AN: I will be posting more often this weekend to get to a certain point in the story line because I am going out of town for the holidays. So, chapter 12 will be up by this Sunday (12/21) but chapter 13 will not be up until the Sunday after that (12/28). I promise this story is not going on hiatus or anything like that, though: it is finished. I just won't have access to an actual computer while I'm visiting family and friends.

Also, I want to thank everyone who has posted a review. I love hearing what you all think of the story so far!


"How could I be so stupid?"

"You're not stupid, Uryuu-kun," Orihime asserts with a gentle pat on his slumped shoulders. "You didn't mean to have feelings for him. It could happen to anyone."

He didn't tell her about Kurosaki. He didn't even tell her he'd had a bad day at work. All he did was show up at her door and she just knew it was about a man. Although he did tell her about Grimmjaw's little charade that day, she guessed at most of the rest. That is the odd thing about Orihime: she seems so ditzy at first but her perception is unrivaled. As is her compassion. Yet, even Orihime can't talk him out of feeling like a moron this time. Uryuu had abandoned all reason the instant he saw Kurosaki's hurt confusion at the suggestions of a transfer. And Uryuu anticipated that but the reality was so much more difficult than he imagined. Analyzing every plausible argument so he could have a ready rebuttal for each was useless. It all came down to the way Uryuu's chest had tightened at the desolate look in Kurosaki's eyes.

Add that to Grimmjaw's showing up to cause trouble. That hadn't been as trying by comparison; Uryuu's feelings for his ex have long since dwindled. If anything, he had been enraged by the fact that he interrupted a very important conversation and then threw him off by forcing him to recall an unpleasant event. Plus, something about the intrusion was enough to cause a switch in Kurosaki's personality roulette.

"When he kissed me, I knew I was supposed to push him away," he grumbles, head in his hands. "I knew it was wrong for so many reasons but I…"

Orihime drapes an arm across his back in a half-hug. She combs through his ruffled hair and shushes him like the mother she will one day become.

"We can't always choose who we like."

"No, but we can choose how we behave about it. 'I will come for the benefit of the sick remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief, and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons'," Uryuu recites part of the psychiatric oath from memory. He raises his face to emphasize the gravity of his guilt. "My patient is sick and I am meant to be healing him! Not taking advantage of his trust and malleability."

"But you said he kissed you," Orihime reminds him. "It's not like you forced him into anything."

No, Uryuu could almost go so far as to say he was forced by Shirosaki, but that would be inaccurate. Shirosaki was rough but not aggressive. Intent but not without consideration. He had even paused to seek a form of permission before going further. Uryuu didn't mind the biting and tugging—those were aspects of his physical relationship with Grimmjaw that he had appreciated. Neither did he mind the aura of dominance, knowing he could easily subvert it if he wished. The fact remains, though, that in that situation Uryuu was the mentor and Kurosaki the disciple of sorts. He had abused his power by allowing the transgression. Better psychiatrists have lost their licenses over similar incidents.

He is reaching for his phone to call Yoruichi and confess everything when Orihime snatches it away, guessing his intention. She stuffs it into a plush nest of colorful throw pillows at one end of her couch.

"I have to call my lawyer, Orihime. I need to make amends—"

"You didn't hurt anyone!" They both pause at her volume; Orihime almost never shouts at anyone. Shooting him an apologetic glance, she continues with a normal tone. "You didn't hurt each other, right? You just wanted to show how much you care for each other. How could that be bad?"

"He's not in a state of mind to know what he wants," Uryuu tries to explain without giving any extra details about Kurosaki. "His interest in me could be a form of transference—shifting feelings from one person to another. I am a source of enlightenment, guidance, and catharsis for many of my patients. Feelings of gratitude and relief can be misinterpreted, warped into the shape of attraction or even adoration."

"How do you know he doesn't just like you because you're super smart, loyal, creative, sincere, and the sweetest man ever?" she lists on small fingers. "You shouldn't assume it's fake or 'transferred' or whatever. What if he's your soul mate?"

Uryuu scoffs at the exaggerated phrase, earning a soft glare. She has a good point, though. There's no way to know for sure without having a very serious talk with Kurosaki. Because Shirosaki was in control when it happened, however, Uryuu would have to elucidate not only his inappropriate feelings for Kurosaki but also the diagnosis he has been trying to keep from addressing prematurely. He has been hoping that the man would come to notice his alters more naturally than that.

