Affliction, Ch. 3/4

[simonthefish]

Title: Affliction (Sequel to Possession.)
Fandom: Bleach (Grimmjow/Ulquiorra)
Rating: M (maybe better than that, even).
Warnings: angst, yaoi, possible OoC, really terribly written sex, first person
Summary: His eyes were so close, and so vast I thought I would fall right into them. But even then, I couldn’t read them. Not a bit.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.
Author's note: As with the last story, this is actually completed, and was intended to be read as a one-shot, but is just too damn long.

Hello hello again~ I’m super-hyper right now, partially owing to the Diet Coke I just chugged, I’m sure, but also because I have a head cold! And head colds make me loopy! Yay!

For those of you who are interested, ~Sous-Vamp over on DeviantArt is Doujinshi-fying Possession! Go check it out and tell her how awesome she is.

Also, this marks the WHAT, IT’S REALLY ALMOST OVER? second to last chapter. Is it just me, or do these chapters just keep getting shorter? Sorry about that. I promise I will never try to break a fic up into chapters once it’s written ever again.

Anyways… I’ll shut up and let you guys read now.

( Chapter 3 @ FF.Net )

Chapter 3

I woke hours later, cold and stiff, Ulquiorra’s eyes watching me intently. It was a little bit creepy waking up to his stare, but I was slowly getting used to it. I liked the thought of him watching me, oddly enough. It didn’t really make sense, but he made me feel strangely peaceful. Lots of things didn’t make sense when he was involved.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, blinking as light flooded my eyes and my consciousness came rushing back.

“You were talking in your sleep again,” he informed me, skipping a greeting entirely.

I grimaced. “What did I say?” I asked cautiously, not really sure that I wanted to know.

“I’m not certain I want to tell you,” he said, solemn as always.

“Ulquiorra,” I growled in warning.

“No,” he said decisively. “I’m going to keep this one for myself.”

“You’re cruel,” I accused.

He paused, and seemed to ponder this for moment before opening his mouth to speak again. “Do you really want to know?”

“Just tell me, already.”

“Are you certain?” he demanded.

“Tell me, bastard.”

He laughed once, without any glimpse of humor in his voice. “You called out my name once,” he began softly, rising slowly to his hands and knees to crouch over me. “And then you said, ‘Don’t touch him. He’s mine.’”

“And?” I asked carefully.

“‘I’ll kill you if you hurt him,’” he continued softly. “‘Please, don’t hurt him.’” He kissed me softly, his eyes closing to whatever his memory was showing him.

“And then your expression twisted, like you were in pain,” he whispered, and my breath caught in my throat. His eyes twitched tighter, his eyebrows pulling together just a tiny bit, and he swallowed slowly before going on. “I’ve never seen anyone look so pained before. I thought…”

I waited silently as he opened his eyes and raised his hand to brush against my face. His cold fingers brushed lightly over my skin, like a breath of air, or a feather - barely even there, but cold as ice.

“I thought that I would do anything to make it go away,” he admitted. I had to strain my ears to hear his words. “I thought it would kill me.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.”

He moved slowly, leaning over me, his hand caressing my cheek and his thumb sliding lightly along the side of my nose. “Maybe it should have,” he suggested. I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. “You’d be better without me, Grimmjow,” he said insistently. “And I’d be better without you. We both know it. But that simply isn’t an option anymore.”

“Damn right, it isn’t,” I answered sharply.

He gave half a smirk and rose languidly. I pushed myself up on my elbows, staring at him almost out of habit. I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by a muffled knocking. We both turned our heads abruptly towards the source of the sound, and then he darted away, moving so quickly my eyes couldn’t pick up on his movements. When he appeared again he was fully dressed, perfectly composed. He held up a hand, signaling for me to wait as I wrapped a sheet around my waist, preparing to stand. He padded carefully to the front door, and I followed a few steps behind, heedless of his unspoken warning.

The door creaked open slowly, and I hid myself behind it just in time. A small, tinny voice sounded from the other side.

“Aizen-sama requests the presence of the cuatro espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer,” it said. Then a small, childlike arrancar with bulbous purple eyes squirmed his - or her, it was hard to really tell - way around Ulquiorra and looked straight at me. “The sexta espada, Grimmjow Jaggerjacks, as well.”

We both watched the small messenger arrancar in amazement for a moment or two. It seemed completely unaffected by the presence of two espada who could easily crush it at any moment. Suddenly it grinned broadly and offered one last instruction:

“Immediately,” it said.

I gave Ulquiorra a wide-eyed look as our little messenger departed. He offered only his usual impassive stare in return. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. A sudden, hopeless fear had gripped my lungs. We didn’t stand a chance.

