CHAPTER 13: DYING

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

One Week Later

"AHHH!"

The loud cry ended with muffled sobs that had been held back long enough. The pain was making him delirious. Made him feel like he was dangerously close to losing control of his bladder. He gasped and panted, desperate for it to end, even if it meant his death. He was sure it was better than the torture he was being forced to endure. He didn't know how long he'd been chained up in that filthy dungeon, but it'd been long enough to have his insides aching with hunger and dehydration. He fought long headaches and stomach cramps and his limbs had long ago lost all feeling. At the time, he'd thought he was dying, but now he knew otherwise. That had been a walk in the forest compared to this.

His entire body trembled, wracked with pain he'd never thought possible. His wrists and ankles were bound to the floor by heavy shackles, making movement nothing but a frantic wish. He was completely naked, everything exposed, humiliating him and robbing him of his inbred Elorian pride. His one saving grace was that he was on his hands and knees, giving him a slight modicum of privacy. However, his back and rear were left open for abuse, which was precisely what he was currently experiencing. He'd been dragged from that dungeon and led to this room. This huge, sickeningly white room with a domineering throne placed in the middle of it. He was held captive beside it, at the feet of the very being that had destroyed his people. Not only that, but he could do nothing about it. He was weak, helpless, pitiful. Some king he'd turned out to be. He couldn't even protect himself, let alone an entire clan. But...he'd long stopped feeling. He was numb from the head down. The deranged fairy had stripped him of his pride, his dignity, his anger. Hell, even his hope. All he was left with was mind-numbing pain. Pain that made him long for the Resting Life. Suddenly, an armored boot pressed down on the wounds across his back, making him grit his teeth around the scream building in his chest.

"Have you had enough?" the brunet fairy asked from his perch on high. "Or does Tousen need to continue?"

Even though his lips were dry and cracked from screaming and lack of water, he still managed to force words through them. "P-please," he croaked. "Please."

It was all he could get out. It was the first thing that came to mind, the only thing he could think of that would make the pain stop. Anything to make it go away. Dark chuckling floated over him and made him flinch. Normally, the fairy's laughter preceded more punishment. More misery.

"Now you beg? Now you wish to behave, Prince?"

Grimmjow turned his head and hid his face against his trembling arm, tears winding their way down his cheeks and under his chin. He'd been beaten, burned with magical fire that left no scars, just pain, and starved near to death. His body no longer felt the way it used to, no longer strong and healthy. Now, he felt like simply a ghost, a wraith, feeble and unable to save his own hide. He just wanted it to stop.

"K-kill me. Please...kill me," he whispered.

The fairy – Aizen, wasn't it? – laughed again. "I will do no such thing, Prince."

More quiet sobs. "Make it stop," he begged, beside himself with fear and agony. They were all he knew now. "Please!" he stressed.

"And what do I get in return for such generosity, hm?"

He turned his head and peered from the corner of one blue eye at the creature holding his life within its hands. Frowning with frustration and bottom lip trembling in defeat, he hid his face away again.

"...I-I'll behave."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

A long stretch of silence followed his declaration, where he was left wondering if the fairy would have mercy on him. He'd fought all he could: cursing, punching, kicking, biting, clawing – everything. But none of it had worked. All it did was serve to anger the brunet and that was infinitely worse. That was when the torture had begun and from there, the steady decline of all other emotion. He held onto one feeling, though. One small blossom of hope budded in his heart and was the only reason he remained somewhat sane.

Ichigo.

He didn't know if the orange-haired boy cared that he was gone, didn't know if the boy would try and find him, didn't even know what was going to happen to himself, but he did know that he loved Ichigo. No matter if it meant just one more time, he badly wanted to see Ichigo again.

"Very well. Tousen, have the prince taken to clean quarters. Bathe him, clothe him, feed him. I wish not to see him for a few days until he's reasonably decent. Understood?"

"Yes, Aizen, Sir," the deep voice of his co-tormentor rumbled from the right.

Grimmjow couldn't believe his ears. He'd just been granted a reprieve? He gulped down air, suddenly on the verge of hyperventilating. He was inwardly overjoyed, but outwardly too numb to move. His knees and elbows were raw and his back... His back had certainly seen better days. After being beaten with thick strips of leather, sharp glass embedded within, his back had been literally torn to shreds. Any movement was agonizing.

Aizen's dark-haired cohort strode into Grimmjow's line of sight, automatically making him flinch and cower away. It was so shameful, but he was beyond pride at this point. If it stopped the pain, he was all for it, no matter how degrading. He sniffed, body still taut as tight rope as the man, Tousen, drew nearer. He didn't even relax once the man undid the shackles keeping him in place. He wanted to rub his wrists and ankles, but his muscles were so stiff from not only being in one position for so long, but also from being so tense. Absolutely everything hurt.

