Hello hello, my darlings.

Look! Another chapter already :D Can you believe?

Chapter 16

'Ichigo, are you even listening?'

'Mmm?' Ichigo looked across the breakroom table to find Tatsuki's glaring at him.

Of course he hadn't been listening. How could he pay any attention to anyone when he had left Rukia all alone. He shouldn't have taken her back to her apartment. He should have insisted that she stay. But he didn't want to push her, afraid that she would run away like she did the last time.

He had called her earlier to check on her. She said she was fine, but he knew by now that Rukia would have her spleen hanging out of her body, and she would still say that she was fine.

He was sure that if he hadn't threatened to throw her over his shoulder and force her out of the station, she would be at her desk typing away, mumbling to herself about someone's incompetence.

'Orihime asked you something, dumbass!'

Sitting next to Tatsuki, Orihime smiled at him and shyly tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a very different gesture from the way Rukia would run all her fingers through the front of her hair whenever she wore it loose. It made him feel hot just thinking about it. Then he'd felt bad about thinking of her like that when she was still injured and in pain.

Last night, in his apartment, it was almost unbearable having her so close. He had wanted to do more than just kiss her forehead. Especially, when he had helped with her shirt. But he would have never felt right kissing her in that condition.

However, he learned that there was a different kind of intimacy in pulling her clothes on, than simply ripping it off her-like he'd often wanted to do.

'Ichigo!' This time Tatsuki banged on the table to get his attention. 'You know what, Orihime. Let's go!' Tatsuki stood, her chair screeching against the floor.

'But I-' Orihime tried to protest.

'Ichigo clearly isn't all there today, Orihime. We can do this again when he decides to pull his ass out of his head!'

Ichigo wasn't even offended. In fact, he was glad they were leaving. Tatsuki was always mad at him these days, and it was becoming increasing difficult to stave off Orihime's attempted advances.

Ichigo felt much more at ease when Orihime followed Tatsuki out the door, but before he could take his phone out to call Rukia again, Tatsuki stormed back in.

'You know, Ichigo,' she pointed angrily at him, 'there is an amazing woman right on front of you! And one of these days, someone is gonna sweep her of her feet, and only then will you realize what a big fucking idiot you are!'

Tatsuki turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

Well, she was right about one thing. There is an amazing woman right in front of him.

It just wasn't Orihime.

For the rest of the day, Ichigo was in his own head, trying to solve the mystery of how Rukia had gotten so terribly wounded. The clothes he had cut off her had all sorts of pockets sewn into them-which he assumed were for concealing gadgets-or weapons. Her refusal to go to the hospital meant that she didn't want her injuries on record-or maybe she just didn't like hospitals.

Was she involved on some type of vigilantism? Getting her hands on those suspects they didn't have enough evidence on for a conviction? She certainly had the temperament for it. Rukia Kuchiki was not the type of woman who suffered any injustices. It was a trait he both admired and worried about in equal measure.

If only she would confide in him. He supposed he could ask her directly, but he was too scared that it would drive her away. He would just have to wait until she trusted him enough to tell him.

But that didn't mean he couldn't tell her how he terrified he had been. How he imagined that he would come to check on her and she would've slipped away in her sleep from damage he had failed to notice.

Even now, his chest constricted at the thought. He couldn't let her do whatever it was she was doing all on her own. Like he had told her before, he would protect her.

He just had to remind her.

And that was how he had found himself on her doorstep after work that day.

His heart thudded nervously as he knocked.

She could have had collapsed from the pain. Or an infection. Or slipped in the shower and cracked her head. Should he just break the door down?

'Ichigo?'

There she was, standing barefoot, in pink shorts and a white tank top that stopped just above her navel. Her hair was loose, tousled over to one side, covering the stitches on her head. She was staring up at him, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and hold her forever.

But instead, he stuck his hand in his pockets, and said, 'Hey.'

'Hey,' she stood aside making way for him to enter.

Her apartment was small and bare. There was a kitchenette and a lounge area with one couch and a TV on the wall. There were no pictures or flowers or trinkets of any kind. There wasn't even a book lying around. Just white walls and sparse furniture that were either black or grey. The short hallway had two doors across each other, and a closet at the end. And that was it.

It was stark contrast to the fiery woman he knew.

'How are you feeling?' he asked her as they stood awkwardly facing each other. He looked over her injured arm. She hadn't put on a new bandage, but she had at least taped some gauzed over it.

'Right as rain,' she said, even though her stitches where barely 48 hours old and her bruises where still conspicuous.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

'Rukia. How are you feeling?' he asked again, crossing his arms over his chest.

'I'm fine, really. You don't have to be a mother goose about it. I'm stronger than l look. See, I can move my arm again.' She flexed her injured arm, barely hiding a wince as she brought her arm back to her side.

He was glad that she was back to her snarky self. But he was still worried. Still terrified.

'Look, I came here to tell you something.'

