still hugging him close. "I can't bear it! There's nowhere for this to go!"

There's a bed right behind us! What other destination could there be? he longed to say. But he was already well past words. This horrible night had robbed him of all patience, all discretion, all restraint. He pulled on her sash, slipped one hand inside her bathrobe, and cupped the firm, round flesh of one breast hiding beneath the soft, blue satin gown.

Rukia gasped. Ichigo tensed, afraid he'd gone too fast, but suddenly she was pressing herself against his thighs with a moan. He kneaded her peaked nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, fighting the overpowering urge to press her back against the mattress. Every line of her body told him she was fighting it, too.

"Bunnyhead," he confessed, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. You fill me. You make me ache. You make me want things I-"

"Stop it, Ichigo!" Her voice was desperately pleading now. She was clinging to his waist, struggling to undo his zipper. "I can't do this! I can't stop if you won't help me! Please, Ichigo! Please!"

Ichigo would have honored her plea, but there was no doubt in his mind that Rukia desperately wanted him to make love to her. Still, it bothered him that she kept begging him to stop while she was doing everything in her power to seduce him. Was this part of her erotic technique? Had she been teasing him all along to make him this hot? Or did she really believe that her very selfhood would be compromised if she took him to bed tonight?

Somehow Ichigo managed to release her breast, managed to still the searching hands at the front of his slacks. With one trembling arm he still held her tightly. Gently he kissed her forehead.

"Time out," he whispered hoarsely. "Just for a moment. I want you desperately, Rukia, and not just for tonight. Don't play games with me. Tell me straight. I know it's vital not to get you pregnant, if that's what's worrying you. And I know we have to keep this under wraps, at least for now, but-"

"No. No, no, no!" Rukia took a deep breath. She was still trembling, but she no longer pressed herself against him with such vigor. Still, she did not pull away.

She kissed his bare chest just once, her tongue lingering. Then she vowed painfully, "I can't make love with you, Ichigo. I wasn't putting up a smoke screen before. I thought you understood. No matter how much I want you, I simply cannot have an affair with a man under my command. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did."

He struggled to control his hunger, his disappointment, his sudden surge of fresh rage. "What are you saying? I'm not good enough for you because you outrank me?"

She took his face in both of her quivering hands. "I want you more than I've ever wanted any man in my life! I respect you! I ache for you!" Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her now. "I love you, Ichigo!"

Something within him broke. With tender urgency he cupped her head against his chest. "Oh, god, Ru, I love you, too!"

She gave his chest a half dozen more fierce, nipping kisses, then lifted her lips to his once more. Ichigo kissed her again, and her mouth sizzled as he plunged his tongue inside it. Everything sizzled for another few moments, but Rukia stepped back once more when he tried to move her toward the bed.

Ready to explode, Ichigo opened his eyes and stared at her. Her hair was wildly askew and her face looked flushed with fear mixed in with desire.

"Please, Ichigo!" Her voice was husky with anguish now. "I love you, but I can't!"

Ichigo felt so hot and hard he could have entered her right then, without another kiss or fondle; he was trembling so violently he could hardly stand. He sure as hell couldn't make sense of her contradictory protests.

"Ichigo, don't you understand? This isn't your decision! This is my life, my job, my self-respect!" Now she sounded like the Rukia he knew. Captain Kuchiki. The tyrant who never wavered from her position.

Desperately Ichigo took her face in his hands once more, but this time Rukia pulled away and drew her bathrobe sash up tight. "I mean it, Ichigo," she pleaded, anguish and desperation lacing the words. "I want you to go while you still can."

Ichigo was too angry to speak, yet too aroused to leave. A thousand emotions wrestled within him. He loved her and hated her, tried to believe her and tried not to. He took three deep breaths, struggling to steady himself, struggling to walk out of her room.

Still, he might have reached for her one more time if she hadn't whispered, "Ichigo, take even one step, or try to come near me and I'll... I'll..." She fought back a sob. "I will never, ever forgive you! Worse yet, I won't ever forgive myself!"

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

"He's going back to his own room now," Yoruichi said to Kisuke, snuggling closer to him in bed. "Do you think he was in there long enough for them to make up?"

Kisuke sighed, wrapped a fond arm around his wife and shook his head. "I don't know, Yoru. All I'm sure of is that it's nobody's business but Ichigo's and Rukia's. Can't you leave them alone?"

"If they're happy, certainly. But Rukia was at the station house till three o'clock and Ichigo stayed out till four! You can't tell me that everything's just hunkydory between them!"

He absentmindedly ruffled her hair. "I didn't say everything was okay. I said it was none of our business. If Ichigo wants our advice, then he'll ask for it."

