Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Suspicions ( Chapter 14 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affilates.

 

(A/N: Hey peoples, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, it's college application time so basically all the time I get on the computer I use to concentrate on trying to get into a good university. God forbid if my parents see me on one fanfiction website. Psh… oh well, one of my college essays is about writing fanfiction. Hehehe, I rule!

Anyway, this is the part of the story that I'm really excited to write. I want to make sure I get it just the way I/everyone wants it so it might take a while longer before I update.

Also, the first couple of chapters dealt with the case, the last few chapters have centered on the IchigoxRukia relationship, and now I'm getting back to the case and the IchigoxRukia relationship, so for all of you who don't know the ending, here we go.

Oh, and one more thing. Thank you all for reviewing! Be assured that if I get to one hundred reviews I will burst into tears and have a heart attack… simultaneously. Smiles.

PLEASE ENJOY AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!)

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 14

 

“Where are you going?” Ichigo asked, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind his head. His eyes lingered on Rukia's frame as she stood and wrapped her scarf around her neck.

 

She glanced down at him and shrugged on her coat. “I need to run over to the two eight.”

 

Ichigo quirked his eyebrows up, “Any particular reason?” He asked smoothly. Rukia smirked, her ears picking up the sensitive sounds of… dare she say it, protectiveness?

 

She shrugged once again and took the keys from his side of the desk, “Something about getting his signature for a transfer form, I don't know, I just know Aizen needs to sign this.” She reached for a folder on her desk and pulled out a slip of paper.

 

Ichigo reached over immediately and snatched it from her grasp, his eyes widening fractionally as he skimmed its contents.

 

Rukia watched his reaction as he read her signature and then saw where she wanted to transfer to.

 

His gaze ran up to hers slowly, Rukia felt a chill slip up her spine as they pierced her and ran up and down her body. “You're transferring to the three one?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Why?”

 

She knew he was teasing her but she didn't care. Rukia smirked and leaned down sensually, just enough to make him want to rip off her clothes and screw her on the desk, but not enough to let the others in the office find anything strange about her actions. She noticed Ichigo's eyes dipping down to her chest.

 

Just as she suspected. Hunger was written on every inch of his face.

 

Rukia's smirk grew and she delicately jerked the paper out of his hands. “So I can get my own desk.” She said softly, her fingers gently touching his. “I'll be back by three.”

 

Ichigo nodded but didn't say a word; Rukia could see him shifting painfully on his desk chair as he watched her go.

 

The air outside was cold and raw as Rukia exited the three one and walked around the building to get to the cars. She cursed the wind as it rifled through her hair and tried to slink down lower into her scarf.

 

Damn January air, she thought, her irritated comments keeping her from focusing on how cold the three minute walk was. Why can't it just be April already?

 

The moment Rukia got into the car she turned the heat knobs all the way to the maximum and turned it on, waiting for a moment while the car warmed up. Sighing, she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and took the brake off, pulling out, thought about what she was about to do.

 

Transfer.

 

Christ… when she had first come to the three one almost a year ago that had been one of the last thing on her mind. She had been indignant, stubborn, narrow-minded, and downright snappish. She hated having to work with these godforsaken people who were forever invading the two eight's territory. Everything had been about pride back then. There was the pride over the turf-war, the pride over finding her brother's killer, and pride over keeping the greatest distance from her newly-forced-upon partner. She had detested every minute of it, from the crazy-ass orange-hair freak with the sinfully sexy smile to the callous, one-eyed captain.

 

Now, the score was so twisted Rukia could barely wrap her head around the facts.

 

So far, she had found respect for Zaraki Kenpachi and his hideously belled hair, she had come to enjoy the presence of the somewhat strange medical examiner (only for a little bit, she couldn't deal with her for large chunks of time) and she had slept with her partner. Well, not just slept with, because the term “slept with” required the act of actually sleeping, and truth be told that was one of the things they had done the least.

 

The entire situation screamed unethical conduct. Office policy stated that sleeping with one's partner was grounds for a switch, but truthfully, Rukia didn't care.

 

She had had sex; that was enough for her. Christ, she hadn't had sex for months before she an Ichigo were paired together, and even when she was with him and not screwing him she still hadn't had any relations with anyone else, sexual or otherwise.

 

But finally, finally, she had had sex with him.

 

She just didn't know why she had waited so long.

 

Rukia turned on the corner and patiently waited for the light to change to green; her head was propped up by her hand, her elbow resting on the windowsill.

 

When she thought about it now, why hadn't she said yes earlier? Oh, right… there was her pride. Her fucking pride and the stupid line. Why in the world had she told him about the line? Was it because she wanted to keep some semblance of professional conduct? Maybe…

 

None of that matter now, the line had been destroyed. It was demolished, decimated, stomped on, trampled, beaten to a pulp, flattened, and completely crushed. No more line no more worries and no more limitations.

