Grimmjow stood an utter mess before the mirror. He scraped his hair back out of his eyes and removed the now loose bandage on his wrist. He looked back at the shower but caught sight of Aizen in the doorway.

"A little privacy?"

"Grimmjow, you can't just keep showering until your skin comes off."

"What, you're gonna tell me when I can shower now?"

"No. But we need to talk."

"About what? He's alive, so I'm stuck here." But Grimmjow lost some of his ferocity when he said the words aloud. He turned back to the sink, gripping the sides and staring into porcelain. "H-how is he alive? I broke his fucking neck."

In the mirror, where his shirt was torn, he could see the red and purple bruise on his shoulder from his hard landing after falling from Katagiri's body. He'd stared up at it, sure he was staring at a dead man.

"His spine was fractured, but in such a way it will heal like any other broken bone. He will live and he will be mobile."

"That bastard." Grimmjow's fingers turned white. He bent in closer to the sink as the reality sank in—he'd been willing to die to escape his fate, but a large incentive had been that he'd be taking Katagiri with him. He'd almost killed himself and he hadn't even ended that piece of garbage. He was still out there, and if he ever got his hands on Grimmjow again—

Acid lurched up his throat. He heaved into the sink, sagging against it. His body wasn't up to this—not after his flight from Aizen and their ensuing fight. He pushed himself toward the toilet when he dropped to his knees. He continued to convulse there a few times before sagging back against the wall.

His breathing remained erratic in the aftermath. He looked up at Aizen and then to the medicine cabinet, guessing that's where his medicine was. Aizen understood and pulled out a box of blister strips, broke one and got the tablet inside. Then he took a glass from above the sink and filled it.

Grimmjow cleared his throat of vomit with the water then did as Aizen instructed and put the tablet under his tongue. It bubbled and fizzed as it dissolved. He concentrated on that instead of his rapid heartbeat and slowly he gained back control of his breaths. But it couldn't take away the weight of his pain. Aizen remained before him as he drew up his knees and rested his head against them.

"Can I help you to the bed?"

Grimmjow shook his head.

"Do you need anything?"

Still no answer, but mercifully, Aizen left him be for now.

He needed to be alone. He didn't want to be seen or touched by anyone. He wanted loneliness and silence and for the next few hours Aizen gave it to him.

He was very unsteady when emerged from the bedroom. Aizen waited for him to speak.

"I want to stay in the guest room," he announced. It was down the hall near the back room. Aizen opened it up for him.

"We need to talk."

"Not right now." Grimmjow shut the door when he was inside. He sank onto the bed and had no intention of moving for a very long time.

"Is he still in bed?" Stark sipped his coffee at the table while Aizen flipped through the morning paper.

"Yes."

"Did he get out at all yesterday?"

"No."

"Do you want me to try talking to him?"

"No. Leave him be. Just stick around, alright?"

"Of course."

Aizen set the papers down. He was entrusting Grimmjow's care to Stark, and Stark's care to Yammy. The big man held out Aizen's coat to him.

"Careful out there, sir."

Aizen just nodded and left. Yammy sat at the table as well and stole bacon from Stark's plate.

"He needs to see a shrink," he said around a mouthful.

"No arguments here." Stark set his coffee cup down. "At least he's talking again."

"All I've heard him say to you is 'fuck off.' I don't know if that's an improvement."

"Mmm." They were silent a moment but Stark couldn't help himself. "You told me what you saw them do to him."

"…yeah."

"So tell me this: do you think he tried to kill himself that night you brought him home?"

Yammy shrugged. "Can't be sure."

"Just in your opinion."

"I don't know, Stark. He was messed up."

"Yeah, he still is."

"Wait, you think he might try something? Like try to off himself?"

"I think you're original statement was correct: he needs a shrink. And I think we need to keep a close eye on him."

"Yeah," Yammy nodded soberly. "I agree."

Grimmjow wasn't stupid. He knew why the door cracked open ever hour. He knew how low they thought he'd sunk. But he couldn't find it in himself to get out of bed and prove them all wrong. He felt heavy, he felt weak. He didn't want to move and didn't want to see anyone.

But by noon Stark knocked and moved inside. He was heavy on his feet, still suffering from a residual pain in his chest. He sat in the chair next to the bed. He didn't even say hi or ask if Grimmjow was awake, he just started talking.

"Since I woke up in the hospital, the others have been filling me in about everything that went down. And I don't mean on your end, kid, I mean here. He went after you, you know, after that first night. Tore apart the city trying to find you. Gave Katagiri everything he demanded even though the other men didn't want him to. He got himself arrested—Katagiri's inside men arranged it so he had the shit beat out of him. I don't know if they did anything worse. Fractured his arm and collar bone. Didn't matter though. He kept going. He found three other safe houses and burned them to the ground when you weren't inside. Katagiri's men caught up to him at the last one. Something in the building exploded while they were fighting. Piece of shrapnel caught him in the chest, just over his heart."

