AN

I had this problem before, let me clear up. This is an ENSEMBLE fic, meaning its not just about Ulquiorra and Orihime. If any of these offend you, then don't read.

GinRan

IchiRuki

Urahara/Yoruichi

Hitsuhina

Kensei/Mashiro

More may be added.

If you're okay with that then read on.

She was not ready for this. That was the first and only though in Orihime's mind as she stood at the door to Urahara's lab. Oh why had she agreed to this? She should have said no, not smiled and nodded like the simple girl she had been not so long ago. But everyone had been so hopeless, so desperate to stave off the agony that would surely come with acknowleding just how much the world had changed that she couldn't bear to refuse. So here she was, outside the lab and wishing she was anywhere else in the world. She was wearing the black robes of Soul Society, the fabric stark against her skin. Her hair was pulled up and secured back. Irrationally she reached up and pulled it free, letting the weight settle around her shoulders. As she slipped the clip into her sash she wondered why she did that. It wasn't like he wasn't going to recognize her. Everyone around her was in such a state of denial though, even if he had been her captor he had been honest and at the moment she felt as if the next fake smile she gave was going to split her face in half. She needed the honesty, even if it was coming from the one person she never wanted to see again.

"Are you scared?"

"You're useless to Aizen now, there's no one left to protect you. Its over. you will die alone here where no--one can touch you. I asked you if you're scared."

He didn't call her woman at least. He didn't call her anything. He just stood, close enough so that she could feel the lack of heat from his body, close enough to smack or reach out and touch. Close enough to kiss. He looked down at her with his cyan eyes, hands in his pockets. The uncaring look in his eyes had long ago been replaced with a kind of dulled interest, as though he wouldn't let her (or himself) show how much she intrigued him. He had maintained his doll-like persona perfectly, he was given a task or an order and he completed it. He didn't let (or himself) see how desirable the prospect of being something other than doll like was.

What was the point? He knew the Ryoka boy was coming. He knew she would be saved. Her response didn't really suprise him.

"I'm not scared," she said, "everyone came to save me. So my heart is already with them."

It didn't suprise him but he felt that if he had allowed himself the luxury of feeling things he would have felt angered. Her firends were coming to save her, sure but he had been there all along. Captor, protector, maybe some other lifetime they could have been friends. He could see as well as she could that she was not going to be the Ryoka boy's princess, that she couldn't be. No, if anything, he was the princess to Rukia Kuchiki's prince. After all, she was the one who had come in and saved him, even if he had returned the favor. No, the tale of Orihime and Ichigo as lovers was over, her heart may have been with him but his was far away with someone else and she was too blind to see it.

"Will it bother them, how much you've changed?" he asked finally, not moving from his proximity to her. This question was asked out of simple curiosity.

"I won't tell them," she said finally.

"You can't pretend forever, woman," he said looking down at her.

"You have," she responded, raising her chin in uncharacteristic defiance.

He had no response for that.

Squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the door.

"Shut i--Orihime!" Urahara smiled, "Unohana told me to expect you, come in, come in."

He led her into the lab. It was neat, probably due more to the fact that he hadn't been there for long than anything else. Papers and boxes were pushed against the wall. A desk was the one messy part, scattered with notes written in a bold, angry hand that revealed just how frustrated he was. Her eyes found the two occupants and her mind stalled. The first one she saw was Grimmjow. He was sitting against the wall. He would have just looked bored if not for the sheen of sweat that decorated his flushed skin and the erratic, shallow rise and fall of his chest. The remnants of his mask, permenantly in that crazy grin, were no where to be found. Instead there was a long, angry looking purple scar outlining where it had once been, as though it had been forcibly removed. She felt the beginnings oftears in her eyes. She remembered Grimmjow as the arrogant, loud Espada who had followed his own strange code of Honor. To see him like this was like seeing a tiger in the zoo. It was impressive and frightening to be sure but the fact was that it was somewhere it did not belong. She could see, like a caged animal, Grimmjow's spirit was breaking bit by bit. She didn't stop to think why she was upset at the prospect of one of the men who tried to break her spirit having his broken, she just knew it was wrong.

She tured to yell at Urahara. What came out of her lips was another sound entirely as her eyes caught sight of her one time captor. He looked like a broken doll, thrown into a heap on the floor by its displeased owner. His helmet had been broken, leaving her view of his features unobstructed. His half-open eyes stared unseeing at the wall in front of him. His limbs were splayed out awkwardly, as if he had crumpled to a heap with none of the eerie grace he had worn as easily as the cloths on his back. Two of his long fingers were bent painfully and it was clear that they were broken. She could see the marks in his lip where he had bitten it nearly through. It was the first time she had ever thought the tear tracks belonged on his face. To see him so harmed, so broken when he had let no true harm come to her was enough to illicet a sob from her lips. She knew alarm must have joined the pity in Urahara's eyes but she couldn't be bothered to care as she raced over and fell to her knees next to him. Heat was radiating off him in waves, enough to make her draw back momentarily before she pushed back the feeling and leaned over him.