Yoruichi rolled her eyes. "What's gotten into you, Kisuke? This isn't like you at all! Why, if Isshin were still alive you two would be pressing glasses up against their doors and coming up with ridiculous and embarrassing schemes to mess with them."

He chuckled as his gaze turned reminiscent. "Yeah, we would. But things change. People change." She didn't look convinced. "Look, Yoruichi I'm begging you to let the poor boy work out his own love life? Have faith that they'll be able to get through whatever it is that's plaguing them."

Yoruichi sighed. "Okay, okay, I get it Kisuke. I'll leave them alone. But I sure hope they get their acts together and soon."

He patted her head reassuringly. "I hope so too. For both of their sakes."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Somehow Rukia made it through the next two days. Unable to bear the memories that cloaked her office, she spent hours prowling the streets in her cruiser, and the sight of a newly married couple standing on the church steps only increased her gloom. She made a few DUI arrests and told herself that if she'd kept some Karakura citizens from being killed in sensless accidents, she could be proud of her job. But her pride didn't do much to ease the memory of what had nearly transpired with Ichigo in her room.

The only bright spot of the whole terrible time was that Nanao, who was also single and had volunteered to work, had baked Rukia some brownies.

"I know you don't approve of celebrating Christmas in the office," she'd told her boss "But I thought you'd might like something special when you go home."

Moved by the undeserved act of kindness, Rukia had surprised Nanao by giving her a hug and asking her to share some of the brownies right on the spot. Nanao hadn't asked any questions about Rukia's obvious unhappiness, but the uptight woman had been exceptionally kind to her from then on.

It was Nanao who relayed Rukia's request to Ichigo later in the week that she wanted to see him when he came on duty. She knew she wasn't ready to face him alone in the confines of her office, but she had a job to do.

For the past few terrible days since Ichigo had left her room that morning, they had danced around each other, exchanging cool, proper greetings when they reluctantly came face-to-face. Once or twice Rukia had issued an order, and Ichigo had replied with a terse "Yes, Captain" that had wounded her to the core.

Still, she couldn't blame him. What she had done-leading him on, in essence, when she'd known she could not possibly make love to him-had been inexcusable. She should have waited till morning to apologize; she should have stayed dressed; she should never have let him into her room. But those were superficial problems. Her big mistake was not that she had let him kiss her, but that she had let him ignite her carnal desires. Long before the night of the Christmas party Rukia had known that she loved Ichigo, known that his virility called to her every female pore. Still, she had not expected to be wrenched off her very foundation with a single kiss. No man had ever moved her quite like that before.

He had told her he loved her. She believed him. Not because he'd begged her to make love with him, but because when he'd finally realized how desperately sorry Rukia would be if she gave in, he had silently left her room. She would always be greatful to him for that... and for so many other things. Rukia wanted to believe that she would have found the strength to send him away if he'd fought her that blazing night, but it was a theory she never wanted to test.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" His voice was civil but devoid of warmth as he poked his head in the doorway. Not a hint of passion lurked in his cold amber eyes.

"Yes, Lieutenant. Please come in and close the door."

He did so-warily, it seemed to Rukia.

"I wanted to discuss this report with you." She plucked it from her desk but did not thrust it at him.

"What report is that, Captain?" he asked coolly.

"The report on the bullet that was found in Meiko Kuna's old room at the Kunas house," she retorted. "You knew I'd want to know about that right away. Why didn't you mention it?"

Ichigo glared at her, his body so stiff he might as well have been standing at attention. "I filed my report the minute I returned from interrogating the subject, in accordance with staff notice 2B. I used the new form on the new computer using the new program, which I have mastered on my own time. If I have failed to follow the Captain's orders in some minuscule fashion, she should feel free to write me up and add it to-"

"Dammit, Ichigo! All I asked was a simple question!"

"Of course, Captain," he said crisply, refusing to lose control just because she had. "You asked why I did not mention the report to you personally. The answer is that I have never seen a memo that requires personal interaction between the Captain and subordinate officers. In fact, it is my understanding that the Captain frowns on such fraternization."

Rukia stared at him bleakly, almost too sad to be angry. Thank God she'd had enough sense to start looking for a new place to live! With any luck at all, her realtor would confirm her arrangements any day. "Is this the way it's going to be?" she asked sadly.

"I don't write the rules, Captain. I merely follow them."

Rukia didn't answer that. She wanted something she knew she couldn't have-a free, friendly relationship with Ichigo that allowed them both to savor the joys of a platonic relationship without any of the risks of becoming lovers. She wanted to strangle her libido, but it was a hopeless task.

"Lieutenant, your report indicates that you went to the Kunas home in response to a request from Mashiro Kuna-Muguruma. Did that call come in to the station for you in particuilar, or was it directed to anyone?"

