Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Playing With Fire ( Chapter 16 )

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

 

(A/N: I'm so sorry for the late update! *Shields body from angry glares* I really am! I have no excuses but I just really want to say that I'll try and be more vigilant with my updates… so please don't kill me. ;)

Another thing, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE!!! I have 100+ reviews! I couldn't believe it! It was completely amazing. I actually did a little countdown thing and when 07janina07 became my 100th reviewer I almost fainted.

I'm almost crying now. Sniffle. You do not know how much this means to me! I love you all!

Please enjoy this chapter. And… um… please don't kill me when you read the ending. *Grins sheepishly*

PLEASE ENJOY AND REVIEW—ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE YOU!!!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

Ichigo awoke to the painful feeling of burning lacerations down his back, throbbing bites on his lip, and a bruising ache on every surface of his genitals.

 

He shifted slightly and groaned as the parts of him that had been subjected to painful injury were moved. Damn, it felt like he was falling off, piece by piece whenever he budged even the slightest.

 

His skin brushed against something soft lying next to him. Warily, he cracked his eyes open and peered into the inky blackness of the room.

 

He saw her body resting beside him in the darkness of the room. She was lying on her stomach, her face turned towards him as she slept fitfully. Her face was frowning and she was making small noises of discomfort as she twitched next to him. Her skin was illuminated in the ebony air and Ichigo's eyes slid up the curve of her spine and then to her delicate shoulders. Her shining locks fell over them and blended in almost completely to the darkened night.

 

She grimaced in her sleep and he drew in a deep breath as he watched a shiver run through her spine and over her body. Gentle goose bumps rose on her arms and Ichigo frowned immediately. Silently, he reached down to the discarded covers on the bed and pulled them up. They covered her body and he watched her shift slightly; her arms were crumpled underneath herself and she slowly scrunched herself in tighter.

 

Ichigo shook his head softly and slowly wrapped his arms under her waist and pulled her towards him, he winced as the injured skin on his back stretched but he ignored it, careful to keep his mind only trained on her.

 

She sighed gently as her body connected with his and his warm heat seeped into her. Ichigo wrapped his hands around her back and locked her to him. He could now feel her heart beating against his. He could see the tired, purple shadows under his eyes. He could see her slightly injured lip—he raised his hand and ran his thumb over the bottom one, feeling the small slit on her delicate skin. He furrowed his brow and sighed when he remembered that he was the one who had done that to her.

 

Her arms were pressed against his chest; her fingers splayed and resting softly as she continued to sleep unsteadily.

 

Ichigo looked down at her silently, feeling the heavy weight of what had occurred between them rest on his shoulders.

 

He had felt her pain and anger as she slammed him to her and kissed him, bit him, and scratched him beyond the extent of their normal love making. He had heard every one of her demands—both spoken and unspoken—as he took her violently on the bed he was now sleeping in. He had felt her body shaking once they were finished. He had realized that she was attempting to bottle up every emotion she was feeling.

 

He now knew that their combative sexual session was her way of communicating that something was wrong and that she wanted desperately to tell him but… she just couldn't… not yet.

 

Ichigo reached down and drew up her hand, entwining her fingers as he pulled them up and kissed each one. He rubbed his nose against them and sighed into her palm, his hot breath leaving a path of moisture in its wake.

 

He wanted so badly for her to trust him. If she would just tell him that what happening… he knew that both of them would feel like a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. Hell, one would definitely be gone from his heart. He would be released of the burden of distrust and she would be liberated from the pain and suffering she was feeling.

 

He continued caressing her fingers and paused for a moment on the third tiny digit of her left hand, rolling it slightly between his as she slept. For a moment he wondered what it would be like if she had a single band of unmarred gold slipped around this finger. Just a simple band to match the one that would be on his own finger. Would she have been different around him? Would she trust him more? Would she smile?

 

Ichigo watched her as she mumbled softly in her sleep and curled her tiny hand around his. He grinned softly as she blinked open her eyes and blearily looked around to see where she was.

 

He saw her eyes connect with his face and trail down his unclothed body, down to the point where the blanket covered their lower-halves. He watched her as she looked back up and examined his face. He saw her frown slightly and felt her arms move from their position between their bodies. Her hands appeared by his face and gently moved over the three cuts on his mouth and then lower to trace the scratches her nails had made. His gaze followed that of her hands and she rested them on his chest.

