Wow. It's been a minute! I know this update took a criminally long amount of time, but my brain needed the rest and I ran into some plot-holes and continuity problems that I dwelled on for a long, long time before finally reaching a solution. This fic has gotten so out of hand, but I wrote down a new outline, and I'm fairly optimistic that I can finish it by the end of this year. Thank you so much for your patience! I almost considered dropping this story multiple times, but your reviews and asks were a huge support and encouragement. (And no, scamers/bots, if you're reading this, I'm not talking about you!)

This one's a short(er) chapter, so I decided to drop two at a time to make up for it! Definitely don't expect this to be a habit lolol. Hope you enjoy this, because a lot of work went into it. Welcome back and happy reading :)

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Ichigo had not left his study in hours.

Dusk had fallen over the manor's grounds, and he was sure the others had already eaten dinner, but he couldn't find it in himself to face anyone anymore. Only days ago had he barely made it out of a shootout, though the incident felt hazy enough that years could have passed between then and now and he wouldn't be able to tell.

He had been naive in thinking he had made it out with minimal losses. He had been naive in thinking this wouldn't come back to haunt him one day—this life, this curse. Returning from the horrid land of war, he had tricked himself into thinking he had left Death behind. That this new life, with its lush riches and endless opportunity, would erase the blemish those years had left on his soul. That he could climb and climb high enough until he couldn't see the depths of Hell from his perch anymore.

It spoke volumes to his delusion, the kind of fantasies he had grown used to having, ever since he returned to New York all those years ago. That delusion only thickened when he met Orihime. He had been so eager then to give her a life she could call her own—and once their relationship truly began, he had wanted to give her a family.

It was clear now that what he had given her was a curse—his curse. He had brought Death back with him, and it had watched him like the patient vulture it was as he looted and shot and deceived to make a fortune. And when it struck, it struck him right on his doorstep, feeding him poisonous visions of an alternate life—a child's laughter, a safe home, a happy wife. It was bound to happen one time or another. He was foolish for thinking he would be spared.

There was a light knock on the door.

Ichigo sighed. "Come in."

The large, mahogany door opened to Uryu, Chad, Keigo and Mizuiro piling in one after the other, all looking worn and exhausted, but perhaps not as exhausted as Ichigo himself was feeling.

Ichigo reached for his bottle of whiskey to avoid looking at them. He poured out the liquid into separate glasses, then began sliding the glasses to the side. "Help yourselves."

Uryu, who was standing closest to the table, rejected his offer with a mild shake of his head. "There's bad news," he carried on, and Ichigo appreciated him for not sugarcoating it in his time of grieving.

Ichigo nodded and tossed his head back, drowning his drink in one go. None of the others moved, their hands clasped to their fronts. He wondered if it was clear to them that he was steadying himself. He knew the facts: Grimmjow Jagerjacques was dead. Yylfordt Granz was dead. Di Roy Rinker was dead. Blood would beget blood soon. Every man under his care had a target on his back.

Ichigo licked his bitter lips. "Go on."

"We found the bouncer by a trash dump, two streets away," Uryu explained. "He was shot clean, no signs of struggle. From everything we've managed to gather so far, it's possible whoever broke in had the password."

Ichigo shook his head. "There were only fifteen customers in the bar last night, and I can't think of a single one of them who would sell us out."

"Nevertheless," Uryu said hesitantly.

Ichigo's stomach sank. The last notion he wanted to entertain at the moment was a rat within his own circle. The last thing he needed was more blood on his hands. Yet, something dark and ugly rose within him—the quiet surge of anger and hurt coursing within him. Someone had to pay for this feeling. He'd make sure of it.

"We'll get them, Ichigo," Mizuiro promised. "We'll shake a few guys down, see what they have to—"

"Was it one of you?" Ichigo muttered quietly. He didn't even have to look to know that someone had inhaled sharply, that someone else had flinched. The confusion and surprise were palpable.

But Ichigo had to know.

"Ichigo, what are you talking about?" Chad asked.

