Author's Soundtrack:
Broken by Olafur Arnalds

Chapter Twenty

Sounds drifted from the hall like steady, rolling waves on a beach, washing over her with soothing calm. Closing her eyes, Rukia listened to the muffled conversations, laughter, and even arguments, and she found she could breath a little easier. She couldn't understand a single word they said, but that didn't matter. They were a reminder that she wasn't still trapped in that unending nightmare. Amongst them, she could sometimes hear his voice; deep, rough, even, as he whispered quietly in an attempt not to disturb her. She tried to make out what he was saying, to hear what was the center of his attention, but in the end it didn't matter. He was there. He was real.

When she first saw him, in the remaining cloudy haze of recovery, she thought he was just another one of Aizen's tricks - a new test to shatter what little of her sanity remained. He'd managed to recreate Kaien, why not him as well? Why not take what little she had left in the world and twist it into something monstrous?

But he hadn't been a fake. He was her Ichigo. He had touched her, held her gently to him, guided her back to reality and built an anchor.

And it was a heavy force, yanking her from the sky and crushing her against the surface. Their reunion should have been euphoric, joyful. It should have brought a smile to her lips and relieved a weight from her shoulders. But the nightmares followed her, whispering in her ear, reminding her of what she had done, of what it meant - what it made her.

He would never forgive her.

The memories came back to her like a flood. The sensations easily recalled as if they were happening in the moment. Whatever Aizen had dosed her with did little to distort her moment of weakness. She could still feel the skin beneath her fingers, the crack of flesh as her teeth punctured it, the desperate relief as blood filled her mouth, and the fluttering panicked heart before it ceased to be.

The air grew thick, her chest tight as every breath was a pained gasp. Tossing the sheets aside, she slipped out of bed and began to pace. Each breath was timed with a step.

Right, in.

Left, out.

Right, in.

Left, out.

She should have been stronger.

Should have resisted.

Should have died.

Except she couldn't.

A wry laugh slipped through her lips and she swiped away a stray tear.

There was so much she should have done - could have done, but in the end, what had happened happened. She knew there was no changing the past. No point in reliving every moment of what could have or should have been. Too many times she'd been in this same position. She knew what she was supposed to do, what she was supposed to feel. And yet, not matter how many times she told herself it wasn't her fault, that she did what she had to to survive, it all fell flat. It meant nothing. It didn't ease the pain in her heart or push the memories away.

A sob broke through the tremulous walls she was attempting to build, and more tears began to fall.

The door opened, and she hurried to wipe them away. Whether it was Orihime, the doctors, or Ashido, she didn't want them to see her broken down again. She was tired of appearing like a fragile doll, fussed over like she might break at any moment.

She faced the window, her back to whoever was intruding on her space. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for Orihime's gentle interview, the doctors' prodding, Ashido's glaring. It would be easier if it was the doctors. They'd come up with a route. They would approach her by declaring each move they would make, she would refrain from punching them in the face or throat, and Orihime would give her a dose at the end to help her sleep through the nightmares.

Except it wasn't the doctors who she saw in the reflection of the glass, standing in the doorway, watching her.

Her first instinct was to turn and face him, but she fought that desire with every ounce of her being. If she looked at him, stared into those warm honey eyes, she would fall apart again. And she was so tired of falling apart. But watching him walk away, torn and dejected, wasn't any easier. She longed to reach out to him and pull him close. The peace she felt in his arms was something she hadn't felt in so long, but she had no right to it. Not with him. Not when she was every bit the monster he hated.

Tearing her eyes away from his reflection, she focused on keeping her emotions in check. She would not cause him any more pain than she already had.

"Here."

His voice was gruff and much closer than before. She could feel the heat of him behind her. Opening her eyes, she saw a box of tissues. She stared at the soft blanket of white, too shocked to do anything but reach out and take one.

"I. . ." She looked up at his reflection, his head bent as he considered what to say to her. It was somehow easier, looking at him through the window. His face was faded in the glass, difficult to make out; his eyes, a ghostly reflection. "Orihime has decided on a psychologist. She should be arriving in the next day or so."

Rukia scoffed derisively. What good would a shrink do her? The last thing she wanted to do was sit uncomfortably in a room, being stared at as some uptight woman in a suit waiting for her to spill her deep dark secrets and silently judge her. And what was the point? There was nothing that could be done to change the situation. Nothing that could be done to fix what happened. It was in the past and it needed to stay there, out of the light.

Ichigo stiffened behind her, his eyes wide with shock at hearing her snide chuckle. She wished she was amused by the reaction instead of hurt, but she hadn't set a very good precedent.

"I have no interest in speaking with a shrink," she stated.

Ichigo was uncertain, caught between leaving, while she was still holding it together, and staying. She wasn't sure how she felt about it either. Every time she looked at him she couldn't help but think about how that gaze might change once he knew the truth. She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her just like he saw Aizen.

But she missed him. She didn't know when it happened, but Ichigo had become a pillar in her life, a support she didn't realize was there, hiding behind a wall of obligation, and one she needed. She'd felt his absence acutely and longed to remedy it.

She needed him, and yet couldn't be around him.

God, she was a mess.

"I hated speaking to psychologists when I was younger." He was choosing to stay, and a small part of her was glad for it, relieved. "I always felt so awkward sitting on that big chair, staring at that doctor and wondering what good talking to him would really do. He couldn't bring my mom back. Yuzu and dad cried enough for the whole family. I was strong. I could take it. I didn't need help."

His voice quivered, the wound of his mother's death still aching. She clutched her arms tightly to keep from turning and grabbing hold of him, afraid that once she touched him she would lose all the strength she'd been building up.

