AN: thank you to everyone who reviewed before! Enjoy!

Title: Symptoms of a downfall CH.3: Obligation

Pairing: StarkxRukia

It could have been worse, Stark supposed, glancing over the declaration of transferred guardianship. Aizen had taken his seat behind the desk again and beamed at one and all with a reassuring smile, particularly and often he would look to Rukia where she sat, mistrustful even of the slightest kindness. Her eyes flickered to Stark's face and then followed the path of the paper as he scooted it across the space of the oak veneer desktop.

"Everything seems in order," he remarked, noting the meticulous care Aizen held in stamping his official seal below the guardian's signature. Rukia shifted a little, alertly eyeing the two men, ready to bolt if need be. Aizen waited until the ink had dried before passing the document to her, "now, Ms. Kuchiki. If you would just sign—"

"No. I don't want to live with him-I refuse." Steely she looked from the impassive solicitor's face to the one of the man sitting opposite her. Stark raised an eyebrow, "and what are your objections—if this were in a court of law—how would you justify this line of thinking?"

Taken aback, Rukia lowered her gaze, mumbling quietly, "I want to…take care of myself."

He sighed; teenagers could be so difficult.

It was ridiculous, her wanting to go off in the world alone.

That rather reminded him of…

"Look, if things don't work out—and you don't like living in my household, we'll figure out something then. But right now, I'm sure you're tired-as I am. So why don't you just sign the paper and we'll go on down to my place and order in dinner? Hmm? How does that sound?"

Quietly, searchingly she lifted her eyes to his, the reflection wary. Almost as if she was afraid of being hurt, he mused thoughtfully, wondering why that could be.

Slowly, Rukia slid the paper by the edge to her, taking up the silver pen offered her by Aizen; she signed her name in a firm, smooth hand. Aizen took it from her and announced the proceedings Legal and as far as the law was concerned, Stark was now obliged to look after her, call it familial duty, obligation or what not. With this, they were free to go.

Back to his home.

~~~*~~~

The Taxi ride didn't take long. Rukia sat the farthest she possibly could from him and stared out the narrow, tinted window rather than by chance, be forced into banal conversation. Twice, Stark cleared his throat to interrupt a silence he was beginning to find disturbing, but couldn't when arrested by the simple fact of: she didn't want to talk.

He could tell. It was written all over her slender, petite form clothed in a gray pleated skirt, he found to be scandalously short, a long-sleeve jacket and a red ribbon tied around her collar. Her book bag was between them as a more corporeal barrier other than the occasional glare she sent his way; whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

Just what was her problem?

It wasn't as though they were absolute strangers…after all they had spoken once before earlier that morning. His sister had been her adopted mother for Gods sakes!

Scowling in frustration, Stark recalled his blithe words of advice from hours ago. Then, sheepishly smiled to himself in the darkness of the cab. He had better take his own advice.

~~~*~~~

They were left off outside of a two-story townhouse located in the fashionable Shibuya district. Businesses lined the streets before they'd turned onto a narrower, quieter sort of area. It wasn't so unlike where she had lived with her brother, Rukia mused. Stark paid their cab fare, turning his attention to her once the yellow and black sedan had driven away.

"Shall we go in?"

His question was met with a quiet nod, the movement bringing his eyes to rest on her face, where they stayed until she shifted more and made him realize. He'd been staring. Averting his gaze from her, he walked up to the doormat, jiggling his keys as distraction from the daze he had just been in.

What was wrong with him?

He shouldn't have been looking at her that way!

She was already uncomfortable, he chastised himself, and recent bereavement dictated her in need of a father figure. Someone to care for her…someone to love her…but not in that way, he reminded the faint flutter of his quickening heartbeat. Pushing the door open, he stepped back allowing her to enter first into the tiny foyer. A pair of slippers, his, and she assumed, for a lady guest, had been set out on the tiny square of matte tile. Rukia slipped her shoes off and donned the smaller of the pair; Stark was right behind her, going past her to switch on a small lamp placed on an end table by the beige Laz-boy sofa.

The illumination did much for revealing framed artwork on the wall, a small bookshelf or two situated discreetly in the corners, their tops adorned with photo frames. Probably family photos, she thought, making a mental note to check them out when he wasn't in the room. Stark padded across the room to the adjoining kitchen area towards the back, motioning for her to follow. A stainless steel refrigerator sat conspicuously large against one wall and the sink set in a miniature island provided counter space for bar stools. The stove was gas range and surrounded by cabinets all of which, Rukia suspected, were probably empty.

"Would you like to see the rest of the place now?" Stark questioned politely, "or would you prefer to have dinner ordered first?"

"I don't care," she replied flatly, turning on her heel.

"Hey," he called, hesitating to address her without leave, "it's alright to use my first name. Nothing formal-and not old man either. I'd like to think…Rukia," he said carefully, gauging her reaction, so far so good, "that we can make it work. But I need your cooperation here—"

"You're making it sound as though I'm trying to dump you," she remarked, a sarcastic smile twisting her lips. Stark tried not to focus too long on her mouth shaping the words, swallowing with difficulty, he looked away, "that's not the case and you know that. We're—" again he hesitated, but for a different reason, "—family. And I—I want to take care of you. That's all."

A flicker of something passed through her cold eyes at this statement. Her lips lost the taunting emotion they had held and then finding her voice, she spoke, her tone being much subdued and losing some of its sneer, "order Chinese. I haven't had it since brother died."

"Okay," relieved, Stark went back to the counter for the handset.

"Sweet and sour chicken and fried rice," she instructed, seeing him take note of it, she started out the door. Pausing as he dialed the number, Rukia glanced back, murmuring lowly, "thanks, Stark."

~~~*~~~

He heard her and could only smile covertly.

He would show her what it meant to be loved…in the familial way of course.

~~~To be continued~~~

A/N: sleepy. Anyway, reviews are appreciated!