[AliCe In Chains]

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

[Comfort Betrays]


["Shut up Grimmjow. You know as well as we do the foolishness of such an act. As fun as it would be too finally have one at my disposal, I dare say even I am not that eager to die. Besides- why can't you just calm down and enjoy the free buffet hmm? As long as they continue to hide, I see no reason for us to come out of hiding."] The top of his head-pink as cherry blossoms- as she had precariously balanced, hanging onto the edge.

["Greetings, Mrs. Orihime. I am Dr. Granz."] The smile, polite and unassuming, professional. The handshake - firm. ["…are you a witch?"] asked seriously. Because how could he have? -the smile on his face. ["No, I'm just a doctor."]

She couldn't breathe, her entire body growing numb as she was pinned beneath his gaze, feeling the cold radiating from him, a cold like- "… the slightest thing could help me help you… you understand, of course?" How kind he had been. How understanding- even though the words, the entire story had been smothered beneath the weight of her soul, buried within the wide expanse of her imagination, where she had resigned herself to letting it rot. Even though he had been so considerate. His eyes easy and kind as the words, fell, unbidden, from her lips. She had cried, a little, at his kindness- at finally being able to tell someone,anyone.The entire story, floundering as it leapt from her tongue. Once she had started she could not halt the flow, the truth. Her friends. Her life. Her sanity. Her...love. He promised. He had promised. To take it to the grave- in jest she had made him pinky swear, cross his heart and hope to die, stick a needle in his eye- she couldn't think. His advice had been heartfelt, sincere. Don't let him go. A smile like comfort, like benevolence going straight to her heart.

[["You're amazing." And probably a witch, she had added silently, despite his claims. She sat, relieved and spent, slouched against the table, her heart lighter than it had been for months. Relief- lightening her burden so that for a moment she wondered if she was going to float away like an unfettered balloon. How easy it had been, she remembered again, at his consistent but easy prying. How easy the answers were wrenched out of her, with all the difficulty of wringing water from a wet sponge. As if she had been writing in her diary- either this man was really, really good (A warlock was a male witch right?) or she was just that hopeless. It was almost unfair, how naturally the conversation had been, how amazing it had felt to be free of some of her fears, her hesitations, her friends, her everything.

"I'm sorry…you must think me silly. I have never told anyone so much! I hope you don't think I'm some strange lonely perverted miserable stalker with bad luck and-" pausing to sniffle, her eyes smarting from the tears that had come unbidden as she spoke. He gave her a kind smile as he handed her a box of tissue, which she gladly accepted. In awe of him she grabbed a few, pausing for a moment to blow her nose violently, her eyes on his the entire time. He had been leaning forward and cleaning his glasses as he pondered her predicament and the strange series of events that had made up her last waking hours.

"What…what do you think I should do? I don't…have anyone else I can ask for advice." She murmured honestly, feeling her chest tighten. Her friends would not…understand. They would judge and condemn, that she knew for certain. She did not hold it against them. They just wouldn't…understand. But this stranger who she trusted for some unfathomable reason, had not once called her silly or demeaned her situation in the slightest. That was what had made her continue, what made the words keep coming and coming far beyond her capability to stop them. Those kind eyes that did not judge her.

And he gave her another polite smile as he felt her gaze, this amazing man who spared the time out of his day to bear her ramblings. Watching, listening quietly as she parted the flood gates, as mostly everything came flowing out of her like a broken faucet.

"Is first love not the purest, the most sublime? The standard to which all love is held? Then you cannot allow the opportunity to escape you, dear girl. The both of you are still young, and there is still much you have to learn. But surely if you do not confront him honestly, you will sordidly regret your mistake." He began thoughtfully as he pushed the glasses over his calm eyes.

"But I must say, after all of that, why on earth do you continue to pursue such a man? Surely anyone else your age would have long since moved on after being treated to such cruelty."

She paused as she lowered her hands, her nose red and irritated so that for a moment she rubbed at it awkwardly with the back of her sleeve. Her eyes lowering immediately, to her lap and the hands, tearing mindlessly at the tissue balled in her fist.

"I…know what you're saying. He's not very nice. He's not warm or welcoming or thoughtful or considerate or normal or…" she sighed and cut the list short, even though she could still hear it, rambling off in the back of her mind.

"And he has these…eyes. Like…emeralds," she murmured softly, eyes…green like envy. "They would make you shudder if you saw them. Because they're so cold and…empty. Like…nothing's there. Like knock, knock but nobody's home." Turning the tissue over in her hands, her feet dangling over the edge of the table. Shoulders hunched with the thought of his coldness, making her want to wrap her arms around her frail body for comfort, for warmth.

