Yammy straightened his clothes from the pat down, muttering a curse as he got in the elevator. He'd had a long trip back from the North, and a big job still ahead of him—he was not in the mood for all these security measures.

There were two men at the top of the elevator, hands hovering at their sides. Did they do that 24/7? They must really be expecting trouble.

He stepped off and was greeted by a man he was barley taller than, with an open, yellow smile, a gold tooth glinting on one side.

"Yammy, welcome back!" Katagiri greeted him. "From all accounts you did great work in the North."

"Thank you, sir."

"Come in, let's have a drink before we get down to business."

They moved from the elevator over to an enormous kitchen that was probably never used by the man who lived here, save for the stools and breakfast bar where two people were currently eating, or so Yammy thought. When they got closer, he recognized the wild blue hair and saw the cuffs around the young man's wrists. He slowed.

"Shit, is this really the same kid Aizen had?" he breathed, more to himself than to Katagiri as he took Grimmjow in.

His back was riddled with bruises and cuts. Two fresh scars crisscrossed like an X on his lower back. Between his shoulder blades were deep scratches, obviously from fingernails. His spine and ribs were closer to the surface than they should be for someone who'd been so strong and fit when Yammy had first met him that night in the alley, when Aizen had decided not to kill him and take him home instead.

"You were informed as to why he's here, correct?" Katagiri asked him, seeing his shock.

"Yes sir."

"Well, you have missed a lot in the past few weeks. I'll have to update you on the way."
He went around the counter and grabbed a bottle. He poured two glasses and they celebrated Yammy's return, and all the help he'd given in destroying Aizen thus far.

"Just fucking eat it." Yammy's attention was brought back around to Grimmjow and the guard attempting to get him to eat. Grimmjow shoved the bowl of oatmeal and toppled it, getting it on the man's suit. The guard reciprocated by backhanding him which was enough to topple him from his stool. He landed hard on the ground, cringing in pain.

"Okay, okay, that's enough, Lynn. Go clean up, Yammy can finish here." Katagiri turned to Yammy. "Put him back in the room at the end of the hall. I'm going to change." He disappeared in his own room, leaving Yammy alone with Grimmjow.

Yammy bent and took Grimmjow's shoulders. He pulled him back up and got him seated. Blood oozed out a cut on his lip, but he didn't even seem to notice. His eyes were on Yammy, and they were hard and hateful.

"Fuck kid." He stepped back, unable to ignore all the marks on Grimmjow's naked torso that told of the abuse he endured at night. He pulled the water off the counter and handed it to Grimmjow. "At least drink something."

He did. He guzzled the water back the moment Yammy gave it to him. He almost looked like he'd be sick after, swallowing convulsively, but he recovered and was calm again.

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Silence.

Grimmjow stared at the massive thug before him. He remembered Yammy. He hadn't gotten to know him in his time at Aizen's. He'd just seen him around, frequently with Stark. Mostly, he remembered he was a traitor, the one who had stabbed Stark and gone to join Katagiri.

"Kid?" Yammy prompted.

"Oh, he doesn't talk anymore." Katagiri had returned and was fixing the sleeves of his suit.

"What?"

"No, stopped a while ago, back in the safe house. Hasn't said a word since."

Grimmjow's head turned sharply. What the fuck was Katagiri talking about?

A bark of laughter escaped the mobster and he faced Grimmjow. "You're so fucked up you haven't even noticed, have you? Not a damn word since you last saw Aizen on that phone."

Katagiri continued to laugh. Grimmjow just stared at him, mind racing back to that night, then to other nights, then to last night—the noises, the pain, the flash of that gold smile—

"Shit." Yammy tightened up his hold on Grimmjow when he tilted forward, losing his balance.

"Oh great," Katagiri sighed. Grimmjow's breaths started to come in gasps. "Just put him in his room, he can freak out in there."

Yammy obeyed. He had to hold Grimmjow up the entire way. Grimmjow collapsed on the bed, barely aware of the giant at his back now. He only felt the quick squeeze of his shoulder, which made no sense to him, and then buried his face in the pillow. He breathed in the scent of sweat and feathers. He clung to it, hiding his face, hiding himself from this room, this place, this world.

"Clear out, boys."

