AN
Hi there! Thanks for the followers and reviews so far. On with the story.

Disclaimer-Seriously, must we go through this for every chapter. I. Own. Nothing. I will say this no more!

Trouble in Paradise

Chapter 2

Ichigo awoke the next morning to the smell of hot coffee and what felt like the worst hangover of his life. He immediately decided to cut back on the little white pills. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at the ceiling of Rukia's bedroom. It was, unfortunately, the first time he'd seen it from this position. He took a deep breath and caught the faint, lingering trace of Rukia that still clung to the sheets and pillowcase.

In spite of the groggy sensation left by the drugs, his body tightened with the beginnings of a familiar hardness. He should be getting accustomed to this tight, disturbing feeling. It happened a lot around Rukia. But even as he began to contemplate the possibility of luring Rukia into the bedroom, his sore ribs made their presence known in no uncertain terms. His leg began to throb, too.

"Hell."

"Language! Is that a general comment on your present physical condition or do you always wake up cursing the world?"

Rukia appeared in the doorway, a mug of coffee in her hand. Her hair was up in its usual loose knot (with the exception of that stubborn bang that always hung between her eyes (and she was wearing an emerald green shirt and black and grey plaid trousers that were cut full at the hips and narrowed down to tiny cuffs. There was a red and brass belt threaded through the waistband loops. She looked, Ichigo decided, very cheerful, very alive and very much like home.

It came as a dull surprise to realize he'd never really thought of Seireitei as home until Rukia had arrived three months before. For the past couple of years, since he'd moved here from Karakura, the city had simply been the place he came back to when an assignment was over. Something in him needed the remote, isolated quality it offered. Lately he'd grown accustomed to the idea of seeing Rukia when he returned. But each time he'd come back to find Rukia waiting, the sexual tension in him grew heavier and more demanding. Occasionally it irritated him that she seemed totally oblivious of that fact.

"My leg hurts. And my ribs."

"Don't look at me as though it's my fault. Want some more of your pills?"

He glared at her.

"No, I do not want any more pills. I feel as if I'm just waking up from a week-long binge because of those damn pills."

"Have you ever actually been on a week-long binge?" She asked curiously.

There had been that time after he'd learned Chad had been killed, Ichigo thought. But the numbness he'd achieved through the bottle hadn't lasted very long, unfortunately. Nowhere near a week. Only vengeance had offered a form of relief and another kind of numbness.

"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't."

"I'm not surprised."

She nodded as if what he'd said confirmed something she had already decided.

"I can't see you losing control like that."

"Are you just going to tease me with that coffee or are you going to do the decent thing and give it to me?"

"My, you are quite surly in the mornings, aren't you? Say please."

The mocking gleam in her eyes annoyed him. He gritted his teeth and scowled. "Please may I have that mug of coffee before I scream?"

He held out his hand expectantly.

"Lucky for you I'm in a charitable mood today."

She thrust the mug into his large hand and watched as he took a long, satisfying swallow. Her flippant words didn't quite hide the shadowed concern in her eyes. Ichigo decided he liked the sympathy he saw in her near-violet gaze. He wouldn't mind wallowing in it for a while.

"Thank you," Ichigo murmured after the first taste of the reviving coffee.

"I may survive after all."

He kept himself propped on one elbow; the mug cradled in his fist, and took another swallow.

"How do you feel?" Rukia asked gently.

"As I said earlier, like hell."

"Succinct and to the point. Want some breakfast?"

He eyed her with faint amusement.

"You are feeling charitable today, aren't you? I get to spend the night in your bed and now you're going to feed me breakfast. This is indeed the best of all possible worlds."

Her mouth tilted at the corners. "You're an easily satisfied man."

"A simple soul with simple tastes," he agreed, and made a gallant effort to sit up on the edge of the bed. "Ah. Success."

He ignored the dull ache in his thigh. Across the room his gaze fell on an airy structure made of thin brass wire. Technically, it was a birdcage designed to look like a Baroque Italian villa. But Rukia had filled the delicate, exotic birdhouse with a healthy looking plant instead of parakeets. Green leaves poked through the colonnade, thrust their way out of the dome and peeked through the elegantly vaulted windows and doorways.

