Reese sat slumped against the kitchen table, nervously watching Morgan under Szayel's possession as the large convict inspected Nyles' face that morning. It would have been a comical or threatening sight, knowing they were both inmates, with Morgan's hulk hovering over the slighter man, intent on his face.
But it wasn't funny. Reese knew better than to smirk at the sight. Szayel was no one to toy with.
"Hmm, I think it's coming along adequately," Szayel said through Morgan deep voice. His big hands turned Nyles' bruised and tender face to angle up to the overhead light. "Once the color has faded, I think we'll be ready to give you a test audition."
As Morgan stepped away from the seated, frightened man, Reese got a better look at Nyles.
His face looked different. Szayel had altered the bone structure of Nyles' face with Morgan's brute strength. The large inmate's hands had crushed and shifted the facial bones into a more passable semblance of Shuuhei Hisagi. It wasn't a painless procedure, but that hadn't stopped Szayel from doing it. There had been a few times that Nyles' cries had irritated the Espada into dosing him – usually with whiskey – and then proceeding once the patient was unconscious.
Nyles was lucky for those blackouts and even the following hangovers that distracted him from his paining face and screaming nerve endings. Through the black, blue, and yellow of bruising, the visage of Hisagi was taking shape on the inmate.
"I seen him around," Reese said, his nicotine deprivation speaking. He raised a shaky finger to point at Nyles. "He been around on a motorcycle."
Morgan turned on the handyman, the movement somewhat prissified with Szayel in control. "He's been here?" His eyes narrowed. "You said you hadn't seen him. Have you?"
"No. I mean, I mean...not here. Not this house." Reese lost his protective resolve. "But he took the girl for a..." He shook his head, leaning back as Szayel made Morgan step closer to him.
"For a what?" Szayel asked.
Reese shook his head, swallowing forcefully.
"Tell me, you single-celled fool. What were you going to say?"
Nyles blubbered something incoherent, squinting at Szayel through swollen eyes. His lips hung open, still thick with healing.
Reese threw the damaged inmate a glare, but it eluded him. Nyles looked up at Morgan's form. "Arride."
"A ride?" Morgan smiled effeminately. "Oh, yes, that would make sense." He turned to Reese, dropping to a glare. "Is that what you meant?"
Reese nearly wet himself trying not to answer.
Szayel nodded, thinking furiously along a new line. "A ride. On a motorcycle." He looked to Reese. "Is he coming back again?"
Reese shook his head. "Don't know."
"Go find out."
Reese rattled a breath. "How?"
"Go hang out over there, with the girl and that shim – red-haired idiot. Renji. Hang around and discover if Hisagi is coming back."
"I can't do that. I don't...hang out over there." Reese cleared his throat and then hacked a cough. "It ain't like that."
"You're the handyman. Go be handy and find out what I want to know."
Reese weighed the threats. "I ain't got no reason to be handy. I can't just loiter 'round there. Renji will run me off."
Szayel watched him steadily. From the barn, a rooster crowed at the dawning of the day. He slid a glance back to Nyles, who still leaned weakly on the table, trying to watch them through half-open eyes.
"I have an errand for you," Szayel told Reese, smiling at him. "Now, make a list..."
Orihime awoke when the rooster crowed the third time that morning. The sound seemed far away, mostly because she had one ear buried against Renji's arm. She didn't realize it at first, simply comfortable against his side at his shoulder, resting her head at his bicep as his arm crooked over her waist. Her eyes remained shut as she snuggled closer, content and warm. Maybe a little too warm for the early day.
She opened her eyes to see his arm crossed over her chest, his hand at her opposite hip, thumb under her lavender tank top's hem at her waist. For a moment she just stared at it, her mind not putting together the logic of where everything else was, thoughts drifting to if his hand would move, and if so, where to. Her cheek rested at the lower part of the tattoos crossing his arm, and that was what made her flinch.
Renji didn't let her sit up when she startled, letting his arm lock over her as both her arms encircled his tighter. She didn't look up at him. She knew by the way his hand glided over the curve of her shorts, letting his thumb rub against her skin that he was probably awake. She smiled a little, gazing at the way the black tattoos twisted at his arm.