"I know he will probably…never love me but…I don't know. It's like there's some…" she struggled to define it, the wordlessness of the cold, swamping him. "It's like he is trapped in a dark hole and he can't get out or…doesn't want too. It's like he's miserable but he never seems sad, he never seems like…anything," she reiterated with a sigh, gray eyes lost in remembrance. So she missed the way light reflected malevolently across spectacled eyes. "I just want him to understand I guess. I…love him so much. I can't…really explain it more than that, and I don't know why but he…I don't think he believes in it." she murmured slowly, voice drifting.

He rose softly, and came to her side, placing an arm around her hunched shoulders. Immediately she sniffled again, grabbing another tissue from the box held in his outstretched hand. For a moment they sat quietly, his face thoughtful as she proceeded to blow her nose rather violently.

"Then you must not let him go."

"What?" she exclaimed, looking up at him through hazy eyes, widening at the smile on his face.

"Do not let him go. Make him understand. Do not let him drive you away. You are a strong girl, Mrs. Inoue. I believe in you." The smile, on his face was coaxing, warm, easy to trust. "Confront him honestly, love him openly…your intentions, your feelings are pure- you must believe in them. I encourage you to inquire about your unusual circumstances- you never know what angels are guarding you. That alone would be proof enough right?"

The smile on his face- gentle. So gentle as he speaks. "How amazing it must be, to believe in the one you love. You must do the same Mrs. Inoue. And I assure you…your faith, your confidence in your love will be rewarded. Is that alone not worth fighting for?"]]

'A snake,'she thought far too late, with a shudder racing down her spine, her breath caught in her throat. A snake, feeding her candy coated lies. The blasphemous truth, was standing right here in front of her widened eyes. For a moment she lay there, stunned beyond words, struck so deeply she could not think. Because he had known then. He had known her. And yet he had-he had so easily-!

"You knew…you knew the entire time! Then how could you…" the words fumbled from her lips like a broken promise, trembling with disbelief. How could he let her walk so willingly into the lion's den? How could he let her? The answer came swift, immediate, from the echo of the dark in her mind.You were always prey. She drove the words away with a shake of her head, a high keen of pain making her vision waver and her throat dry. He watched her with eyes like honey, with a cold edge in them that was more like steel.

"Come now dear girl, no need to be so upset."-how easy his words came! As she lay before him, smothering some unfathomable something brewing inside of her. It reminded her of the alley, of the alley from before when she had lain on scuffed knees. Remembering the bite of the pavement against her raw palms, the way her tears stung from the mascara running into her eyes. The cruelty of words she had never heard. And the realization for the first time in her entire life that she could have known of it. It reminded her of something hard and tight like a rock in her chest. Something cold and heavy that felt like hate.

'Be wary of this one.'The chain told her, a whisper snaking through the corridor of her mind. 'Be wary of the one who calls himself friend. Be wary of the man who so easily uses lies. Be wary of the man with madness on his tongue.'

His smile was calm- sickeningly calm- as he grinned at her. And the very essence of his voice made her soul squirm.

"Are we not comrades now? And surely everything worked out well for you did it not? In any form you have him, your love of a thousand life times- and he has you. Surely you are content?"

'The Octavia. Trust not the comrade with the silver tongue.'

She said nothing, giving him a weary glare, her lips pressed tightly together. He smiled anew from between the cigarette perched between his lips, the thing such a blatant mockery of his earlier kindness that it made her blood roar.

"Ah I see…angry with me are you? Very well…I suppose I deserve that right? Is that what you want me to say? That I should feel ashamed? For being inconsiderate? For taking advantage of your vulnerability? For knowingly using your weakness against you? If that is what you sincerely believe...then poor girl…you really don't know anything do you?"

"I know a bad person when I see one," she bit out hotly, the words leaping from her lips so vigorously that even she was surprised at them. But somewhere at the heart of her she saw a black bird, smiling smugly at her response. Syazel's responding grin hardly made it seem like a victory, as he paused to let smoke billow from between his lips.

"Oh you know me now, once I have dropped the charade. But girl you did not know me then, when I could have easily snapped your neck."

She sucked in a breath at how casually the words were said, perching warily against the cot on which she lay. And for the briefest of moments she thought of Grimmjow, of the sound of his laughter across the empty, and despite herself she could feel a tremor of something cold run down her spine.'Don't be scared girl!' Gruff words in her ear. 'Don't let the little shit bully you.' 'Yes' she thinks as she draws a breath and steadies her gaze. 'I understand.'