 

She also had a sneaking suspicion that Kenpachi knew about it. He had given her this strange look when she came back into the office after her weekend off with Ichigo. He had simply smirked at her and said, “You look better, you know, less tense.”

 

Rukia had glared at him and followed Ichigo to their conjoined desk. She knew he had a smirk on his face the entire time.

 

And that had been about three weeks ago.

 

Three weeks of pained days at work, three weeks of wishing to jump Ichigo across their desk, three weeks of riding around in their unmarked car and kissing Ichigo senseless whenever they were positive they had a moment alone, three weeks of clocking out directly on time and rushing home to either his apartment or hers and stripping each others clothes off before their bodies ravished one another on the first hard surface available, or—if they could wait—running into the bedroom and satiating their hunger there.

 

Three weeks… and now she was finally transferring.

 

She probably should have done it earlier, after all she barely had anymore connections with the two eight. Renji had stopped calling except for every once in a while, her captain was no longer checking up, the only thing that was really happing was that she was still getting paid by the two eight.

 

Now she thought of Zaraki Kenpachi as her captain, Orihime Inoue as her medical examiner, and Ichigo Kurosaki as her partner—in more ways that one. She didn't really have much to connect herself with the two eight anymore.

 

Rukia turned the wheel of the car and blinked when she popped out directly in front of the two eight. That was the funny thing about her when she drove distracted, she still always got where she needed to go. She pulled into a free parking space and wrapped her scarf around her neck before she got out of her exceedingly warm car. Her heavy coat was resting on her shoulders as she shot out into the frigid air and quickly locked the car behind her.

 

Damn, she was getting too used to being warm all the time. When she was at work there was the heat and when she was at home she was skin to skin with Ichigo… and the heat they created was warmer than anything she had ever experienced before.

 

Rukia opened the door to the two eight and stepped quickly inside. She closed them behind her and immediately walked down towards Aizen's office, not really wanting to make small talk with anyone she used to work with.

 

She noticed Renji's desk was vacated and nostalgically looked over at her old space, now covered in tiny girlish items that simply screamed Momo Hinamori.

 

She sighed softly and shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the coat that now seemed so hot all around her. She could do this. She could do this.

 

She nodded to a couple of people as she walked by; they acknowledged her but didn't say anything and continued with their work. She quirked her eyebrow up momentarily and wondered if her infamy as a deathly jinx had finally passed.

 

The captain's office was directly in front of her.

 

She could do this.

 

She knocked quietly on the door and waited for the traditional “enter.”

 

“Enter.”

 

Rukia sighed softly, some things never changed; her captain was one of them. Correction, her old captain, not her soon-to-be captain.

 

She opened the door softly and peeked in, Aizen was sitting at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed softly at the memo he was reading. He looked exactly like she remembered him: shyly confident yet still wearing a winning and trusting smile as well as his quirky glasses he always kept perched on his nose. The entire image reminded her of the better days when she worked at the two eight, before all the mayhem and pain of her brother's death. She cleared her throat softly. “Captain Aizen, sir?”

 

He looked up immediately and Rukia quirked her eyebrows when she saw him give a huge and welcoming grin.

 

“Well, if it isn't Rukia Kuchiki!” He exclaimed warmly, “Come to pay us a visit from the old three one, my goodness, it's been so long since I've last seen you. You look better, you know.”

 

“Thank you Captain,” Rukia answered humbly, entering the room and shutting the door behind her, “Yes, it has been a long time.”

 

“Too long,” he chuckled, motioning to the chair across from him, “Sit. You must stay for a minute.”

 

Rukia stepped tentatively forward, this wasn't going as she had hoped it would. She had simply been looking for a quick in and out, a signature here, a clever comment about how lucky the three one was going to be, a firm handshake, nothing along the lines of trips down memory lane. Nonetheless she seated herself across from her—former—Captain and tried to screw a smile on her face.

 

It didn't work.

 

Aizen grinned and leaned back in his chair, “So… how goes it over at the three one? Is everything with Kurosaki working out okay?”

 

“Ichigo?” She asked, almost biting her tongue for using his first name. She should have known better, she didn't want to insinuate that anything was happening between them. “Um… yes, everything is fine between Detective Kurosaki and myself. We're growing more…well, in synch as time goes by.”

 

“Excellent… excellent,” he murmured, leaning forward a bit in his chair and rubbing his knees nonchalantly. His expression stayed neutral for a moment before it sobered and he asked, “So… is there any word on your brother's murderer?”

 

Rukia swallowed softly and shook her head slowly, “No… we, ah, don't have anymore leads. We've been searching, but so far there's nothing.”

 

Aizen nodded grimly and, much to Rukia's surprise, lifted his knee to the top of his desk and set his feet on the edge.

 

He smiled at her warmly when he noticed her expression, “I did something to my knee while I was running the other day. It hurts like hell so I'm trying to keep it elevated.”

 

Rukia stared at his shoes before nodding slowly and turning her attention back to her captain, her face a bit paler than normal. “Really? I'm so sorry.” She said lamely.