Rukia saw the direction of his gaze. "What do you think? I decided it made a great planter."

Ichigo felt an instant flare of anger. "You bought it?"

"Of course I bought it! I love it!"

"I told you not to buy it. I said I'd give it to you if you wanted it."

"And I explained I couldn't let you give me something that expensive," Rukia reminded him patiently. "It's a work of art."

"It's a hobby," he told her flatly.

"You must have spent hours on it."

"That's what hobbies are for. Dammit, Rukia, I can't believe you paid three hundred bucks for that thing!"

"The gallery owner gave me a slight discount because she knew I was a friend of the artist."

"Oh, yeah? How much of a slight discount did Orihime give you?" Ichigo challenged.

"Ten percent. If you ask me, you're letting those cages go too cheap.

That's what I told Orihime, too. I think you should be charging five hundred for the small cages like this one and seven-fifty or eight hundred for the large ones. Maybe more."

Ichigo heaved himself to his feet. "When I decide to get an agent, I'll consult you. In the meantime, no more sneaking around behind my back buying my bird cages without my permission, understand?"

Her eyes widened innocently. "Dear me! The coffee doesn't seem to be doing much for your mood, Mr. Grouchy-Pants. I didn't realize you have this surly side to your nature," she said in a saccharine, sweet voice.
Ichigo grimaced. ""Yeah, well there are a lot of things you don't know about my nature. And knock it off with that creepy voice!"

Ichigo made his way painfully to the bathroom.

"It is not creepy!" Rukia protested hotly. "And for the record, you know just about as much about my own nature, pal."

She vanished from the doorway, leaving the cool jibe hanging in the air behind her. Ichigo groaned, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. He was not handling his first morning in Rukia's home with the finesse, tact and diplomacy a woman had a right to expect. After all, he reminded himself grimly as he planted both hands on the old cracked washbasin and leaned forward to study the rough stubble on his face, he wasn't her lover. He was a politely tolerated friend she could choose to kick out at any moment. He didn't want to be kicked out. Not just yet. He wanted to maintain the fantasy of being home a little while longer.

Ichigo reached over and turned on the shower, aware that he was secretly pleased Rukia had liked the Baroque birdcage enough to buy it. What didn't please him was that at one point he had offered to give her the cage and she politely refused. He had recognized the refusal for what it was, a deliberate effort to keep their relationship free of various bonds, obligations and entanglements. As a gift it was too much in her eyes. When it came to presents she preferred a bunch of brightly colored flowers now and then.

At the time she had refused the cage he told himself he appreciated the gesture because it had reassured him he made the right decision when he had decided to get involved with Rukia Kuchiki. She wanted exactly what he wanted out of an affair: casual companionship and good sex. But he never quite forgot the odd sensation of rejection he had experienced the day she declined his gift. Nor had he ever gotten the good sex. The affair had never quite gelled. It seemed to have stalled at the friendship stage.

The first time he saw her she had been intently studying the cage in Seireite. Ichigo had stopped in to chat with Orihime Inoue, the owner, and to deliver another cage. Orihime treated him as she treated all the rather eccentric craftspeople and artists she represented, with a kind of affectionate tolerance, which was easy seeing as how she was quite eccentric herself. Well, that wasn't completely the truth. Ichigo did notice that Orihime did treat him a bit differently, and possibly even might have a thing for him. But he knew from their first meeting that she wasn't his type and that they would never mesh well together.

The image of himself as an eccentric craftsman worked well for him in Seireitei, a town overrun by the type. It allowed him to fit in nicely. But then, finding protective covers was another of his odd assortment of talents. He'd spotted Rukia crouched in front of the Baroque piece, examining each minute architectural detail with obvious delight. It was clear she was enchanted and her pleasure had intrigued him.