He does not pause, although his eyes greedily devoured the fear in her gaze before she could steel herself. But it is with a half-hearted wave of his hand that he continues. "I suppose it is the chain that warns you?" he murmurs in jest, a moment before he pauses to take another draw of his cigarette, inhaling deeply for a moment before he blows a stream of hazy gray smoke right in her face. "And what does it say of me?"

She coughs at the intrusion, waving her hands hastily to fan the foul smelling cloud away from her face. The smoke stung her eyes, making them water, so she struggled to hold back the tears as they smarted. But her voice was quiet and calm when she answered. "Not to trust you. You…are not the strongest but that does not make you weak. You are worst because you are clever. I must watch you because you can't be trusted. Because you're a snake," she puffed vehemently, narrowing her eyes in a tight glare.

He laughed darkly, taking a deep draw of his cigarette. "Just a snake? My goodness! I should practically be offended. I assure you, I can be much worse." He leaned forward, drawing so close to her she could feel her chest squirm anew. She held her breath, daring not to blink as he let her stare deeply into the golden pools- and at the madness she could see swirling in their depths.'Compose yourself.' It was the dark in her ear. 'Do not waver.'

And she did not blink, even when her eyes began to smart and her vision began to blur. Even when she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest at the dark staring her in the face. Grimmjow's eyes had swirled with violence, turbulent and wild, wrath beyond containing. His gaze had burned hot and raw like hell fire. Syazel's eyes were different- clearer, calculating- not nearly as forceful or overwhelming. But in its inquisitive cold way it was frightening- he was staring at her as if he wanted to slice her to pieces, as if he were a moment away from forcing a blade right between her eyes.

After a moment that seemed endless, he withdrew from her with an almost disinterested languidness to his gaze. But the smile on his lips was stuck somewhere between annoyed and almost pleased. "Hmph. Not quite so helpless after all are you?" She held her breath, nodding so vehemently his lips twitched.

"Very well, I suppose we have reached an impasse for now…and for the moment I cannot afford to let my own personal opinions interfere with our best interests. In any event dear Orihime, we are reluctant comrades. So let us get along well, yes?"

He held out a hand to her, and she eyed it warily, remembering the dark in her ear. What if this handshake turned out to be a vice grip of death? Or what if the moment she let her guard down enough to take his hand he broke her wrist and then snatched her eyeballs? Admittedly, prime time TV dramas had prepared her for everything but this- the truth of a very real fear in her chest. But he had said it himself- comrades. And he would not hurt her. But something told her it was more than that-deeper. He…couldn't hurt her. He was not…allowed. But he took her hesitancy for something else-weakness?-and grinned.

"Oh yes of course- would an apology appease you? Don't be absurd, surely you know better by now than to expect more than that. We Arrancar have little regard for human sensibilities."

He was right…and she knew an apology from a man like this would be many things, but comforting would not be one of them. Warily she reached out a hand in return, giving his own cold one a quick shake.

"I...forgive you, but I still don't trust you," she admitted honestly, surprised that she did not feel guilty about the admittance. Although it was the first time in her entire life she could recall being on the other end of such an uneasy truce.

"As you wish." He shrugged easily, seating himself in a chair at her side. She blinked with surprise, unable to stop herself from instinctively moving as far away from his side as the cot would allow. "Nonetheless, there are more pressing matters. You and my brethren seemed to have made quite the mess of things, you agree?"

Her face flushed immediately and she paused in the middle of her awkward shuffling, cheeks warming with a shame she could not douse quick enough. It took only a moment for her to recall it- the black in his eyes, rolling from between his lips…and the hot scent of scorched flesh, of blood.

"I didn't mean to!" she yelled out instantly, a decibel too loud, before her good sense or the chain could stop her. "It was an...accident," she murmured quietly, eyes focusing on everything but his.

"An accident?" He pursed his lips, letting a thin stream of smoke billow from between them. "Dear girl…there are no such things as accidents."

She begged to differ, struggling to explain herself beneath his scrutiny.

"But he…saw me and…I…I was feeling really weird, and I could see…you know..."- for a moment her hands danced vaguely through the air, like fluttering birds."-The hole. I asked him how he got his. And for a moment he was really surprised! Like when you think your friends forgot your birthday but catch you off guard with a party surprise. And then…then...he got really angry. It was like something inside of him…broke." She floundered, uncertain if the term properly conveyed the feeling. Of 'be a good bitch and die for me.'

"And then he tried to…he tried to..." she trailed off, unsure how to voice the remainder. Because it had been the moment in which she could remember thinking, through the pain, through the adrenaline coursing through her veins, looking into his eyes and just thinking…he was going to devour the light inside of like…a shudder ran down her spine, so that she grasped at her arms to draw them close.

