AN

Here's the next chapter! Woo hoo! Everyone give hugs to VioTanequi for being a totally kick-ass Beta Reader!

Okay! So here's some unabashed fluff for all of you!

AN

Orihime did not think she would be frightened coming back to the place where she had been held captive for so long. She was though. The room seemed just as cold, just as impersonal as it had the first time she had been there. Even though she was wearing black, not white she still felt every bit a prisoner. The strangest thing in the room was Ulquiorra. He was not chalk white, not an Espada, not her captor anymore. In fact, if anything he looked almost guilty standing there. His emerald eyes never left her form as she walked the confines of the room, lost in her own thoughts. She half expected the Espada version of Ulquiorra to come into the room and demand she eat something.

"It upsets you to be here," he stated, no question in his voice.

"Yes," she said softly, "It does," she looked down and then at him, "does it upset you to be here?" his eyebrow arched almost comically.

"Why would it upset me?" he asked.

"Well," she frowned, trying to find a way to voice her question without making him upset, "You were created here. Now Soul Society's your home—"

"No," he cut her off, the confusion gone from his face and replaced with a look much colder than she had seen in a while, "I agreed to come on this mission because I could be of help. I have made no declaration of loyalty to Soul Society, nor do I have any intention too."

Orihime's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't thought of that. She knew the Espada had been given some kind of choice but she had assumed that they would stay in Soul Society. She had not thought they would go somewhere else. Ever since she had returned to Las Noches, her thoughts had never been far from Ulquiorra. He had made her feel everything she thought she could ever feel. Even Ichigo hadn't been able to upset her as much as Ulquiorra had—and when it came down to it, he hadn't really been able to comfort her either. The thought of never seeing him made her heart ache horribly.

"Y-you're not going to stay?" she asked looking at him. He looked away, "are the other Espada?"

"I do not know if they've made their decision," he replied, "I assume this key bears resemblance to the King's Key," he continued, effectively ending their conversation from earlier, "we need to find something gold."

"Okay," she said, fighting back the tears that threatened her eyes. He looked at her carefully, studying her, "I didn't see anything when I was here—"

His thumb brushed under her eye. He pulled it away, her unshed tears clinging to the tip of his finger. For a moment neither of them moved or said anything. Orihime felt her lip tremble as her tears began in earnest and Ulquiorra seemed rather confused by it. Not cold or mean, just confused. He looked at her and then back to his thumb and then to her face again.

"You cry often," he stated.

"I do," she replied, "I always have."

"Why do you care so much about other people?" he asked after another silent moment, "you were willing to go to hell with me to protect your friends when it was not definite that they would come after you. And now you cry, why?" his frown deepened.

"I would be sad if you left," she said, her voice soft and almost guilty.

"You—"he seemed genuinely surprised by it, the shock painted all over his face. She smiled even though she was crying.

"Why are you so surprised?" she asked.

"Why would you be sad?" he asked, anger flickering under the sadness in his eyes, "I have done nothing to warrant your sadness. I do not understand why you care so much!" he turned away almost angrily.

He was confused and angered by her response. She always seemed to be hurt by the people around her and yet she always cared about them. He did not see the sense in it. It was stupid of her, stupid of her to care so much and stupid of them to allow her too. He had assumed that she sought comfort from him because he was familiar. But he assumed as well that in time she would go back to her friends. He knew she loved Ichigo Kurosaki, even when he didn't return her feelings. He knew she cared deeply about her friends. Part of him wanted to be one of those she cared about, part of him wanted it rather desperately. But the larger, more practical part of him knew that she would just get hurt. It was why the Espada never were really friends.

But he was not an Espada anymore. Did that change anything? He did not know. He knew she cared about him but he was not so wide-eyed to think that the rest of Soul Society would accept them. A few short weeks ago after all they were mortal enemies. The lines had been moved, not crossed. There was no telling when Soul Society would need a scapegoat and their eyes would find the former Espada. He did not like the idea of her being shunned because of association with them. Especially with him. He had caused her to suffer enough. He was not expecting the hand that wrapped around his wrist. His eyes drifted to the color of her skin, still dark against his own pallor. They were so different. They always would be.

"You understood," she said, her voice surprising him with its earnestness, "when no-one else did you did."

"You are mistaken," he said, unable to convince himself to remove her hand, "I do not understand."

And he did not. He did not understand why he liked that she cared. He did not understand why his skin felt on fire from her touch. He did not understand why his heart echoed in his ears. He hated that he did not understand. He loathed the control she took from him. It happened so easily, so gradually he wasn't aware until he tried to take it back and found he could not. Her sunset colored hair fell over her shoulder as her eyes searched his face. He did not know what answers she hoped to find in it. He could not look away from her eyes; only meet them with his own emerald orbs.