There was also the cryptic admission by Shirosaki that 'sometimes he knows, sometimes he doesn't'. This implies a persistent dichotomy within Kurosaki's awareness. A simultaneous recognition and refutation in regards to his mental wellbeing. Until now, Uryuu has been hesitant to strong-arm Kurosaki into facing his largest barrier to full health in the hopes that, like discussing it's source—Kurosaki's mother—he could come to understand the affliction in a gentler fashion.

"Still, these rules exist for good reason—"

"I don't think it's fair."

"What do you mean?"

Orihime puts on her serious face and says, "It's not fair to him, deciding all this on your own. Whether or not he can understand his own feelings. Whether or not he gets a say in anything. Is he so ill that he can't even do that much?"

"Not necessarily…"

"Do you think he really couldn't tell the difference between true and false affection if he seriously considered it?"

He thinks about that before answering. If Uryuu were to ask the Kurosaki who walked into his office angry and confrontational several months ago, he would say no. That man would probably not be capable of such a reasoning level. But Kurosaki has made massive strides in repairing his mind and Uryuu can't honestly say he has any such limitations now. Of course, there are still several issues to work on. Ideally, he would see Kurosaki's alters reintegrated into a cohesive personality before he could call him cured. They are still a ways from that ultimate goal but, as far as how it affects his logical ability…

"No. Kurosaki is more than capable of making the distinctions, given a moment's careful deliberation."

"Kurosaki?" Uryuu stiffens, eyes widening in shock at his error. "I knew a Kurosaki-kun in school. His name isn't Ichigo—"

"I should let you get back to…whatever you were doing. I should go."

"It is Ichigo, isn't it?" she quietly asks, recognition dawning. "You're talking about that Kurosaki-kun!?"

"N-no," he lies weakly. She is not listening, though. Orihime is busy dredging up every last memory related to the boy she knew a decade ago. "It's not—"

"We all went to the same high school! But you never met him then, did you?" Her eyes swivel upward as she relives a specific moment. "He and I dated for a little while."

"He told me," Uryuu resignedly confirms. What's one more thing to feel wretched about? "You can't say anything about this, Orihime. Please."

"Of course not," she focuses on him to reassure. "I won't mention it to a soul!"

"Thank you."

"But you know…it makes sense now. Why you would like him."

"How so?"

"I remember Kurosaki-kun could occasionally be very rude and kind of crazy. Most of the time he was calm and thoughtful. Clever in the most unique ways. Quick to help whenever someone was in need. He didn't smile or laugh often but when he did…" Orihime trails off in recollection. Something gentle and caring crosses her face and Uryuu knows the feeling. She smiles wanly at him. "If he has changed like you say, Uryuu, of course you would fall for him. You never had a chance."


Thanks in part to Orihime's urging—and also to Yoruichi for not killing him on sight—Uryuu resolves to discuss things with Kurosaki before deciding how to proceed. His lawyer realized a few minutes into the conversation that he has passed the 'point of no return' on this subject. She approved his plan with no small measure of trepidation. So, with Yoruichi's tentative sanction and Orihime's bubbly encouragement, Uryuu anxiously awaits his next session with Kurosaki.

Except he doesn't show.

Uryuu takes that as a sign that Kurosaki managed to remember some of what transpired while Shirosaki was in control. He alternates being happy for this small advancement with being tense about the message his absence sends. Perhaps Shirosaki is the only personality attracted to Uryuu at all. Kurosaki could be struggling with anything from embarrassment to uncertainty to disgust. These thoughts rampaging in mind, Uryuu anxiously awaits his next next session with Kurosaki.

He still doesn't show.

In fact, Uryuu goes so far as to double-check with Ise about his schedule. Then he checks the news. But there are no relevant articles proclaiming orange-haired miscreants as the perpetrators of petty crime. After the third truancy, Uryuu caves and calls the contact number listed in Kurosaki's file. He gets none other than Kurosaki Isshin on the line. The jovial man is wholly unhelpful, however, in clarifying his son's abrupt change of heart. Though he does tell Uryuu that this is how Kurosaki usually ends services with therapists: he just stops going.

