The groan of metal on metal echoed across the morning sky. Grimmjow shielded his eyes from the harsh morning light with his newly bandaged arm.

It hadn't been easy, but he'd used the supplies left behind in the outpost to provide himself with a stiff cast and strong protection for his weakened arm. The sling was too much of a liability—this would make him more mobile and powerful. Likewise, the numbing cream he'd used on his bruised hip had worked wonders. With these and other supplied tucked in his pack, he set out back toward the highway.

It didn't take him long to recognize the irregular, meandering path that had trailed ahead of him just a few hours ago.

"What the fuck was wrong with him?" he asked himself, still angry about the night before, but watching Ichigo's footsteps zigzag over the desert sands.

The fuck with him, Grimmjow thought. The young man had made his choice—he'd shoved all of Grimmjow's sacrifices back in his face and left. So let him die if he was that dumb.

But even as he left Ichigo's trail behind him he found his own footsteps slowing. He urged himself to move forward but something brought him to a standstill and he ended up ankle deep in silver dunes, staring at the rippling horizon before him, but knowing that paved path was not his destination.

"That bastard," he swore turning back the way he'd come. "He'd better come up with a damn good apology before I catch up with him."

But just seconds after turning back, Grimmjow stopped dead again, because he came face to face with an enemy he hadn't seen in four years.

"No. Fucking. Way," he breathed, staring at the small, porcelain white creature skittering over the surface of the sand, weightless, traceless and one of the most deadly creatures known to all of Hueco Mundo.

The scorpion danced over the fading footsteps before him. Its white claws left no traces in the sands before it and its tail hovered, ever at the ready above its back. Grimmjow had seen these creatures kill countless hollows, adhucahs, even vastal lordes, all with a single jab of its venom. He wondered if after the Clash, it would still be as deadly.

Then his eyes drifted over Ichigo's staggering footsteps, his mind raced back to the decaying bodies and suddenly his and Ichigo's heated argument that had seemed so out of character rushed back to him.

"Oh shit," he stared down on the creature. "You fuckin' got the kid yesterday, didn't you?"

The scorpion, of course, did not respond, but it did skitter off in the wake of his heavy footfalls when his pace went from a reluctant walk to a full on run through the sands.

No other could grace this silver landscape with the ease he did. Even without spiritual pressure, it was his natural habitat. His body was accustomed to the shifting sands, the incertitude, the subtleties of pressure and resistance in the sands. He moved like the animal of his origin, running without stop for hours, until he could see the more erratic pattern of steps and finally the dark shape he dreaded to find laying in the sand before him.

"FUCK!|" He dropped to his knees next to Ichigo's still form, seeing at once the swelling around his ankle. He didn't hesitate before drawing his sword and sliding through the enflamed flesh, releasing a tide of puss and poison into the sand. He let it drain until pure blood ran out. Even then he let the crimson bleed out for several moments before he ever attempted to staunch it.

Only then did he actually check if the young man was still alive.

"Come on," he urged when his two fingers yielded nothing. He pressed harder into Ichigo's throat.

There. A hint of throb. It was barely anything.

"Damn you." He hoisted his shoulders out of the sand and gave him a shake. "Kid, wake the fuck up!"

Pale lids remained shut, but the weakest of moans escaped him as he whispered his sister's name. There was no escaping his nightmares now.

"Kurosaki!"

Still nothing. Grimmjow looked around him, seeing nothing—absolutely nothing that could help him. It was just them, in this forsaken desert.

"You bastard, don't you do this to her." He got his arms around Ichigo and lift him up.

Grimmjow dropped his burden back in the sands within seconds, collapsing with a cry next to him.

"Fuck!" He held his broken arm against his stomach until the pain eased up. He took a calming breath and shut his eyes for just a moment. "You're a fucking espada," he whispered to himself. "Don't be so pathetic."

Once again he got his arms under Ichigo. He stood. His back molars clenched, his whole frame froze for a second, but then he rolled Ichigo's weight back against his shoulder and he was able to breathe again.

Then he started walking.

Fire cracked in the night. Wood from someone's failed attempt at building a shelter burned hot and fast in the pit Grimmjow had made. He unwrapped the bandage around Ichigo's leg and held it up against the fire light.

"Shit." He saw the lines of infection around the wound. He shook Ichigo again. "Kid?"

Nothing. He hadn't woken all day. Grimmjow had carried him back to the road, then onward. He'd shot three men and he wasn't even sure if they'd really been a threat or not. Then he'd found this place, next to a culvert, down the bank of a merge lane. They were alone, next to the trickle of water that still found its way through the metal pipe. Grimmjow had built the fire to boil water but now he saw the state of Ichigo's leg and reconsidered its purpose.

He pulled out his sword.

"Dammit."

He lay the blade in the flames while he took off Ichigo's belt. He rolled up Ichigo's pant leg to the knee, then looped the belt just under the joint.