Grimmjow heard the call from beyond his bedroom door. He knew what it meant. He got off the bed before the door opened but he wasn't able to get away—he never was.

Katagiri dragged him through the penthouse. Grimmjow kicked him in the shin. Katagiri hurled him on the floor. They didn't make it to a couch or a bed. Katagiri held his wrists and bit his neck. He took him mercilessly. It hurt so much. Grimmjow's eyes watered, but he had no energy to cry now. His face smacked against the hardwood when he was flipped over. He tasted copper. Katagiri held his cuffed wrists above his head. He pulled on Grimmjow's hips and struck hard and deep, over and over. His back screamed. His knees ground against wood. His breath came short, desperate, as Katagiri built a relentless pace. Hot, heavy breaths washed over his neck. Grunts of satisfaction echoed in his ear. He stared with dead eyes to the clear, starry night beyond the window until the scene blurred with fresh tears. His fingers bit into the glossy finish of the floor. The pain was overwhelming. It had to end—it always did—but just like always, he couldn't imagine making it to the end. He couldn't imagine enduing that long. But he did and he cringed when the heat burst inside him, when fluids drained from him, when Katagiri pulled away from him.

When Katagiri caught his breath he rose and pulled something from the closet. He gave it a sniff and smiled at Grimmjow where he lay limp on the floor.

"Ever had a cuban cigar before kid?"

Katagiri chuckled and set a pair of cigars on the counter then found his robe. When he was dressed, he went out to the balcony to light up. Grimmjow lay on his back, breathing through the pain that choked him. Where he lay, he could see Katagiri in his loosely tied robe, puffing smoke.

Cold wind washed in on Grimmjow as he lay recovering, staring out at his tormentor. The man stretched as if he'd just completed a round of aerobics. Then he turned and leaned back on the rail, staring back in on Grimmjow.

"Come on out, kid and I'll give you a light." When Grimmjow didn't move, he made an obscene gesture: "Or would you rather suck on this?"

Blue eyes narrowed in on the broad—borderline fat—man on the balcony. He drew his head up and wiped his eyes with cuffed hands. The weight around his wrists had been near constant for the last three weeks. Unlike clothing, which was a rare privilege. He spotted his boxers beneath the coffee table. He reached for them and pulled them on. Then he grabbed the couch arm and got up.

How his legs still functioned, he didn't know. Maybe he was just used to the pain now. Maybe his body was. He came to his feet, shaking, but standing.

He was calm. Katagiri was watching him. Grimmjow watched him right back.

And then he ran.

It took Katagiri too long to figure out what Grimmjow was doing. It took him too long to recognize that the glint in blue eyes was one of fire, of hatred and most of all, of a cold, killer instinct. And just as he spit out his prized cigar he realized he was about to die.

Grimmjow ran onto the balcony, straight at Katagiri and jumped.

This time, his strength didn't matter, because gravity was working on his side, and no matter how powerful the mobster was, that was not a force with which Katagiri could reckon. Grimmjow jumped past Katagiri, onto the rail. His arm was caught but it wasn't enough because all he had to do was get the chain around Katagiri's neck and fall.

And that's exactly what he did. The short span of chain between his wrists cut into Katagiri's beefy neck as Grimmjow leapt from the ledge. Katagiri's back slammed into the rail and his head snapped back while Grimmjow's entire body weight dangled from him over the precipice. Grimmjow stared down past his bare feet at an endless column of balconies, and beyond those, to a parking lot where his body would most likely splattered in a few seconds.

Spit dribbled down to him from above. He strained to look back up but the movement shifted his weight, the chain came loose and he fell free of the body above him.

There was no fear or panic in him when he dropped. There was only calm, maybe even relief, but two stories down his foot struck metal, his body flipped and he landed with bone breaking force back on a stone tiled balcony.

He blinked back to consciousness some seconds later. The balconies on the condo building were staggered, so though there hadn't been one directly beneath Katagiri's, the next story down had one. He must have struck the railing at just the right angle that it forced his body back toward the building instead of out over the edge again.

He struggled to sit, keeping his eyes above. He saw the lump of a man bent back over the bar but he hadn't toppled. His vision was too blurred to see any detail. But then he heard a curse, squinted and realized a second figure had appeared on the balcony. Was it Yammy? It must be, the blur was large enough.