He couldn't say why he let her place her hands on his shoulders and step forward. He stood very still and strait, like he usually did but their eyes never broke contact. He could feel her heart pound in time with his through the fabric of their cloths. If someone had told him he would be in this position when he first brought her to Las Noches he would have probably laughed out loud. But it did not change the fact that this was where they were. That she was against him willingly, their bodies together because of choice and not orders. Even so he was not expecting it when she stood on her toes to close their height difference and gently brushed her lips against his own.

The contact was teasingly light and brief, barely a kiss at all really. Neither closed their eyes, unwilling to break the contact. Orihime settled back on her feet, her hands remaining on his shoulders as her eyes stayed locked with his. Before he could stop himself one of his hands came up and touched his lips, wondering if he could feel the difference in them. His hand drifted from his lips to her own. He felt no difference anymore than he saw it. His hand drifted across her cheekbone to cup the curve of her cheek. She closed her eyes, turning her face into the contact.

"You should not care so much," he scolded, his voice breathless to his ears.

"I do care," she said looking up at him, "one day you'll understand," she smiled and pressed a light kiss to his palm, "and when you do I'll be here."

She stepped back and turned to the room.

"Lets find the key," she added.

He nodded, not bothering to ask why she was smiling.

Break

"Where are they?" Hitsugaya grumbled from the wall he was leaning on, "this is taking too long."

"I'm sure they're coming," Hinamori said from her position seated cross-legged in front of the door.

He nodded but said nothing. Hinamori looked down at her hands in her lap. She half wished something would attack and break the horribly awkward silence that had engulfed the two of them. She knew he was going to kiss her back when he coated her arm with ice. She wanted him too, oh God she wanted to kiss him. But then she remembered charging at him, screaming and swinging her blade. She remembered loving Aizen so desperately even when he had almost killed her. She remembered the look in Hitsugaya's eyes when she asked him, after everything to save Aizen. She couldn't kiss him, not now, not ever. She couldn't let herself love him. When he was near her all he did was get hurt. Even when they were dismantling the box that Aizen had left he had gotten hurt because of her. She didn't want him to suffer anymore because of her.

Hitsugaya on the other hand was just confused. He would have kissed Hinamori back at the doors. He wanted too but she had turned away with a look of such guilt and self-loathing in her eyes that he couldn't bring himself to question her. He hated himself in that moment. He was supposed to be strong; he was supposed to save people. He could, he had saved countless others. But he couldn't save Granny, he couldn't save Matsumoto, he couldn't save her. When it came down to it he couldn't protect the people who mattered the most to him. That was the worst feeling, the feeling of helplessness. He would throw himself in front of a thousand attacks to avoid feeling this. He glanced over at Hinamori who shifted slightly with a guilty smile.

"The floor's not comfortable," she said, "I miss Granny's porch."

"Don't know how that thing was comfortable," he said with a shake of his head.

"I know," she smiled brightly, her chin resting in her palm, "but it was. I remember it was so cool during the summer. "

"Yeah it was just about the only cool place in that house," he grumbled. Hinamori laughed lightly, casing the back of his neck to heat up "well it was," he argued.

"And the watermelon," she chimed, "we probably ate—well we ate a lot of that," she shook her head with a smile, "and you spit all those seeds at me," she said with fake accusation.

"Yeah, well you kept calling me Shiro," he shot back.

"And you called me Bed Wetter Momo," she replied stubbornly, "when it only happened once and you heard about it since it was before you got there. You are Shiro," she crossed her arms, "it's a nickname," he raised an eyebrow, "don't give me that look, I'm allowed to have a nickname for you."

He said nothing but stepped a little closer to her, closing the gap between them a bit. She sat where she was, fighting the desire to scoot away. He made no move to sit next to her though, which confused her a bit. He seemed content to lean on the wall opposite her with the door between them. Hinamori sighed unhappily. Once again Aizen was between them.

Unexpectedly Hitsugaya felt Hinamori's Spiritual Pressure build. He looked over at her, surprised to see anger written all over her face, her hands clenched into half-concealed fists in her robe.

"I hate him!" she burst out angrily, "its not—its not fair what he did!" his eyes widened in alarm as her Spiritual Pressure continued to build. He was able to see a faint pink glow around Tobiume, "he's dead and he's still winning," she gritted her teeth, shutting her eyes tightly and causing a few tears to spill down her cheeks, "he shouldn't—he shouldn't be able to do this!"

