Chapter 3

The days dragged on for Ichigo. It didn't help that his home was full of so many memories of Rukia. At times, he'd find himself sitting in his old room, eyes on the closet across him and let his mind wander. He'd wonder what it would be like if he opened the door and Rukia was hiding inside and catching her terrible scribbling on his notes. He'd reach in and attempt to remove the sheets from her hands then she'd slip easily past him, her petite frame lending to her agility, and she'd laugh. The ache in his chest was unmistakable, and yet he couldn't get enough. He envisioned her down the hall, hair wet from a shower, pyjamas that were finally hers, her smell lingering in his spare futon. The only connection he felt to her was in missing her, he'd let the memories visit over and over, despite the pain, the tears, and the yearning.

A few nights later, Inoue found Ichigo staring out of their dark bedroom window clad in nothing but his boxers. Inoue noted that he appeared to have been mid-change, his clothes for the day sprawled on the floor with his night shirt balled up in his left hand. She watched his face lit by the streetlights. He seemed to stare beyond whatever was outside the window. Where was he, she wondered, fighting the monsters in his head again?

She wrapped her arms around his lean frame, resting her fingers on his bare chest as she kissed his back. Inoue felt him sigh and he turned to face her. She leaned up to kiss him, and for the first time in a while, he met her lips. Ichigo pulled her closer, and easily lifted her and placed her onto their bed. Inoue was scared to let go, afraid that if she did, his attention would never return to her. As Ichigo slipped her night gown off, he watched as she breathed out a contented sigh. He hovered over her slender frame, his fingers traced along her neck and down her arm slowly.

Inoue was more eager, as they had hardly shared anything beyond a polite peck on the cheek for months; she reached out to touch him and guide him back to her lips. Ichigo pulled back, running a hand through his hair.

"Ichigo?" She asked gently, reaching to take his hand.

In the dark, she couldn't see it clearly but she could hear Ichigo's laboured breathing.

"What's wrong?" She asked, pulling on her nightgown.

He stood, and began to collect his clothes. "I'm sorry, just… not tonight, okay Hime?"

He rarely used her name in regular situations, but when shortened, Inoue knew that he was being polite. She watched him leave, and listened to the front door shut followed by his footsteps.

She sat in the dark and gathered the sheets around herself. Inoue began to cry. What in the world was that? Was she not enough for him? What else could she do? He was slipping away in every moment, every distant gaze – what was he looking for? What was he looking at? Not her, in all certainty.

That realization hit Inoue like a ton of bricks. Oh god, she begged internally, as silent sobs escaped her chest. She covered her mouth, afraid to wake Kazui with her distress. Short of throwing herself at him, she was patient, compassionate, timing everything at Ichigo's pace. Ten bloody years and he still… he still wouldn't see her.

Inoue fell into an uneasy sleep. Whenever she woke, it was with tears, and to fall asleep, it took more. Every breath was a struggle, and the truth weighed on her – he didn't love her.

Ichigo let out a sigh, watching his breath cloud in front of him. He was relishing the feel of the ice cold air entering his lungs, and breathing out the same stale ache that rotted in his chest. He wandered around his neighbourhood for a bit, revisiting the corner where Rukia pierced his chest, walking down the streets they ran along chasing hollows to rescue spirits. He let out a sad smile at the thought of her perched on his back, barking orders, and how he loathed her in those moments. He glanced at the river where she attempted to train her with a baseball bat, and he felt a chuckle escape his lips at all the times they argued. He passed their high school and he clenched the hand she always took and dragged to the next emergency that only they could solve. Their duties a secret they shared, the moments of life and death only they bore witness for each other… his head on her lap.

He found himself at Uryuu's apartment. Again, he realized, he had slipped into the past, and so easily lost himself in it. He raised a fist to knock on the door, hesitated for a moment as he eyed the watch on his now exposed wrist, then knocked nonetheless.

Uryuu was always a light sleeper. Night rotations made this even more difficult, and he rose from a light snooze to the sound of the door. A quick glance at the analog on his wall and even he thought it was too early for anything human on the other side of that door. He clicked on the tiny monitor beside his door, and was surprised to see his friend.