He stopped then and let out a long breath, considering what he was about to do.

"You'll probably die anyway," he spoke to his inert companion. But he delayed, ransacking their bags in search of some other option he already knew didn't exist. The supplies he'd taken from the outpost would help some. The healing cream had been great for his bruise but it was not spiritual, it couldn't do more than relieve a little swelling. He returned his gaze to his sword, now hot and sterile in the flames.

"Okay…"

When Ichigo's leg was lined up on a flat stone and the bandages ready and waiting, the last step was for Grimmjow to tighten the belt all the way. He cinched it as tight as he could manage. Then he pulled his sword from the flames, clean and ready to cauterize.

He stood and squared his shoulders, making sure the cut would be straight and clean.

He was just ready to lift it when brown eyes parted.

"Grimmjow…"
"Ah fuck." But he lifted the blade anyway. "Don't move."

"Don't!" Ichigo's voice was weak but his eyes flared wide. It was too much. Grimmjow hesitated and then Ichigo moved and he knew he couldn't do it now. He dropped back to his knees next to the young man and hoisted him up by the shoulders.

"Please don't take it." He was barely conscious, his pupils weren't right and his voice was soft and sounded so young.

"It could kill you."

"I can't…I can't do this on one leg. You can't take it from me, please."

"I don't have much in the way of options."

"Just give me time…" he swallowed convulsively but one of his hands came up to wrap in Grimmjow's collar, desperate to get him to agree. "Don't take it. If you do, I'll never find her. It's the same as dying."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes I do. You know it's true. I won't be able to walk and you won't be able to carry me. It's over one way or the other." A tear escaped him. His hand fell slack but his eyes were still open. "Promise, Grimmjow."

"…I promise." He dropped the sword. Relief spread through Ichigo despite the pallor of his skin, the sweat that still clung to him and the fact he was fainting again. "But that means you've got to fight this on your own." Grimmjow gave him a shake. "Don't pass out you idiot! You've got to beat this!"

He hauled him up further and pressed a flask of water to his mouth.
Ichigo sputtered, choking on the water forced in him but gulping down what he could.

"Don't." Grimmjow served him a harsh slap when he saw his eyes drooping after finishing off the water. "Not until I say!"

"…I'll try." Ichigo sat where Grimmjow had propped him against the bank and tried to keep his eyes open while Grimmjow worked. He drifted briefly because it seemed only seconds before Grimmjow pushed something else against his lips and he vaguely tasted the salt of soup. One of the dry packets they'd brought with them. He downed an ounce or two before he was spent and there was no keeping him awake.

Grimmjow let him go slack and finished the soup himself before setting to work on his leg again. If he couldn't cut it off, he could at least try to draw out the infection. The scorpion's poison was well into the rest of his system now, but a blood infection could be just as poisonous. He made a poultice out of the rest of the boiled water, the cream from the outpost and their cloth bandages and wrapped it over the wound.

When his work was done he felt himself slipping. It had been a painful, exhausting day and night and he didn't have a clue what tomorrow would bring. Despite the cold, he doused the fire—he couldn't risk leaving the signal to any travellers above. Ichigo was shaking in fever sweat while he slept, hot and cold all at once. Grimmjow didn't even think about it when he sank against the bank next to Ichigo and pulled him against him with his one arm. They were only going to get through this night the same way they were going to find Yuzu—together.

"We've lost too much time…she's gone, now they're both gone."

"Shut it, kid, we'll get them back." Grimmjow muttered out automatically, half asleep despite the writhing from in his arms. Ichigo hadn't fully woken in more than twenty four hours. When day break had come, he'd considered venturing out, carrying the young man again, but almost at once he discarded that thought.

They were already behind. They were never going to catch up to Yuzu and her captors now, but they did know where they were headed. He wouldn't leave the relative safety he had found here next to a rare source of water. So he'd remained the whole day and now night had come and he had no choice but to keep his arms wrapped around Ichigo or risk him making too much noise or even waking up and wandering away in his confusion.

His whole body shook against Grimmjow. His sweat had soaked through his clothes but now the night was cold. His mutterings had been the same every time he half woke—about finding Yuzu or Karin dying. Usually he drifted again after a few words but this time Grimmjow felt a sudden tug on his shirt front and realized Ichigo was trying to hold him back.

"Kid?" He wondered if he was finally really awake.

"I failed them, didn't I?" No, his voice was still slurred, he wasn't himself yet, but he kept going. "You know Karin's dead, you just won't say it. And you know we'll never get to Yuzu in time."

"Stop it and just go to sleep."

"It's true, isn't it? They're dead…my little sisters are dead…"

"Kurosaki—"

But there was no consoling him. His words turned to something else. Grimmjow sighed and pulled him tighter to muffle the noise. Ichigo sobbed until his exhaustion won out and finally slept.

Some stunning revelations for our boys next chapter...also loving the latest events in the canon!

Riza