It takes two weeks to break Uryuu's patience. More aptly, it takes two weeks for Uryuu to become so tormented by increasingly absurd scenarios that he can't get a moment's rest from it. He is distracted at work and listless at home. Yoruichi orders him to thank his 'lucky stars' and forget all about it. Orihime advises him to do the opposite. Uryuu can't decide who is the better choice: angel or demon. He can't even decide who is the angel and who the demon.

One rainy evening after a long day at work, Uryuu stares out of his window into the downpour, thinking of Shirosaki's last words to him. It sounded like a childish reaction to rejection at the time. Now he wonders if Shirosaki was right after all: will Uryuu destroy everything with his doubt? He thinks of Zangetsu's insistence that Uryuu must be the one to repair them. Just when he had strengthened his faith in that prospect, it seemed to vanish. He thinks of Kurosaki's anger at the suggestion of a transfer and his assertion that Uryuu can still help him. Each fragment of Kurosaki is in accord, so full of the belief that salvation is possible through Uryuu.

He thinks of Kurosaki. Of all the many facets and fragments. Of how he makes Uryuu feel about himself, about life, about the world. He thinks of what it was like to have Kurosaki in his lap, kissing and touching and talking to him like he couldn't get enough. The warmth of his skin and the scent of his hair. How he had looked at Uryuu with such eagerness and awe. He thinks of the times they have argued and laughed and speculated about so many topics. Chatting at times more as friends than professional acquaintances.

Neliel interrupts him by hopping up onto the seat beside him. She eyes his half-eaten meal, reminding him of its existence. With a soft sigh, he picks up the plate and carries it into the kitchen to clean up. His cat follows him through the house as he meanders from one room to the next in idle search of nothing in particular. After his third lap through the circuit, he stops by his car keys and frowns.

"This is dumb," he tells her. "I should just go see him, right?" She offers a supportive meow and he nods. "That's acceptable, isn't it? A psychiatrist checking in on a possibly former-client. That's no big deal."

Green eyes blink slowly at him and Uryuu takes that as agreement. Pulling on a jacket over his casual jeans and t-shirt, Uryuu grabs an umbrella and heads out the door before he can change his mind. As soon as he gets into his car, Uryuu realizes he doesn't know the address. Groaning at himself, he grabs his phone and calls Ise for the information. Even at home she can ascertain whatever he needs at the drop of a hat. He makes sure to thank her profusely before hanging up to head out.

Kurosaki's apartment complex is in an older part of town, closer to the bustle of businesses and replete with traffic. It takes Uryuu twenty minutes on a Friday night to travel five miles in poor weather. Rehearsing what he will say and what he will refrain from saying, he almost runs into an older woman walking her small dog. By the time he gets there he is verging on becoming a nervous wreck. He parks in the first unmarked spot available and forgets the umbrella as he springs from his vehicle. Chill rain patters him from all angles in high winds and Uryuu promptly drops cold keys from rain-slick fingers. He scoops them up and pockets them almost as an afterthought.

Inside, the lobby is deserted. Only spastic doctors like Uryuu want to be out in a storm. His sneakers squeak crassly with each sodden step. Drops scatter from his hems as he jogs up the narrow stairs to the third floor. Despite all of this foreshadowing, it doesn't occur to Uryuu to be concerned about his appearance until the instant his fist makes rapping contact with the door.

"Shit," he mutters, pulling at his damp shirt. Suddenly this seems like the worst idea he has ever acted upon.

Before he can dart down the hall and pretend it was all a stupid daydream, Kurosaki appears in the doorway. To say he seems surprised to see Uryuu is too grave an understatement to allow. The man's jaw literally drops, arm falling limply from the knob to bounce once against his thigh. It takes him a handful of seconds to collect himself.

"Ishida?"

"Hello, Kurosaki."

"H-hey…"

And Kurosaki is still staring at him. Feeling foolish, Uryuu points a thumb towards the exit and says, "Maybe I should go—"

"No! No, you don't have to go. Come in. Please."