Syazel watched her carefully, golden eyes gleaming at her over thin frames at the unconscious movement. He sighed, pausing a moment to haggardly rub at his temples with a free hand. His expression was almost…worried, if she dared label it as such. But worried implied he cared, when instead he seemed rather…disappointed.

"Ah…now I see. How…unfortunate."

Her gaze snapped up to his as he began to drift off, the tone of the words making a sudden alarm ring in her head. But the chain was cold- the dark sullen and silent. The implications of the words were vague, beyond her range of understanding- but the very tone of the phrase made her wary.

"But…why? I don't…understand." She began carefully, struggling to comprehend the apprehension that was making her anxious.

His golden gaze was shut off and unreadable as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, making her eyes smart and her throat burn. She wanted to tell him to stop, that lung cancer was real and killed people, but that was beginning to seem like the least of her concerns. And she was certain it was the least of his.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any. Pay attention girl. It is time for your first lesson."

He dropped the cigarette onto his floor, callously grinding it beneath his heel. She perked up as he straightened his posture, folding his hands together in his lap.

"Arrancar are ingrained with a few of man's most original sins- it was from that darkness in our once mortal hearts from in which our hollow forms were born. And at any rate, it is plague that never leaves us. There is no rest while the hollow lives, there is only the constant reminder of that sin. Although I dare say none of us remember the original darkness that made us monsters, but the hollow will not allow us to forget- and to this day we pay for that mistake. It's all quite melodramatic, I assure you. The kind of curse that makes great fodder for tragic theater."

She listened carefully, nodding slowly even though she quirked an eyebrow at the whimsical tone in his voice. He said it all as if he had been spinning a fairytale for a sleepy child at bed time, but the story itself seemed far too somber to cause pleasant dreams. More like nightmares. And she could feel the dark at her shoulder- silent- and the voices murmuring wordlessly in her ear.

"We Arrancar are…well-" he smiled for moment, pausing only slightly before he continued."…it would be easier to say that for the moment there are some rather 'interesting' circumstances that permit us to exist in this mortal world. But there are of course, strict regulations we must follow in order to maintain that turbulent existence. To 'live' as mortals- we must keep that sin, the hollow, under tight control. We must feed frequently to maintain these forms, and above all we cannot lose ourselves to our hollow like tendencies. To do so is not beneficial for any of us. And by now I am sure you know what Grimmjow's curse is?"

He gave her a smile like a knife, sharp and cold at her throat. A shiver ran down her spine- the scent of blood and sand. The wild smile of animalistic pleasure on his face. "Destruction." She stated quietly. His smile widened, as if he was reveling in the somber note in her voice.

"Good girl. And one can only assume there was a moment- however brief it might have been- where he wanted to end…something. One can only assume it was you. And that desire was so strong in that moment that it overwhelmed him, and his sensibilities. What remained of his sanity and self control shattered completely. Quite a normal response actually- he simply wanted to ruin you beyond repair."

The words made her gulp harshly in her throat, and there was some strange something that felt like sadness. 'He...wanted to ruin me beyond repair. To end me.' She didn't want to believe in a reality so harsh, when the man who had saved her would severely regret the mistake...and try to rectify it. Syazel's smile was pleasant as he said it- his tone rudely conversational, as if such a thing were common place. As if...such a thing were of little concern. He had wanted to end her. And the words were all the more bitter because they rang true. She had seen it, in his eyes- he would have torn her to shreds, annihilated her completely if he had not been stopped. There would have been nothing left of her. The thought made her blink quickly at tears her weary body could not produce.

"But I…don't understand. Why? Was it because I'm…one of you or…" Was it because she was so worthless, so helpless? Did he know her as well? That when stripped of her title, her prestige, her accomplishments and popularity that in the end she was simply…not even worth the space? She tried to remind herself that she was strong, that had proven herself, but the self doubt brewing in her heart could not be smothered so quickly. Voices in her ear- serene and calm. *Remember the promise you made to him.* Gruff, strong. 'Don't fuck this up girl.' Syazel laughed lowly under his breath at her question, a sound of barely subdued mirth in his words.

"Why?" He seemed almost amused at the audacity of the question, and at the ignorance of it. "Why does a wolf howl at the moon? Why do mortals continuously lament the cruelty of fate? Questions! Questions!" He reiterated carefully, with an idle flip of his hand, brushing the bangs from his face with an almost frustrating sigh. "Do you still not understand? We are unstable creatures. Allow me for a moment if you will- I offer myself as a prime example. I can gain your confidence, abuse your trust, converse with you normally- a moment apart from mulling over all of the ways I could peel the flesh from your bones."

Instinctively she flew backwards, with such violence that she almost toppled off of the small table. His smile grew brighter at her wariness, approving her involuntary fear a moment before he smothered it.

