Chapter 7
Try as he might, Stark was not going to be able to rouse a sleep induced by drugs, he was onto a hiding for nothing. Instead in decided that the tray of bandages might as well not sit idle and he'd turn his hand to a little hands on nursing instead.
Three days in, the stitches should be nice and tight on Ichigo's foot and the wound healing well. Careful not to wake his sleeping charge, Stark flipped the covers off the foot of the bed and gently unwound yesterday's wrapping. It was good to see that the wound looked nothing more than a little raised, had it been anywhere else on the body, it would have been better to leave it uncovered. But if Ichigo was going to be able to get up today as the hope was, it did need recovering. Stark made light work of dressing it with a sterile adhesive covering, a bandage seemed overkill.
Prising Ichigo's hands from the fur throw was a slightly harder task, the kid seemed quite intent on keeping up a surprising vice like grip. Underneath the coverings, Stark was glad of some time to study the pattern of injury here. The palms were the worst with the fingers on the three middle fingers mainly on the right hand, showing a raw delicate skin where the original layers had now peeled away. What was clear was that for the main part, healing was progressing and scarring wasn't likely to interfere with Ichigo's future use of his hands, which would be most beneficial. Stark was sure he could continue his teachings using the little fingers and thumbs. Although his wrapping was not as good as the nurse who showed him yesterday, he let more of the finger tips remain showing, the pink skin he figured, might even be more sensitive and therefore a bonus.
"Ya finished prodding yet?" Was what was intended to be said, it didn't quite come out like that, it was rather muffled by sleep and wedge of dressing gown over the kids mouth, but Stark snorted rather pig like.
"Well if ya awake enough to moan, shut up, roll over and face the deck kid." With a moan, a grumble and a curse Ichigo complied, that is after he grabbed the IV line, which had got caught up and just yanked it out his arm. "Oi stupid ya gonna bleed everywhere now!" Stark pressed the beading puncture wound with one thumb to stop the flow and then tutting like mad, reached the supply of dressings and hygiene or not, tore the paper with his teeth. What else was a one armed man gonna do?
"Gonna take it out anyway."
"Not before ya finished the course of antibiotic!" Stark slapped the dressing on with a deliberate amount of force. "Who they gonna blame hey?"
…
"Two fat ladies." Stark rolled the number balls in his palm.
"Eh?" Ichigo answered grumpily. He was bored stupid of this game of bingo now. Going into larger and larger numbers was numbing his brain and his fingers. Those little damn raised dots of braille were bastards to his raw skin.
"Eighty eight, don't you think an eight is the right shape for a well-endowed female?"
"I'm not in the habit of eyeing up females." He tutted.
"Cos ya blind now? That's a poor excuse that's only recent after all!"
"Cos I'm gay half brain."
"Oh…what about ya mammy then?" Stark poised to tug more balls from the bag on his lap.
"You're digging a big hole for yourself. Look I've found the damn number alright!" Ichigo pointed to his chart where his fingers had searched out the number on the grid and then threw it at the approximate direction of Stark.
"You're so violent."
"I wanna sleep now." Stark saw that for the diversion it was.
"Ya always get moody when I say something wrong." He shook his bag after putting the used balls back inside and pulled the drawstring tightly shut.
"So shut up then." Ichigo pushed the table over him away and ran his aching fingers up over his jean clad legs as a feeling of claustrophobia hit him. He wanted out, out now.
"Ne I would but I don't know what I said." Ichigo heard the bag plop onto the firm floor and decided that's just where he wanted his feet to be. On the floor, feeling the ground on his souls, knowing he could just get up and at least get away from this bed.
"Shut up now please."
"Ichigo, my favourite client..."
"Only client." The boy snorted hands resting beside him ready for launch off.
"Tell Uncle Starky." A pair of creepy arms found themselves around Ichigo's shoulder and his head was pulled roughly down onto the man's own shoulder.
"What? Tell you what?" He tugged himself upright and pushed at the body encroaching on his space.