"It does help," he stated. "Talking to someone, even if it's a complete stranger."

Was that better or worse? If they knew nothing about her, would they understand? Would they understand her? Aizen? What she did? What was done to her? What she was forced to do?

She shivered and tightened the hold on her arms.

"The last thing I want to do is remember what happened there. So unless your doctor can remove these memories entirely, I have no interest." The words were sharp and biting. She didn't mean for them to be, but the tension in her chest was growing. The strands of her control were beginning to fray, and she struggled to keep them together.

Staying here, doing nothing but sitting in the dark, wasn't going to help. Action needed to be taken. Getting back to work, doing something, anything, would be better than this.

Turning from the window, she went to a narrow dresser in the corner of the room. Yanking the drawer open, she cursed when she found it empty. This whole time she'd been stuck in the medical garb they'd given her, and she'd come with no clothes of her own. A startling chill ran through her body before she could quickly suppress it.

Every emotion, memory, or thought concerning that hell hole would be bottled up and buried deep into the recesses of her mind. It wasn't a good plan, by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do. She refused to be that man's prisoner any longer. She refused to give him any more control over her. She was free, and the first thing she would do was destroy him.

"What are you doing?" Ichigo sounded panicked and confused, but she didn't want to meet his gaze and explain. She didn't want to see the doubt and worry there, afraid they would only tear at the resolve she was slowly gathering.

"Where's Orihime? I need clothes."

"Rukia, stop."

Ignoring him with a wave of her hand, she made her way to the door. If he wouldn't find Orihime, she would do it herself. As soon as she opened it, it closed again with a heavy force, jerking the handle out of her hand. He held the door in place, his arm hovering above her like a steel beam.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, though her voice was quiet.

"I could ask you the same thing." His voice was steady now, almost angry.

"I'm going to get clothes, I'm going to get dressed, and I'm going to hunt that son of a bitch down. We've wasted enough time here as it is." She was pleased with the tone she struck, it held an edge, an anger that had been subdued for so long. There was a spark of life, an ignition, and she would nurture it until it was a raging fire.

"Orihime needs to give the all clear."

She hissed her displeasure. "I appreciate Orihime's efforts, but I do not need her permission to leave this place."

""Then I-"

The anger erupted in her chest. What would he do? What right did he have to decide what she could and couldn't do? She rounded on him, snarling and baring her teeth in a show of force and aggression.

"You? You what?" She dared him to continue with his train of thought. His mouth was shut tight, jaw clenched, and neck muscles working. "Need I remind you that I am your superior? You do what I tell you, not the other way around!"

The moment the words were out the anger evaporated, leaving her feeling cold and empty. She stared at him blankly. Theirs was not a relationship of superior and subordinate. It was a partnership, one made of trust and mutual hatred for a man who destroyed their lives. How many times had she told him as much? Now she challenged that, threatened it with her growing frustration. But wasn't it he who challenged it first? Wasn't it he who didn't trust her?

He leaned closer, his voice rumbling in her ears as he watched her with undying determination.

"You're right. I'm your bodyguard, and as such, it is my responsibility to remain by your side and look after you, even if you don't agree."

The words shouldn't have stung as much as they did. She brought this upon herself. In drawing that line, she made his position clear, and he was doing the same. This wasn't the partnership it once was. He wasn't her friend. He wasn't. . . Setting her jaw, she was determined to lay in the bed she'd made. In the end, this path was for the best. Aizen was the only thing that truly connected them. Once he was gone, there was no reason for them to remain together. Ichigo had his family to worry about. There was no room for her.

In the end, this would make that final goodbye that much easier.

"Then, I relieve you of your command." She struggled to say it, her throat tightening as she spoke. Her eyes fell to his chest, refusing to look into his eyes. "You can continue hunting Aizen with me. I will not take your revenge from you."

The silence that followed was deafening. It swelled against her ears, accentuated by the heavy pounding of his heart - or was it her own? Against her will, her eyes sought his face, wondering what she would find there. Would there be anger? Acceptance? Disinterest?

The tears rolled down her cheeks with what she saw. There was certainly anger, and a heart-wrenching pain that was like the twisting of a knife, but mostly unmoving resolve. Every muscle in his body was tense, as if he was commanding every fiber of his being to remain in his control as he made a silent promise with those honey-colored eyes.

"Fine. I am no longer your bodyguard. Now, I am your friend. My place is by your side, looking after you, even when you think you don't need it."

She knew the power of words, their ability to send people into a frenzy, to soothe wounds, to touch a heart. These weakened her knees, pulling the world from beneath her. He caught her around the waist and held her up, a manifestation of his vow.

"I failed you once. I won't do it again."

She choked on a sob and grabbed hold of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. It was pathetic. A few pretty words and she was putty in his hands, but they were words she needed to hear. He wasn't here because of duty, because of necessity, but because he truly cared about her.

When he learned the truth, it would make things that much harder.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt as she clung to him.

That was a worry for another day.

Author's Notes: I am beyond sorry! I know this chapter is really late. I didn't have access to the internet to post it on the original date, then I got really sick the following week, and this weekend has been fairly busy. To top it off, this chapter is pretty short. I wanted it to go on longer, but after rewriting the whole damn thing, I feel like this is the more natural place to stop. Plus I don't think my heart could take it DX.

Thanks to everyone who read this story, those who favorited and followed, and those who left me reviews: NieveDrop, IchiRuki 4vr, Yesmin, and the anonymous guest! Please R&R! I'd really like to know how you felt about this chapter.