"It could have nothing to do with you. It could have everything to do with you. He- or what remains of him- is the only one that knows," he finished carefully, giving her a moment to let the words settle between them.

"You must not forget- the hollow is always just below the surface. And as long as we 'live' in this realm- it is apart from us. It has its own desires, its own whims, and its own code. We are the reflections, the extension of that will. But at the root- is that beast. On the other side- we are free to revel in that power, to use it how we wish. But here, we are contained, bound. It is only there that we can truly be free."

'The beast?'-she felt another involuntary shiver race down her spine. She had…seen that for herself. She had met the dragon, in the dark of the abyss. She could hear the rattle of the chains binding him in the darkness. The wings aching for flight. Eyes like dying stars. The scent was still fresh in her memory- hazy and ancient, like the air inside of a forgotten tomb. The eyes that had known her like the man had not. That she knew well…but she dared not speak of it, of that sacred moment. Especially not to a man who could so easily use her in a way more cruelly than she had ever known. He…was cold, and just as cruel. But it was cruelty without pretense. It was the biting edge of the truth she did not want to face, being shoved down her throat. But Syazel's cruelty was all the more bitter because he had presented himself as more than a monster. The cruelty of the liar with the cunning of the thief who steals in broad daylight.

So she said nothing of that time in the dark, surreal and fading fast into the dark of her mind. Noticing the inquisitive look in his prying eyes at her extended pause, she hurried to speak lest he ask her a question she was ill-prepared to answer. But it was hard for her to focus on just one of the vague explanations to question him about.

What was the other side exactly? What did he mean by free? And…why were they here? To what ends, and for what purpose? Quickly trying to question him before his interest wavered and he gave up on her in disgust, she asked the first one she could think of.

"Then…why not go back? Why stay here?"

But instinctively she knew the question had been a moment too late- those golden eyes no longer stared at her as if she were an interesting commodity. Instead, he gave her a callous glance like she was nothing but a chore. He waved her question off idly as he drew himself upwards, a bemusing smile of arrogance etched into the lines of his face.

"…Another time perhaps. I've already said far too much you know. The chain will tell you when it is time, I suppose."

"B-But-" she began to argue, lifting her body upwards, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set as if she were seriously considering jumping him. (Which she was.) But he turned his head away from her, turning towards the shadows of the room. Hurrying to regain his attention before it deviated from her completely she asked the last thing of absolute importance at his retreating back.

"And…what about…Grimmjow? Is he okay? I hope I didn't…hurt him? Will he be…"

"Questions, questions!"- he interjected smoothly, a sound almost like laughter echoing in his words. "That matter is no longer in our hands. Rest easy now, dear girl, lest you make yourself sick with worry. Grimmjow is currently indisposed for the moment, and let us leave it at that."

"But-!"she was almost surprised at the begging note in the words, the way her hands wrung in her lap as she leapt towards him, nearly stumbling from the small bed onto which she so precariously balanced. But those golden eyes flashed at her from behind thin golden frames, the look casually thrown over his shoulder so cold for a moment that she choked the remainder of the words in her throat.

"I am finished with the matter. And you would do well to adhere to my wishes. I am not allowed to cause you physical harm, but there are other ways…none of which are pleasant."

And he left her with that last warning, a low hiss of disapproval buzzing in her ears. The gruff voice, murmuring in her ears.'Arrogant little shit.'

And as Syazel leaves her in the darkness, even though she is far from the cursing type, she still couldn't help but agree.


She went to school the next day with a smile on her face. She greeted everyone she met with a grin, the sound of her boisterous laughter echoing through the halls. But she wasn't faking it, as she barrel rolled into class, grinning widely. When her classmates crowded around her-

Huh? What was that? Where had she mysteriously gone in the middle of the day? She'd left her bag- her keys- her phone- half strewn across some table in the middle of class. Pfft! Class? But the day had been so beautiful? How could she not enjoy it? The sun, the wind, the blue sky had been calling her name! She was a child of the wild and the spring! She'd gone galloping away to an open field, and sung until the sun went down!

And her cheer mates- haha, had she really missed practice yesterday? Flapjack had been on, it was her favorite! So what if she was getting too old for cartoons? Did know one else grasp the full societal implications of a young child being raised by a whale and a grumpy peg legged pirate? It was magnificence in its purest form!

She brushed off their concerns with poise and grace- or fumbling laughter and outlandish tales. Why was she so late to class? Well she'd left the stove on! Can you imagine? It just hit her on the way to school that she'd forgotten to turn off her coffee pot, and poor Mrs. Mimi wouldn't ever even know! So she dashed home,- too late! The stove was in flames! Armed with a wet mop as her blade and her apron as her shield she had valiantly tackled the red beast! Single handedly she had faced down the flames, she had wrestled with the monster made of smoke and fire! For hours they had clashed, battling- singed hair, smog attacks, amongst a battlefield of smoke- until she had emerged victorious!