Since he designed and built the cage, Ichigo figured he had the perfect opening line. She had responded to his overture. He was pleased to find out she lived in town and was not just a passing tourist. A day spent together visiting art galleries had quickly followed. After that there had been a couple of dinners together and one or two afternoon walks on the beach. She had shown an interest in his birdcages and he found the fact that she wrote science fiction and fantasy fascinating. She didn't look the type, he had told her.

"And just what is that supposed to mean!" She'd snapped. "Am I too 'petite and delicate' to write Sci-Fi?"

Ichigo held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa! Relax, that's not what I meant at all. No need to bite my head off, jeez." But secretly he enjoyed her fire. He liked a woman who had passion in her veins.

Rukia calmed down with a sheepish little laugh. "Sorry, but I hear that enough for it to become quite a nuisance. So tell me, what does the type look like?"

"I don't know," he'd admitted.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you don't look the type to build beautiful bird cages."

Ichigo's brows furrowed with slight annoyance. He was tempted to return the favor and read her the riot act about how looks were deceiving, but he decided to take the high road. He didn't want to spend their time together arguing about inconsequential things like misconceptions. Anyway, at least she hadn't said anything too horrible about his bright orange hair.

"I'm an engineer," he'd explained. "For a while, when I was younger, I also wanted to be an architect. The cages are a hobby. I don't make my living with them."

"How do you make your living then?"

"Engineering consulting work. My firm has several over seas projects. I travel a lot."

The lies always came easily. He had been telling them for years.

"Do you like it?"

He had shrugged, a little surprised by the question. "I don't know. It's what I do."

Rukia had nodded, as if understanding perfectly. She also seemed to understand that he had said all he intended to say about his job. Her tolerant acceptance of the limits he established intrigued him, although he had other lies ready if she ever asked more questions. She never had, and Ichigo was pleased. He shied away from the thought of telling Rukia any more lies than absolutely necessary. Lazily, feeling no need to rush the affair and determined not to jeopardize the light, undemanding aspects of the relationship, Ichigo had set out to seduce Rukia. But he had quickly discovered that moving beyond casual friendship wasn't going to be that easy.

He soon learned there was something jumpy, almost frightened about Rukia. She used the pose of friend almost like a shield to protect herself. He was working on the problem when he had gotten the first assignment he had received since meeting her. As usual, there was very little time to say good-bye. Ichigo hadn't been certain what to expect from her when he told her he was leaving the country so suddenly, but he had been reassured by her obvious lack of concern. She had even offered to drive him to the airport, but he'd refused for the same reasons she refused to take the birdcage.

He hadn't been feeling as casual two weeks later when he returned. He had begun thinking of Rukia on the plane and by the time he landed in Karakura he'd been craving her. It was not unusual to want a woman after an assignment, but it was new for him to want a particular woman as badly as he had wanted Rukia.

Knowing the need for sexual release was riding him far too hard, he had decided to make himself wait a couple of days before getting in touch with Rukia. His resolution had lasted about twelve hours. He was on her doorstep the evening after he'd returned. He learned his lesson that night. When he got home the second time he had forced himself firmly under control before casually stopping by to say hello. Her wariness was both frustrating and inexplicable, but he couldn't bear the thought of frightening her or causing her pain.

For a while he had wondered if she was simply the kind of woman who worried excessively about her reputation. Seireitei was a small town, granted, but it was hardly straitlaced. It was a haven for struggling artists, writers and assorted craftspeople, not exactly the sort of community where people worried very much about what others thought. And Rukia was definitely too much of an independent spirit to run her life any way but her own.

After a short period of consideration, Ichigo scratched the theory that she was too conservative to engage in an affair. He had gone on to Theory Number Two, which was that she might be gay. But he scrapped that notion when he remembered the deep, feminine awareness in her eyes the first time she had seen his clawing desire. All his instincts told him she was a woman who could respond to the right man. That had led to Theory Number Three: H might not be the right man. That thought had not done much for his ego. It hadn't been easy psyching himself down to something resembling casual friendliness when he had returned from that second assignment.

The fierce need for her had begun eating at him as soon as he had boarded the plane back to Japan. He'd thought about stopping off in Dangai and looking up an old acquaintance that might be willing to drain some of his tension.