 

He heard her sigh softly and then felt her forehead press against the solid muscle of his chest.

 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered.

 

Ichigo drew in a deep breath and brought her body closer to his. “It's okay.”

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head against him, her hair lightly tickling him, “It's not.” She raised her eyes to his, “I'm sorry for everything.”

 

“There's nothing to be sorry about.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don't worry about it.”

 

She snorted softly, shook her head, and answered sarcastically. “Yeah, because I'm not one to worry.”

 

“You know what I mean.” He said, his hands running across the planes of her back. “Just… Christ, Rukia…” he paused and bent his head so he could look down at her, unbidden concern etched in his eyes, “What in the world made you do that?”

 

She didn't say anything and just buried her face in his chest.

 

“Rukia,” Ichigo said softly, “Don't… don't do that.”

 

“Ichigo,” she murmured, “I can't.”

 

His voice constricted in his throat. “Can't or won't?” He asked her.

 

“Ichigo,” she shook her head, her hair whispering into his face, “Please… it's not—it's not really… safe.”

 

That caught Ichigo's attention.

 

He placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back gently. She tried to cling to him and keep pressing her face into his chest but he ended up pulling her away. Her chest was naked and Ichigo had to remind himself that they were indeed having a serious conversation and this was not the best time to be staring at her breasts. His eyes met hers and he stared into them deeply.

 

His face was stern and scowling as he ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the goose bump rise, although whether it was from apprehension or his touch he had no idea.

 

She looked away from him almost shamefully. Ichigo frowned at her face and brought his hand up under her chin, tilting her face upwards so she would be forced to meet his gaze.

 

His voice was deadly serious, belying the tender heat of his body or the gentleness of his touch. “Rukia,” he said in his deep voice, “If something dangerous is going on you need to tell me.”

 

She snorted sullenly, “No I don't.”

 

He jerked her shoulders just a bit and she glared at him, all traces of her former remorse gone from her voice. His eyes narrowed just a bit but she didn't move away. She almost seemed determined to stare him down.

 

Ichigo drew in a deep breath and shook his head; he hadn't wanted to play this card. He stared at her and said slowly, “As a person, you're right, you don't have to tell me anything. As a lover, you're right again. And I'm guessing what I want you to say is not considered proper pillow talk.”

 

“Damn straight.” She muttered and opened her mouth to speak again when Ichigo silenced her.

 

“I wasn't finished.” He cut her off and she glared at him, his hands ran up her arms again and her furious expression almost vanished. “But,” he continued, “As your partner and fellow detective… you've got to tell me everything you know.”

 

Rukia's eyes widened and she slid slightly away from him. “That's low.”

 

He shrugged, “I know. But if that's the only way then…”

 

“Then maybe I'll just transfer back to the two eight and—and…” Her words caught in her throat and the muscles in her form tightened instantaneously. Ichigo noted the change with a furrow of his brow and a slight lean of his body.

 

“Rukia…” he murmured, “What is it?”

 

She was silent for a full minute before she shook her head feverishly and disentangled her limbs from his. He tried to catch her in order to pull her back and demand that she tell him what the hell was going on, but she was too quick and before he could blink she was walking across the room to her bathroom door. He watched as she grabbed her bathrobe from a peg on the back, slipped her hands through the silk arms, and fastened the knot around her tiny waist.

 

She turned to him and drew in a deep, shaky, breath. “I-I'm going to go make tea… or something like that.” With that, she twisted towards the door and exited. Ichigo listened to her footsteps for a minute in disbelief. Had she just… she was walking out… what?

 

Cursing, he threw the covers off of his naked body and grabbed his discarded jeans. Pulling them up to his cut waist, he frowned and drew in a deep breath. She must be carrying something heavy for her to be acting like she was. Hell, it wasn't everyday that Rukia Kuchiki was so rattled she avoided speaking up until the point of running away.

 

His soft jeans were caressing the skin on his legs as he moved into the kitchen. He could hear the clinking rattle of pots and pans as Rukia shifted around the room, cursing lightly as she tried to locate tea bags. Ichigo simply leaned against the threshold frame and watched.

 

She was reaching for cups while the water heated when she breathed in deeply and said, “I broke into Sosuke Aizen's house today.”

 

Ichigo's expression stayed neutral. “Of course, and I had a lunch date with the Tooth Fairy.”