A moment passed in silence, my mouth still gaping pointlessly. His gaze slid over my bare chest. “Get dressed,” he commanded. “Quickly.”

I hurried to his room and did as he said, my brain numb, and we were soon walking silently through endless pale corridors. He kept his distance from me, always a step ahead and three feet to my right. I suspected he did it on purpose, but, as always, it was just a guess.

Aizen’s throne room - for lack of a better term - wasn’t far, but it seemed like we walked forever. I realized that this was the first time in a very long time that we’d travelled the halls together. It should have been awkward, I thought - all that silence. But for some reason it seemed perfectly normal. Maybe because cold silence was his nature, or because we’d made it a habit not to speak to each other outside of our rooms. It didn’t matter. I was glad to be walking with him, rather than alone. If we were nearing the end, then I wanted to spend every moment with him I could.

As we approached and paused before Aizen’s door, he spoke the first words I’d heard since we’d left his room.

“Are you prepared to see this through to the end, Grimmjow?” he asked.

“What do you think?” I returned with a halfhearted sneer.

He stared at me coldly, apparently unsatisfied with my response.

I fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Of course I am,” I muttered.

His gaze moved slowly away from me, towards whatever fate awaited us behind that door. “Good,” he said finally, and stepped forward.

I followed a pace behind him, stepping nervously into the core of Aizen’s realm. This was to be our courtroom. Everything could end here - everything. I was painfully aware of every passing second, all of them slipping away from us. Would I get to say goodbye to him, I wondered? Most likely not, but maybe that was for the best.

We stood side by side; the distance between us seemed to grow by the second. I faced Aizen as boldly as I could, willing myself not to look at Ulquiorra instead.

“Welcome,” Aizen said warmly, spreading his hands before him.

Neither of us answered.

“I expect you both know why you’re here,” he continued, like he was reprimanding a couple of schoolchildren, and waited for an answer.

“Yes, Aizen-sama,” Ulquiorra replied.

I clenched my teeth. It disgusted me, the way he still called that bastard “Aizen-sama.” It disgusted me to hear any name but my own fall from his mouth.

Aizen smiled. “I would like to have a private word with Ulquiorra,” he said to the room at large, and then turned slightly and spoke directly to me. “That is, if you don’t mind, Grimmjow.”

I paused before I answered him, holding back my rage, reeling in the urge to lunge for his throat. I couldn’t win in a fight against him, that much was agonizingly clear. I doubted that both Ulquiorra and I together could put more than a scratch on him. Still, my natural instinct was to attack - to protect myself from anything that threatened my livelihood, and, more importantly, his livelihood.

“Be my guest,” I growled, lowering my head in a mock bow.

“Thank you, Grimmjow,” he said, and - with another condescending smile - gestured towards the door. “Stay close, please,” he called as I turned to leave again. He said it as if it were a request, but we all knew it was an order. “I’d like to speak with you, later.”

I didn’t answer, just strode out of the room. I waited until the door closed behind me to slam my fist into the opposite wall. I’d lost him. It didn’t matter now whether Aizen let him live or - I choked on the mere thought - die, I couldn’t have him anymore. He’d always done exactly as Aizen said. I’d never seen him disobey an order, and even though he’d said he would, I suddenly couldn’t believe him. Nothing I’d ever seen him do or say towards Aizen gave me even a sliver of hope that he could defy him. He worshiped Aizen. Aizen was his god, and I - well, I didn’t know what I was to him, but it was considerably less than a god, I was certain.

I pulled my fist away from the wall and leaned my forehead against it instead. I wished I could cry. I didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. I never had, really. I wanted tears, sobs, anything - some physical manifestation of the pain I was feeling, some small way to let it out. But we were hollows, beings not meant to grieve or to feel this kind of anguish. There were no tears for me to cry. His tears were the only tears, and I didn’t even have those anymore.

I let myself fall to my knees on the hallway floor, then turned slowly, lowering myself to sit with my back against the wall, my feet stretched in front of me, my hands limp at my sides, my head leaning back so I could stare mindlessly at the ceiling. I stayed there for god only knows how long, forcing my mind to clear itself of any thoughts of him - and, consequently, any thoughts at all. I pushed everything down - all of the emotions, the thoughts and the fears, down my throat, past my lungs, through my stomach, until they were no longer in my body, and farther still. All of it, hiding it away where I couldn’t get to it, where it wouldn’t cause me pain. I was completely thoughtless, without emotions or worries to make me miserable, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. It was just empty. It was what I’d have to learn to be, without him.

Time was of no importance in the vacant void of my new mind. To me it felt like only a moment had passed - though in reality it’d been almost two hours - when the creak of a door brought me back to my senses. And then there he was, gazing at me, the way he always did, and I broke. My careful emptiness was suddenly full; all the things I’d hidden deep under the floor rose in a rush to my head. I couldn’t be empty when he was there, making me alive. I stood slowly, shakily, and took one cautious step towards him.