But he had sensed that wouldn't work; another woman wasn't the answer. Purple hair and wide amber eyes would not fill the ache he was having for a petite, raven-haired amethyst-eyed beauty. He thought he'd done a pretty fair job of covering up the desire he felt that second time, but he knew she had seen the traces of sexual heat in him. Once again she treated the flames with wine and food and casual, undemanding conversation. He left the house to the strains of the cheery and ear-piercing theme song to some cartoon bunny-themed show she was obsessed with that was a complete mood killer.

Rukia's protective wall of friendship was stronger than ever. But Ichigo knew that his resistance to the idea of crashing through it was weakening rapidly. Then had come this last fiasco of an assignment. Ichigo clenched his teeth as he stepped into the shower and concentrated on his leg. He was going to have to change the bandage when he got out. Best to keep Rukia out of the room while he did it. He looked down and grimaced. Damn, that bullet had been close. A little higher and he wouldn't have had to worry about trying to seduce Rukia.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Out in the kitchen Rukia heard the shower go off and waited expectantly for the sound of the bathroom door opening. She didn't want to put the oatmeal on the stove until Ichigo was almost ready to eat. The phone rang just as she was measuring water into the pan. This time when she picked up the receiver, her intuition was accurate. Even if she hadn't guessed who would be on the line the distant static was a good clue. Private telephone service had come to AoiMizu about fifteen years before, but it hadn't yet reached the level of quality one expected in mainstream communities.

"Hello, Father. Are you and Mother finished packing yet?"

"Your mother has that end of things under control, as usual."

Byakuya Kuchiki's deep, serious voice was not dimmed one bit by the telephone line. His was a voice that had dominated the boardroom and presidential suite of Kuchiki Aero, Inc. for years. It held the essence of a still vigorous man who was facing his sixties with the same steely determination that he'd used to build and hold together his successful aerospace manufacturing firm.

"I'm not surprised."

Rukia half smiled at the thought of her mother's exceptional organizational talents. Hisana Kuchiki had brought the task of being the perfect corporate executive's wife to the level of a fine art. If she'd been born a little later, she probably would have been an executive herself, not the wife of one.

"Let's see, you two leave for London on the fifteenth, right? That's next week. You must be swamped trying to get ready."

It was a desperate bid to avoid the unavoidable. Rukia wasn't at all surprised when it failed. Byakuya Kuchiki was too shrewd to let her off the hook that easily.

"Never you mind about that. Listen, Snowflake, your mother and I have come up with a great idea," Byakuya announced. His tone held an insistent edge.

"We have decided that what you need is a vacation. Come to the island this week. You can help Hisana finish the packing, do a little diving, eat a few home cooked meals and relax. On the fifteenth you can see us off on the plane. Then you can stay as long as you like at the house. Plan on a month."

Rukia frowned. She knew this was coming. He only ever used his pet name for her to soften her up and bring her around to his way of thinking. It was oftentimes futile to resist his will, but she would try.

"Look, Father, I'm actually rather busy at the moment-"

"You need some time off, Rukia," he interrupted firmly. "For the past few months you've been getting more and more concerned about your writing. Too concerned. It's obvious you're starting to feel the stress. You haven't come to see us for over eight months. You know how you love this place. I'm worried about you. Selling that science fiction series last year put some real pressure on you. Knowing my daughter, you've spent the last few months worrying about whether you'll be able to do the same thing again this year. I've got news for you, Snowflake: If you don't learn to pace yourself, you won't be able to keep it up."

"But Father, it's not a question of relaxing."

Rukia leaned back against the kitchen counter, absently massaging her temples as she tried to marshal her arguments. But even as she made the effort, she felt herself weakening. Sooner or later she would have to go back to the island. She couldn't put it off forever.

"I'm right in the middle of a book and I wanted to get it finished before I took some time off."

"It would mean a lot to both your mother and I if you could manage a few days with us before we leave for London, Rukia."
Rukia groaned. "Come on, Father. Mother might resort to this approach, but I always thought you were above using the old guilt trip routine."