She'd had the oddest dreams, vivid dreams of something in her hands that she couldn't see, that she was squeezing. She didn't know what it was, but it hurt her fingers as she crushed it. And the oddest part that she recalled from the dream was that she kept hearing a small voice inside her head that told her fingers to do it. She blamed it on the long hot day in the sun at the picnic. The sun could do strange things to a person.
She finally sighed and moved a little, and then sat up slowly even though she didn't really want to move away; but she didn't want Renji to think she was, well, too something else, either.
She sat up and looked to him, still with her shoulder leaning against him, not wanting to leave. He was still slumped to his opposite side with one elbow on the couch armrest, palm supporting his head as he watched her wake up.
She scooted up more as he pulled her closer. "I, I guess I fell asleep," she said, blushing pink in the morning's heat. The sun from the window was shining directly in on them, making Renji's hair an even more flaming crimson. "I didn't mean to crowd you."
"Hey, crowd me all you want, Orihime." He grinned, curling her closer, his hand pressing along the back of her tank top. "That's all right. The horse show ran late," he said as she turned a peachier color of blush. "It was probably cooler down here than upstairs. You know, heat rising and all."
Orihime knew, but she didn't think it could be much hotter upstairs than how she felt at that moment. She smiled, feeling his hand under her ponytail at her back. She sighed deeply and then coughed a little. She curled over her chest, putting a hand to her throat, feeling slightly nauseated.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the couch to the floor. He let her change positions, arm moving at a less opportunistic angle as she shifted. She took a slow breath, and then made herself stand up. "I'll change and get us some breakfast."
"Sounds good." That's what he said, but he thought staying on the couch a little longer sounded better. He let her go, watching her send a shy glance back at him as she went to the staircase and up it.
He stood up, listening to the measured, even creaks of the steps as she climbed. She hadn't mentioned the bird. And if she didn't remember it, he sure wasn't going to remind her. He heard her in her bedroom, and then the water run in the bathroom.
He washed up quickly in the main floor bathroom and headed up to his own room and found his lone set of clean clothes. He shook his head, dressing hastily, mind racing along the events from the night before. He had just pulled up his hair into a rather humid ponytail than the sounds of a car pulling into the driveway were heard, and then three doors slammed shut.
Barely had Renji got to the front door, the katana in one hand out of sight by the lamp stand at the doorframe, than voices were heard. He opened the solid door, eyeing the police car in the drive. One officer leaned against the car's front fender, mirrored glasses hiding his eyes, arms crossed in a no-nonsense posture as he waited for the two teens loitering near one of the car's rear doors to collect themselves.
Renji leaned the sword to the wall out of sight, watching Charlotte and Dan look awkwardly to him, both uneasy. He opened the screen door and stood just outside it.
He turned as Orihime came out behind him, her hands touching lightly at his back. She peeked past him, looking fresh and perky after what Renji figured would have been a troublesome night.
"That's Charlotte. Oh," she said, one hand pulling slightly at the hem of his t-shirt, "and that boy from the parking lot."
Dan was limping up the short path to the house, a sheepish look on his face. Charlotte was at his side, but not for support. The policeman was still at the car, sourly watching them.
Renji let one arm cross to the other doorframe, his pointed stare on Dan as the two teens approached.
"Oh...hey," Charlotte said meekly, smiling more when she saw Orihime behind Renji.
"Hi," Orihime said, letting a few fingers wave over Renji's arm.
Renji's stare stayed on Dan.
Charlotte and Dan stopped at the edge of the porch running the length of the house. Dan gave a weak smile. His cheek was scraped from the pavement and bruising had invaded one eye. He had a slight rattle when he breathed, and favored the one hip even when standing still.
Renji's attention went to the police officer, who gave him a single nod. Renji looked back to the teens.
"Uh, I just wanted to say sorry about any confusion yesterday," Charlotte said. She smiled more. "I mean, I think some of my generosity got the better of me, and...and..." She gave Renji a guilty look. "Well, Dan has something to say, too."
Dan nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah."