But Orihime? Why didn't you just call the fire department? Orihime! That's too dangerous! Why didn't you call one of us?! Orihime! You can't keep doing things like that you'll hurt yourself! Orihime! You have to be careful class wouldn't be the same without you! Orihime-

She stopped herself before the fade- scrambling to keep herself together as twenty odd faces of concern were shoved into hers. Sheepish laughter. What was the point in that? The mighty Orihime bowed before no one! More laughter, good natured pats delivered to her shoulders, the top of her head.That's so like you Orihime! You don't give up easily! We should have known! We can always count on you to brighten our day Orihime! Glad to have you back!

'That's right,' she thought as she grinned, laughed, and shared stories half gibberish with a dash of good natured nonsense. She forgave them for not knowing- and was generally appreciative of their concern, loath to question it even if she knew the truth behind it.He always cheated off of her tests, and they had a pop quiz tomorrow. Her cheer mates- none of them had probably even went to practice…and if they had what half hearted work had they done?

But those thoughts were better left alone.

Truth was that despite her pestering, Syazel had refused to budge even the slightest. The room shrouded in dark, its location was one she did not know- he had made her close her eyes. He had said it had been to spare her, and through the fumbling walk in darkness she knew of nothing but the strange sterile scent of cleanliness that clogged her had simply led her back to her room, and to her surprise she had found it completely spotless, looking as pristine as it was before she had blown Grimmjow out of her third story had been out of place- and his cryptic smile as he bid her adieu had not been helpful. She did not know much about the man- but she knew he could not be trusted. She had always been the type to trust openly, shamelessly, to forgive and forget. But he…was different, and she could not understand why. For whatever reason, the chain had warned her of him. And that in itself was cause for worry. But she pushed that to the back of her mind, for another sleepless night.

Because…she noticed other things. Strange things.

The way Rukia kept her silence today, her distance. The small girl was quiet- her eyes somewhere no one could reach her. She made half-hearted attempts at humor for appearances sake, but things…weren't the same. The way Ichigo's loud brash voice seemed- timid- when he greeted her. Strained. Unnatural. Uryuu didn't sew between class periods like usual, and she caught a glimpse of the bandages meticulously wrapped around his hands. For the first time since she'd known him, Chad had worn long sleeves. Simple things she thought. Simple things- but none of them met her eyes. Their eyes were trained onto things she could not see, gazes lost in the sky, the clouds- eyes that didn't raise beyond open textbooks, limp hands on desks, scrawling aimlessly across still blank pages. She noticed.

The way they…felt. Different. She didn't know why but…the very moment Rukia had walked into the room, every single hair on her head had seemed to stand on end. The scent- of burning incense and candle wax. A shiver, running down her back when Ichigo touched her, so that she had jumped and nearly dropped her things out of her arms. But it wasn't like his touch- not a cold lingering chill that made goose bumps break out on her arms. This was like a sudden bolt of heat arching along her spine, tingling and warm. And she was quick to look- but she didn't see him, and didn't hear the rattle of chains.

And she would blink haggard eyes, and could have sworn they glowed ,a faint tingle of something lingering in the air when they drew close, something clean and new so that she almost stuck her tongue out to taste it.

But she tried not to think about these things, tried to make them go away, tried to will them away. She had been the one who had changed after all, she was the one being strange. The voices said nothing of this- the strange voices that she had accepted so easily that it was borderline insane. It was best to ignore the signs. Of weird things. Odd things.


"He's gone," she began hesitantly, the more commonly known mirth of her words overshadowed now by the straightforward calm that she had once been renowned for. In another time perhaps…but this had not been a better time, nor an easier one. But then...she had been in full possession of all that she was, in command and control of herself and her power. But now- with a smile she could acknowledge her own weakness, but her pride stung her in the depths of her being. A valiant pride, the pride of the warrior who fights for what she believes, a noble pride being squandered in this world.

"Fuck, do I care?" He scoffed aloud, long arms and hands wrapped firmly around still quivering thighs. She leaned against the closed door quietly, eyes tight as she watched without comment. Although the pain the vision caused her could not be measured in words or feelings. It ran deeper- so that it transcended descriptions as trivial as 'feelings'- those were for mortals who had not lived long enough. This is raw, agonizing, without mercy or mindfulness. He feeds from the woman as if she is worth less than nothing, the groveling, squirming female in his bed. The smug grin on his face is one of absolute contentment- not because he is satisfied- but because of the sheer pleasure he gains from the act. The sheer pleasure he gains from knowing- that he has ruined one more female, put one more inferior being in their place. It only served as further reaffirmation of the food chain that constituted their lives. She feels her face grow tight, although she is certain her eyes are filled with more pity than sorrow as she speaks.