"Aizen, Sir. He-"

"Yes, he does look to be the worse for wear, doesn't he? Szayel," Aizen summoned.

"Aizen, Sir?" a pink-haired fairy answered as he too stepped into view.

"The prince needs a hand."

"Yes, Sir."

Grimmjow watched warily as the fairy bowed, then turned towards him, hands outstretched. He immediately shook his head, scared to death that this was just a trap, another form of punishment Aizen had up his sleeve. Fortunately, the pink-haired fairy merely flicked his wrists and caused Grimmjow to levitate. It was a strange feeling. Aside from the misery that was his back, his stomach had acquired a hollow sensation as he was floated from the throne, down the stairs and out the door of the room. He finally allowed his shoulders to slump and the second he did, darkness enveloped him. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to remain conscious.

XOXOXO

Ichigo skidded across the ground on his back before coming to an abrupt stop near a jutting boulder. He spit dirt from his mouth and licked blood from his bottom lip. After huffing an annoyed breath, he climbed shakily to his feet and wiped his brow with the back of his free hand, the other clutching a long, sleek black blade.

"This is ridiculous! I already fought Shiro and kicked his ass! Why do I gotta fight Sensei – I mean Byakuya, too?" he yelled across what appeared to be a barren wasteland, littered with boulders, rocks and dirt.

Isshin, Urahara, Shinji, Gin, Nel and Toshiro were perched on a bench that looked like it'd been nailed to the middle of a cloudless blue sky. This place was something Urahara had created as a means for training, something Ichigo and Shinji had had no clue even existed. Did he mention it was located in the basement of their building? Yeah, it boggled the mind, all this sorcery shit. There should have been no possible way Urahara could fit another continent in his basement, but because he had magic, the sky was no longer the limit. It was merely a landmark.

Shiro also sat on the bench, but he wore a sullen expression along with a myriad collection of bandages. Once Ichigo had gotten the hang of using his birthright, Zangetsu – a gigantic sword that looked more like a butcher knife in its unreleased state – the arrogant albino hadn't stood a chance. Well, he supposed he was being a little arrogant himself. It'd taken him four days to finally defeat the guy and now, he was working on getting past his old sensei. Byakuya proved to be more of a challenge than Shiro, however, and that was really saying something. It was admirable on the stoic man's behalf, but annoying as shit on Ichigo's. He just wanted to be done with this so-called training. They'd wasted precious time and there was no telling what'd happened to Grimmjow. Ichigo wouldn't let his fear overrun him, though. He focused on the fight, focused on his blade that he'd finally tamed into releasing for him. And to think the process was something as simple as calling forth a shit-load of energy and saying his sword's name.

Isshin and Urahara had explained to Ichigo upon their arrival in the "training room" about his heritage and how only royal families were given birthrights. Some were different than others, but most were given in the form of swords. Of course, birthrights had been known to be stolen, which was the case with Aizen. Once Roande had fallen, the royal family's birthright had disappeared along with its owners. Unfortunately, Aizen had been the one to find it and teach himself to wield it with careful research and overpowering magic. It was a shame, but true. The brunet fairy was dangerous and had to be stopped before things got worse.

"You need to be efficient with your birthright," Urahara called back to him. "As it stands, you're not strong enough to defeat Aizen."

"Shit," Ichigo cursed.

He just wanted to see Grimmjow again. Make sure he was OK. If that asshole had done something to the blue-haired fairy, Ichigo would paint the sky with the crazy bastard's blood. At this point, he felt like there was nothing he wouldn't do for Grimmjow. Apparently, love did that to you.

An abrupt kick of dirt made him dive and roll to the right before bringing his sword up to block the downward arc of Byakuya's blade. It clanged noisily before the dark-haired man gracefully leaped backward.

"You aren't concentrating, Ichigo-kun," he calmly stated, deep voice almost bored. It irked like hell.

"Wrong! I'm concentrating my ass off here! You're just too fast!"

"Nonsense. If you cannot catch me, then how do you hope to defeat-"

Ichigo threw up an agitated hand, cutting his sensei off. "Yeah, I got that part already, thanks! Look, this isn't working for me. I'm not going to be able to think through this with Grimmjow in the hands of that..." his voice trailed off as he glared helplessly at the ground.

He was scared, but even more than that, he was worried. His condition was making it near impossible to train properly, which meant he wouldn't be able to save Grimmjow anyway. It was a vicious circle that riled up his temper, leaving him frustrated and ornery. He lifted his gaze and sent it in his old man's direction.