"What I put my foot in this time?" This time implied as indeed there had been in their short relationship, other times.
"Stark, I am tired. Not bullshitting you, we've been doing this bloody number thing for ever and my brain's gonna implode."
"No, you think I don't know when you want to avoid something?"
"My mother wasn't fat. She was beautiful and wonderful and even if I was a kid, she most certainly wasn't fat alright. Now go and sit like a good boy in the corner and have a kip!"
"You are so mean."
"Yeah. Fuck off." Ichigo growled and rubbed his hair.
Stark slunk back to his favoured chair and watched the kid a moment. Feigning sleep might not be bad for a while. While he watched Ichigo brood about something he presumed was his mother and the tense at which he had used. 'Note to self, don't talk about his mother – another one to add to the list.' It was looking like his entire family was taboo.
…
Ichigo thought that being off the drips would have been so much better. He didn't account for the fact that the infections had not completely gone. There was still a feeling of disabilitating tiredness the consumed him within a short while of being out of bed. But whilst at the infections worst point for all those bouts of shaking, he was now left him feeling as if he had run several marathons in succession. His limbs didn't quite feel strong enough to take his weight; his muscles ached from over use and stiffness from being in one position for too long. Stark's arm had been necessary for his trips to the bathroom and embarrassingly, he'd needed help whilst in there.
Now half way along what felt a mile long corridor bustling with people obviously more able than himself, Ichigo found his footing faltering. Stark had wanted to introduce him to a white cane and Ichigo himself had been keen enough, hoping that it would bring him some independency. The simple act of holding the white stick was fine, the strap secured to his wrist meant he couldn't drop it, but the swinging motion was not easy on one fatigued arm for all this time, especially after the numerous times it snagged and butted against obstructions. Starks patience wasn't enough to stop the defeated sigh that left Ichigo's lips. His feet rooted themselves to the floor and the small tug at his elbow was ignored in favour of scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Had enough?" Stark predicted after all he'd watched Ichigo's lower face grimace for a few minutes now. The simple nod and silence also told him a lot too. "There's a chair two steps ahead of ya, or we can just turn back?"
Ichigo wasn't sure that sitting would be a good idea, he didn't know if he could make himself get back up again. But that walk back felt daunting.
"Kurosaki Ichigo?" The voice was a surprise to both men, they hadn't expected visitors. Stark turned them both as Ichigo gave a confirming reply. "Doctor Barragan." Ichigo guessed from the voice that the man was nearing his retirement. "I've come to examine your burns."
"I already see someone."
There was a pause and a quick shuffling of papers where the doctor checked his notes before replying. "Aizen Sosuke requested I see you. I specialise in the latest techniques for cosmetic surgery. There is some debate about your previous doctor. My research on aging and skin decay from injury is second to none. I would guarantee that I could restore your skin with little to no scarring left." In fact, the good doctor was a leading force in plastic surgery, using new drugs, creams and therapies that were not in the pay range of most people, even celebrities would have been hard pushed to afford the good doctors skills even if he did claim he could turn back the aging process. A man with the Aizen's income, had no trouble at all, especially when the second floor of his large corporation was a research department on aging lead by the said doctor.
"Oh." Ichigo replied. He didn't feel up to being prodded about.
"Ichigo was just returning to his room to rest." Stark's hands seemed to tighten around Ichigo's arm and waist as if signally he would take the strain for him and Ichigo unconsciously leant into the support and let his legs almost be dragged along as the two men began to chat.
"Aizen-sama said you were involved Stark. I thought you had retired from the corporation?"
"Hai. I retrained." Stark answered. "I wanted to feel useful to the world for a change." He sounded wistful.
"Hired guns are always useful." Barragan answered at which Stark let out a scoffing cough trying to cover up the leak of his previous life hoping Ichigo would see it as a joke although the thought had crossed his mind that Aizen probably thought he still carried a piece and could double as a body guard for his beloved. The man had an uncanny knack for being right. With his client he found that carrying gun had felt comforting again, anything to do with Las Noches seemed to need firearms at some point or other.