"Ichigo." Uryuu said calmly, as he opened the door for his dark eyed friend. "What's going on?"

Ichigo walked into the apartment, kicked off his shoes and crashed onto the couch in silence. He hid his face with his hands.

"Kurosaki. It's three in the morning and I deserve some form of explanation."

"Did you know?" Ichigo asked, his voice muffled.

"Know what?" Uryuu sat across him, an expression of half annoyance and concern gracing his sharp features.

"How Inoue became pregnant, do you know?"

"If you're asking me how you impregnated her, I know. If you're asking me why, I had my suspicions." Uryuu replied tactfully.

Ichigo looked at him with tired eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Uryuu looked at Ichigo in disdain. Say what? He thought. Stop fucking around with Inoue's feelings? Stop pretending you're fine without Rukia when every god damn chance you get to see her, you're a totally different person? Why the hell was he responsible for saying anything, when he had to watch the girl he loved pine after someone who barely appreciated her?

"You don't get to blame other people for your short-sightedness. And now, look what you've done: married with child – the both of you." Uryuu sighed as he stood, retreating to his kitchen to prepare some coffee.

"I never thought," Ichigo began, "I never thought she'd feel the same. All this time, I was repaying a favour –"

"That's your basic problem, you never think. You just do." Uryuu interrupted, setting the hot mug down in front of Ichigo. "We're all left watching the two of you prance around each other, hurting feelings that you had no right to abuse all because of the holy "friendship"."

Ichigo glared at Uryuu.

"You know," Ichigo said, as he picked up the mug. "They were drunk. Celebrating the end of the winter war, and at that point, I think I was busy taking care of whatever unanswered questions I owed everyone here."

Uryuu sipped his coffee in silence, allowing Ichigo to vent.

"I didn't realize you could lose someone to someone else." Ichigo stared at his mug. "Two years."

"For the record, Kurosaki, I'm not on your side. I'm on Inoue's. I want her to be happy." Uryuu said, setting down his own mug. "If you need my couch, you're welcome. But I'm not giving you a key until you've decided what to do."

"We're married." Ichigo muttered.

"You've gone against bigger, more dangerous obstacles than that." Uryuu replied.

Renji's bloodshot eyes stung from lack of sleep. He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Rukia didn't kick him out, which is what usually lands him on the couch, this time, he left their room. She was tossing and turning in her sleep, crying softly. She was whispering his name again, and Renji had had enough. He thought that it would pass at this point, that the dreams would cease again, as they once did. But it seemed, these were stronger than before, and although Renji loved Rukia to pieces – his heart couldn't take the jealousy. A man could only listen to his wife say another's name during the most intimate times of night for so long.

What if, and this may be pulling at nothing – something actually happened that night that the two of them didn't want to share? Renji sat, frowning in the dark. He trusted the two of them entirely with his life, but he also wasn't stupid.

Rukia woke that morning with the bed beside her empty. For a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that maybe Renji was called away to a mission overnight. The whole night she dreamt of Ichigo, their moments, his face, flashes of their past flickering beneath her sleeping eyelids. The dreams settled on his wedding night, and how Rukia refused to notice his apprehension, the insincerity lingering behind his smile. She touched at the corners of her eyes, and noticed the salt of her dried tears trailing her cheeks – was she crying, again?

"Good morning," Renji said, standing at the doorway with a cup of coffee. Rukia let out another sigh.

"All night?" She asked, resting a hand on her head.

Renji didn't say anything and closed the distance between them, setting the coffee on their bedside table. Rukia recognized this silence as one borne from a long night of thinking, bags under his eyes, worry in his brows, and that defensive frown.

"We needed to talk about this eventually." Renji began. "I asked Ichigo not to see you anymore."

Rukia looked at Renji in surprise – had she been this obvious? Wait, she thought, obvious about what?

"Renji-"

"He's triggering you, Rukia," Renji said, deciding to feign obliviousness, "After your meetings, you fall apart like last night. I can't stand by having noticed this."

"And Ichigo?"

"He agreed, and he'll be okay. Better probably. I agreed to pick up Kazui for shinigami training; he agreed not to contact you unless it's through me."