"What do I gotta do to actually beat this guy?" he asked.

Isshin studied him for a beat, then sighed. "There's a way to boost your strength, but it's extremely dangerous."

Ichigo chuckled and ran a hand through his damp hair. "So what's the bad news?"

"Ichigo, my son, this is serious. The consequences could be-"

"Disastrous? Apocalyptic? Dad, I think I can handle it. I mean, do I really have a choice right now? Maybe if Grimmjow hadn't been kidnapped and I wasn't totally pressed for time, I could sit back and do this training thing the right way, but I can't. I have to cut corners and if you have a way for me to do that, I need to hear it. We've wasted enough time."

Urahara stood up and walked down an invisible set of stairs. There, he stalked over to the biggest boulder in the place and pressed a hand to it. A few seconds after that, the boulder glowed bright-green and a doorway sprang up on the side of it.

"Kurosaki-kun, if you'd please," the blond fairy said.

Ichigo stared in awe at the boulder before he shot an incredulous look at Urahara. "Uh, please what?"

"You wish to 'cut corners' as you say, so follow me. I'll show you what your father was talking about."

He stared at the boulder some more before finally shrugging and making his way over. He had no clue what he was getting himself into, but if it could help him save Grimmjow, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He stopped next to Urahara and gave him a cool glance.

"What's in there?" he asked.

Urahara smiled. "You, me, and nothing but time and space. You and Shinji watch Dragon Ball Z; think of this as that hyperbolic time chamber thing."

Ichigo chortled and shook his head in amusement. "Urahara, you watch Dragon Ball Z."

With that, he stepped into the dark doorway. Cold air immediately blasted over his skin and tightened it as he took slow step after slow step, and when he glanced down, it looked like he was walking on thin ice that cracked every time his feet landed. Where the hell was he going now? He was definitely going to have to get used to all this magic and sorcery.

"Just keep walking, Kurosaki-kun," Urahara's voice floated from...everywhere at once, it seemed.

Ichigo shuddered and did as he was told, if only to get out of this eerie place. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked, and finally, after what seemed like forever, a bright circle of light appeared ahead of him. He hurried towards it, hoping for some type of heat. The icy chill in this place made his teeth chatter. Luckily, the light expanded and once he stepped through it, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of flowers and fresh grass. Balmy, Spring air swished around him and made him wish he wasn't there to risk his life. He wished things were different and that Grimmjow had never been kidnapped in the first place. In fact, he wished Grimmjow was there with him, enjoying the light fragrance and soothing ambiance. And then, Urahara appeared behind him, hand settling on his shoulder.

"This is the Shornen. It took me three years to create one in this dimension, but I'm glad I did. It'll be hard, Kurosaki-kun. I won't go easy on you."

Ichigo smiled down at his feet and nodded. He only had one concern, then. "What's the time frame lookin' like?"

Urahara smiled again. "Four months in here, one day out there. Do you think you can handle it?"

"No, I know I can," he stated confidently.

Grimm, I'm coming.

XOXOXO

Shinji stared at the boulder Ichigo and Urahara had disappeared into. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience with everything that'd gone down. Nnoitra's life-threatening injury, Grimmjow's abduction, Ichigo's heritage...it all made his fucking head spin.

Back to the tall, dark-haired fairy, Nnoitra, though. He couldn't be moved from Shinji's bedroom, or else he'd die. His wound was so severe, the silver-haired fairy, Gin – also Urahara's nephew – had encountered difficulties trying to patch him up with his fairy hocus pocus. Nerve-wracking didn't even begin to describe his emotional state, watching the guy he liked a little more than a lot, lying in a pool of his own blood and slowly slipping away. It... Shinji shuddered and hung his head. He folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together, trying to will his mind away from that dark path. It wasn't working, though. Nnoitra had been so pale and quiet. And all that blood...

Shinji swallowed and glanced over at Ichigo's father, Isshin. Maybe if he turned his thoughts in that direction, it would ease the nausea in his gut. Maybe calm his nerves somewhat. He still couldn't get over the fact that not only was his adoptive father a fairy, but so was his best friend. They'd grown up together, played with each other as children and argued one another down as teens. As fully grown adults in college, they were no less close, especially as roommates, but now it felt like Shinji didn't even know the orange-haired guy. Ichigo seemed miles away, dealing with a heritage he'd had no idea of, either. When Shinji wasn't busy feeling bad for him, he was full of questions. If Ichigo was royalty like Grimmjow, did that mean the crazy brunet fairy wanted to kill him too? He didn't have to inquire about Ichigo's ears and super-strength since Urahara had tactfully revealed them the moment they'd stepped foot into their drastically altered basement, which Shinji hadn't even known existed. There was so much to wrap his mind around and it didn't seem to be any closer to happening now, than it had a week ago.