"U-Ulquiorra?" she whispered, her leadened fingers aching to touch him.

For a moment there was silence, and then,

"What do you want, woman?" came the breathless, raspy, almost unrecognizable reply.

"Nothing," Orihime said, her knees weak with relief, "I'm going to-"

"Unless your going to end this miserable existance, I suggest you don't finish that sentance with the word 'help'," he told her bluntly.

"Now now," Orihime scolded gently, "don't make me force you to live."

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips but he was unable to form the gesture fully. Instead he could merely continue to lie there. As usual it seemed to be enough for her and she stood up. For some unfathomable reason he immediately found himself missing her presence. He supposed it was because he had spent so much time in her company recently, back when he had been something more than a living lab rat. As it was he could do little more than lay on the ground, his uncoperative body refusing to move. His head still ached from when the remnants of his mask had been forcibly removed. He wondered if Halibel or Nel was faring any better and decided it made little difference. The fact was that they were all going to die. Despair had settled over him after the third needle was pushed into his Hollow Hole and by the time his helmet had been removed he had imagined he would welcome death with more joy than he had shown anything else in his lifetime.

"President Urahara., Orihime."

Framed in the doorway was Nemu Kurotsuchi. Her braid had been cut off in an effort to bring down the fever that had almost killed her and her arm was still wrapped in the bandages from where one of the Zanpaktou's had almost removed the appendage but other than that there was no visible sign of injury to her. She stood in the doorway with no sign of fear in her, as though she usually walked in on odd, twisted experiments. Urahara belatedly remembered who her father was and reasoned that she probably did do just that. He wondered if she usually looked as sad as she did at the moment. He supposed that it made sense, after all if someone went around telling him that he was a failure (without the joking, amused tone that Yoruichi used) he'd probably be very sad as well. He tried to give her a smile but only saw confusion and a bit of fear in those eyes of hers. He wondered if it was hard for her to see other 'failed creations' being experimented on, being called one herself. He hoped he knew that she wouldn't end up in this position.

"Vice Captain Kurotsuchi, how are you?" Urahara smiled.

"I shall recover," she replied, her voice even, "I was sent to inform you that Halibel and Nel have both had their masks removed and are suffering simliar symptoms," she recited methodically, "oh and that Vice Captain Hinamori has been unable to find anything useful in Aizen's files but is continuing her search."

Urahara nodded and sat down with a heavy sigh. It had been Hinamori who had struck Aizen down finally. After Gin had fallen she had appeared on the battlefield. Unohana had apparently left her Zanpaktou out in hopes that the girl would pull herself together and help. She had come to Aizen, all wide eyes and apologies, clutching her Zanpaktou to her chest like a child with a doll. Having just lost his other Vice Captain and believing in Hinamori's loyalty he had accepted her next to him. That, if nothing else, had sealed his fate as Hinamori proceeded to stab him through with her Zanpaktou and then send enough spiritual energy through him so that the man who would have been God was nothing more than a horrible, vibrant pink colored memory. Her arms had been severly burned with the ammount of spritual energy that both she had used to kill him and that he had released when he died. She would carry those scars for the rest of her life. As it was, Hinamori was peremnantly wearing mittens with all the bandages wrapped around her hands.

"Has she spoken to Hitsugaya yet?" he asked looking up at her.

Nemu shook her head. She didn't understand why Captain Hitsugaya was being so foolish but she supposed that if she had time to let emotions get in the way of practicality she would be as well. After all, Hinamori had been in a coma and tried to kill him in the defense of a man that she had just murdered, it was so confusing she could see how the young Captain had sought comfort in the arms of the Ryoka boy's little sister. Still, she liked Hinamori. The Vice Captain had never treated her any differently because she was created, not born. She did not like to see her upset, especially over Captain Hitsugaya. Maybe she could get someone from the 11th division to break his legs, Ikkaku owed her a favor after all. She looked at the two creations lying there and then back at Urahara. Her eyes locked with Orihime and she saw the pleading look in them.

"They should rest," she said finally, "as should you. Experiments go far more quickly when you and your subjects are in good health."

Wearily he nodded his consent.