'What is it?' her expression turned serious at his tone. She motioned for him to sit and then chose to stand in front him as he settled on the edge of the dark grey couch.

He looked at her standing before him, and he had forgotten everything he wanted to say. Instead, his eyes fixed on the jagged scar peeking out from her shorts.

'Ichigo?' She took a step toward him. He looked up and he could see the scar on her side just visible under the hem of her top-the first one he had sewn closed. He reached out and ran a finger over the newly healed scar. He remembered the other scars on her body again. He couldn't seem to stop thinking of them.
Or her.

She was standing between his knees now, but he still couldn't pull his eyes away from that scar-the one that started it all. He hated that he felt that way. But he knew that without that day, he wouldn't be here, this close to her. He'd be pining away at his desk, waiting for her to see him as more than her aggravating colleague.

'Ichigo.'

He loved it, he realized. He loved how his name fell from her pretty mouth. He looked up and found that she was staring at him. His eyes stopped at her lips. And then dropped to those awful bruises on her throat. His fingers ghosted over them and he had to take in a deep breath to leash his fury. He wondered if it would hurt her if he put his lips on those dark marks-just so he wouldn't feel like killing someone every time he looked at it.

But before he could gather the courage to even try, her lips were on his. Ichigo's body reacted faster than his mind did. The hand at her throat, slid up into her silky hair, as his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Rukia's arms where locked around his neck, with a hand in his own hair. He breathed her in, almost certain that this was a dream and that he should note every detail before he awoke.

He swiped his tongue across her lips and her fingernails dug into his scalp, dragging all the way down his neck. He moaned at the sensation and she kissed him harder, her tongue dancing with his.

Her teeth sank into his bottom lip; and Ichigo lost what little control he had. In one swift move, he had her on his lap, straddling his thighs, her knees sinking into the couch, her front pressed firmly against him. But still she wasn't closed enough. He wanted more. He wanted her, right here on her couch, screaming his name.
She sighed into his mouth as his hand travelled down her leg, and then back up again to rest on the back of her thigh.

They broke apart, and he took the opportunity to press his lips against her throat-just like he had wanted to. He would kiss all her scars like this, he vowed to himself. He kissed her up to her jaw and then his mouth was wrenched away from her lovely skin and she sprung off his lap.

Shit. She was hurt and in pain and he had just let his yearning for her control him.

He was an idiot.

'Rukia, I'm so sorry.' He reached a hand out to brush her hair away from her beautiful face. You're in pain and I-'

She stepped away from his touch, and his hand hung there pathetically.

Her voice was like steel when she said, 'No. I shouldn't have done that. You should go. Now.'

She walked purposefully to the door, and held it open.

What was happening?

Her whole demeanour had changed. Barely seconds ago, she was soft and warm in his arms, and now she stood ramrod straight with that familiar coldness on her face.

He came to stand in front of her, but didn't try touching her again-even though he had wanted to brush his thumb over her swollen lips.

'Rukia, I didn't mean to hurt you.'

She shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face.

As soon as she closed the door, her legs gave out and Rukia sank to the floor.

Kissing Ichigo was like nothing she had ever experienced. Though it had been a while, Rukia was barely a prude. She'd had her fair share of experience with men. But no one had ever kissed her like that before. No one had even looked at her the way he did. She had no words to describe how it-only that they way he looked at her made her feel like she was the main character those romance novels she used to read.

When his fingers flitted over her throat, and he took that odd, almost frustrated breath, her body moved and she let it.

She didn't care about her aching limbs. She just needed him- wanted him more than she could bear. She wanted to pull his clothes off and his kiss him everywhere; wanted him to do the same to her.

Ichigo had kissed her hard enough that she saw stars behind her eyelids, but he still held her like she was a glass figure-fragile and breakable. She'd felt exactly like that when he kissed the bruises on her throat. She knew then that she didn't have to be strong when Ichigo was around.

Which was exactly why she couldn't do this.

That morning when she woke up, she had decided that she wouldn't fight her feelings for him anymore. He has seen her scars and still looked at her like she was worth something. He still worried for her, cared for her.

But all her hopes went crashing to the floor when she received a package containing another burner phone. She almost wept when she saw it on her doorstep. She thought it was over. That her revenge had been complete.

But it wasn't, according to the text message she received the Heart Emoji.

I miss you. XoXo

She had been wrong to kiss him, knowing that that fucking burner phone was hidden away in her closet, knowing that the Heart Emoji was still texting her.

She couldn't bear it.

Couldn't bear the confusion in his brow, or slump in his shoulders.

'I didn't mean to hurt you,' he had said. His beautiful face full of worry and regret-not for kissing her like he had, but because he thought he had hurt her. No one cared whether or not they hurt her before. Everyone simply assumed that she couldn't be hurt; that she was too proud or too heartless to be anything but strong and violent.

But Ichigo had seen beyond that. And all he had gotten for it was a door in his face.