Ichigo closed his eyes. Sighed. "Did they offer you money? Tell you to stick a knife in my back?" He glanced over his shoulder, making eye contact with each and every man in attendance. "Tell me now. If you did it, at least be man enough to tell me now."

All of them looked disturbed at once, but it was Keigo's face that instantly turned wild with outrage. "You think we did this?!" He lunged, as if to grab Ichigo by the collar, but Uryu and Chad quickly moved, each trying to restrain him by the shoulders. "You think we would betray you?"

"Someone sold me out," Ichigo didn't look at them, but out through his large window. "I need to know, Keigo."

"You want us to give you fucking alibis?!" Keigo demanded, thrashing in Chad and Uryu's grasp as Ichigo watched their reflection. "I went to jail for you, you fucking—"

"Keigo, calm down!" Chad tried, but Keigo had shaken himself loose, his collar disarrayed, hair a mess. If Ichigo had bothered to look, he would see that a sheen of tears had lined Keigo's eyes. On an average day, this would have definitely made him the butt of the other men's jokes. Now, no one said anything. They were all staring at Ichigo with equal amounts of concern and disbelief. The only noise they heard was Keigo panting, loud and hurt and angry.

"You've got some nerve talking that shit when you can't even look us in the eye as you say it," Keigo spat, but his voice sounded broken.

In another life, the mere sound of it would have wounded Ichigo, filled him with shame. Now, he could only think about revenge. "I trusted every man in this room," he said quietly. "I trusted every single one of you. So if you didn't do it—" He turned over his shoulder and looked at them, leveling each of them with a fierce gaze, "—find out who did. I want to look him in the eyes when I kill him."

Ichigo could tell each and every one of them had something to say, but for the longest time, none of them spoke their minds. They weren't sure if Ichigo was in the place to hear it any more.

Then, Uryu bowed his head and nodded. "As you wish."

-O-

The family had officially entered wartime. While Orihime began her convalescence, the rest of the manor doubled down on security. Now, every balcony had two armed men stationed, their faces grave and serious. Orihime didn't know them very well, and what little small talk she made seemed to only be a distraction for them.

Meanwhile, Orihime's belongings had been brought over from her apartment, and Ichigo had made it clear that she was to stay with him until things blew over with the Trident. The same applied to Ikumi, her family and Ichigo's sisters, who had also been moved into the manor as swiftly as possible. From what Orihime could gather, Ichigo's men were fearing retaliation, now that Grimmjow Jaegerjacques was dead.

Orihime closed her eyes and sighed, breathing the morning in deep. In his last moments, Grimmjow's eyes had widened with shock—with fear, even—as his hand went slack around her neck. Ichigo had shot him with a ruthless precision, his eyes dark and deep and furious as Grimmjow's blood spattered the wall behind them.

She had never thought Ichigo was capable of such a thing, naive as that was. It wasn't until he did it for her that she witnessed it—the side of himself that he had been so keen to hide.

And she knew he was trying to hide it. Ichigo had hardly looked her in the eye since she moved in, consumed with guilt over her condition, over the premature loss of their child. And if Orihime wanted to discuss it, he hardly had the time.

"I'm glad some color's returned to your face," announced Ikumi as she entered the vast room Orihime shared with Ichigo.

Orihime blinked her eyes open, sitting up slowly on the bed. She didn't feel sick anymore, but Ichigo had forbidden her from helping around the house until she was fully recovered.

"I'm fine," Orihime said, smiling weakly at Ikumi as the woman sat down beside her. "Just. Thinking."

Ikumi set down a tray on her bedside table, gesturing for Orihime to help herself to some tea. "Finally got Kaoru and Nel to settle down. Figured I'd come and see you."

"Thanks, really," Orihime said, cradling her cup as she blew at the steam. Ikumi did the same in her chair beside her. "You've been such a big help since I got back from the hospital."

"We're just glad you two are alive."