 

“I went around his house and up to his study.” She said, completely ignoring him. “I went to his desk and tried to open his computer but I didn't have enough time to figure out the right password. So I went looking through his desk drawers.” She turned to him and swallowed with difficulty. “He has a very nice desk,” her voice was hoarse, “Its mahogany, a very deep brown, almost red actually.”

 

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly and his body began to build in tension as he realized that this was no joke.

 

“I found—in the last drawer, left side—a false bottom. There were small packets of cocaine in it, there only enough in each for one high but there were about twenty of them. I took a sample.”

 

Ichigo took a step forward, his eyes wider than before.

 

Her body coiled as he came closer but she continued. “I stood up and I looked across the room. A-above the doorframe was a very old k-katana on a small support… thing. I took a sample of the rust on it as well.”

 

He was shaking his head, his mouth was open, and his face was filled with shock.

 

“I snuck into the three one and gave the samples for Orihime to examine. I told her to do it off the record because it was just something important to me. Then I left without speaking to you and came here.”

 

“Rukia,” he breathed.

 

“I've been going over Aizen's files that I conned from the records office.” She was shaking visibly as she turned to him and said, “Did you know that he did a stint in narcotics working undercover? Once he was pulled out he had to go into rehab because of an addition to crack cocaine. He told his commanding officer that the dealers had made him take it so they didn't find him at fault.”

 

He came over to her and grasped her by the elbows, feeling her trembling as she kept talking.

 

“Did you also know,” she blanched, “That he spent five years trying to crack down on the dealers of black market antiques? The items mostly disappear when they're traveling from one museum to another and it was Aizen led the task force on finding them. He dealt mostly in ancient Japanese antiquities, like—like swords.”

 

He grasped her tightly to his chest and held her as she shook. He tucked her head soothingly beneath his chin and rubbed her back, her skin had warmed it but Ichigo knew for a fact that she felt nothing but cold right now.

 

Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her face to his chest. Her eyes were dry but glazed as she clung to him. She tried to focus clearly on the thudding of his heart and the gentle thumping in her ear drum. Oddly enough, it was calming her, this sense of being beside him and listening to him simply be alive. It was comforting her entire essence and making her feel like she was safe, secure, and utterly stable.

 

His hands continued rubbing between her shoulders as he whispered into her hair, “Rukia… fuck, do you know what you've done?”

 

She chuckled dryly and closed her eyes against the bare skin of his muscular front. Her breath leaving a soft trail of moisture on the fine hairs.

 

Ichigo grasped her tighter, “Not to mention how many laws—and ethical codes of conduct—you've broken.”

 

“Don't forget an amendment,” Rukia sighed, placing her ear directly in front of Ichigo's heart. The soft beating was enough to set her soul at ease. However, the beat was faster than it should have been, Rukia contemplated looking up and seeing his face… but she couldn't, not now.

 

“That's right, the fourth.” He laughed, although his laugh didn't sound happy or even humorous, it was nervous and resulted in the tightening of his arms around her.

 

She breathed in shakily, her nerves still not ready to stop panicking. “It all fits Ichigo.”

 

She heard—and felt—his heartbeat quicken. “Don't say that.”

 

“But it does.”

 

“I know… I know…”

 

“But he's—”

 

“I know.”

 

“How could he even—?”

 

“I know.”

 

Rukia bit her bottom lip and ran her tongue over the small incision she felt near the bottom. She swallowed fitfully and heard her teapot begin to screech on the stove. She didn't want to let go of Ichigo but letting her home burn down was not a viable option either. Sighing softly, she released her hands from his back and slowly moved away from him. She was not the only one reluctant to release her hold either, Ichigo's hands lingered on her body as she turned to the stove and grabbed the handle of the pot. As she poured the tea his fingers ran over the tops of her shoulders, the middle of her back, and the sides of her hips. He didn't seem to want to lose contact with her, even for a single second.

 

She shifted and handed one of the cups to Ichigo. He took it and grasped her vacant hand in his. Gently, he tugged her towards the empty kitchen table and took the seat out when she began to sit. He sat down next to her and discreetly sipped his steaming tea.

 

They sat in silence without so much as another word about their troubling situation or the information that Rukia had just disclosed. They simply sat, drinking hot tea, until their cups were empty and the air was heavy with unanswered questions.

 

Rukia was the first to break the long stream of quiet.

 

“It fits… Ichigo. It all fits.” She whispered.