Silence greeted that remark, and Rukia considered taking it back and apologizing.

There was a small sound to Rukia's left. She glanced up and saw Ichigo leaning in the kitchen doorway, buttoning his shirt while he listened with unabashed interest.

"I apologize for that Father. I'll think about it, okay? I'll see what I can do about my schedule."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know what you decide," Byakuya said bluntly. "I'll tell your mother you're considering it very seriously. She'll be thrilled. I'll take care of the tickets."

"Father, wait-"

"Listen, don't try to tell me you don't want to come to the island because of the accident. Shiba was a fool and he paid the price. It was a tragic event, yes, but there's absolutely no reason to let it upset you forever and keep you away from your family. Accidents happen."
Rukia froze. "I know that. It's got nothing to do with what happened to Kaien. It's just that I-"

"Good. He was a nice enough young man and the whole thing was very unfortunate, but you shouldn't let it get to you. Kuchikis are made of stronger stuff than that than to be upset over something so trivial. And I know you weren't in love with him so it's not as if you're pining. You would never do something so weak. Come and see us, Snowflake."

"Father-"

It was too late. Byakuya Kuchiki had already hung up the phone. Rukia tossed her receiver back into the cradle, crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at Ichigo.

"Hey, I'm innocent," he said, holding up a protecting hand. '"I'm just hanging around for breakfast."

"Oh, I wouldn't say innocent. You were eavesdropping on a private conversation after all."

"Not true. I just 'happened' to walk in while you were chatting on the phone. What was I supposed to do, turn around and go back in the bedroom?"

Rukia smiled ruefully and turned back to the stove. "You're right, of course. Sorry. That was my father. He's accustomed to having people do, as he wants. Right now he wants me to go visit him and my mother before they leave for Europe."

"And you don't want to go?"

Rukia became very busy with the oatmeal. "I don't really want to go to the island."

"The island?"

"My father's retired. For years he's maintained a second home on a little dot of an island a few hundred miles beyond Kyushu. We used to go there for every vacation when I was a kid. Now that he's no longer going into the office every day, he and Mother spend most of the year there. Mother paints and Father's writing a book on management."

"Why don't you want to visit them?"

Rukia shrugged. "No good reason, I guess. It's just that I'm right in the middle of Private Demons and I was hoping to finish it soon. I hate to take time off in the middle of a book. Father says he's concerned about me. But that's nothing new. He's always concerned about me."

"Yeah? Why?"

Ichigo eased himself down onto a stool and hooked the cane over the edge of the counter. He studied Rukia with deep interest as she added a handful of raisins to the cereal.

"Probably because I'm the youngest. And probably because I'm classified as the black sheep of the family. You have to understand that my older sister is a board certified surgeon, one of my brothers has taken over the running of my father's firm and is making Kuchiki Aero even more profitable than it has been in the past, and my other brother is a successful attorney who's about to enter politics in a big way here in Japan. I, on the other hand, am twenty-seven years old and have spent half my adult life waiting tables and taking night classes in everything from surrealist painting to an intensive, in-depth study of the hard evidence for flying saucers."

"I get the picture," Ichigo said dryly. "You're not maintaining the family standards. But now you've actually sold a book. A three-part series, in fact, and you're writing another book. Doesn't that count?"
Rukia snorted. "Father thinks I'm going to burn out on my first taste of success. Not that I'm likely to go too crazy on the microscopic advance I got for the Shadow series. And the advance on Private Demons wasn't much better, believe me."

"He thinks you're working too hard?"

"I guess."

She finished stirring the oatmeal and ladled it into two bowls. "He should talk after the way he battled to push Kuchiki Aero to the top years ago."

"How long since you've been back to the island?"

"A little over eight months."

She concentrated on taking the milk out of the refrigerator and setting it down on the counter, aware of the nervous tension that sometimes made her remarkably clumsy these days. With a little self- discipline she could control it, she knew. But when she safely set the milk down on the counter top in front of Ichigo, he only frowned at it.