 

Her captain brushed if off with a wave of his hand and sighed, “No worries Kuchiki, I'll be fine. Anyway… I assume you came here for a reason? Anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

She nodded, her head jerked slightly to the side, “Um… yes…” she swallowed and glanced up at her captain, he was smiling at her as if nothing was amiss, Rukia blinked and nodded once again. “I actually wanted you to sign this.” She said quietly, reaching into the folder propped in front of her and handing it to Aizen.

 

He leaned forward a bit and took it from her. Rukia watched his expression carefully as he skimmed the form and raised his eyebrows. Finally, he leveled his eyes with hers and asked softly, “You want to be transferred to the three one?”

 

“Yes sir.” She answered automatically.

 

Aizen scratched the side of his face, his eyes no longer held any of the loving warmth they had had only a minute before. “Any particular reason?”

 

Rukia's mind flashed back to Ichigo and how she had answered when she had asked him the exact same question.

 

She shook her mind back into place and nodded, “Yes sir, there are a few.”

 

Aizen kept his eyes trained on her, “Go on.” He said.

 

Rukia swallowed loudly but kept going. “First of all, sir, I have grown used to working with Detective Ichigo Kurosaki,” and sleeping with him, her mind snickered at her, “And I believe that my former partner, Detective Abarai is quite content working with Detective Momo Hinamori, I would feel terrible if I disrupted such a pairing.” Since they're sleeping together too.

 

Aizen nodded calmly and Rukia continued.

 

“I also have come to feel quite comfortable at the three one, the people there know me now as a member of their team and not just as a visitor, I have been given extra cases by Captain Zaraki Kenpachi and have found him to be an effective and fair administrator, and I also believe that I would be able to do my best work with people who do not see me as the perpetrator of four homicides.”

 

Aizen narrowed his eyes, “No one thinks of you as a jinx anymore Kuchiki.”

 

“I know that sir,” she amended quickly, “But people still talk, and should my brother's killer not be found I know that I will carry that stigma for the rest of my professional life.” She stopped momentarily and cleared her throat. “I also believe, sir… that I can be happy over at the three one. I've made friends there and, although we might still have our differences, we have grown to trust one another.”

 

Aizen didn't say a word.

 

Rukia was beginning to sweat under his intense stare. “Plus,” she added, in a last ditch attempt to convince him she had viable reasons for transferring, “I'll get my own desk.”

 

Aizen blinked at her twice before breaking out into a large grin and taking a pen off the side of his desk. He sighed and scribbled his name on the sheet, but not before giving her one last look a wounded soldier gives to his enemy. He shook his head then finished signing the paper with a flourish.

 

“You made some interesting points Kuchiki,” he said casually, “And I agree with you.”

 

The iron fist that had been clenching Rukia's heart lifted suddenly. “Thank you sir.”

 

“It will be sad to see you go…” he sighed, leaning back in his chair, “It's also sad to note that I'm losing one of my very best detectives to our most hated rival, but hey,” he shrugged and handed her the paper, “I understand if you want your own desk.”

 

Rukia smirked at him, feeling the lighthearted air return to the room, “Don't try and guilt me into coming back.” She warned, “I'm not falling for it.”

 

Aizen grinned at her, “Don't worry, I won't. Just keep in mind that I will call and check up on you from time to time. So don't get into any trouble.”

 

Rukia nodded and rose from her chair. “Thank you cap—sir.” She amended, nodding her head in acknowledgement. Aizen nodded back and placed his hands behind his head, his thick glasses poking slightly off of the bridge of his nose.

 

She turned to leave and grasped the doorknob tightly, she had the door halfway open and her body almost outside when she twisted around slightly and frowned at her former captain. “Sir…”

 

Aizen looked up at her and smile again, “Yes Ms. Kuchiki?”

 

Rukia bit her lip and willed herself to continue. “Just out of curiosity, who made your shoes? They're gorgeous.”

 

Aizen's grin widened as he looked down at them and chuckled, “You like them? You never took me for a shoe person Kuchiki but I'm glad someone noticed.” He moved them around as if to examine them. “Tailor-made by some man in the Swiss Alps I met when I traveled there three years ago. I must have bought at least eight pairs. They're so comfortable I want to be buried in them.”

 

Rukia nodded and forced another smile—smirk—onto her face. “Oh, well they're very beautiful.”

 

“Thank you Kuchiki.” He said, nodding towards the door, “You had best be going, they'll need you over at the three one.”

 

Rukia swallowed hard, “Yes sir, of course sir.”

 

She slid her body the rest of the way through the door and immediately felt the moisture she had left on the knob, evidence of her sweating palms and her roiling stomach. Quickly, she made her way to the precinct doors, clutching the folder in her hands, her nails biting into its manila covering.