"You would do well to mind your feeding habits. Lately your choices have been potentially compromising. Ulquiorra-"

"Bah!" He scoffs again, wagging his tongue out at her, eyes narrowed and callous as he holds the squirming female in his grip- and she does not imagine the sound of the woman's bones snapping like twigs. She keeps her face calm, even though her hands grip her forearms, too tight for a moment to be reflex. But she has loosened their grip by the time he has met her eyes.

"Don't bullshit me girl. The fuck do you care what I fucking eat? I'll have whatever the hell I like."

She grits her teeth, feeling her brows narrow over her eyes, but her voice is steady and unmoved. "And is that what you thought when you saw her? That you could have whatever you like? And do whatever you please? Did you learn nothing?"

His hand is around her throat in the next moment, the grip firm, tightening to a point beyond pain. She does not flinch, even when his grip tightens, even when his narrow eyes flare at her with hate so intense for a moment that it makes her pause. He stands before her, the length of his lanky form covering her in his shadow, grinding his fangs with such purpose that instinctively her spiritual pressure spikes in reply.

"Bitch," he grinds out through clenched fangs, eyes wild as he leans his face closer to hers, the fury in his voice so potent it is almost tangible. "I prefer pretty bitches like you wide eyed and quiet." The grip on her throat- she can feel the threat, the illusion of power his strength provides. In many ways she knows it to be true- she has seen his might for herself. But more so than ever she is disgusted by his blatant display, his knowledge, his exploitation of the fact that as she is currently she is hardly in the position to put him in his place. But the very reminder of her power is one neither of them can forget, and she can imagine the way his pride squirms in his chest at remembrance of the shame dealt to him by her hand.

"No, you prefer me this way because I can't challenge you. Allow me to assure you that you are hardly worthy of the effort. A beast like yourself was never a worthy opponent."

The concrete to the right of her head explodes, the cement crumbling around his fist with such ease that it should have been cause for concern. But her eyes do not flinch or waver at his violence, seeing the wrath in his eyes, grinding his jaws together so intently that she can smell the stagnant odor of his blood, hot and black in his mouth. And she can smell it on his breath- and the scent of the woman dying in his bed when he draws near. He presses his body against her, firmly, violently- ramming her form into the wall with such intensity that she wonders at the sound of the wall giving away beneath her. His mouth is at her throat- the heat of his breath mirroring the fire in his words as he holds her there, whispering hotly into the shell of her ear.

"If we were in Las Noches…you would be on your knees before me at this very moment. And do you know what I would do then? I would bury my face into those pretty titties of yours and devour your fucking flesh. Break those beautiful legs so you couldn't run. Gnaw at those darling fingers so you couldn't fight. Fuck you raw…immobile until you wouldn't even be able to crawl. And even then I wouldn't stop, not even if you begged me for mercy bitch. Not until you were a groveling, broken mess. I would drink you dry, fuck you to the edge of death. You can't begin to imagine the pain I have in mind for you. And you would love it. You would beg me for it. I've broken bitches down to their pathetic cores, and you can be damned sure you're no different."

Like water she flows out of his grip, her hand expertly strikes him across the face with the back of her palm, sending him reeling away from her. Even though she has checked her strength to avoid sending him hurling through pavement, she does not miss how firmly he has to plant his feet in order to remain rooted in his position. He does not seem to mind, even though she could feel the bones in his cheek give way to the blow. Instead he laughs, loudly and abruptly, the sound coming from the depths of that void her brethren know so well- there is madness in the echo of it. There is madness, and there is a choked underlining of something so indescribable she knows he smothers it in the blackness of his rage. He turns and spits violently, black blood staining the flesh of the woman in his bed.

The callousness of the action, the blatant disrespect and dismissal he has for his prey is one that does not go unnoticed. She withdraws her hands, wiping the remains of the burning kiss from her neck with such violence that his eyebrows waggle at the motion.

"I am far removed from the helpless women on which you prey. And in any event I am far stronger than you. And you would do well to remember your place. I am far more merciful than Ulquiorra- I do not believe in using violence where words alone will suffice. I am merely alerting you that I believe something has happened. I'm sure you felt it too...Grimmjow."