"I usually just have coffee and a doughnut in the morning."

"Well, I usually have oatmeal and grapefruit," she declared stoutly. "Just another little item to add to our storehouse of knowledge about each other's habits and eccentricities."

"I haven't had oatmeal since I was a kid." He examined the bowl of gray cereal distrustfully.

"Throw a little brown sugar on it and it will go down as easily as a doughnut. Trust me. Besides, it's good for you. You need to regain your strength."

Rukia handed him the sugar bowl, plunking down the twin halves of a grapefruit she had prepared earlier and slid onto a stool beside him.

"So who's Kaien?" Ichigo asked casually as he dug into the grapefruit.
Rukia blinked. The grapefruit spoon trembled slightly in her hand. "No one important. Just a man I was seeing casually the last time I went to the island. I invited him to go with me."

"You still seeing him?" Ichigo appeared only vaguely interested.

"No!"

She hesitated painfully. "There was... An accident."

"What kind of accident?"

Rukia felt a flicker of annoyance at his persistent questioning. She didn't give him the third degree about his life so he ought to respect that and return the favor of privacy. But it served no purpose to lie to him. It was better to answer his questions and get it over with. "A diving accident. Kaien was killed diving in some caves near my family's home. He didn't like the fact that my father had put the caves off limits to all visitors as well as the family. He went down on his own one night. I was the one who found his body in the cave entrance pool the next day."

"Jesus."

"Yes. It was a shock, to say the least."

She carefully spooned up a piece of her grapefruit. "My father owns the land where the underwater caves are located. He's never allowed any diving in them. He doesn't even like members of the family showing the entrance to our guests. I doubt if many of the people in AoiMizu's one town even know where it is. If they do, they've always respected my father's wish to keep tourists away from the caves. Father thinks it's better if people don't know where they are. Some foolish tourist might be tempted to dive. Cave diving is very hazardous."

"I know. I've done a little."

She looked up in surprise. "Have you?"

"It's been a while. Not my idea of a fun hobby."

"No. I don't think it would be."

"Rukia, I can imagine what it was like for you finding the guy's body."

Rukia managed a shrug. "It's been eight months. It all seems like a dream now." A nightmare.

"Were you in love with the guy? Was he more than just a casual friend?"

"Kaien Shiba was not my lover!" She replied stonily. "He was an acquaintance with whom I had something in common: Diving. That's all!"

"All right, calm down. I didn't mean to get too personal."

He reached for more sugar and groaned. When Rukia glanced at him in alarm he said, "I feel like I've been used for a football."

Rukia seized the opportunity to change the topic. "Speaking of your diminished capacity."

Ichigo winced. "I can think of better ways to describe my current condition."

"I'm a writer. I value accuracy. What I was about to say is that I think you should stop by Dr. Unohana's office this morning and have her take a look at that leg."

"The leg's okay. The company doctor got all the glass out and told me how to take care of it. I changed the dressing after my shower this morning. It's almost healed. A few more days and I can stop wearing a bandage."

"I still think you should have Unohana look at it," Rukia said stubbornly.
He turned his head to look at her. "You're a bossy little thing, you know that?" He asked almost indulgently. "I'm only just beginning to realize it."
Rukia flushed and speared her spoon back into the grapefruit. "Well, excuse me! Your leg is your own problem."

"I agree."

"I may be bossy, but there's a real streak of stubborn macho arrogance in you, you know that?"

Ichigo grinned, one of his quick, fleeting smiles that temporarily ruined the delinquent image. "I've lived alone for so long I've never really learned to handle a woman's nagging."

"I've never believed it was too late to teach an old dog new tricks."

"Your faith in my adaptability and intelligence humbles me. Actually, I don't think you're nagging, exactly. More like fussing."

"I'll call Unohana's office after breakfast and make an appointment."

"You do that and you can damn well keep the appointment yourself."
Rukia sighed. "Ichigo, be reasonable. You were ill last night. You had a fever. Who knows what kind of infection you might have picked up in the Middle East?"