In spite of a lingering sense of awkwardness, he enters the small apartment. Kurosaki's studio is sparsely decorated and very neat. His only furniture is a small dining table with two chairs, a beat-up love seat across from an old TV on a low bookshelf, and a twin-size bed pushed against the only window. For a nurse, Kurosaki isn't exactly doing well for himself. Yet, Uryuu knows why. Kurosaki told him once that his father had financial troubles when his sisters got married so close together. Isshin had not asked for help—had in fact refused it—but Kurosaki had made him take it anyway. It looks like he is still helping.

Likely sensing Uryuu's thoughts, Kurosaki stands near the wall and doesn't try to make excuses. He wordlessly hands over a towel for his dripping hair. Uryuu uses it to dab at the soaked ends and apologizes for his appearance. Kurosaki shakes his head in dismissal.

They're off to a fantastic start.

"Kurosaki, I came to see why you haven't been coming to my office lately."

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks with widened eyes. "After what I did…"

"What did you do?"

Staring at Uryuu, it takes a couple false-starts before he eventually replies. "I forced you to kiss me."

"You remember kissing me, Kurosaki?"

"Y-yeah."

"Do you remember why you did it?"

Now Kurosaki blushes, bright enough to clash with his hair. He averts his gaze and shuffles his feet. Uryuu isn't asking for a confession. He isn't teasing the poor man or being intentionally mean. But he is inwardly shaking with excitement because Shirosaki's memories have bled through, and if that can happen maybe Kurosaki can finally realize what has been happening during these 'black-outs' of his.

"Well, because I—I wanted to kiss you, Ishida. I've wanted to for a while."

"What did you say to me, Kurosaki," he asks as he steps closer to the dubious man, "When you leaned over me and I asked you what you were doing?"

"I said…" Kurosaki's brow scrunches in concentration. His eyes attain a glassy cast and he shakes his head marginally. "I said I was…doing what I was too afraid to do."

"No. I'm asking what your exact words were. I asked, 'What are you doing, Shirosaki,' and you replied…?"

The name jolts through him, sparking a full-body twitch. Kurosaki's breath comes heavy and frantic from one second to the next. He looks up at Uryuu with all the intensity of an imminent implosion. Bringing a hand to his head, Kurosaki bumps against the wall on his retreat and gasps with it. Uryuu reaches for him.

"Ishida, what—?"

"It's all right, Kurosaki. You're safe." Strong hands grip tightly to Kurosaki's shoulders, grounding him. "Listen to me: you are safe."

"It wasn't me. It was that bastard Shirosaki," he says, breathless with revelation. "He pushed me out and attacked you."

"He didn't attack me. I'm fine."

"Shirosaki…that asshole!"

"You remember him now?"

"Yeah, I—" Kurosaki shakes his head again, as if to clear it. "What's happening to me, Ishida?"

"Look at me, Kurosaki."

"What the fuck is wrong with my brain?"

"Look at me, Ichigo!" Startled at hearing his given name from Uryuu, he does. "Take a slow, deep breath. Don't give me that look, just do it. Okay. Now, I am going to tell you something that may disturb you but I don't want you to be afraid. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then believe me when I say we will get through this. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he echoes, nodding along as his pulse begins to normalize. "I believe you."

Crisis apparently averted, Uryuu realizes the intimacy of their positions and releases Kurosaki to take a step back. He retrieves the towel from the floor and drapes it over the dining chair before sinking into it. Uryuu waits for Kurosaki to sit opposite him before elaborating.

"You are suffering from something called Dissociative Identity Disorder, most likely originating from the loss of your mother and the horrors you experienced at that time. It is an uncommon but treatable condition primarily characterized by the presence of multiple personalities called 'alters'." At first, the only reaction is a blank stare. Uryuu is patient. Soon he can see comprehension taking hold as Kurosaki integrates this. "I have interacted with two of your alters on several occasions thus far."

"You mean there're more than that Shirosaki guy?"

"There is one who seems to be the embodiment of your sadness, and another more stoic type who calls himself Zangetsu."

"Zangetsu…"

"Yes." Uryuu can tell the name is at least slightly familiar. Without jinxing this, Uryuu sends a silent word of gratitude that this is going so well. "It's possible that there are others who have yet to make contact, but those seem to be the dominant alters."

"So, maybe these alters are causing my black-outs?"

"That is extremely likely."