Orihime knew she was referring to the other family members and she felt her heart mellow down some. It was foreign, this feeling of having a family to confide in—and she took comfort in it during these bleak times. Almost all of last week, she hadn't been able to sleep, worried, tired, a lot on her mind. Ichigo had gone on an urgent trip to Highwell, not saying much about what he'd be doing or who he'd be meeting there. Was he asking around for help? What would he pay in return? It was becoming increasingly clear that the world of liquor—the world she was familiar with—was only a part of Ichigo's world.

That she knew only a part of Ichigo's world.

Either way, with Ichigo gone and having nothing to do but sit around in bed and rest, Orihime was starting to feel unsettled.

"I wish I could go to Highwell, just to check up on the bar," she confessed to Ikumi. "It doesn't feel right to me that everyone else is there while I'm here, sleeping all day."

Ikumi shook her head. "It would surprise me if Ichigo even let you out of the house at this point. Most women don't get as far as you did with men like this."

Her tone was dry, as if speaking from experience, but Orihime couldn't help but frown at that.

"Don't worry, this kind of thing happens all the time." Ikumi patted her hand gently. "It'll blow over soon, these men and their stupid squabbles."

Orihime smiled weakly.

Still, as a week passed and she regained some strength, the situation remained the same. Silence had fallen over the Kurosaki Manor like a shroud. Everyone was tense, speaking in hushed tones, glancing over their shoulders every time they were out in the open air. There was talk about a rat. The people around her seemed suddenly nervous.

No one was more shaken than Ichigo, who had become increasingly paranoid as the days went by. Though they went to bed together at night, Orihime often woke up alone, finding Ichigo in the study or on a balcony somewhere, smoking pensively. Even when they did sleep, he tossed and turned and refused to tell her what was wrong when she asked. It was always a soft nothing, or a don't worry about me, or a go back to sleep, which—hurt. Even when Ichigo was close enough to touch, he always felt so far away she could barely feel him.

At six in the morning every morning, she took short walks around the compound to calm her nerves. Men were stationed everywhere, and the ones who had become familiar to her always smiled in greeting, but Orihime couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, no matter where she went. She was uncomfortable.

And she wasn't the only one. In the beginning, all of them—barring Ichigo—had tried to keep themselves optimistic and occupied by playing indoor games or baking or listening to the radio. But a week was a long time to be sheltered the way they were and everyone was growing weary. Now, it was a miracle if they ate together at all. Even the children had become quiet in their play.

One night, as she found herself wandering by the study, she caught a slant of light from a half-closed door and decided to peep in out of curiosity.

Ichigo and Uryu were sitting down, talking in serious tones.

"...don't know how much longer this can go on," Uryu was saying. "Everyone needs to go back to work."

Orihime let the door creak to signal her arrival. Both men looked up, startled, and Ichigo immediately narrowed his eyes at her. "Orihime. You should be in bed."

Orihime felt embarrassed by his rebuke, especially in front of Uryu, who had probably slept less than her since the attack and was still here. "I've been in bed all week," she said gently, trying to pacify him with a brief brush of her fingers against his cheek while she smiled at Uryu, who nodded at her and got up to leave.

Ichigo relaxed, but only slightly. He bid Uryu farewell with a short nod, though whatever their conversation had been about, he didn't seem too happy about it.

"What were you talking about?" she asked, sliding into his lap once Uryu left. Ichigo's arms instantly tucked around her waist, letting her settle her hands on his tense shoulders.

"Our profits aren't doing so great, now that I've asked everyone to stay at home," Ichigo explained with a sigh, then shook his head. "It's nothing to worry about, you should go back to bed, come on."

Orihime sighed, trying to reign in her frustration as she let Ichigo guide her up to stand. "I could come in," she suggested. "I've been resting for long enough now."

She didn't even have to see his face to sense his voice harden as they made their way up the stairs. "No."

"But…"

"Orihime, it's not safe."

Orihime bit her lip. Ichigo had never taken that tone with her in the past, and it worried her that he was doing it now. Clearly, she understood his concern for her well-being, but she wondered if he was taking it a bit far.

They entered their room together, drawing the blinds and propping up pillows as they prepared for bed. Just as Orihime settled on her side of the mattress, Ichigo brushed her arm with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, his face softening with guilt. "I know you miss going in, but—" She watched his throat move when he swallowed. "—not right now. Please."