 

As soon as she opened the doors she felt the cold wind slapping against her face but she didn't even bother pulling up her scarf. She ran to the car jerked the door open, jabbing the key into the ignition and starting it as fast as she could. Hot air soon blasted out of the conditioning vents and Rukia turned them off. She needed to cool down right now.

 

It didn't mean anything. They were just shoes. Hell, her Uncle Ukitake had tons of shoes he had bought from the different cities he visited, even her sister, Hisana had bought hundreds of pairs while she lived in Europe. Shoes didn't mean a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

 

She pulled out of the parking lot and immediately drove to her next destination. The city cemetery. Her stomach—already tied in the largest of knots—was tightening even more and the iron hand returned to clench around her chest as it had while she had been talking with her captain.

 

Today was the day. January 31st… the one year anniversary of her brother's death.

 

She parked on the outskirts of the cemetery and once again entered into the cold afternoon air, this time her scarf was wrapped protectively around her neck and her nose. Sighing, she reached back into the backseat of the car and pulled out a bouquet of flowers for her brother, a bottle of sake, and a small glass.

 

She sighed again as she looked down at the pitiful bouquet and began to walk towards the place she had long-since memorized. She knew she should have gotten him blossoms instead—cherry blossoms actually, as they were his favorite, but it was winter and hardly anything grew in winter as it was. She would come again during spring, she vowed mentally, juggling the bouquet, the bottle, and the glass inside of her hands.

 

She'd come again and she'd bring an entire cherry blossom tree to plant atop his grave. She'd plant it so that when it grew big enough, the tree would wrap itself around the body of her dead, beloved brother and incorporate his corpse into its cycle of life. Her brother would become the tree, the flower, and the blossom that he had loved most of all.

 

Rukia neared his crypt in a matter of moments. She felt a tightening in her throat as she read his name across the top of the elegantly carved granite.

 

Byakuya Kuchiki, beloved husband and brother.

 

Rukia sighed and remembered how badly he had always wanted “father” to be one of the attributes listed on his tomb. But it wasn't to be. Hisana had just been too sick.

 

Swallowed the growing lump in her throat, Rukia bent down and placed the bouquet in front of his tombstone. She bowed her head, murmured a few prayers, and opened the bottle of sake—which had been her brother's favorite drink while he had been alive.

 

She poured herself a glass and tipped it to his headstone, “Here's to you,” she murmured softly before tipping her head back and downing the sharp beverage in one swig.

 

The burn from the alcohol infiltrated the area behind her eyes and she had to suck in a breath before she could see again. She had never liked to drink that much before, and definitely not hard liquor, but Byakuya had, and that was what mattered.

 

She poured another glass and saluted the headstone once again. “Drink up.” She said quietly before tilting the glass to the side and pouring the glass—then the entirety of the bottle—onto her brother's grave.

 

She waited for a few moments before reaching her gloved hand forward and lightly touching the cold stone, feeling the frigidity even through the leather of her gloves. She gently caressed the granite and swallowed once again.

 

“I'll find him, brother,” she muttered softly, “I swear to you I will.”

 

Finally, she leaned down, kissed the top of his tomb, and turned to leave, an empty bottle of sake swinging in her hands.

 

As she walked back to the car, the only thing that came into her mind were Captain Aizen's shoes… how worn they had looked… so overused, so beaten, and yet so comfortable.

 

So used, in fact, that the rubbery traction had worn off immensely, showing the very lowest point where the rubber was inevitably connected to the sole of the shoe… sewn on by a resident of the Swiss Alps.

 

Those rubber bottoms… and the dried, red, marks inside of them.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

Ichigo tapped his pen on the side of his table and checked his clock for the fiftieth time that hour.

 

Four twenty seven.

 

Four twenty seven! And Rukia was still nowhere to be found.

 

Ichigo continued tapping his pen viciously against the side of his desk, completely neglecting that paperwork that sat before him. Damn it… damn her… damn the stupid clock. Clocks weren't always right. It could be lying to him, maybe his battery had broken or something.

 

He craned his head to look at the clock on the precinct wall.

 

Four twenty eight.

 

Aha, Ichigo whispered mentally, I knew it was lying to me, oh… never mind. Damn it.

 

But where the hell was she? She said she was supposed to be back by three, three had long since passed and she still wasn't back. What was taking her so long to get a simple signature? Aizen was probably keeping her longer than expected, probably talking her to death with some lame ass story about responsibility and duty. Probably trying to convince her to stay with the two eight just a bit longer… just until they were able to find a suitable place for Momo Hinamori and then she could have her old job back.

 

Her old job and her old partner.

 

Abarai.

 

Ichigo snarled at the thought. Who knew what those two—Aizen and Rukia—were cooking up at this very moment. They were probably planning to take her away from him and stick him with Momo Hinamori. He shuddered inwardly, god forbid that should ever happen. He just wouldn't be able to deal with someone who didn't have an attitude with the consistency of barbed wire and a touch as soft as an angel.

 

No, he definitely could not have a switch in partners right now. Not when things were getting so good between him and Rukia.