 

“It's not like anyone would suspect him either,” he murmured in response, bringing a hand up to run it through his unruly hair. “I mean, he's a captain.” He shot her a defensive look and muttered, “Hypothetically, of course.”

 

“I don't know if he even has an alibi.” Rukia said as she placed a trembling hand near her temple. “For any of them.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Hypothetically speaking.”

 

Ichigo looked up at her and shook his head, “But we don't know, okay? We don't.”

 

She was silent.

 

“He doesn't seem to have any reason to want them dead,” Ichigo reasoned, his voice tense and realistic, “There seems to be no motive for these crimes and even if it was Aizen I just can't see why he would want to kill some of his best detectives.”

 

“Maybe they were onto something.” Rukia said softly, “Maybe they found something he didn't want to get out. Maybe the first two m-murders were to cover something up and the others were… pleasure killings.” She raised her eyes to his. “You know how serial killers are, they escalate. They get more violent the more they kill.”

 

“But the killings stopped after Nanao Ise,” Ichigo told her just as softly, “She was the last victim and that was well over a few months ago. Not to mention the style of the killings, if anything, decreased after the murder of your brother.”

 

Rukia nodded and swallowed painfully as Ichigo continued. “But let's say this is true… your brother was a very perceptive man and he didn't trust anyone.” He tapped his bare foot against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “If he found something out about his own captain there would have been a reason to want him dead.”

 

“Matsumoto was carrying a package the night she died,” Rukia whispered, “Maybe she was killed to stop the message from being relayed. She could have found something that one of her girls picked up from the crime scene before we got there. It could have been something Aizen wanted to hide.”

 

“Do you know what you're brother was working on before he died?” Ichigo asked.

 

“The death of a museum owner.” She answered automatically.

 

Their eyes rose and met each other's slowly. Fear and disbelief were etched in each iris.

 

“Shit.” Ichigo breathed, he ran another hand through his hair, making it stick up even further. “You said you sent those samples to Orihime today?”

 

“Yes.” She answered, her fingers toying with the tag on her teabag.

 

“I'll see if she can get that done faster.” He raised his head and looked around for a clock, his eyes fell on one immediately but annoyingly told him that it was already past eleven at night. Once again, his hand went through his hair. “We'll go see her in the morning.”

 

Rukia nodded and reached for his teacup. She took them to the sink and set them inside. Ichigo was beside her as soon as she was turned around. She was still shaking badly and he knew that she was nervous, afraid, and downright exhausted from the physical and emotional trials of the day.

 

Slowly, he took her hands in his and led her back to her bed. He pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the mouth before whispering to her to put some pajama's on. She did and he followed suit, slipping out of his jeans and pulling on his boxer shorts. Once she was dressed in a silken shirt and a small pair of underwear she set her alarm clock and slid into bed. Ichigo was directly beside her and as soon as she was in between the gossamer sheets he pulled her to him. She was situated now, her front to his front, her head tucked neatly under his chin, their bodies as close as could be and the sheets drawn up to their shoulders.

 

Rukia was on the verge of a deep slumber when she sighed softly and whispered, “I love it when you hold me like this.” Her arms wrapped around his waist and she breathed contentedly.

 

Ichigo, who had nearly dozed off himself, was roused by her softly spoken—but completely audible—words. He held her a bit tighter and murmured, “Why?” Desperately hoping that she would hear and answer him.

 

She snuggled her face closer to his naked chest, the silk of her night shirt rubbing against him comfortably. “Because when… when you hold me… like this, all the evil in the world… doesn't exist…”

 

With that Rukia Kuchiki fell silent, her breathing was even and her eyes were closed softly, there was no trace of unrest or of trouble. Only peace.

 

Ichigo wondered, as she dozed into a restful slumber, if—subconsciously—she could hear how quickly his heart was beating.

 

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

 

Rukia opened the door to the medical examiner's office and Ichigo followed close behind. Rukia's throat was tight and her heart was fluttering harder than she had expected. Half of her wanted her to reach her hand back and grip Ichigo's but the other half of her told not to act like a needy, whiny, weak girl.

 

When they first caught sight of Orihime they saw that she was bending over another corpse, but when the two of them entered her eyes widened and she placed all of her tools to the side, completely disregarding the armless man on the table. In a moment her mask was off and she was rushing over to the both of them.