"Oh, it's okay," Orihime said, stepping to Renji's side as he lowered his arm some.
"You did really well," Charlotte said brightly. "That's a new record for the pie auction. The newspaper will want your picture for the story."
Orihime looked up at Renji. He grinned at her, letting his arm settle around her shoulders.
"Is that why you're here?" he asked. "Are you taking a photo?"
Dan shook his head. "No. Just wanted to say sorry." He sighed. "I don't remember much of yesterday, truthfully; I think I got hold of some bad cider. But I'm sorry if I said anything out of line." His gaze went to Renji. "'Cause I think you're pretty pissed off."
Renji nodded, estimating the boy's sincerity. "What's the cop here for?"
Charlotte giggled a little. Dan shot her a look.
"That's my pop," he said. "He asked who roughed me up, and I reckon I told him the truth. I don't really remember much, like I said. So he said an apology was due and brought me here to make the peace 'fore school starts up."
Renji wanted to chuckle, but didn't. He nodded. "Yeah, we're square. Just leave Orihime alone at school."
"Yeah, sorry about...whatever I said," he told Orihime, the eye on his bruised side twitching a bit as his gaze pushed on an irritated nerve. He looked back to Renji. "So are we good now?"
Renji nodded. "Yup."
Charlotte heaved a sigh, sticking her hands in her back shorts pockets, blowing the stray strand of pink hair from her face. "You all registered?" she asked Orihime. "Do you have all your classes spoken for?"
Orihime felt Renji's hand tighten at her shoulder. She shook her head. "Almost."
"Good." Charlotte nudged Dan with an elbow. "I guess we should go. Let them start their day."
Dan nodded. "Yeah. So, see ya."
Renji and Orihime watched the two walk back to the squad car. Dan's dad nodded again to Renji and Orihime, face still expressionless. Renji leaned to Orihime's ear. "See how much oatmeal we've got in the house."
She nodded, smiling at the faint touch of his lips to her ear. "All right."
When she'd left to the kitchen, Renji watched the squad car leave down the drive. It turned onto the road, and beyond that, he could see Reese standing at the edge of Mayes' driveway. For a long moment the handyman returned Renji's stare. From behind the man came the widow, walking slowly, a letter in her hand. She looked up, saw Renji and waved.
He waved back.
Reese waved at Renji.
"Not you, dammit," Renji muttered.
The widow caught up to where Reese stood and opened the mailbox. Reese flinched, obviously not having heard her approach. Even from his distance, Renji could see the woman give the handyman a suspicious look. She then planted both hands on her apronned hips and began a list of chores for him to do.
Renji turned and went into the house.
Orihime had taken inventory of the oatmeal stash and was still crouched at a lower cupboard in the kitchen, pulling out Isane's backup supply.
"...five, six...seven..." she counted, ponytail falling to one side as she tilted her head to see in the back behind the packets of ramen.
For a minute he stopped near the table, letting the sunlight give him a better view of the yellow tank top at her back. The material lay smoothly, without indentation, pulled pleasingly tight at all the right spots over her back. He saw no indication of anything amiss. Everything about Orihime looked fine to him.
Nothing to report, he told himself as he stepped closer and squatted beside her.
"How about we go out for breakfast this morning?" he said, letting one hand go to her back, not bracing, but not quite passing on the moment to take a tangible examination.
"Oh? Do you want to? We have enough oatmeal." She smiled and hooked one arm around her bent knees. "Or I could make us something else, Renji. It doesn't have to be oatmeal."
"I need to pick up some more clothes in town, maybe even head over to the next town. Do you need anything for school?"
"Oh, I didn't think of that." She frowned into the cupboard.
Renji felt along her back, a movement that was supposed to detect any change, but for a moment he concentrated only on the delicate spine beneath his hand. He let one knee drop so he could bend closer, watching her face to see if she was hiding any tenderness under his palm.
But she was still smiling, blushing a little.
"Let's go. We'll find breakfast and check out the stores."
"Okay."
There was a thud of something hitting the front screen door. Renji stood, pulling Orihime with him.
"Stay here," he told her.
She nodded.