He stepped backwards.

“Aizen-sama wishes to speak to you,” he said evenly.

I felt something inside me implode, some small catastrophe leading my body haywire. I nodded robotically in reply and walked right past him. He hardly looked at me.

I told myself that I’d lost him long before that moment. I told myself he’d abandoned me the instant I’d left that room.

But it hadn’t hurt quite so much until just then.

“Grimmjow,” Aizen said in greeting as I approached him hesitantly. “Welcome back.”

Silence.

A slow smile spread over Aizen’s face.

“I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind,” he said. “And I’d like for you to answer them truthfully. Do we have an agreement?”

It didn’t take a genius to hear the order behind the pleasantries, the threats laced in every syllable.

“Yes, Aizen-sama,” I said.

“Good,” he said pleasantly.

I waited for him to begin, knowing he’d planned his questions precisely, and knowing that I was only moments away from walking into one sort of trap or another.

“You are…” he started, then paused. “… in a relationship, if you will, with the cuatro espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer, are you not?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, before I answered him. “That is correct,” I replied sharply.

“You admit to having sexual relations with him, as well?”

“Yes.” My skin crawled - I felt dirty, filthy. Completely defiled. I was disgusted at myself for bending to his will like some common weakling. I hated that he was stronger than me. I hated that I couldn’t break free of this servitude to him. I hated that he was tearing me away from Ulquiorra and the only thing I’d ever cared to live for.

“And this has been going on for quite some time now, I understand?”

I nodded.

“I am a bit shocked, I’ll admit,” he said calmly. “I was under the impression that you hated each other. You hid it well.”

It was like he was flattering us, but at the same time scolding. I chose not to answer.

“What is he to you?” Aizen asked.

I considered this for a moment. What was he to me? I couldn’t answer that. He was everything and more, but there wasn’t a word for that. He was what I wanted, what I needed more than anything, but I couldn’t tell Aizen that. I’d asked myself this same question a million times in the past, but there was never an answer to it.

Aizen was waiting for me to answer him, but I didn’t have anything to say. So I said nothing. He could wait forever for all I cared.

He seemed to interpret my silence as a refusal to reply. “Come now, Grimmjow,” he said. “Can’t you humor me a little?”

“Pardon,” I said, though even I could hear that my voice sounded more like I was telling him to go to hell, “but you’re asking me to tell you things I don’t know myself.”

He seemed amused by this, his eyebrows creeping slowly up his forehead. “You don’t know?” he demanded.

“No,” I replied.

“What are you to him, then?”

A wild, unexpected grin spread across my face, and I almost laughed out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of his question, but caught myself just in time. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “He isn’t exactly one to share his thoughts, is he?”

“So, you don’t know what his intentions are?”

“No clue,” I agreed.

“You don’t know for sure that he doesn’t have some ulterior motive, and yet you’ve involved yourself with him anyways?”

My grin fell from my face and an uncertain ache crept into my stomach. “That is correct,” I said through clenched teeth.

Aizen regarded me coolly. “That seems unwise to me. Don’t you think so too, Grimmjow?”

I paused to gather a response, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I…” I stammered doubtfully. “I trust him to keep his word.”

“Has he given you some sort of promise, then?”

“Not in so many words,” I confessed grudgingly.

“Hm,” he murmured. I waited for him to continue his questioning, staring him down determinedly as he scrutinized me.

He continued after a minute had passed. “Does he fascinate you, Grimmjow?” he asked.

“Yes,” I returned honestly.

“What about him fascinates you?”

His questions were less an interrogation and more like he was merely curious. I was familiar with the carefree way in which he conducted his investigations, but that didn’t change the fact that it infuriated me. He was treating it like it was nothing for me to be completely obsessed with Ulquiorra. It aggravated me to see the way he minimized our relationship - wrapped it all up into one insignificant, easily definable notion, as if it were of no import at all. He asked his question like it hardly mattered whether I was fascinated by Ulquiorra or not. Like he’d already picked his verdict, as was just going through the motions of our trial.

“I-” I nearly answered him without thinking, but choked on the words just in time. I hoped he hadn’t noticed, but he had.

“Please, don’t hold back,” he urged. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I only wish for you to answer honestly,” he lied.

He was threatening me. He’d punish me if I didn’t tell the truth, was his message. And withholding information was lying, as well.

“What about him fascinates me?” I repeated scornfully.

He nodded in encouragement.

I took a deep breath and looked away, collecting myself. This wasn’t going to go over well. I looked back determinedly.

“The sex,” I said bluntly.

“Is that all?” he inquired when I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t respond.