 

“Rukia!” She gasped, her eyes widening. Her hands shot forward and she gripped the detective's hands tightly. Rukia took a minute to marvel at the strength of Orihime's hands but realized that the woman dealt with corpses all day long and probably had to move heavy limbs every couple of minutes.

 

Ichigo came to Rukia's side and laid a hand on her shoulder. Unbeknownst to him, Rukia let out a small sigh and felt a tiny wave of relief wash over her.

 

“Rukia!” Orihime's eyes were worried and her lips were pursed into a tight line. “Where did you get… those things?” She ended on a whisper; she gripped the detective's fingers harder and asked again, “Where?”

 

“Orihime,” Rukia answered, her voice was low but clear as she swallowed once and drew in a deep breath. She closed her eyes, “Just tell me if they match.”

 

Ichigo's hand was on her shoulder and she could feel his fingers tensing around her.

 

Rukia opened her eyes and watched as Orihime nodded softly. There was unspeakable pain in the examiner's eyes as she said quietly, “The cocaine was a match to the samples taken from Nanao's crime scene and the rust from the blade was the same type that was in your brother's body.”

 

Silence dictated the room for a minute as Rukia stared at Orihime, Orihime stared back, and Ichigo stood beside them, his hand on his lover's shoulder.

 

It was only after a moment that Rukia sensed her throat constricting slowly, her mind was beginning to fuzz over, and her body felt like it was growing lighter by the second.

 

Suddenly, she was spun around and Ichigo was pressing her tightly into his chest. “Come on Rukia,” he murmured, “Come on… you gotta stay with me for a while longer. Just a while longer.”

 

The blackness that had been so strong around her eyes began to ebb away. Rukia drew in a deep breath of Ichigo's wonderful scent as she felt the muscles and tendons in her legs begin to work once again. She kept on breathing him in, needing his aroma to give her the strength she desired so urgently.

 

She could hear Orihime calling her name as Ichigo picked her up and carried her to the nearest chair he could find. Rukia didn't like the idea of being picked up by Ichigo while there might be others around to see, she didn't like the fact that she appeared weak, but she also didn't like the fact that her former boss murdered her brother and her coworker. So in the end it all balanced out.

 

A brown paper bag was shoved into her hands, Ichigo's fingers took her hand in his and he brought the bag to her mouth, she began to breathe gently. Ichigo's hand then went to her cheek as the bag puffed out and constricted repeatedly. His thumb caressed the tip of her cheekbone and she flicked her eyes towards him. Concern was written over his features and his eyes spelled nothing short of anxiety. Rukia's already oxygen deprived heart began to thump even more.

 

Angrily, she shook her head. This isn't the time for this! She snarled mentally.

 

“Rukia?” Fear was laced in Orihime's voice as she hovered above the two of them.

 

“She'll be alright, Orihime,” Ichigo said calmly, his voice belying the frowns on his face.

 

“Are you sure?” She asked nervously, clutching the folds of her scrubs and swallowing uneasily. “She almost passed out a minute ago!”

 

“It's okay Orihime,” Rukia murmured softly, her mouth moving away from the brown bag. “I'm fine.”

 

Ichigo shot her a hard look and pushed her hand—the one holding the bag—back towards her face. “Breathe.” He commanded.

 

Rukia glared at him, “I'm okay.”

 

“I know you are,” he answered shortly, “I just want to make sure that you're okay.”

 

She paused for a minute and shook her head, placing the paper bag closer to her mouth and drawing in a few more deep breaths. Ichigo watched her diligently as she did so; both seemed to have forgotten the presence of the anxious medical examiner.

 

Only after three more breaths she removed the bag and crushed it in her fists, not really caring if he wanted her to continue using it.

 

Gracelessly, she pressed her elbows into the tops of her knees and drew her head into her hands. “They match.” She said simply.

 

Ichigo nodded gravely. “It was right under our noses the entire time.”

 

Her eyes were wrought with pain and irritation as she snorted, “That's cliché.”

 

“But adequate.”

 

Rukia felt something brush her shoulder and she glanced up once again. It was Orihime… still standing and hovering above them. Rukia sighed softly and looked down once again. She knew that Orihime wanted to know what was going on. She wanted to know where Rukia had gotten the samples that matched some of the most gruesome crime scenes she had ever examined.

 

The female detective ran her hand through her hair. “Orihime…” she began.