 

And he didn't mean just sexually—although that was one of the best parts of their entire relationship. They were also getting to know more about each other as people. It all accumulated into quite nice pillow talk, especially after they had just dozed from an especially exhausting period of physical exertion.

 

She would tell him about her family—what was left of it anyway—of her exploits with Renji when they were growing up—he tried not to be jealous—her trials at the academy, and she even alluded to her childhood a few times. Never too much though. He knew the subject was painful for her so he tried his best to hold her tighter whenever she mentioned something about one of the foster parents she had stayed with or one of the foster brothers and sisters who hadn't “made it.”

 

Ichigo then took it upon himself to tell her about himself, his arms wrapped around her small form, hugging her tightly as he skin rubbed against his. He'd tell her about his sisters and what he remembered of his mother and father, he'd tell her about his own years at the academy, his friends, his tried-and-failed partners, and his family traditions he kept with his sisters.

 

After that they'd talk about anything. Literature, movies, television, recent cases, politics… anything they wanted to talk about was said and once they were finished they either slipped peacefully into sleep or began to roam each other's bodies again, ready to touch and taste and feel like they always did.

 

Things were not, however, dull in his relationship with Rukia Kuchiki. Yes, they had sex at every possible time and kissed each other like there was no tomorrow whenever they were given a few minutes alone… but it was never the same, never perfunctory, never dull. Making love to Rukia Kuchiki was akin to walking outside in the midst of a hurricane. Everything was swirling around you all at once, eliciting feelings you never knew you had, sensations you never knew you could muster, all pounding together until the inevitable release, when the winds died down and the aftermath of what you had just experienced left you cold and panting in the bed.

 

Sex with Rukia was a force unto itself… and truthfully… Ichigo didn't know how he had gone so long without it. Granted, he hadn't been the one to refuse in the first place, she had been the one who kept spouting all the bull shit about some fucking line… but who was he to judge? She was with him now and nothing was going to change that for a very long time. At least, not if he had anything to say about it.

 

Ichigo leaned forward at his desk and absentmindedly pulled up a solitaire game on his computer. Now if only Rukia would come back… then they could both leave in exactly thirty two minutes and satiate that hunger growing inside of him.

 

“My, my, my… seeing Ichigo Kurosaki in thought… never expected to see that happen.”

 

Ichigo's head snapped up as a familiar voice penetrated his self-induced depression. Quickly, he swiveled his head to the side and blinked twice, just to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him.

 

The woman in front of him grinned toothily, “How ya doing Kurosaki?”

 

Ichigo's jaw dropped three inches and she laughed, placing her palm on the side of his desk and leaning slightly. “Come on, you're not even gonna say hi?”

 

“Tatsuki!” He choked, standing up almost immediately, his legs working jerkily against the seat of his chair, pushing it back almost to the wall of the precinct.

 

She grinned at him again, “In the flesh.”

 

Tatsuki Arisawa, Ichigo's former partner, was now standing right in front of him.

 

He and she had been partner for nearly three years before Tatsuki had decided to strike out on her own and become a private investigator in a city four hours from where Ichigo worked. But the times that had been together had been wild. They were both fairly green in the experience department and they learned off of one another on how to become better cops and detectives, they collared perps together, ate dinner at each others houses frequently, and they had even introduced each other to their respective families. They had been close friends as well as dynamic partners. By the time Tatsuki wanted out he and she were the best pair in the entire precinct. He had practically begged her not to go but she had insisted, saying that with the chemo treatments her mother needed a detective's salary just wouldn't cut it, so she moved. At first she and Ichigo tried to keep in touch, but with work being so hectic and their lives being a jumbled mess, the two had fallen out of step and just forgotten to call.

 

But now she was here. His friend and his very first partner.

 

Not one for spontaneous displays of affection, even Ichigo was surprised when he grinned right back at the lanky, short-haired girl in front of him and reached out to pull her into a large bear-hug.

 

The door to the precinct clacked in the distance.

 

“Whoa, whoa… easy there big guy,” Tatsuki said laughingly, pulling back a bit and planting a kiss on Ichigo's cheek, “How've you been?”

 

Ichigo released his former partner and shook his head, “No wonder I didn't recognize the sound of your voice, you've grown an accent since the last time I saw you.”

 

The woman grinned, “Ya like it? I think it gives me a homier touch.”

 

Ichigo shook his head and couldn't help but smile, “It's nice to see you again Tatsuki… what has it been, two—three?—years?”

 

“Two and a half you big oaf.” She chastised jokingly, still chuckling, she looked behind her and then back at Ichigo, “So what, are ya gotten let me sit down?”

 

“Oh, right, yeah… take a seat.” He said, motioning to the chair that Rukia usually occupied.

 

Tatsuki didn't give it a second thought and she plopped down directly on it. She grimaced for a moment and muttered, “These chairs haven't lost their comfortable touch, have they?”

 

Ichigo shook his head, “Still shitty as ever.”