Then, there was the situation with Grimmjow. Shinji hadn't really expected Ichigo to flip out the way he had over the blue-haired fairy prince, but then again, he should've known better. He'd noticed from the very beginning the way Grimmjow'd trailed behind Ichigo, expression full of adoration. Hell, you'd have to be blind to have missed that. But as time had marched on, those looks ended up being reciprocated and seemed to grow more intense. And then, there was the night Grimmjow and Ichigo had consummated their feelings towards each other. Rather loudly, in fact. Shinji let a ghost of a smile curve his lips. He remembered Nnoitra rolling over in bed and grinning at him in the dark as they'd shamelessly eavesdropped. The headboard had made a deafening racket and the moaning... Well, suffice it to say both men had been extremely pleased.

That just made the ache in his gut sharper. He thought of Nnoitra's wide, carefree grin, devilish violet eye and long, jet-black hair...and he missed him. What would he do if Nnoitra died? An abrupt urge to hide his face and sob attacked him, but he buried it. He was more concerned with why he felt that way. He liked Nnoitra, sure, but what they'd been doing had seemed purely sexual. He hadn't even liked the dark-haired fairy when they'd first met; not even after they'd first started having sex. The guy was crass, belligerent, overbearing, funny, loyal, passionate... Oh, OK. He got it, then. He'd gradually started liking Nnoitra, gradually started learning more about the alarmingly tall and skinny idiot.

He gripped his stomach and grimaced. Nnoitra couldn't die. He couldn't. He'd better not.

"I'm hungryyyy," Shirosaki whined.

Shinji glanced over at the albino and shook his head. He'd never liked the guy because he always seemed to bother Ichigo, and then it turned out the reason for his harassment was because he was Ichigo's fucking bodyguard, as was Ichigo's English professor. It was a total mind-screw.

"Ah, I'm sure Kisuke has something in his apartment," Isshin stated cheerfully, although his eyes were anything but. Shinji was sure the elder Kurosaki was worried about his son...who was a fairy prince.

"Yeah, but it ain't edible," Shinji put in. Just the thought of Urahara's cooking was enough to make his nausea worse. "I think we got somethin' in our apartment, though."

He climbed to his feet and tapped his way down the invisible stairs leading from the bench he'd been sitting on. He still had yet to figure that one out. Where the hell had the stairs come from, and how come he didn't fall down them if he couldn't see them? Gave him a headache thinking about it. He reached the ground and made his way to the very visible metal staircase off to the left side of the room. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to, either. The rag-tag group followed behind him and trooped up the stairs behind him. They silently made their way to Shinji's apartment, where Nnoitra still lay, fighting for his life. Once he made it inside, it was ridiculously hard not to veer off towards his room to check on the dark-haired fairy. However, he managed to keep course and shuffle into the kitchen. After a deep, fortifying breath, he snatched open the fridge and looked around. Well, there was nothing in there that looked interesting, so he moved on to the freezer. Bingo. A large bag of fish sticks and another bag of french fries rested on the top shelf. He could hook that up, no problem.

Normally, he left all the gourmet cooking to Ichigo because...well, because he didn't have a choice. He sucked at fixing anything more complicated than ramen, and luckily, the fish sticks and french fries came with directions on the bag. He glanced around the suddenly crowded kitchen and lifted an eyebrow.

"Any objections?" he asked as he held the bags into the air. Head-shakes all around. "Good."

Shinji set the oven to four-fifty and rooted through the bottom cabinets for a couple of pans, mind still buzzing frantically. His life had officially been tipped onto its side and he had no idea how to go about righting it at the moment.

XOXOXO

He slit his eyes open and glanced around at his quarters. He was surrounded by white. More white than the throne room, which was probably one hell of an accomplishment. The walls were white and so was the floor. It was nauseating. He turned his head and noticed a door that led to another white room. He remembered that one; that was where he'd been bathed. It only stuck in his brain because the experience had been excruciating. His back... God, his back twinged whenever he moved, but thankfully, Aizen's little pink-haired minion had applied some type of healing salve to it and bandaged it up, which diminished the pain greatly. However, before the blessed ointment had been given, he'd had to endure a trial he would not soon forget, that was for certain.