 

“Yes?” The answer was too eager.

 

“We can't tell you what's going on.” She said bluntly, raising her head and staring directly into the red-head's eyes. She watched as Orihime's face fell and her gaze became completely crestfallen.

 

“Why?” She murmured in a soft voice.

 

Ichigo remained silent as Rukia continued, “If this goes to court we might get involved in a rather bloody legal battle, I don't want you to… well, to feel the need to perjure yourself… if it comes to that.”

 

Her eyes widened and she gasped, her bottom lip trembling, “Are you sure?”

 

Rukia nodded softly and then shook her head in disappointment. “I'm sorry, Inoue.”

 

There was a pregnant pause before Orihime let out a high, fake, laugh. “It's okay,” she giggled unconvincingly. “I-I wouldn't want to get sent to jail anyway!”

 

Rukia sighed, her face softening a bit, “Thank you for understanding.” She stood up and turned towards the exit. “This will all be finished soon.”

 

She walked swiftly towards the door and Ichigo followed suit, nodding at Orihime and thanking her one last time before following Rukia up the stairs and out into the main precinct room.

 

Ichigo swallowed and moved towards her shoulder, “Let's talk outside.” He said quietly.

 

She nodded and led the way. The wind was cold and brittle and Rukia zipped up the thin jacket she had covering her. Ichigo scrutinized her as she marched towards their unmarked car: her cheeks were pink—but whether that was from lack of air or simply the cold he didn't know—and her hair was waving around her face in tendrils. She would have looked beautiful if not for her heavy eyes and pinched brows.

 

After a moment Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “We'll make it work.”

 

“We can't make it work,” she spat out disgustedly, “I seized those items illegally, I broke the fourth amendment! He doesn't even know I was in his house!” She turned towards him and drew in a shuddering breath. “We can't make this work!”

 

He began to pace on the pavement, “Then we'll make another search! What about a stolen credit card or something? That gives ground for a search of an entire house; we can find something like that!”

 

“It won't make any difference!” She cried, swinging her arms emphatically. “He's got a solid record, nothing stolen, no parking tickets, no tax evasions… he's clean! There's nothing we can get him on!”

 

“Then we'll find a way to make him confess!” Ichigo told her, shaking her slightly.

 

Rukia's jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “Are you insane?” She screamed, jerking her shoulders angrily. “There's no fucking way he'd even think about doing that!”

 

“Then we need to think of another way to get him.” Ichigo snapped, “You can't just give up on this, the guy killed you brother for gods sake!”

 

“Don't you think I fucking know that?” She screamed, whirling around to face him. Her eyes were wild and her hair was whipping in the cold February wind. She brushed them away and shook her head, “Damn it Ichigo, if I knew how to get him I would be there in less than a second with a warrant and an injection needle.”

 

She turned away from him and pressed her hand to her heated forehead, her other to her hip; her body was now facing the wind. Her throat was swallowing convulsively and her shoulders kept tightening and then releasing sporadically.

 

Ichigo didn't know what to do. He simply stood there, watching her as her emotions roiled with fear, anger, hatred, and despair. His throat was tight and his brow furrowed as he simply stared at her.

 

How do you tell someone that their brother's killer might never be brought to justice? He thought hopelessly.

 

Silence encroached in the space between them.

 

“I'm not going to forget this.”

 

Ichigo lifted his head and looked at her. She was turned towards him now, her body rigid and her face hard.

 

He blinked once and frowned again, “I know you're not.”

 

“Byakuya's not going to be forgotten.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I will hound Aizen until he get's as much as a parking ticket.”

 

“We.” Ichigo said automatically.

 

Rukia's eyes found his. “What?”

 

He took a step forward. And then another. He didn't stop until he was directly in front of her. He placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, his fingers curling into her hair as she stared at him directly.

 

“I said,” he began, “`We.' There is no way in hell that you are doing this by yourself. We're partners, remember? And there is no fucking way that someone else will ever be with me. Got it?”

 

Rukia swallowed and looked into Ichigo's intense eyes. He was staring down at her as if challenging her to dare to refute what he had just said.

 

Half of her wanted to snip at him, asking him what would happen if she died, would he still partner up with her corpse? She wanted to poke him in the ribs and tell him to stop being an idiot and just walk away like nothing had happened. But… but… she just couldn't. Not with him looking at her like she was the most precious thing to him on this earth. He was looking at her like he alone was her protector and her guardian. He was looking like… looking like…

 

Like he loved her with all his heart.

