A/N: SPOILER ALERT: The thing that sucks about writing fanfiction that's set in the future is that, well, the future happens before you expect it to. So, I've decided to modify my story line to accord with the end(?) of the King's Key arc in the manga. Some little things are going to have to change, and I'll try to make them obvious when they come up: Regardless of what may be revealed in the manga in the future, Hinamori's dead in this fic; and Ichigo's powers did go away, but now they're partially back. Got it? Ok, on to the story:

Chapter 5

Rangiku paced back and forth at the entrance to the Fourth Division, checking her watch. Why wasn't he there yet?

"Matsumoto."

She had a primal reaction to that deep, matter-of-fact voice.

When she wasn't around him for a while, she forgot how handsome he was. Really, he was stunning, but she spent so much time with him, disciplined herself enough so she wouldn't blush or stare, that she became desensitized. And then she'd see him after an absence, and it was all thick, silky hair with that one stubborn strand falling into turquoise eyes, and suddenly her knees were weak and she was stuttering. He'd make her miserable if he knew, tease her endlessly, the great man-killer Matsumoto swooning over her tiny little taichou.

He was all intensity, cold passion, if such a thing existed, wrapped up in a surprising informality. Surprising, at least, for those who knew him and how fanatical he was about his title. But that was about respect, not formality. On other things he was lax, content to let Matsumoto run the show her own way. He was function over form, and that may have been the thing about him Matsumoto liked best. If one of his squad had a good idea, he'd listen, evaluate, then let them take it and run with it, whether they were the most senior or junior, it didn't matter. He didn't have to be in control, didn't have to micromanage or take credit, he was happy to see his squad take initiative, interested in their lives and their careers, obsessed with their safety. She remembered when the Bounts came to Soul Society and Hitsugaya and she were leading the mission against them. They kept rounding a corner and finding their factions defeated, strewn injured on the ground. Her taichou was devastated. He didn't show it with his face or his voice, but she could see it in the way he cradled the injured in his arms, the way he asked if they were all right and reassured them he'd be sending help soon, the way he refused to hide behind the squad and went out to face the Bount on his own, leader to leader. He did it because that's what leaders do, but he also did it because he cared, truly cared for each member of his squad. That was why she couldn't imagine working for anyone else, ever.

The plan was going to fucking work.

So now she stood next to him in front of the Fourth Squad headquarters, blushing and staring and daydreaming like a school girl. Relief overcame her nerves for a moment and she gloried in the knowledge that he was there, alive, okay. He looked like crap, but he was there.

"You look awful," he said, breaking the silence. "Have you slept at all since I've been gone?"

Automatically her hand went to her face, checked her hair. "Tai—" You can't call him that. "Hitsugaya-san, you can't say that to a girl! Haven't I taught you anything over all these years?"

He ignored her, as he was wont to do, and checked her forehead with the back of his hand. She flinched at the contact, but he didn't pull back and she made herself settle into it.

See, she told herself, it's just taichou. It's not so bad.

"I'm serious. What's wrong, Matsumoto?"

His intensity burned into her and she crumbled.

Sobbing, drooling, convulsing, head buried into his shoulder, arms locked around his neck, she would have died of embarrassment if she had anything left in her to care.

He held her.

"I'm scared," she whispered when she could breathe again. Scared I'm pregnant. Scared I've lost you. Scared we can't ever fix this and we'll never be the same again. Scared that you don't even care one way or the other.

"Don't be." There he was, with the confidence she needed. "Either you're pregnant or you're not. Being afraid won't change anything. If you're not, then there's nothing to be afraid of. And if you are, well, it's not the end of the world. You just have some choices to make."

"Like what?" She didn't see any choices.

"Raise it on your own, give it to me to raise, marry me and raise it together . . . ."

She gaped at him. He hadn't even winced. This was the sign she'd been looking for.

"It's going to be okay, Matsumoto." His chin jerked in a nod, and then he turned and walked into the building, her at his heels, the way it seemed like it had always been.

And always would be.

"Tai—Hitsugaya-san," she whispered, just as he opened the door.

He didn't respond, but he did pause.

"After this, I have to talk to you. It's about . . . I've figured out what I need you to do."

Pause. "Of course. Let's get through this, first."

Indeed.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, when I suggested that you bring someone to the next test, I meant a friend, or the possible father. No one's ever brought their taichou before." Unohana exclaimed. "This procedure is more invasive than the last; are you sure you want to go through it with Hitsugaya-taichou in the room?"

Rangiku blanched. "Well, er, you see—" She took a deep breath and told the (partial) truth. "You've known us long enough to know that Taichou and I don't exactly have a conventional taichou/fukutaichou relationship, Unohana-taichou! You said I might like some support, and, well, Taichou is my support system. He's always there when I need him. I needed a hand to hold, so he's here."

Toushirou squeezed her hand.

"Be that as it may, I really don't think—"

Rangiku flashed Toushirou panicked eyes. She couldn't do this without him!

"—it's proper under the circumst—"

"Is there a problem with my being here, Unohana?" Toushirou asked very, very calmly.

The healer looked at him. "Well—"

"Is. There. A. Problem, Unohana-taichou?" His voice didn't rise, but suddenly Rangiku was shivering, and it wasn't from the temperature. She'd had no idea he could be so scary.

The effect was apparently not lost on Unohana-taichou either, because she just said, "N-no, Hitsugaya-taichou. You're welcome to stay."