 

“I remember having to take so much medication just to get my back to stop hurting.” She grumbled, twisting around in her seat, attempting to find a comfortable position in which to sit. “Damn I miss my own chair.”

 

“I'll bet you have a nice and cushy one over there,” Ichigo sighed and muttered, “Becoming a private detective in such a large city… Christ…”

 

Tatsuki stuck her tongue out at him and shrugged, “Hey, just because I've got a leather seat doesn't mean you have to be all jealous.”

 

“Of course it does,” he countered ruefully, reaching across his desk and grabbing a can of soda. “What do they pay you over there anyway?”

 

Tatsuki whistled and shook her head, “Vindictive wives and suspicious husbands will pay anything I want them to pay if I just get them what they want; and most of the time all I have to do is just snap a couple of photos and… poof.” She raised her fingers slightly and made a motion like capturing a picture with a camera.

 

“Lazy bitch.”

 

“Don't knock it till you've tried it Kurosaki.” She sneered, leaning back in the chair and wincing slightly.

 

Ichigo cleared his throat and checked the clock on the side wall. Four thirty seven. Damn, where the hell was Rukia?

 

“So,” he said conversationally, twisting away from the clock and turning his full attention to his former partner, “What brings you into town on this cold January night?” He grinned at her and watched as she rolled her eyes.

 

“Still not one for small talk. You never change, and never will, you know that Kurosaki?” She shook her head and continued to shift in her seat. “Actually, I'm here on business. Some wealthy client of mine wants me to tail her husband to a private motel somewhere in the upper-class side.”

 

“Hooker?”

 

“Apparently some type of escort service chick who think's this guy is her ticket out.” Tatsuki said in a bored voice before looking back at Ichigo. “Usually I do stake outs alone but…”

 

One of Ichigo's eyebrows slid upwards on his face. “But…?” He said, egging her on until she said it.

 

Tatsuki sighed and rolled her head back, “But I was wondering if you'd like to come with.”

 

“On a stake out?” Ichigo asked incredulously as Tatsuki nodded.

 

“Come on Kurosaki,” she said, leaning forward and prodding him in the elbows, “It's not like we've never been on stake-outs before, they can be fun.”

 

Ichigo swallowed and glanced at the clock once again, hoping that Tatsuki wouldn't notice. Damn, four forty three. Where was Rukia? And why wasn't she here already? Ichigo's mind chewed on for a moment when he thought of his options: go home with Rukia and have mind blowing sex on some type of flat surface… or go on a stake out with his ex-partner.

 

Should he tell her? Would she get angry with him? Would she—what the hell was he thinking? Rukia was a grown woman, she could take care of herself, she didn't need him to check up on her at every minute of everyday. Besides, she could get one night of peace and he could get one night with his friend. It was a win-win situation.

 

Ichigo jerked his head up and down in the semblance of a nod, “Yeah,” he said softly, then gaining strength, “Yeah, why not?”

 

Tatsuki beamed at him. “That's great Ichigo; I've been wanting to catch up with you. Maybe we could even go for an early dinner before we start the stake-out?” Her voice indicated her statement was a question but Ichigo knew from experience that it was a demand.

 

He sighed and nodded his head, “Sure, I know this great little Italian place, if you're interested.”

 

Tatsuki wrinkled her nose and stood, “I don't know, I was thinking something more along the lines of Mexican.”

 

Ichigo shrugged again, “I guess so.”

 

“Great,” Tatsuki shifted her jacket on her shoulders and motioned for Ichigo to get up, “Come on, Kenpachi won't mind if you clock out a bit early, but then again, he's probably still the same tight-assed, freakishly large—oh, hello.”

 

Ichigo glanced up and felt his heart stop in his chest.

 

“Hello.” Rukia said, her voice devoid of any and all emotions ever known to man.

 

Silence dominated the moment as Tatsuki Arisawa stared at Rukia Kuchiki, while Ichigo Kurosaki stood there like an interrupting bystander.

 

It was strange, seeing the two of them face to face—well, not exactly, seeing as how Tatsuki was taller than Rukia, but then again, who wasn't?—former partner with new partner, friend and flame.

 

Rukia simply blinked at Tatsuki, her eyes never moving away from their desired target. Tatsuki, in turn, stared right back, not to be daunted by the unsuspected presence of one so vertically insignificant.

 

Thankfully, it was Rukia who made the first move, apparently after noticing that Ichigo had lost the gift of communication. She held out her hand and offered a frosty grimace; it was only after a moment that Ichigo realized she was trying to smile.

 

“Rukia Kuchiki,” she said in a voice clear as church bells, “I'm Detective Kurosaki's partner.”

 

Recognition dawned on Tatsuki's face as she grasped Rukia's hand and looked from her to Ichigo, a smile appearing quite rapidly on her features. She turned back to Rukia and said, “Nice to meet you. So you're the one who now has the unfortunate task of dealing with Ichigo Kurosaki?”