Bundled onto his bed, Ichigo was listening with only half an ear to the conversation the other part was muffled as tiredness crept in with stealthy steel capped toes and he submissively laid there whilst he was un-bandaged and revealed all to the doctor. All he really took in was the information he'd have another day to recuperate before he began another ream of treatments. It didn't look like he'd get out of here any time soon.
…
Some 24 hours later, to say Stark was surprised by the sudden burst of laughter would have been an understatement. Ichigo had been in such a foul mood he'd refused to cooperate and play a fourth game of bingo. But the kid was there in his bed chuckling away with his head now swaying to the music he was listening too.
"Oi." Stark kicked the end of the bed with an outstretched foot from his comfy seat.
"What!" Ichigo said loudly back forgetting Stark didn't have the music blasting into his ears. He plucked an earpiece out cocking his head towards his lumbering tutor.
"What ya listening to?"
"Would ya believe Sosuke was a closet Smokey Robinson fan?"
"Firstly I don't know a Sosuke, I know an Aizen-sama." Stark wandered over to the bed. Ichigo felt the side dip and slight tug on the mp3 player as the lanky man listened in with the free earpiece. "…I don't care if they start to avoid me.
I don't care what they…"
"Oi! Ya ruining tha song!" Ichigo's elbow found Starks ribs and he jolted off the bed to land on the floor with an 'oomph'. Ichigo's face smirked. "Dude? Ya fall off the bed?"
"No!" Stark said rubbing his back side as he stood.
"You so did!" Ichigo grinned widely and laughed until he wanted to cry.
"Hey, next time ya a miserable shit, I'll just bodily harm myself shall I?" Stark huffed.
"Why wait till then?" Ichigo mumbled. "Slave driver."
"Ahhh, is da idle boy not up to the pressure? Ya wanna stay a lil cripple?" To say Stark was momentarily, if only for the briefest moments totally shit scared, it wouldn't be a lie. Ichigo glared so hard that his teeth were bared in an animalistic way that Stark was sure he just found a demon hidden in the kid. Thankfully Ichigo's blindness prevented him seeing that.
"I can take what you got man. Bring it on!"
"All big talk, but I can't see any action."
"Don't underestimate me." Ichigo plucked the earpieces out, his hand reached forward and he put the MP3 onto the table that spanned the bed.
"Bingo!" Stark gleefully threw into the dark atmosphere.
"Oh fucking great!" Ichigo fell back in the bed with a flop. He was hoping for something at least a little meaty.
Aizen sat in his deep white leather chair behind his impressive white slab of marble desk. He hand one leg crossed over the other and his head leaning to the side in a nonchalant manner resting on his knuckles. The smile on his face was minimal, seemingly innocent.
To the man sitting nervously on the opposite sides, it was anything but innocent; it was down- right hostile. The air in the room was thick ominous.
"So Renji?" It was at that point Renji knew he had to rethink his position at the company.
He looked nervously to Grim who sat looking as bastard like as possible next to him. "We…I felt…I screwed up captain."
"It is admirable that you wish to take responsibility." Grim tensed, that implied that Aizen knew that it wasn't all the red head's fault that the guy they were pursuing got away. He should have known really Aizen seemed to have spies everywhere in this town. "Tosen deal with Grimmjow." The order was given and the tall black man stepped forward placing a heavy hand on the blue heads shoulder. "As for you Abarai, I am not sure that you are what I require in this business."
"I guess you'd like my resignation?" Renji grinned nervously.
"That will do nicely." Aizen smiled a little wider, he'd cut the man some slack for being Ichigo's friend however he could only be so...soft, but it was one bird, one stone, but it did two jobs. Now he was rid of the red headed pest in his corporation and his personal life. "Give my regards to Captain Kuchiki will you."
Renji jolted. How the hell did he know about that? But his answer came from the all knowing smile directed at him.
Sorry for the wait, wanted to add a bit more Aizen and bring them back into character a little more and I had to wait for the plot bunnies to resurface!