"Ichigo," she began reluctantly. He had deep bags under his eyes, and she wanted to believe it wasn't as big of a deal as she was making it, but her chest seized with doubt anyway.

"I want to keep you safe." He drew her in closer to kiss her forehead. "Knowing you're here, with the others…it helps me sleep better at night."

Orihime wanted to remark that he didn't look like he'd been sleeping at all, but she had missed this intimacy with him, and something about his desperation softened her as she gave in to his embrace. Ichigo rewarded her with a kiss against her cheek, tugging her earlobe a little with his teeth.

Orihime laughed. "Ichigo…"

She felt him smile against her cheek, and then he did it again. "What?"

"You know that tickles me," she said, trying to be stern with him, but she felt her lips waver, struggling to keep from laughing again. She couldn't help it. She was terribly soft for him.

Ichigo nosed under her ear. "Does it?" The hands dug into her sides loosened their grip, and then his fingers began to tickle her. Orihime tried to bat him away, but they collapsed sideways, Ichigo on top of her, both of them laughing as they went down.

She brushed some of his hair out of his face and cupped his cheek, content to just keep him for now—locked in with her. Ichigo lifted a hand and held hers to his cheek for a moment, then moved her entire arm to lock around his neck as he leaned down for a kiss, his mouth warm and soft as it opened to hers. Home.

Orihime was about to deepen the kiss, but the door slammed open, so the two split apart, panting as they stared out towards it, heartbeats out of sync.

It was Nel in her sleep clothes, one fist in her mouth. She looked curious. "Whatcha guys doing?"

Ichigo groaned and let his head drop against Orihime's shoulders, frustrated.

Orihime laughed, curling her fingers against his hair but looking out at Nel, one arm opening up to her so she could join them. "Nothing, we were just horsing around," she explained. "Couldn't sleep?"

Nel shook her head but approached them, letting Orihime lift her into bed with an exaggerated groan. Ichigo pushed his weight off Orihime and rested his head on his hand, his other arm still wrapped around her. Orihime's hand joined his over his belly, and her heart panged when Nel sandwiched her with a hug from the other side, her small hand gripping Ichigo's forearm. Like this, it was just the three of them in their own world.

"I wanted to play with Pesche and Dondo today, but they said they were busy," Nel murmured, then glared at Ichigo. "Why do you give them stuff to do?"

Ichigo snorted. Orihime felt the warmth of it against her shoulder and smiled. "What, you think they get paid to sit around and babysit you all day?"

"They don't?"

Orihime giggled. As though relieved by the sound of it, Ichigo dropped down and gave her cheek a kiss. "Go to sleep," he told Nel, looking down over Orihime's shoulder at her. "In your own room."

Nel huffed. "But it's scary there! You said I could come here if I'm scared."

Orihime's eyes grew watery at that. Somehow, she had always known that Ichigo would have been a great father—a natural at it. It didn't seem fair. Nothing in that moment seemed fair at all, but she held her tears back, mindful of Nel's presence.

Ichigo, however, noticed her demeanor and softened. "Fine," he told Nel. "You can stay for tonight—"

Nel perked and snuggled into Orihime's side, as though she had been waiting for him to cave.

"—But only for tonight. You snore. I don't get enough sleep as it is."

Orihime silently agreed with the last part but Nel said, very solemnly, with all a child's seriousness, "I'll protect you. Miss Inoue will help me, even. Won't you, Miss Inoue?"

"Always," Orihime replied softly, but she was looking at Ichigo, not Nel. "Always."

Ichigo's eyes spoke of his gratitude, and he leaned in for a quick peck, which Orihime gladly returned. Then she turned back to run her fingers through Nel's hair, sighing contentedly when Ichigo tucked his head over her shoulder. It should have felt like the calm before the storm—and a part of her knew it was—but Orihime allowed her eyes to close, ready to leave the waking world and join Ichigo in her dreams, the only place, it seemed, where wishes came true anymore.