"It was not a call, Captain. Mrs. Muguruma herself told me at the Christmas party I attended at the Kunas house that she had some information that might be relevant to an ongoing police investigation and asked me to continue our conversation privately at my earliest convenience. I went to see her the very next day."

He made this announcement without any expresssion, but Rukia knew he hadn't forgotten what he'd been doing in the wee hours of the morning. Just the thought of it made her body twitch with a leftover pulse of passion. Desperately she hoped that her still-potent need for Ichigo didn't show on her face.

"So Mashiro wanted to talk to the police, and you took it on yourself-"

"Correction, Captain. Mrs. Muguruma wanted to talk to me. She was quite precise."

Rukia didn't press it. Instead she asked, "And she admitted that she'd been withholding evidence?"

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "She did no such thing. She reported that a workman had located the bullet during some house renovations recently and turned it over to her. The party preparations pushed everything else out of her mind. Apparently seeing us at the party jogged her memory."

Thinking of the party jogged Rukia's memory, too-sometime in that night of hazy passion and shame, she'd spilled a full glass of punch on the Kunas beautiful Oriental rug, and she'd forgotten to ask Yoruichi to whom she owed both apologies and the price of the cleaning. Once, she would have asked Ichigo, but she didn't dare speak a word more than necessary to him now.

"Do you believe Mashiro?" Rukia asked straightforwardly. She didn't. She suspected that her own recent visit to Mashiro-when she'd grilled the other woman about the old suitcase stolen from the garage-had caused her to decide to reveal some previously concealed information.

Ichigo's eyes were cold. "The facts are in my report, Captain."

"I read the report. I am trying to glean the impressions and opinions that a skilled officer can provide even though he cannot document them and therefore does not commit them to paper."

"Memo 6C clearly states that personal opinions have no place in police science. I therefore have nothing but facts to offer orally or in writing. If my report is unclear, Captain-"

"It's clear. Mashiro gave you a bullet that we can't match unless we have a weapon. We can't find a weapon unless we have a search warrant, and we can't issue a search warrant unless we have enough evidence to bring somebody in."

Ichigo did not reply. His eyebrows did not even twitch.

"I think someone close to Meiko did it. Probably her husband. But I'm a long way from proving it. If you have any reason to think that a member of the Kuna family has additional pertinent information about this matter, it is your duty to tell me, Lieutenant."

Ichigo's lips tightened. "I know my duty, Captain. Page 24.4 of the police manual states that-"

"All right! You win! Get out of here!" Rukia took a deep breath, slammed the report in the to-be-filed basket and grabbed a letter that had arrived in the morning's mail. She was just about to start writing a response when she realized that Ichigo hadn't moved toward the door. She did not look at him; she was still too angry to speak.

Surely he knew they couldn't carry on like this! She would have to give very serious thought to how to handle him in a way that would be both professional and fair. He had a right to be angry, but he was taking things too far.

"Captain?" His voice was softer now... or at least more civil.

Her eyes met his defiantly. "What do you have to say, Lieutenant?"

"If there's some deep, dark secret that the Kuna clan has been hiding all these years, I'm not privy to it. I think that finding the body has aroused a lot of slumbering memories that may or may not be related to the crime itself-I'm using my own sources to pursue that information-but I don't believe any of the family was directly involved in Meiko's death."

His voice was still low, still uncomfortable. But at least he was speaking to her as though she were a human being and not something he'd just scrapped off his shoe.

"If Seno Kuna killed his wife, I'm certain it was an accident," Ichigo vowed. "I know this man. He's not perfect. He might be capable of doing something stupid in a fit of rage-God knows that woman could have driven a saint to violence-but he loved her and grieved for her for decades. Under no circumstances would he have planned her murder. I'd stake my badge on it."

His unofficial report was a gift, and Rukia took it as such. "Thank you for your input, Lieutenant," she said quietly.

"Just doing my job, Captain. When push comes to shove, I'll always be a cop."

There were any number of ways Rukia could have taken his comment. Professionally, they were all positive. Personally, they all meant that he'd finally accepted her decree. The realization should have made her happy.

Carefully Rukia said, "Lieutenant, I don't want to make things difficult for you, and I'm sure you don't want to make them hard for me. As long as we don't let our personal relationship interfere with our professional obligations, I think we'll be able to work together just fine."

The brief illusion of camaraderie vanished in an instant. "Captain, we have no personal relationship," Ichigo answered tonelessly. "We have no relationship whatsoever."

He might as well have shot her right through the heart.

AN

Well there you go. I think it's safe to say that Rukia is one confused individual. She wants to have her cake and eat it too, if you will. It's almost like Ichigo's revenge in a way. Also, if I haven't said it already thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updates and also for all your support. Don't forget to let me know what you think in a review.