 

“I'm afraid so,” Rukia answered grimly, staring as Tatsuki pumped her hand up and down far more times than she was supposed to.

 

“I'm Tatsuki Arisawa, Ichigo's old partner,” she released Rukia's hand and jerked her head over to his, “We were just going out to grab a quick bite then go on a stake-out, that okay with you?”

 

Rukia's eyes never left Tatsuki's face as she spoke, “Well, he doesn't need my permission.” She broke eye contact and stepped over to her side of the desk, shifting through the papers that Ichigo had attempted to fill out and file.

 

“We're going to go check out a guy who might be cheating on his wife,” Ichigo blurted, finally finding his vocal cords.

 

Rukia didn't look up, “That's fine. I'm sure you two will have fun.”

 

Silence again. Ichigo paused and glanced at Tatsuki, who twisted her face into an irritated expression then pointed at Rukia. He glanced up at Tatsuki once more just in time to see her mouth the word, “Ice.”

 

This time, Ichigo didn't disagree. He nodded in the direction of his former partner and said, “I'll be out in a second Tatsuki, I just need to grab my coat.”

 

“Alright,” she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and shrugging her way towards the door to the precinct.

 

Ichigo waited until she was outside before he turned to Rukia. She was sitting at their desk, shifting around some papers while correcting some mistakes he had made. Her coat was off and her semi-low cut shirt showed him a large amount of creamy skin… but not enough that any other man would look at her with any more interest than he should. And even if they had… Ichigo would have beaten their face in.

 

“She's my old partner.” He said lamely, inching forward just a bit.

 

Rukia didn't look up, “That's fine.”

 

They were quiet for a moment. Ichigo tapped his foot softly before sitting down in his chair and leaning his upper body across the top. “Rukia…” he said softly.

 

She still didn't look up.

 

Ichigo frowned crossly. “Rukia.” He said, more insistently this time.

 

She shuffled some more papers, “Yes?” She said softly.

 

Ichigo sighed; sometimes… talking to this woman was like talking to a wall. “Could you just look at me for a second?” He asked.

 

She growled quietly and jerked her head up. Ichigo gulped when he felt the full force of her violet eyes burning into his. “Yes?” She demanded. “Did you want something else?”

 

Ichigo frowned, “It's nothing, Rukia… we're just grabbing a quick bite and going on a stake-out. It's nothing to get all excited about.” Or jealous, his mind added nastily. Ichigo beat that part of his brain back and told it to shut up. He knew for a fact that Rukia Kuchiki didn't get jealous.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Ichigo, I know that. Please, come on…” She flicked her eyes from one end of the precinct to the other before leaning forward and quirking an eyebrow. “Listen, I'm not your girlfriend and I'm not your guard dog, you can do whatever you want, I really don't care.”

 

Unbeknownst to Rukia, Ichigo's heart stung at her words. Didn't he deserve a bit more than an `I really don't care'? After all, they had been sleeping with each other for well over two weeks now… sure that wasn't really a lot of time but he thought he should get more than just… well, that.

 

She waved her hand at him and bid him to go, “Don't worry, I'll probably just go home and sleep. It'll be a relief after all of our… exertions these past couple of weeks.”

 

Ichigo nodded slowly and began to rise, a heavy feeling plopping in the center of his chest. “Alright,” he said, his tone icier than he had meant it to be, “I'll call you later tonight, maybe around nine.”

 

“You don't need to.” She said, her eyes drifting back to her desk.

 

“I'm going to.” Ichigo reasserted.

 

Rukia sighed, shrugged, shook her head, and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk. Ichigo pursed his lips and nodded once more at her, even though he knew she wasn't looking, and began to walk away. At the door to the precinct he turned back and stared at Rukia, her head was low to the desk, her hair slightly covering her face. She was working diligently, once in a while popping her head up and clicking on the computer.

 

Ichigo swallowed softly and distantly knew that Tatsuki was waiting for him.

 

The moment he left, Rukia lifted her head and watched his bright orange head disappear into the darkening afternoon sky.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

Ichigo squirmed in the seat next to Tatsuki and cursed for the fiftieth time.

 

She looked over at him in annoyance and growled, “If you're going to be miserable you shouldn't have come.”

 

Ichigo shook his head and glanced out the window, watching as a non-conspicuous couple entered into the swanky hotel at their right. “I'm not miserable, just bored.”

 

“There's another reason you'll never become a P.I. Kurosaki,” Tatsuki said smartly, “You have no patience.”

 

Ichigo frowned at her, “I don't remember you having any patience when I you were stuck as my partner either.”

 

“Of course not,” she retaliated, “But in order to be good at this job you need to have a vast amount of willpower and tolerance, which, of course, you don't possess.”

 

“Do we have to sit here all night talking about my faults?” Ichigo inquired nastily.