"I overdid things yesterday, that's all," Ichigo stated in a reasonable tone. "The doctors told me it was too soon to head back to Japan, but I insisted. I got a little worn out and ran a slight fever. Nothing serious. I'm fine this morning."

"I hadn't realized what an incredibly bull headed man you are."

"You never see a person's worst flaws until you've lived with him or her," Ichigo explained philosophically. "Until this morning, for example, I had no idea you squeezed your toothpaste from the middle of the tube instead of from the bottom like a normal person."

Rukia surrendered. "All right, all right, I give up! It's none of my business whether you see the doctor. And by the way, the toothpaste thing is subjective. Don't feel obliged to force yourself to eat the oatmeal. You can pick up a bag of doughnuts on the way back to your place."
Ichigo looked startled. "Kicking me out just because I resist a little of your advice, Nurse Rukia?"

She smiled wryly. "Let's face it. Neither one of us is used to having a live-in mate. In a few more hours we'll probably be going at each other's throats. Best to part while we're still on speaking terms and before I'm tempted to kick you in the shin for your insolence." She hesitated, and then added impulsively, "you can come over for dinner this evening if you like."

"You've got a deal."

She saw the flickering trace of heat in his eyes and knew that this time it wasn't caused by fever. Some of the familiar, high-strung excitement she had learned to expect around Ichigo when he looked at her like that erupted in her bloodstream. The man did things to her senses she still couldn't quite understand. The problem was that they hadn't spent enough time together, Rukia realized. Ichigo's frequent, extended trips had chopped up the relationship so much that each time he returned she felt as if they were meeting for the first time again. The primitive, very feminine uncertainty and wariness always returned in full force each time she saw him after one of his business journeys. But so did the compelling, indescribable attraction. Telling herself that this wasn't really the kind of man to whom she should feel physically attracted didn't help.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Rukia drove Ichigo back to his small, weathered house after breakfast. She watched a bit anxiously as he fumbled with the keys, flight bag and cane. Leaning against the car and having every intention of keeping her mouth shut, she heard herself ask, "Do you think you should spend tonight alone?"

He glanced at her quickly and then focused on the front door. "I wasn't going to spend it alone. I'm having dinner at your place, remember?"

He hauled himself up the steps and shoved the key into the lock.

"I meant after dinner," Rukia said stolidly. "I'm. Worried your fever might return."

"I can't throw you out of your bed two nights in a row, Rukia."

He pushed open the door and limped into the plainly furnished front room. "Come on in and I'll make you a cup of coffee. It's the least I can do after all the hospitality you've shown me."

Rukia trailed after him, glancing around the familiar interior. Ichigo's house was the same ancient vintage as her own and the furniture had a similar seaside Salvation Army look. But Ichigo's home looked unlived in to Rukia. There were no pictures on the wall, no plants, no bunny.
The only intriguing elements were the two birdcages that stood empty on one shelf. One was a fanciful Victorian design with looping gingerbread trim and a flight of wire steps. The other was another Baroque piece, this one, according to Ichigo, in the French style. Both cages were charming, but a little lifeless without either birds or plants to fill them. They looked as barren as his house.

By the time Rukia had finished her coffee she sensed things between herself and Ichigo had returned to their familiar, careful equilibrium. She knew that she, for one, would chew a hole in her tongue before she nagged him about seeing Dr. Unohana again. To be accused of nagging when she had always taken such pains to keep her distance annoyed her.

On the way home Rukia stopped at the small grocery store in Seireitei, where she lucked out and found a supply of fresh clams and shrimp. Adding a sack of rice and some chorizo sausage to the rickety cart she was pushing, she mentally ticked off the items she needed to complete the paella. She still had a packet of saffron left from the last time she had prepared the dish for Ichigo. He had a weakness for it, she'd learned. On the way out to the car she eyed the health food store across the street and wondered if she could get her money back on the tryptophane. Probably not. Besides, in all honesty, she couldn't swear it hadn't worked. She had slept a little better than usual last night, even if she had found herself glancing at the clock on the wall every few hours. In contrast, the herbal tea she'd been using the week before hadn't helped a bit.