"Hinamori!" he closed the distance between them, grasping her shoulders. Her eyes flew open, violet visible in their brown depths, "stop it!" he pleaded, feeling his head spin from the waves of Spiritual Pressure pouring off her, "Momo!"

The cry of her name seemed to break the spell she was under. Far more quickly than it had built the pink glow vanished, leaving a quaking Hinamori in it's wake. Her eyes widened in pure, unconcealed horror. With a muffled cry of surprise she shoved him back and jumped to her feet, her back colliding with the opposite wall as she struggled to regain control of herself. Tobiume continued to pulse with the odd light for a moment before it too vanished. Hinamori looked at him, the pain in her eyes heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her head dipping in shame.

"No!" he burst out shoving himself roughly to his feet and storming over to her, "do not apologize, if anyone should be apologizing here, it's me, not you."

"What?" her eyes showed only confusion.

"I couldn't protect you," he said, the shame of admitting it making his heart ache, "I'm supposed to be this great warrior, this—"he let out a bitter laugh, "this fucking prodigy and when it comes down to it, I can't protect the people who matter the most to me."

They both realized that the other felt the exact same way. They had been too lost in their own self-deprecating feelings to realize just how similar the other felt. This time when they stood so close to each other, neither moved. They didn't move away but they didn't move closer either.

"I couldn't either," Hinamori said, her voice no more than a whisper, "I'd rather get stabbed a hundred more times than feel helpless again."

Hitsugaya nodded, knowing exactly how she felt.

Hinamori approached him and he found himself closing the distance between them as well. Soon they were barely a foot apart, then they were toe to toe then somehow they were holding onto each other so tightly it was hard to breath. Not that that would have made them loosen their hold on each other. Hitsugaya was almost a full head taller than Hinamori and showed no signs of stopping growing. It didn't matter really. He could be six feet tall and he would never want to hold anyone else in his arms. She was as warm as he was cool but they balanced each other out the same way they always had. This time when she looked up at him he decided he wouldn't let her pull away.

"Wait," she looked up at him, "what about Karin?"

"Karin?" confusion crossed his features, "Karin Kurosaki? She's a good friend," he said.

"But I thought—" Hinamori began.

"Stupid Bed Wetter Momo," he chastised, "I could never date anyone else."

"Everyone thinks you two are—together," she fumbled for the word, a blush staining her cheeks.

"Yes," he said, "well everyone but Karin and Sado."

"Well in that case Shiro."

"Yes Momo?"

Hinamori smiled and leaned up as he ducked his head and kissed her.

"For the love of--is everyone getting laid around here?! I thought we were supposed to be saving the world!"

The two jumped apart like guilty teenagers as the rest of the group approached them, announced by Grimmjow's angry demand. Ulquiorra and Orihime were not among them. Hitsugaya frowned and looked around, spotting them a bit down the corridor. Grimmjow only seemed more off put by this. Hitsugaya reluctantly let go of Hinamori though they stayed close enough together to feel their robes brushing. The teams were in various states of injury. Though Ulquiorra and Orihime seemed fine, Ulquiorra kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes, obviously confused by something that had happened. Grimmjow had Soifon on his back who was still drugged though the effect seemed to be wearing off. Halibel had a scarf around her wrist but other than that she and Byakuya seemed to be alright. Renji and Nel looked ecstatic about something and doing a horrible job of hiding it.

"You guys have it?" Hitsugaya asked. They nodded and all extended their pieces of the key. He took them and frowned. All the cuts seemed to be smooth and even, not jagged. There also seemed to be no way to fit them together, "damn it."

"Looks like you've got a big problem," a voice said through the wall, "perhaps I can be of some assistance."

The wall opened to reveal none other than Gin Ichimaru. He was dressed in Shinigami robes, Shinso at his side. He wore no Captain's robe though, nothing to show he had been formally accepted back into Soul Society. Every warning bell in Hitsugaya's mind went off as he looked at Gin. Everything in him shouted at him to move, to do something to put the bastard in a lot of pain. Hinamori grasped his upper arm with a shake of her head. He looked from her hand to the four neat pieces of the key in his hand and then back to Gin who seemed to be waiting patiently for him to do something. His hand was loose next to his Zanpakuto but Hitsugaya had no doubt that he could have it out and run him through before he could even move.

He looked closer at Gin's face and realized with surprise that there was grief still written all over it. He didn't think he had seen Gin look upset before. It hit him that he and Gin had more in common than they would ever like to admit. The two could hate each other all they wanted but Hitsugaya couldn't help but feel that somehow Matsumoto knew that Gin could help them. That he would help them because of her. After all, he had saved the world for her, not for any of them. His hand slowly dropped from the hilt of his blade as he roughly nodded.

"What did you have in mind?"