This time when Renji got to the door, he didn't reach for the sword to the side. Down the driveway pedaled a young boy on a bike, a newspaper bag hanging from his side. Renji stepped out onto the porch and picked up the rolled paper that was starting to unroll from impact. On the front page, Orihime's face looked back at him.
On impulse he grinned back at the photo, and then frowned.
"'Pretty New Face Takes Pie Auction Record'," he read from the headline. It was a picture of Orihime standing on the stage, smiling at the audience, a non-posed picture caught by the local paper's photographer. There were more, smaller photos accompanying the story, some of them of the audience – the men and teens – bidding on the winning pie, a few others of the auction contestants.
And, one of Renji speaking with the auctioneer as Orihime smiled back at him.
Renji gritted his teeth until he felt guilty at scowling at her photo. To one side of the story, another column held an announcement on the first day of school for the high school and registration reminders.
He looked again to the photo of the audience. Even in the grainy black and white of the photos Renji could see the livid fascination of the males in the audience.
He carefully rolled the newspaper into a tighter roll and headed for the kitchen. After the scene with Dan – and Dan's lack of memory for it – and Orihime's bird-clenching moment, Renji felt the uncertainties mount around him.
"Are you sure you want to go to school here?"
Orihime had just set a jug of ice tea in the kitchen window the steep while they were gone. "Yes." She turned as he set the paper on the table, the photo inside the roll. "Why?"
He shrugged, watching her hands clasp before her as her face took on a hopeful look. For a moment Renji was caught between admitting that the bird issue might be something more problematic, that it might resurface and become something he couldn't ignore.
That was why he was there, he reminded himself; to report these kinds of things.
To turn her in as a Hollow-in-progress.
He shook his head. Maybe it was just because the orange vials she was taking were the intermission phase, the little misstep of the bird incident was because she was in the lull of the protocol. The red vials, he thought, those were back to the real treatment. That would clear up anything faltering in Orihime's system.
There was nothing to put in a report.
He crossed the room and took her hands in his, kissing her lips quickly. "Just making sure, Orihime."
She smiled. "I'll go take my vial and then we can get breakfast?"
He nodded. It would give him a few moments to clean up their dinner from the night before outside. "Sure. Hurry back."
She nodded and skipped off and up the staircase.
Within minutes they were in the truck, heading for Grundy.
Ten minutes after Renji and Orihime had left, Szayel was in Reese's form and picking the lock on the back door. He'd tried to get the handyman's help, but Reese had been more stubborn this time than usual and wouldn't find the keys for the rental house for him. As a result, Reese's hand was now minus one finger.
Szayel grew frustrated with the cumbersomeness of using Reese's newly pinky fingerless-hand to pick the lock. He'd already bled a few drops onto the welcome mat, but it was a black rubber mat and wouldn't be noticed. Even so he made a mental note to wipe those drops away on his way out.
The lock clicked and the backdoor to the house swung open. Szayel grinned and stepped into the kitchen.
"Stop your whining," he rumbled to Reese who was whimpering inside the skull. "I'll put your finger back on later; next time maybe you'll be more cooperative when I ask for something."
He looked around the room. It was clean, hot in the day's growing mugginess, and empty. By now Szayel knew the layout of the house and headed directly for Orihime's room. He passed Renji's bedroom, giving it a glimpse, seeing the katana in one corner, and continued on to the last bedroom he knew to hers. He eased open the partly shut door, making a note of the angle it was at, and went to the small dresser. In the top left drawer was the protocol kit.
He smiled as he lifted it out and carefully opened it. Most of the orange vials were empty. He'd replaced them with a similar colored liquid the last time he'd visited while Orihime and Renji were gone. He knew the mind of a researcher, whether it was that clown shinigami Kurotsuchi or that reprobate Urahara. In either case, the orange set would be intermediate doses – duds. It was the vials with the red liquid that interested him most now.
He held up one to the stronger light of the window.
From his pocket he withdrew a lamb vaccination syringe – Reese did have his handy moments and wouldn't be suspicious in asking for supplies at the feed store in town. Szayel estimated the red liquid inside.
The colors matched closely enough.