Grimmjow lay on his stomach, no longer hungry after being fed and given water to drink. He no longer felt inhuman from wallowing in his own stench after having a bath, but he did still feel stinging humiliation, even though he was clothed. Speaking of his clothes, he'd forgone the short, black and white jacket Aizen had provided, instead opting to rest in only the strange pants. Thankfully, they hung low on his hips and gave relief to his sore lower back. He sighed gently, not wanting to disturb the muscles in his back working overtime to heal themselves.

Now that he didn't feel like he was on the brink of death, he had time to think about things more carefully. How was he going to leave this place? Aizen didn't seem fond of the idea, and without his birthright, Pantera, there was no way Grimmjow could escape. The brunet fairy had too many men at his disposal. In fact, there was probably a guard outside his quarters right now – not that he was needed. Grimmjow was too weak to even consider escape at this point. Maybe if Aizen kept up the generous behavior. It stung his pride, of course, but Grimmjow had much more on his mind than himself. He wanted to see Ichigo again. He wanted to show Ichigo everything about the Fae, but most of all, he wanted to tell Ichigo how he felt about him. He'd be strong. Outwardly, he would be the picture of submission, but inwardly, where it truly mattered right now, he would grasp his dignity and hold on tight, while formulating a way out of the madhouse Aizen referred to as Las Noches. He had to, or he would lose his sanity.

Two slow, almost sad-sounding knocks emanated from the door, making his head twist around to try and glimpse his visitor. Unfortunately, the way his bed was positioned, he only had a view of the wall behind it and whatever was directly to his left and right.

"A-Aizen-sama wishes to see you, Prince," a soft tenor spoke.

Ice raced down Grimmjow's back and panic gripped him with painful claws. What did the fairy want now? Was it more punishment? He swallowed harshly as he fought wave after wave of terrified nausea. He'd done nothing wrong; hell, he hadn't even had a chance to do anything wrong. What could possibly warrant the necessity of his presence? Calm down, he coached himself. Maybe Aizen just wanted to issue a new batch of rules he was to follow. Nodding to himself, he very slowly sat up, wincing the entire time. The bandages stretched across his raw back shifted and made him grit his teeth painfully. And he had to put that jacket on over this? That itself was like torture. He finally glanced over at the voice that had spoken and found a waifish-looking fairy with short, bright purple hair and wide, innocent, deep-violet eyes. He was dressed head to toe in a white trimmed with black robe.

"I-I'm to take you there," he continued.

Grimmjow nodded around another wince as he climbed to his feet. There he sluggishly shuffled over to the foot of his bed, where that stupid jacket lay draped over a small trunk. The trunk was white too and contained more of the clothing he wore. Growling, he grabbed the jacket and slipped into it. Fortunately, the thing was short and only reached the middle of his back, but he hated wearing it at all. It didn't sit well with him wearing clothing that represented Aizen, but endure it, he would. If it won him a chance at freedom, he would do it without hesitation.

After he had the jacket on, he edged his way to the smaller fairy and waited for his cue. The door opened and they both stepped into the wide, white hall. No surprise there. Grimmjow really wondered what Aizen's fascination with the color white was. It was annoying as hell.

As they made their way to the throne room, no doubt, Grimmjow let his mind wander to the orange-haired spitfire he'd fallen in love with. He let a small smile curve his lips as he thought about the boy, as he recalled their last night together. He'd finally lost his virginity, only to be caught unaware and taken hostage. And for what? Because Aizen wanted him as his very own Elorian pet? Not going to happen. He would die before he let that deranged fairy put his hands on him in a romantic fashion; that role was reserved for Ichigo alone. He was in the middle of recalling the soft texture of Ichigo's lips and his reassuring embrace, when the double doors to the throne room loomed before him. He turned to the fairy leading him and tilted his head to the side.

"Can you tell me what he wants?"

"I-I don't know, Prince. B-but even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed. T-talking this much is forbidden," the fairy whispered, violet eyes huge.

"OK," Grimmjow said, not wanting to get him in trouble.

The doors opened up, but before Grimmjow could step through them, another fairy with green eyes appeared beside him. He bristled angrily. He remembered this asshole; he'd been there when Aizen had made his presence known back at Ichigo's apartment.

"You will follow me," he ordered in a monotone voice.

Grimmjow's immediate reaction was to snap at him with disdain, but he remembered his place at the last second. In Las Noches, Aizen was ruler, and unless Grimmjow wanted a reminder of all the pain he'd been put through very recently, he'd be smart to keep his mouth shut. So, with that in mind, he followed the shorter, dark-haired fairy into the throne room, mind twirling about dangerously. He really wanted to know what Aizen wanted.

Next time...