Had he just Unohana'd Unohana?

He held her hand, dutifully averting his eyes as Unohana-taichou placed her in the stirrups and began the tests. She'd told the truth, this time it was much more invasive, and very uncomfortable. But her taichou was there to distract her, the unconscious coolness of his reiatsu there to calm her. He didn't dote on her like a lover, didn't do anything to betray that they were more than taichou/fukutaichou, didn't do anything, really, but hold her hand. But it was enough. It was exactly what she needed.

Finally, Unohana-taichou delivered the verdict.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, you can go have that drink now. I'm absolutely sure you're not pregnant."

Their eyes met, then flickered away. Her taichou dropped her hand, not having a reason to hold it any more.

It should have been the best news she'd ever received, she should have been squealing and jumping around. Instead, she'd never felt so alone.

"It's good that I'm not pregnant," she said a little while later, hiding her disappointment and pulling her robes back into place while her taichou politely looked away.

"Yeah." Was it just her, or did he sound a little dejected, too? "What did you want to speak with me about?

"Tai—Hitsugaya-san, I . . . I think I've thought of a way you can make it up to me."

"Anything."

She crossed her fingers and put herself out there. "I want a redo."

"What?" His eyes jumped to hers, confused and wary.

"I want a redo. You and me, together again. You said you could do better, right? So prove it to me!"

His arms were crossed, trademark scowl on his face. "Matsumoto, that's ridiculous. I refuse."

"I thought you said you'd do anything!"

"Yeah, anything that will help! This is just going to make everything worse!"

He glared at her and refused to budge. Rangiku couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Hopeless. Who was she kidding? Like she could get him to do anything he didn't want to do. Like he actually wanted her when he wasn't drunk and delirious.

"Taichou," she made a final plea, not even bothering to correct herself, "we're a mess. I just want to go back to the way things were, and I think you do too, but we can't right now, and it's all because of some stupid nightmare that makes me flinch when you touch me. I just want that to go away, but I don't think it can unless I can replace it with something else. It's the only way. And it has to be you."

His jaw clenched and the muscles flexed in his arms. But his eyes were riveted to hers.

"What I said earlier to Unohana-taichou, well, it's true. You've always been there for me, taichou, whenever I needed your help. Well, I need you now. I know you don't want to do this, but please! It's the only way. Please don't give up on us!"

"Matsumoto. I'm sorry."

She sank to the ground, emptiness consuming her, the pain overwhelming. So this was what she meant to him, after all these years? This was how it ended?

She noticed the cool touch of his reiatsu before she felt his arms wrap around her.

"You make yourself miserable, you know. If you would only wait for people to finish."

She squinted at him. "Huh?"

"As I was saying, Matsumoto, I'm sorry. All of this is my fault, and fixing it is my problem, not yours. You've found a solution, and while I'm skeptical—very skeptical—about it, you shouldn't have to beg me to do my part. Like I said before, I'll do whatever it takes."

"Even me?" she quipped.

He blushed instantaneously, which was adorable. But she really shouldn't have said that, because he also let go of her and stood up. "At least I know you're all right," he muttered, grimacing. "When do you want to do this . . . thing?" he spit out the last word as if he couldn't stand it lingering on his tongue.

That worried her, and her rollercoaster emotions swelled up once again. "Tai—uh, Hitsugaya-san—God, I know I'm being irrational, but if you're going to be like that about it, then it's better if we don't do this. I mean, the point of it is for it to be better, to make good memories, and . . . ."

She trailed off when he turned around to look at her. He was winking.

"Don't worry so much, Matsumoto. Believe it or not, I am not an idiot. I'm also actually quite good at this." He flashed her one last smirk and was out the door.

Well, if that didn't beat all.

He was long gone by the time she realized they hadn't set a date.

Toushirou couldn't get through the senkaimon fast enough. He stepped out of it into Urahara's shop and fell flat on his ass.

What the hell had he been thinking, agreeing to that? She was needy, vulnerable, and she had a right to be! And she was Matsumoto, so of course she was coming up with preposterous schemes. That didn't mean he was supposed to agree to them!

But when she turned to him and begged him not to give up on them, what the hell was he supposed to do? Let her fall apart? Better now than afterward, when we both have memories to suppress, when we can't hide behind the veneer of a drunken mistake.

Maybe he was just being selfish, trying to protect himself?

"Goddamnit, I am not a stud service!" he thundered.

"That is good to hear, Hitsugaya-taichou," Urahara said, tipping a tea cup toward him. "I don't believe anyone said you were."

He looked up to see Urahara, Tessai, Kurosaki, Kuchiki Rukia, Kon, and the children staring at him like he was insane.

Which he supposed he was.

"Just clearing up any doubt," he snapped, pulling himself together (and off the floor) and heading to the table to snag a cup of tea. "I apologize for dropping in unexpected. It appears I interrupted a strategy meeting. Have things changed since this morning?"

Kurosaki gave him a we'll-talk-later look while Kuchiki Rukia jumped in to brief him.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, the hollows appear to be organizing some sort of attack."

"Organizing? But that shouldn't be possible. Aizen's locked away in Seireitei, all of his arrancar are dead. We haven't seen anything organized from the hollows in two years."

Kurosaki winced, meeting his gaze with guilt filled eyes. "We didn't kill all of the arrancar."

"Grimmjow."