She decided she would give the tryptophane another try before making up her mind about its effectiveness. Working out a logistics problem in chapter ten of Private Demons kept Rukia busy for the rest of the afternoon. By the time she switched off the word processor for the day she was reasonably satisfied with her solution to the heroine's dilemma. The nightmare Rukia had created in the book had substance, but there was a way to contain it. A good therapist, Rukia knew, would undoubtedly figure out right away that she was using the novel to try and work through the things she couldn't seem to work through in her head.

Nightmares could be handled in a book with such as Private Demons; real life was proving to be another matter. She had finished scrubbing clams and shelling shrimp and was opening a bottle of chardonnay when Ichigo's familiar knock sounded on the door. A small frisson of anticipation trickled through her nerves. Wiping her hands on the red kitchen towel, Rukia went to answer the door, not quite certain what to expect from Ichigo. She opened the door, took one glance at the weary way he was leaning on the cane, and knew that Ichigo Kurosaki wasn't going to be launching any assaults on her that evening. A sense of relief went through Rukia. She firmly ignored the equally disturbing sense of disappointment she felt.

"You look like warmed over oatmeal," Rukia declared as he moved slowly over the threshold.

"That's a fairly accurate description of how I feel. I really, really hate to admit this, but I took your advice and went to Unohana's this afternoon. Don't gloat. I can't take gloating just now."

"I'm not gloating, I'm relieved. What did she say?"

She closed the door and watched with concern as Ichigo lowered himself carefully into one of the deep, badly sprung armchairs.

"She said," Ichigo announced, "that everything's healing okay, but that I'm pushing myself too fast. I need," he shot a grim look at Rukia's questioning face, "Tender loving care. Rest. Good food. Someone to keep an eye on me for a few days. Someone, in short, to fuss over me.

Did you by any chance phone Unohana and prompt her?"

"Not me. I swore off fussing at eleven this morning. I decided I lack experience and skill in that art. But I'll admit I'm glad you had Unohana look at the leg. I've got some very nice, very expensive painkiller here."
Rukia walked back into the kitchen to pick up the bottle of Chardonnay.

"Want some?"

"An excellent idea. I'll use it instead of pills this evening."
He leaned back in the chair as she poured the wine. When she returned to the living room he accepted the glass with obvious gratitude. Then he said baldly, "I figure I could take the couch tonight."

Rukia raised her eyebrows. "You're serious? You want to spend another night here?"

Ichigo contemplated the wine in his glass. "I think Unohana's a little nervous about the fever I had last night. She wants me to have someone within yelling distance in case it comes back tonight."
Rukia smiled. "What am I supposed to do for you if you yell?"

"Feed me some pills she gave me."

Ichigo touched the side pocket of his slacks. "Just what I need. More pills. I'm sorry to impose, Rukia. If you'd rather I didn't stay another night, just say so. I'll be fine on my own."

"I've already told you, you're welcome to stay another night," she said softly. "And you can have the bed."

"Couch."

"You won't fit on the couch. Don't argue with me, fool. This is my house, remember?"

"And you're bossy by nature."

"Think you can stand another night of my nagging?"

He grinned. "I brought some earplugs."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

several hours later Ichigo wished he hadn't been joking about the earplugs. The scream that woke him was the kind that taught a man the meaning of cold chills down the spine. He rose from the bed in an instinctive movement that sent a shaft of pain through his ribs. Then he was through the bedroom door and into the living room, prepared for anything from an intruder to a manifestation of one of the creative horrors that abounded in Rukia's books. What he found was Rukia huddled on her knees on the couch, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she stared blindly at the red glow of the dying fire. Her fading scream was still echoing eerily in the room.

AN
and there you have it for now. Our first cliffhanger! I apologize for the wait for this chapter, and I'd like to say that this story will be updated at least twice a month. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do as of late. I hope it doesn't drop down to once a month. But I promise this will not be abandoned, so just be patient and enjoy the sizable chapters when they come out. Hope you enjoyed and review please!

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