“What about the sex?” he demanded.

I recoiled slightly. I didn’t want to explain this to him. I doubted he’d ever been laid in his life, but that didn’t mean he had to take his curiosity out on me.

He saw me flinch and smiled slightly, as if he could guess what I was thinking. “You do me an injustice, Grimmjow,” he said accusingly. “I merely wish to better understand the relationship between you and the cuatro espada before I make my judgment.”

I swallowed my retort, fighting the bile that rose in my throat as I opened my mouth to answer to him. “He-” I started, the halted abruptly. I rifled quickly through my intimate knowledge of his body, searching for something that would satisfy him, but that wasn’t too personal to share.

“He’s cold,” I said finally.

“Cold?” Aizen repeated, like maybe he wasn’t sure what I meant.

“His skin,” I replied. “It’s cold. Or maybe I’m warmer than normal, and it just seems that way. It feels good,” I admitted.

“And?” he said, clearly waiting for more.

“He… says my name,” I told him, hating myself for giving even that small, treasured bit of him away.

“I see.”

I waited patiently for him to continue his questioning, at the same time silently wishing he’d finish, that he’d wrap it up and either let me go or do the fucking deed already.

“So your relationship with him is purely physical?” he questioned.

“No,” I contradicted promptly.

“Elaborate, please,” he requested.

My heart fell into my stomach. That had been a mistake, to deny him so readily. We might have escaped up until now - arrancars engaged now and then in the occasional affair, but it was never more than that. I’d doomed us for certain, now. And in any case, I didn’t know how to explain how it was more than physical. It just was.

I replied with, “I don’t think I can.”

“You are unsure about this, as well?” he clarified. I nodded in assent.

He paused for a moment before asking his next question.

“Do you love him, Grimmjow?”

I froze. Love? Was he joking? I was an arrancar - a hollow. I couldn’t feel love; I could feel hate, and rage, and ambition. I wasn’t made to feel anything else. And yet there was something nagging at the back of my mind, something that reminded me inexplicably of the way we’d never been able to put a name to our attachment, the way I needed him so unconditionally, the way he kissed me.

The way he said my name.

Aizen watched me patiently as I struggled to come up with an answer. No, I didn’t love him, but…

I couldn’t love him, but…

I shouldn’t love him, but…

“Well, Grimmjow?” he asked after some time. “Do you love him?”

“N-no,” I said finally. “No, I don’t, but I…” My voice trailed away as my words failed me.

“But?”

“I mean, I’m a hollow. And he’s a hollow,” I insisted, pointing out the obvious. “We can’t love. But…”

“Yes, Grimmjow?”

“If… if we were human…” I muttered, “…maybe it’d be different.”

“Different how?” he demanded.

“I think if we were human, I could love him,” I clarified. My hands curled tightly in on themselves, my fingernails digging painfully into my palm, drawing drops of blood, as I realized what I was saying. I was glad Ulquiorra wasn’t there to witness it, but even as I thought it, I wished he had been. I always wanted to be with me, even when I was exposing myself to the world. Especially when I was exposing myself to the world. I hated being apart from him, and I wanted it to end.

“Very well then,” Aizen said, and a note of blessed finality rang in his voice. “In that case, there is nothing left for me to ask you.”

“We’re done?” I asked cautiously.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Though I do have one final request.”

I waited.

“I want for you and Ulquiorra to continue as you’ve been doing. I’d like to observe you for some time before I make my final decision.”

“C-continue?” I stammered.

“Indeed. That is all, Grimmjow,” he instructed firmly. “You may go.”

I turned and strode out of the room in a daze. Ulquiorra wasn’t there anymore - of course he wasn’t - but this time, I didn’t wait for night to fall before I headed for his chambers, and I didn’t bother to knock when I got there.

I saw him right away when I opened the door. He was standing in the far corner of the room, barely leaning against the wall, and staring unwaveringly out the one, small window the room had to offer. I closed the door gently, eyeing him nervously. It seemed almost as though he hadn’t noticed me yet, though I knew there was no way he couldn’t have. Finally, he blinked and turned his head slowly to look at me.

“You’re back,” he said calmly.

I didn’t know how to answer him, if only because it was such a simple statement. His eyes were steady and intent, holding my own gaze to them effortlessly. I didn’t ever want to look away.

“I didn’t know if I’d get to see you again,” he said at length.

“I know,” I began, “I didn’t eith-” but I never got to finish, because he’d crossed the room in a mere flicker of light and was kissing me - and I’d be damned if I was going to let some godforsaken half-a-word get in the way of that. It felt like I’d been waiting forever to feel his kiss. Maybe I had - I couldn’t tell anymore, and I didn’t care so long as I could feel his lips against mine.

To Chapter 4.