He paused. Grimmjow rolled over in the sheets, watching him.

"My point is, kid, he did everything humanly possible to get you back. After that last time you spoke to him over the phone, he finally pinpointed your location. I wasn't there, but when they got there and found it empty—saw that you'd been there not long ago—I can only imagine what that was like. He's lost men and assets and nearly his own life in the past month. I just wanted you to know that, before you decided to hate him forever, okay kid?"

"Stark."

"Yeah?"

"I asked you not to call me that anymore. I ain't a kid."

He rolled back onto his other side, away from the body guard.

Stark sighed and stood up again. "Okay, Grimmjow. I'll check in with you later."

Grimmjow scrubbed and scrubbed. His skin burned by the time he finally left the shower. He panted as if he'd completed a workout. He wrapped up his wrists on his own. He rebadged his foot and snapped the plastic casing back around it so he could walk. He dressed and put a hand on the door.

He paused, collecting himself, then opened the door and returned to the apartment beyond.

Aizen was just coming in. Stark had said he'd be home soon. Now he saw that Yammy and Stark were gone and his keeper had returned. They made eye contact. Aizen slowed as he took his jacket off. He opened his mouth as if to say something but Grimmjow turned away and headed for his room.

Aizen caught up to him arm before he could make his retreat. He took hold of his shoulder.

"Let go."

"You haven't eaten."

"I'll eat in here."

"No you won't. You'll eat at the table, with me."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I will tell you whatever I have to until you get well."

"I'll be better when I can leave."

"On the contrary, you can leave when you are better—if that's what you really want."

"As if you'd let me go. I'm just as much your prisoner as I was his."

"I think we both know the situation is very different."

Grimmjow looked down at Aizen's hold on him and suddenly shirked away.

"Grimmjow I didn't mean—"

"Of course you did!" he grabbed the door handle but again Aizen grabbed his arm. "Get the fuck off of me!"

"Enough!" Aizen pushed him back from the door but let him go. "Enough of this Grimmjow. I will not do what he did to you, and if you can't see that, then you never really knew me."

"Know you? I know everything I need to know. I know what you have in that back room of yours. I know what gets you hard. I know you'll eventually run out of patience with me and fuck me into the floor like he did! Make me into nothing but his—his—" Grimmjow clutched his chest, losing his words to the flash of memories. That thick body. That heavy scent of sour sweat and cologne. The way he looked at him, touched him, took him…

"Don't!" Grimmjow screamed, back hitting the wall when he saw Aizen trying to approach him. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

"You're having a panic attack," Aizen warned him but Grimmjow shook his head.

"Just stay back." His chest burned in pain as he gasped for air. Aizen took another step his way.

"Don't touch me!" He lurched forward, tried to get away but Aizen had his shoulders. Grimmjow was frantic. He toppled them, taking a side table with them. He scrambled to get away but Aizen restrained him. Grimmjow fought. He got a knee in. He grabbed hold of Aizen's dress shirt. Buttons tore. One wrist was caught and pinned. He even lurched up trying to head butt but his breath grew too shallow and he fell back, body twisting in pain.

Then he saw it. He saw the patch of skin he'd bared on Aizen's chest and saw the edge of melted flesh. With his free hand, he peeled back the rest of the shirt, seeing the scar tissue around Aizen's heart. Something had cut into him there, but also, it had burned and mutilated the flesh surrounding it.

Stark had told the truth. Aizen had suffered greatly to bring him home.

But it had been in vain, because Katagiri had still made him into this.

He screamed when Aizen plunged the needle into his thigh. Did Aizen carry his medications with him all the time? Was that how vigilantly he kept watch over Grimmjow?

Was it possible he really did love him—he really did want to save him?

"L-let me go," he breathed. Aizen complied, letting his wrist go, but remained over top of him. Grimmjow pulled his hand back to his chest. He tried to meet Aizen's eyes but he couldn't. He couldn't stand any of it. "Don't look at me."

"Why, Grimmjow?"

"Because you saw…you saw what they did. You saw that night on the phone."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I didn't want you to see…"

"It doesn't change how I feel about you."

Grimmjow shut his eyes. Something lurched up his throat that he'd been holding back since the night of his rescue.

"It's okay, let it out, Grimmjow."

But he shook his head. His hands came back up against Aizen and he tried to push him away.

"G-get off."

"No."

"Please."

"No. You can't keep trying to hold it back. You can't keep trying to get through this alone."

He brushed Grimmjow wild hair back and leaned in.

"D-don't."

Lips pressed into his forehead. The hand in his hair slid behind his head. Grimmjow's body trembled. He fought it, but he was losing—losing to the heat behind his eyes, the swelling in his throat. He lost to the convulsions and the desperate inhalations. And he screamed. He screamed into Aizen's collar. He clung to his torn shirt. And he couldn't stop. He didn't think he ever would in that tight embrace. He was in another world, without sight or sound, just filled with that familiar scent, those strong arms he knew so well—that he'd dreamt of in his Hell.