"But sometimes I remember stuff from when they're in control? Like when I kissed you," Kurosaki reddens at a dimmer wattage than earlier. "I remembered doing that even though it wasn't me."

"Sometimes the strength of an event can counteract your mind's proclivity for selective amnesia. In other words, your emotions were too prominent at the time to block out your memories completely."

Uryuu's stomach gives a giddy flip at that explanation. The notion of Kurosaki being so affected by Uryuu that this essential defense mechanism was thwarted for the sake of remembering what it was like to make out with him is intoxicating. He is trying to remain professional here, just as if they were in his office like usual. As if this is just a house call. Going by the way Kurosaki is looking at him, it's not really working.

"How long have you known?"

"What's important now is that you know. We can use this knowledge to begin repairing—"

"That long, huh?" Kurosaki stares down at his hands clasped on top of the table. "Wow."

"I'm sorry." That gets his attention. Uryuu openly portrays his remorse as he says, "I wasn't keeping it from you to be cruel. I truly thought it would be better in the long run if you initially realized it on your own."

"I know. You're never cruel. It's just kind of a shock." Something important passes between them as they regard each other. Uryuu fights the urge to reach across and grasp Kurosaki's hand. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"Shirosaki—he only did that because it's what I wanted."

The shame in his voice inspires Uryuu's hasty response. "Don't be."

Kurosaki's eyebrows rise as he looks Uryuu over, questing for hidden meaning. He hesitates to announce the full truth: that Uryuu would love nothing more than to do it again right now, preferably all night and with some extra activities thrown in. If Kurosaki's body language is telling him anything, it's that Uryuu would be in a lot of trouble if that statement came to pass. If by 'trouble' he means pleasure.

"Okay."

"So I want you to resume treatment next week. Tuesdays/Thursdays at two-thirty, as usual. No more ditching our sessions because you think I'm angry with you. Got it?"

Kurosaki smiles. "Yeah."

"Good."

The only remaining topic is the most difficult one. Uryuu came here partly to make sure Kurosaki was all right and partly to convince him to stop acting like a child skipping class. The main reason, however, was to clear the air about their last meeting. Meaning Uryuu needs to come right out and say it. Kurosaki's frown halts him.

"You're shivering."

"It's fine."

But Kurosaki is already up, across the room and tugging the blanket from his meticulously-made bed. Uryuu stands to stop him but winds up with the comforter draped around his shoulders instead. Kurosaki rubs warming hands up and down his arms with a distant look of concentration. There are no ulterior motives here; Kurosaki isn't doing this as an excuse to get closer. He's doing it because he is worried about Uryuu's welfare.

"There," Kurosaki states when the quivers stop after a few moments of this attention. "I'll make you some tea."

"I've wanted to do it, too." The man freezes mid-motion. Slowly raises his eyes to meet Uryuu's. The hesitant hope in his expression is heart-rending. "I've thought about it. So many times."

"Don't tell me that," Kurosaki groans. His fingers constrict around the outline of his arms through thick fabric. "You can't say that, Ishida. I know about the rules."

"What do you want, Kurosaki?"

Uryuu makes it clear in his tone what he's really asking. Based on his answer, Uryuu might give up everything for him. Kurosaki watches him for a prolonged moment. Struggling with some internal battle between yes and no. Finally, he sighs and lowers his gaze.

"I want you to be my shrink."

"If you're only saying that because you're worried about me—"

"I need you," he carefully enunciates at the floor. "To be my psychiatrist."

A fine tremor rocks Kurosaki's stiff spine. There are too many forces warring within him at once. Uryuu thinks he can probably guess a few of them. Aware of his career's statutes, Kurosaki knows a relationship with a client is forbidden. Punishable by revocation of rights to practice. He must also be weighing the desire to have Uryuu with the risk of losing him and all the help he could afford Kurosaki. In addition, Kurosaki's decision may be influenced by his own sense of self-worth. If he believes himself to be toxic, as he has mentioned in previous sessions, Kurosaki would wish to spare Uryuu any potential danger associated with proximity to him.

These are all legitimate points. Uryuu can't invalidate them without launching an entire campaign against Kurosaki's line of thinking. So he relents. For now.

"All right, Kurosaki."