And she cannot hide the flicker of sadness that dances through her eyes. She is certain that she alone has this feeling, any remaining compassion there is to be had amongst her brethren. Would they call it a matter of course? Would they curse him for his foolishness, his weakness? She can bring herself to do neither. And the thought alone of hid wild grin, and him- uncouth, as wild and untamed as a stormy wind. There is a moment where she can almost imagine the ghost of a throb in the heart she does not have. There is a moment- but she knows it has no place here. Not in front of him, when he could smell her weakness, when he could revel in it.

"...I believe that the events that will soon unfold will no doubt test your patience. But you had best mind yourself if you are not prepared to face the consequences."

She turns on her heels to leave him, but she pauses at the harsh bite of his laughter mocking her, even though the sound is sharp with the bite of his fury, tightly restrained. The sound is so striking that she pauses, hand on the doorknob. It strikes her that this sound is brimming with such loathing that it is beyond a human's range of comprehension- but she understands it. She understands the sound of his bitterness, the harsh armor of the pride he wears so well. 'All he has.' The thought sobering because it is absolute. Truth- is a concept beyond his range of understanding- gone to that black of the abyss with his honor, his loyalty. Nothing left of the man but the black of his despair, the over-inflated ego masking the shattered remains of a broken man. A black heart…black as pitch.

"Turning your back on me Nel? Not even worried that I'll break your fucking skull?"

She reminds herself that it is useless to feel for this creature, reminds herself that it is pointless to expect anything more from him. She has hardened herself when it comes to many things- this is merely another burden for which she must bear the brunt of its weight without complaint.

"As if you could. And you do well to remember that I am your superior. And I do not believe I have ever given you explicit permission to address me with such familiarity."

He laughs again, the sounder louder, harsher. "You should hear the way you call after me! N'tra! N'tra!" He marks cruelly, mimicking the high pitch of her child like voice, and the name that her tongue can barely utter without pause. "The way you scramble after me- the way you try to stop these trifling bitches from following me into alleys and straight into hell. The way you look at me with those wide eyes. Do you know how fucking cute that is? Without you running your fucking mouth and ruining it, you uppity bitch?"

"I assure you it is not done by my own volition. And you are hardly worthy of such concern, that you might as well understand. Regardless of what you may think, you garner none of my passion- the only thing I feel for you is pity."

She opens the door slightly, unfazed by the cold blue gaze that meets her eyes. Blue eyes ask what she does not say, cannot say. She shakes her head quietly in reply even as Nnoitra's last words mock her from behind.

"One of these days Haribel isn't going to be there to protect you bitch. Wait for me until then. And then…I'll give you a taste of what hell is like. I'll break you like I should have back then. I'll break you so thoroughly, you won't even have the strength to scream, the strength to resist."

For a moment she feels like laughing, although the sound would ring with nothing but a long lost sorrow.

"That day will never come."


He misses nothing. He regrets nothing. He wants for nothing. He desires nothing. He began in the black of a pit- void of sound, void of feeling- with nothing but sight. The nest. Not a place of birth- a place of creation. Perhaps it was no accident that led him to the bush, scorching the armor from his frame- cracking the mask. The feeling…it could hardly be labeled as such. He did not dream, nor desire such things. The folly of remembrance was one on which he did not dwell.

All turns to ash in the end. All fades with time. The only truth that exists in the empty of the void is the one he can see. And there is only one thing he cannot allow himself to forget. The Last Order.

He does not even feel the weight of the steel in his hand, but he knows how it will look, encasing the small of her wrist. A cold silver band, without end or beginning, reminding her of the fate she could no longer escape.


AN: HAPPY NEW YEAR GUUUUYS! Thanks to my lovely beta, TheCatWithTheHat for helping me again! Maybe I'll even get around to finishing this year hurhur (not likely) but any who I was asked in a few reviews to give a brief summary of what has happened thus far (and let's face it I seem to have the uncanny ability to confuse the hell out of people so expect one of those bad boys next chapter, where shit is probably gonna get a little real for somebody...ain't saying no names.

Here in case anyone missed it, Orihime relived some of the conversation she had with Syazel, in which he found out her big bad 'secret'- guess it goes to show you home girl hime really needs to work on her willingness to trust others so easily, she's living in a different world now :p But really I just love the thought of syazel fucking with Orihime's head, somehow I feel as if he would be really good at it. I'm also fairly certain he's a pathological LIAR so even I'm not sure if he means anything he says

It's been awhile since Nel and Haribel have made an appearance, but I dare say Nel x Nnoitra would be the most interesting dynamic among the Arrancar, and at the very least Nel would no doubt be the most sympathetic to Orihime's plight. Poor girl prolly gonna need it. Thanks for reading and reviewing again, didn't get around to doing too many replies this time but I got you guys for the next chapter! See ya'll then!