Sunlight on a broken column [GinRan] [Bleach]
Title :: Sunlight on a broken column
Pairing :: GinRan
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 600
Warnings :: Deathfic. ._.
Summary :: She didn’t know whose sword it had been. In the end, she supposed she really didn’t care.
Notes :: Plotbunny courtesy of the wonderful snowzapped. ♥ ;~; And yes, the title does in fact come from the poem because it’s my favourite ever.
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
T.S. Eliot, ‘The Hollow Men’
She didn’t know whose sword it had been. In the end, she supposed she really didn’t care. All she cared about was the fact she was the one there now, gathering him into her arms, blood almost instantly staining her robes and scarf and spilling on her shivering skin.
Gin didn’t fight her, but merely leaned back into the touch with a faint smile. “Rangiku.”
“Shut up.” Her voice trembled, and she bit fiercely on her lower lip to steady it. “Don’t try and talk.”
She should have known he’d never listen, least of all now. “I didn’t think--” He coughed, once, blood splattering his still-smiling lips; and anger spiked in her, warring with grief. He didn’t think what? He didn’t think she’d care? He didn’t think she’d still be there with him, at the very end?
“I’d’ve - I wanted to take you with me,” Gin whispered hoarsely, body shuddering with the effort of speech. “Just didn’t think you’d come.”
Her breath hitched so sharply she knew it must have jarred him, but there wasn’t a word of complaint. “Gin…”
“Shh.” His hand found her face, rested on her cheek, before falling down against her throat. She tensed at its pressure for a heartbeat, then relaxed. Is this it, Gin? You didn’t think I’d come and so you never asked; are you giving me that option now?
A long moment later and he let the hand fall again, this time wrapping it around hers instead. “Naw, it don’t matter now. Still, though…”
She pushed her fingers through his, intertwined them, clutched desperately. All we’ve got…
“Glad you’re here now, at least.”
“Of course I’m here, you stupid--”
His smile widened, showing bloodstained teeth, and he managed a single nod. “Yeah. I guess ya always have been, really.”
And then his eyes blinked open, traveling the contours of her face before boring into hers.
And then he did not blink again.
Rangiku stared back down at him in a vague sort of horror; she knew something was terribly wrong but could not quite comprehend what. This was impossible; Gin had been the sole constant all throughout her life, no matter what he did or where he went, and it was unthinkable that that could ever change. Not even now. Not even here.
She knelt, and she clutched him to her, and she stared down into lifeless eyes as if they would finally give her the answers she sought.
Her own body was as perfectly still as his, and she did not so much as shudder till another hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“Matsumoto.” Her captain’s voice, she realised dully, an octave lower and more gentle than usual. “Matsumoto, let go. There’s nothing you can do for him now.”
She did not look up. She did not break the eye contact. She did not let go.
“Matsumoto…you can still be of use elsewhere, and you’ll feel better with something to do. Come with me.”
“But this is the first time,” she whispered, shrugging just enough to dislodge his hand. “The first time.”
“First time for what?” If she been at all paying attention, she could have felt her captain’s confusion.
“First time he’s ever looked at me this way. First time he’s ever really looked at me at all.”
He didn’t say a word, but Hitsugaya’s hand returned to her shoulder, and gave it a fierce squeeze.
Still she did not look up, and she did not look away.
You had your own sins to bear, and you are mine. Why couldn’t we have started over from here?
Pairing :: GinRan
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 600
Warnings :: Deathfic. ._.
Summary :: She didn’t know whose sword it had been. In the end, she supposed she really didn’t care.
Notes :: Plotbunny courtesy of the wonderful snowzapped. ♥ ;~; And yes, the title does in fact come from the poem because it’s my favourite ever.
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
T.S. Eliot, ‘The Hollow Men’
She didn’t know whose sword it had been. In the end, she supposed she really didn’t care. All she cared about was the fact she was the one there now, gathering him into her arms, blood almost instantly staining her robes and scarf and spilling on her shivering skin.
Gin didn’t fight her, but merely leaned back into the touch with a faint smile. “Rangiku.”
“Shut up.” Her voice trembled, and she bit fiercely on her lower lip to steady it. “Don’t try and talk.”
She should have known he’d never listen, least of all now. “I didn’t think--” He coughed, once, blood splattering his still-smiling lips; and anger spiked in her, warring with grief. He didn’t think what? He didn’t think she’d care? He didn’t think she’d still be there with him, at the very end?
“I’d’ve - I wanted to take you with me,” Gin whispered hoarsely, body shuddering with the effort of speech. “Just didn’t think you’d come.”
Her breath hitched so sharply she knew it must have jarred him, but there wasn’t a word of complaint. “Gin…”
“Shh.” His hand found her face, rested on her cheek, before falling down against her throat. She tensed at its pressure for a heartbeat, then relaxed. Is this it, Gin? You didn’t think I’d come and so you never asked; are you giving me that option now?
A long moment later and he let the hand fall again, this time wrapping it around hers instead. “Naw, it don’t matter now. Still, though…”
She pushed her fingers through his, intertwined them, clutched desperately. All we’ve got…
“Glad you’re here now, at least.”
“Of course I’m here, you stupid--”
His smile widened, showing bloodstained teeth, and he managed a single nod. “Yeah. I guess ya always have been, really.”
And then his eyes blinked open, traveling the contours of her face before boring into hers.
And then he did not blink again.
Rangiku stared back down at him in a vague sort of horror; she knew something was terribly wrong but could not quite comprehend what. This was impossible; Gin had been the sole constant all throughout her life, no matter what he did or where he went, and it was unthinkable that that could ever change. Not even now. Not even here.
She knelt, and she clutched him to her, and she stared down into lifeless eyes as if they would finally give her the answers she sought.
Her own body was as perfectly still as his, and she did not so much as shudder till another hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“Matsumoto.” Her captain’s voice, she realised dully, an octave lower and more gentle than usual. “Matsumoto, let go. There’s nothing you can do for him now.”
She did not look up. She did not break the eye contact. She did not let go.
“Matsumoto…you can still be of use elsewhere, and you’ll feel better with something to do. Come with me.”
“But this is the first time,” she whispered, shrugging just enough to dislodge his hand. “The first time.”
“First time for what?” If she been at all paying attention, she could have felt her captain’s confusion.
“First time he’s ever looked at me this way. First time he’s ever really looked at me at all.”
He didn’t say a word, but Hitsugaya’s hand returned to her shoulder, and gave it a fierce squeeze.
Still she did not look up, and she did not look away.
You had your own sins to bear, and you are mine. Why couldn’t we have started over from here?