 

“What else do we have to talk about?” She asked, positioning her camera to the edge of the cracked window. “We've covered what each of us have been doing for the past three years, we've talked about family, friends, life in general… your faults are the only thing left.” She shrugged and grinned at him, “Besides, your imperfections are so numerous that we could spend hours on the topic.”

 

“Shut up.” He growled.

 

“What's got you all outta whack, huh Kurosaki?” She snorted, snapping a few photos of some random people coming into the hotel. She cursed for a moment when they weren't who she wanted and kept her eyes trained on the entrance on the revolving door. She sighed in an irritated fashion but continued to talk to her former partner. “Is it Kenpachi?”

 

Ichigo shook his head, “No, not Kenpachi, although that fucker is getting more irritating by the day.”

 

“A perp then?” She ventured, “Someone piss you off during an interrogation?”

 

“Not that either.” He ground out, getting tired of her questions.

 

Tatsuki rounded on him and brought a hand out to slap him on the side of the head, “Would you just tell me already?” She snarled, “I'm getting tired of this intrinsic bullshit.”

 

“You know what,” Ichigo countered hotly, “It's none of your fucking business.”

 

“It's a girl isn't it?” Tatsuki demanded, her voice harsh and grating; and Ichigo couldn't help but notice how much she sounded like a jealous girlfriend rather than a furious friend.

 

“And if it is?” He snapped, folding his arms in front of him like a two-year-old.

 

“Then you need to tell me about it damn it,” she cried, punching him hard in the shoulder, “Come on Ichigo, I don't want to spend the night with you if you're going to be all pissy, so just tell me about it so you can go back to your regular scowling.”

 

Ichigo glowered at her and shifted in his seat, determined to look out of the window for as long as possible and ignore Tatsuki's demand that he actually talk to her. She sighed angrily and plopped back into her seat, angrily jabbing her thumb at the radio buttons as she tried to find some acceptable music to play.

 

Ichigo didn't know why she thought he would be any different. She knew that he hated opening up to people, especially his friends… he didn't like to show weakness and they knew it, asking him to open up was like asking him to remove his own kidney while he was still conscious. He wouldn't do it. He wasn't going to. He hated—

 

“Please?”

 

Silence dominated the air for well over five minutes.

 

“Her name is Rukia, you know, the woman you met at the precinct…”

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

He didn't call.

 

She didn't wait. No… she didn't wait. She wasn't waiting. She'd never wait for him to call like she was some type of abandoned girlfriend or whatnot. She just happened to be up until well after nine o'clock… sitting beside the phone with a few files she wasn't paying attention to resting in her lap.

 

At least, that's what she was telling her mind to believe right about now.

 

Cursing for what seemed like the fiftieth time; Rukia picked up her small glass of red wine and emptied it in one swig. First the sake and now the wine… two alcoholic drinks for her in one day, she was on a roll.

 

Rukia shrugged her shoulders and rocked her head to the side, feeling the muscles in her neck loosen and most of the stress within her slip out of her body.

 

Her eyes caught sight of the phone.

 

Damn, the stress was back.

 

Groaning, Rukia rubbed the back of her neck and tried to tell the nerves in her body to stop working. She just wanted to shut down, just for a night… she wanted to forget about Ichigo and her work and the newest files sitting in her lap. She just wanted to get rid of all of it.

 

Rukia growled hotly and wondered if she should just get another glass of wine… or maybe the whole body… drink it and pass out.

 

She'd like that. Maybe she'd wake up with a hangover and not remember what had happened today. Maybe she'd forget that girl who had showed up looking for Ichigo. Maybe she'd forget how the girl had kissed Ichigo on the cheek after she hugged him. Maybe she'd forget all about that disgusting sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach the moment she saw that woman sitting in her desk and talking to her partner.

 

Well, even if it wasn't technically her desk… yet.

 

There was one thing she was certain about though, she thought rashly, she never wanted to feel that damn sensation ever again. Ever.

 

She also wanted to forget about the files sitting on her desk. The files she had to coerce out of the hands of a forty two-year-old, single, fat, balding man down in the information room. She had to try and smile at him as she twirled a lock of her hair and tilted her hips slightly to the side. She had to tell him that she was planning a small party for her former captain and she wanted to look up some of his old cop buddies. She had to give him her phone number on a tiny slip of paper and hand it to him before she could get what she wanted.

 

Granted she wrote the wrong phone number… but that wasn't the point.

 

Rukia felt a thudding growing in her heart as she looked down at the papers on her lap. She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't. It had been right here.

 

But… but… it couldn't be. She wouldn't believe it. Not until she had hard evidence in the palm of her hand.

 

It was just the photo. The damn photo that was making her heart squeeze out of panic and her stomach turn to ice.

 

Rukia blinked and looked down at it once again. There he was, her former captain. He looked about fifteen years younger and was smiling handsomely. The photo was splotchy but she could still make out every grinning face.

 

Sosuke Aizen was in the center, wearing a street cops' blue uniform, his arms wrapped around the necks of two other people, also wearing police uniforms.

 

Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen.