Renji's POV
It was him. It was really him. He's here, he's alive, and he's in my arms. I am lifting him up, he's whimpering. I look down and hold back the bile. So many wounds, so many scars, so much pain etched into ever crevice of the trembling body. The fourth division is beside themselves, running with bandage, calling other healers here and there. Still I hold him to me, not letting go even though Hanataro is at my side, gently tugging my haori sleeve, telling me that I must lay him on the mat to be examined. I don't wish for him to be examined. Not here, not out in the open in front of so many. He's whimpering again, just softly, burying himself deeper into my chest as if he wished for me to open up and swallow him. The grip on my hair is now to the extent of being painful but I do not mind. There is more speaking to me. I pick up one of the voices is Ichigo but I do not listen. I bark orders for everyone to get their stuff and head back to the Seireitei effective immediately. There are many protests saying that I need to allow him to be looked at but I silence them with a burst of my reiatsu. He stirs in my arms with a silent gasp at the action and the trembling increasing.
"Byakuya, you're safe, you're with me. I got you now and I'm not letting go." I whisper into his hair. His trembling ceases slightly and I take that as my sign and immediately shunpo out the door. I look down at him one more time as we are bounding across the endless dunes to the nearest Garganta and I am met with bleary grey eyes. I meet them and we stare into each other for a few moments before I see the one thing that I wish would never happen ever again, actually, should have never happened to begin with. My breath catches in my throat, my mind goes numb. The world around me stops as I keep running. My captain was crying.
Byakuya's POV
There was warmth. The warmth wasn't leaving me. It was there. It was holding me, cradling me, whispering still that he would not let me go. If this is an illusion just kill me now. I would beg them endlessly to let this stay, no matter what the exchange price is. There is so much noise. I hear orders being barked and then I hear protests. Suddenly, I feel hot, scorching fire burning through my veins, anger, unbridled anger coursing out of where the warmth should have been. It's an illusion. It has to be an illusion. I'm trembling, hoping it's not and the warmth returns. It's back. I'm safe. He's whispering to me. He says my name. He says I'm safe. He says he'll never leave. Please, please never leave. More orders and suddenly I am flying. I have to see this. I have to see that I am flying.
He looks down at me and I meet his gaze. The face, his face, the hands, his hands, they are back to me again. My dream, the hand that was given to me, I have taken it, but not to a faceless man. No, this man is warm, this man is real. I let the salty wetness trail down my cheeks. He's mine. He's here, and he won't leave. If you leave, I truly will shatter like clockwork.