There were more shouts from somewhere else, he couldn't make them out, just one, above all the others. "Run."

Yammy vanished from his vision. Grimmjow found some last reserve and pushed his hands into the concrete of the balcony. He tried to stand but his foot slipped on something gooey and he collapsed again. He fell back hard and when he looked he saw blood all around his foot that had struck the rail. His toes were bent back and an alarming amount of blood drained from his extremity.

"BOSS!"

Now there were more figures above. He abandoned walking for crawling and moved forward on his knees toward the patio door of this condo. Just as his hands reached glass he heard the cry.

"Look, there he is!"

A shot cut through the pane of glass, shattering it all around him. It cleared his way and he rolled inside the condo. He couldn't even feel the glass that cut him. Someone screamed and lights flashed on. More shots went off on the patio. He dragged himself further inside and saw movement: two people scrambling for cover or the phone or something. Then there was pounding at their front door. A booming voice, another shot and the door caved in.

Grimmjow waited for the bullet to the brain but instead the massive soldier came running at him.

"Good, you're still alive." Yammy knelt, pulled Grimmjow over his shoulder and stood again. "Aizen would have never let me come home without you."

Grimmjow was still registering the words when they left the condo behind, ran down hallways and then stairs. Halfway down the stairwell, Yammy pulled his gun and began firing. They jumped over bodies a few flights down. They abandoned the stairwell shortly after and broke through another person's home. Yammy smashed the window and took them onto the fire escape. He paused then, eyes sweeping the streets, then his grip on Grimmjow tightened.

"Almost home free, kid."

Grimmjow saw nothing, but he heard shots on the other side of the door. Yammy swore and dropped them down a level, then another but they still weren't at ground level when shots began bouncing off metal around them.

"Shit." Yammy fell from the next ladder. Grimmjow hit the grate hard but hands were on him again in a second. Bullets struck all around them but there were too many metal bars in the way for anyone to get a clear shot. This time when Yammy stood, he held Grimmjow close against his chest and planted a foot on the rail.

They jumped. They were still way too high and the pavement came screaming up at them. But it was Yammy who took the impact of this fall. Grimmjow felt the blow ripple through the massive frame holding him. The air rushed from Yammy's lungs and though he landed feet first initially momentum carried them forward and they rolled over pavement. Grimmjow came free of his grip, his bare body scraping through grit. He spit out blood and tried to make the world still when he came to a stop. Yammy was a few feet away. Blood ran from one side of his head. He must have hit it in the fall and now he wasn't moving.

The men above dropped down level after level of the fire escape. A back door opened and more filed out, guns raised. Grimmjow got himself sitting but that was it, there was nothing more he could as they rushed him.

Just before they reached him, white light struck the dark suited men. They all slowed, raising their hands against the light, trying to see its source. The low rumble of engines was enough to tell Grimmjow it was a car. He heard several men swear when a door opened.

And then, it was chaos.

Bullets zipped above him, so many, so fast, that despite their number, Katagiri's men fell in tattered heaps in mere seconds.

A few last shots sounded. Someone cried out and fell. Then there was quiet.

Grimmjow listened to the sound of feet behind him. He hadn't turned back—he couldn't—mentally or physically. He was stuck, frozen on the ground in his underwear and surrounded by bodies and blood. He saw figures in the bright light moving to check pulses, to grab Yammy, but he was listening to the careful, steady footfalls just behind him until he could see dark pants and expensive shoes.

He didn't look up. He just watched those pants stretch at the knees as they bent, until he was no longer looking at legs, but a face, a face he'd imagined time and time again over the past weeks of torture. A face that despite being owned by a renown mobster and cold blooded killer, threatened to break at the sight of him. Eyes that were always so intelligent, sharp, and cold, now filled with sorrow and pain Grimmjow couldn't fathom.

"Grimmjow." His face was pressed into that collar. He smelt the scent of his sweat, his cologne mixed with gunpowder. He felt fingers through his hair that was soaked with sweat from Katagiri's exertions. Hands slid down his back, then under his knees and suddenly the ground disappeared from beneath him, as did the world around him. He didn't move an inch from where Aizen held him. He saw nothing, felt nothing, knew nothing but the body holding onto his, until he finally let go entirely and drifted into the dark.

Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! Much recovering ahead!

~ZQ