Rukia gazed down at the sheets on her lap in silence. Renji stood again, and left the room. Monday morning routines awaited them both: Ichika to be woken, breakfast to be made, work to be attended. She clutched at the sheets, tears pelting the thread, upon realizing that Renji didn't trust either of them anymore and wondering when her feelings had become so out of control.

Once she collected herself (and heard the sound of Renji leaving the house), she readied herself to drop Ichika off at school. Rukia pulled on her uniform with ease, her fingers feeling not quite like hers, her face in the mirror the ghost of someone she knew – so pale, so sad, and so tired. She drew a breath in, realizing that she felt light headed – maybe not enough sleep?

Breathe, Rukia. She reminded herself, as she waved Ichika goodbye. Breathe, she reminded herself, as she sat through a captain's meeting trying her best to avoid her brother's stare. She felt the motions of breath, but when her chest expanded, there was an incessant ache. Every breath was the reminder of a gaping wound, tender, missing.

When she dropped Ichika off at the Kaiba dojo, the wind hit her a certain way and the grass swayed in the field beckoning her to feel. She walked into the field, pushed her hair off of her face and felt what was missing. Ichigo Kurosaki – she had told him not to follow her, that she would never forgive him… because if he did, she would never forget him. The feelings echoed in the expanse of her wound, the thought of seeing him only in the face of his child clutched at her throat.

She was ready for this, in that ivory tower, that disgusting red leash on her neck. History and karma surely are twin sisters – mocking people with the circles they dance around them. Rukia Kuchiki, born of nobility, let out a shaky breath, she could learn to live with this. He was not hers, and she was not his.

Ichigo returned to a quiet house. He had closed the clinic for the day, hoping for some reprieve from the guilt and the heartache hanging over his head.

An uneasy sleep fell over him, the exhaustion finally catching up to his body… and he dreamt.

The smell of fire filled his nostrils. The wool material of the cape so graciously shared to him from Urahara draped around his shoulders, fluttering in the wind. Sword at his back, he shifted it for comfort, and he waited. He watched as she let a few tears go, a face of serenity, of no regrets, her life so willingly given for a stranger. And when nothing happened, she opened her eyes to look at him.

They exchanged a few words in silence, and although it was years ago, it was so clear. The fury, the fight, the purpose: for her, save her… love her?

Ichigo woke to darkness having settled in the house, a quick glance at his phone telling him it was evening. Fall made the days shorter, and he could feel winter permeate their rooms. Where were Inoue and Kazui? All the same, he hadn't planned to stay long. Now that he was awake, the dream continued in sobering reality, the actual memories played in his head like a movie. He wondered if he ever knew what he felt; that if he wasn't so up in his ass about owing people would he have realized his feelings sooner? Would this have been easier on her? Renji said that she was crying in her sleep – did she do that too after the war? He tried to ignore the sickening wave of jealousy at the thought of Renji collecting Rukia into his arms in the darkness of their bedroom, her tears on his chest, and his lips on her head.

Doesn't matter now, he thought, we're no longer to keep contact. He let out a sigh, as he buried his head in his hands. He heard the jingle of keys, and the sound of his son telling his mother about his classes.

"I really liked the science class, we were learning about the human body which is what papa takes care of right mommy?"

"That's correct, darling. Now help mommy open the door." Inoue said.

At this, Ichigo opened the door, and Kazui beamed.

"Papa!" He exclaimed, crashing into his father's legs. "We went groceries, and mommy said we should get your favourites."

Inoue let Ichigo collect the bags from her hands. The family walked to the kitchen and together put everything away, Kazui leading the conversations. Once finished, he raced to his room to play, leaving his parents to have tea in the dining area.

"Where'd you go last night?" Inoue asked.

"Uryuu's," he replied, "just needed to talk about some things."

"Oh?" Inoue replied. She watched as he sipped from his mug.

"Rukia and I aren't going to see each other anymore." Ichigo said, "Renji said it's too triggering. Do you agree?"

Inoue sighed; above all Ichigo was considerate at the expense of his desires. "Yes."