 

Rukia nodded numbly and whispered, “Got it.”

 

She was just in time too, because the very next thing Ichigo did was sigh in relief and pull her up for a sweetly searing kiss.

 

It was gentle, the way he moved his mouth against hers this time… it was light and clear and engaging all at once. Rukia's arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her towards him and sighed softly as her lips parted beneath his softly insistent tongue.

 

He tasted her gingerly; as if he was afraid he would break her if he kissed her too forcefully. But she didn't mind, not so long as she still got to kiss him.

 

After a few minutes a car passed them on the street and honked its horn twice, a couple of teenagers hooted from the inside and Rukia chuckled lightly into Ichigo's mouth. Well we are making something of a scene.

 

He didn't seem to care though; he simply kept kissing her. Once he had made a very thorough exploration of her mouth his lips moved to place butterfly kisses over her lips and her cheeks. She returned then with equal gentleness and finally, after what seemed like pleasurable hours, they pulled away from each other, Ichigo's hands massaging her tense back while her fingers toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck.

 

As she stood there, rocking gently in his arms Rukia marveled at the way he still kissed her. Every time he placed his lips on hers—whether it be gentle and soft or hard and voracious—was like a completely new experience. A while back Rukia had wondered if he would ever grow bored simply kissing her—truth be told she still wondered—but from the ways he kissed her now she knew that he enjoyed kissing her as much as she enjoyed having him kiss her.

 

And honestly… she wanted him to kiss her like this for the rest of her life.

 

Ichigo slowly removed his hands from her back and sighed. Rukia almost whimpered at the loss of him against her but she knew better than to be too vocal about how much she wanted him.

 

“Come on,” he whispered, staring down at her, “Let's find something to nail Aizen.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved away from her. They walked back into the precinct quietly and sat down at their desk quickly. Rukia soon booted her computer and began to pull up any file she had accrued from researching Aizen's history. Ichigo sat behind her, his breath tickling her neck as she typed and clicked.

 

As she was scrolling through the files Rukia noticed something else: Ichigo's presence behind her made her feel at ease, even though she was currently going through the files of the man who had killed four people.

 

Sighing at the absurdity of it all, Rukia went back to work.

 

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

 

Rukia walked into her apartment and sighed softly. Rubbing the back of her neck with a groan, she trod inside and tossed her keys and weaponry belt to the side. The keys jingled to the wooden surface and her belt clacked down solidly. She sighed again and wearily rubbed both of her palms over her face. Christ, what time was it anyway? She looked up at her clock on the wall and blinked, it was nearly ten o'clock.

 

“Jesus,” she muttered, “Fourteen hours glued to a computer screen and for what?” She half-heartedly kicked the foot of the end table by her couch and listened to her lamp wobble slightly on the rocking wood.

 

Damn this. Damn all of this. She could have worked a bit more. She really could have. She would still even be at the precinct if Ichigo hadn't forcibly removed her from her chair and tossed her into the car, telling her that she needed sleep in order to continue the entire investigation.

 

She had griped at him on the way back but he hadn't listened to a word. Instead he turned the radio on and paid attention to the alternative rock music drifting through his speakers. He had parked the car and walked her to her door, giving her a swift kiss before telling her that he needed to run over to his apartment for a moment. When questioned he simply shrugged and said that if he was going to be spending so many nights over at her house then he might as well have a change of clothes for the morning. Rukia silently agreed, although she didn't tell him this; she was getting slightly tired of people giving her strange looks when she—or he—came into work wearing the same clothes they had had on yesterday.

 

She had made a mental note to remember to bring a few pieces of clothing over to his apartment.

 

Rukia felt the wall with her fingers and flipped on the light. She couldn't wait until Ichigo got back, maybe then she could coerce him into cooking for her. Who cared it if was ten at night? She was hungry now and she wanted—

 

A rough hand clothed in black wrapped around Rukia's waist and forcefully tugged her backwards.

 

Rukia gasped and her legs swung out frantically.

 

The blow landed on her lamp.

 

It crashed to the floor.

 

Shards cut her foot.

 

Another hand grappled to put something over her mouth.

 

Rukia drew in a breath to scream but instead of air a sweetly fragrant substance entered her lungs.

 

Her movements stilled and the world grew black around her.