The relief on Orihime's face was overwhelming. It did not bother Nemu as much as she would have thought. After all, she had stayed with her creator and protector through much worse, she had defended and helped him. How was what Orihime doing with the two Espada any different. She could see the girl was different, even if the rest of the world wished to deny it, and it made sense to her that she was protecting her creators. Nemu wondered if the Vizard or the Espada would remain with their creators but something told her they would not. Things would be much much easier if the Hougyoku was still in existance.

She allowed herself a small smile of triumph before she walked out of the room. To say that Soul Society was in chaos was an understatement. It was in complete and total chaos, she was shocked that there hadn't been some kind of rebellion already, she imagined it would not be hard for someone with a tenth of Aizen's power to sweep in and declare themselves the leader. She walked towards the Fourth Division automatically. She knew it was time to have her bandages replaced, even though the process was not one she enjoyed at all. She felt rather bare without the weight of her braid but knew that she would rather be without it than still be lying in that silly hospital bed. The Fourth Division needed the bed anyway, there were too many who had been injured and worse now, the beds were emptying with people dying rather than getting better. Her feet unwillingly stopped outside one room.

Beyond that door she knew lay the shells of what had once been Rangiku Matsumoto and Gin Ichimaru. That was what they were now, shells. Oh they looked like more, their hearts still beat and their chests rose and fell but there was nothing in there now. She wondered why everyone hoped they would wake up. She knew Gin had been essential to winning the war and Matsumoto had been directly tied to that as well but everyone had seemed rather willing to write off the traitor and the drunkard a few weeks ago. Then they had become the stuff of the bedtime stories she could remember reading to herself, the unlikely hero and his one true love. She wondered if Gin woke up first and kissed Matsumoto, would that wake her up? She doubted it. The two of them were perfect inverses of each other, they were each other's other half. Gin with his pale hair and warm eyes, Matsumoto was the opposite of him. She wondered what effect Gin's sudden loyalty would have on his punishment. She hoped that it would have some kind of effect, it would be a terible thing to have Matsumoto loose him all over again.

She walked into the room designated for lesser injuries to find it already occupied. Unohana waved her in, her hands already busy with her current patient. Momo Hinamori, soon to be Captain of the Fifth Division if the rumors were true, was sitting on the bed looking far more like a child than she had in some time. Nemu winced in sympathy as she watched Unohana remove the bandages from Hinamori's arms. Hinamori bit her lip, trying to be brave as the bandages were peeled away to reveal the angry rust colored burns that decorated her arms. Unohana even seemed sympathetic as she gently removed the salve and reapplied it. Nemu knew it must be hard for the Captain, not to be able to heal Hinamori, but the burns on her arms were unique. She was lucky to have them being healed at all. Even Orihime's treatement was ineffective. By the time that Unohana had wrapped her arms, Hinamori was a good deal paler than she had been and her lip looked as though it would begin to bleed if she kept biting it as she was.

"Finished," Unohana said softly, "Vice Captain?" she inquired turning to Nemu who reluctantly stepped forward for her turn to be tortured.

"This is bullshit!" the angry cry came down the hallway.

Instantly Nemu and Hinamori hurried out as Unohana put down the bandages, washed her hands and stepped into the hallway. Framed in the doorway of a room down the hall, still bandaged and obviously recently having woken up to find himself without a Zanpaktou, Kensei Muguruma was understandably upset at his current situation and was obviously not shy about letting all of the Fourth Division know his opinion. Unohana sighed, obviously reminded of what it was like the first time that Kensei had been the Captain of the Ninth Division. She walked over and stood in front of him. Suprise registered in his eyes for a moment before anger quickly replaced it.

"Where the fuck is my Zanpaktou?!" he demanded angrily.

"We have all your Zanpaktou's in safe keeping," she responded patiently, "when we are able to find a cure--"

"A cure?" he laughed, "a cure for Hollowification? Who are you experimenting on? The Espada?"

"The surviving ones," she replied.

"And what the hell makes you think we're any different?" he demanded, his voice becoming uncharacteristically calm, "just because we were Shinigami first? What kind of sick ass opperation is this?!" he looked at her, his voice rising once more, "you all started this! Its your fault that Aizen got to the point where he did! You didn't stop and think that maybe your logic was faulty, maybe we weren't the bad guys because we became Hollows, maybe you were the bad guys because you let someone like Aizen Sosuke exist!" he shouted slamming his hand down, "how many more have suffered because you were too fucking blind?!"

General Yamamoto stepped in, one of his hands sliding over the Captain's eyes and rendering him unconscious. He caught the falling man easily as he had Hinamori and moved him back into his room. For a moment, everyone stood there silently as the words of the one-time Captain echoed in their minds. This was their fault, to some degree. Even if his words were said in anger and pain it did not change the truth of them.

And that made it so much worse.