Ichigo expected that answer, and he nodded in agreement. He watched as she fiddled with the handle of her mug. He noticed the bags under her eyes and it occurred to him that she cried herself to sleep last night. In that moment, he reached for her hand, and Inoue looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been a mess lately."

"It's alright," she replied, placing her free hand on his and lightly tracing his fingers.

He frowned, "It's not, Hime. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Inoue looked up at Ichigo, "Let's make love."

Renji's hands pulled off Rukia's uniform with ease. She watched as he fondled her bare chest, lips on her neck, and glanced at the door to make sure it was locked even though it was nearly the middle of the night and there was barely anyone around in the division. Renji lifted Rukia from the window sill where they were previously situated and onto the couch nearby. It had been a while, Rukia realized, doing her best to enjoy the moment as Renji kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her harder.

Renji didn't want to pause, they both spent the week without a word from Ichigo, and he didn't want to give her mind a chance to wander. My god, she was beautiful, sprawled naked underneath him, still so slender, so petite and so open. He slipped off the last of his garments and slid into her. She let out a soft moan as he did so, and bit her lip – a habit that drove Renji wild, in and out of the bedroom.

Rukia let Renji do the work, his large hands on her waist, holding her in place as he thrust harder each time. Rukia held onto his arms as he ravaged her, rougher than his usual, she thought that maybe all the stress from the past few weeks were being released now. He took a breath, paused for a moment, to look her in the eyes and say, "I love you."

Rukia pushed against his chest, and he understood that as a request to switch positions. She straddled him and he placed his hands on her butt, watched as they climaxed together. He always loved the way she took control, and he was eager to please her. She collapsed onto him, and he held her tightly.

Ichigo was no longer here, Renji thought maybe they could go back to how they were before in the comfortable friendship, the laughter.

"You're mine," he sighed one more time.

Rukia closed her eyes, listening to his breathing, and ignoring the pain in her heart, "I am your wife, after all."

In the dark of their bedroom, after having Kazui tucked in and confirming that he was sleeping soundly, Ichigo was deep inside Inoue. She clutched the sheets beneath her and let out nearly inaudible moans, mindful to not wake the child in the other room. Ichigo picked her up, and sat back; and she continued to ride him. He sucked on her breasts, both hands on her waist and back for support as she set the pace. He watched her closely, long ginger hair in pieces over her shoulders, eyes clothes, mouth slightly open, soft skin pale in the moonlight. Beautiful, he thought.

Inoue enjoyed his eyes on her; amber eyes that she thought would be lost to her forever. Watch me, she thought, remember what you have. She paused to take his face into her hands and kissed him. She wasn't Rukia, she knew that, but she'd fight where she could. She'd have him where she could, he was her husband after all.

Ichigo flipped them both over and for the first time in a while, watching his wife enjoy him. He felt a relief wash over him with orgasm, and Inoue's smile.

He was still here, she thought, he was still hers.

"I love you," she said, as he collapsed beside her.

There was a pause as Ichigo gathered his thoughts, he ignored the ache in his chest and replied, "I love you too."

Ichigo was greeted by morning, he gently removed Inoue's arm from across his chest. She settled into her side of the bed almost immediately, tugging the sheets along with her. She had a contented face on, and Ichigo was glad she was getting a good sleep. He on the other hand, couldn't lie still any longer. He barely slept that night, and all he could think about was how immensely he missed Rukia. Rather than sleep, he played the night's events in his head as if he were with Rukia.

Dirty, sounded the hollow in his head.

Ichigo let out a pained sigh. He checked briefly on Kazui, who was still asleep. He slipped on his shoes and decided to go for a walk. The brisk air chilled his breath into small puffs of cloud as he began to pick up pace.

What did it mean to be a wife to Rukia Kuchiki?

She watched as her husband pick up their discarded robes off the floor. His muscular back, and tattoos so familiar moving with him as he pulled on his clothes.

Was it dedication? Was it loyalty? Could she stay in sickness and health, until death parted them?

He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he helped her off the couch. They tidied the room, and slid the door shut behind them. She waited by the door as he did a quick pass to check on the offices for any stragglers that weren't assigned that night. He returned, and she watched as he leisurely returned to her side, grabbing her hand. A mountain of a man, she thought.