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Rukia looked over her daily schedule as her last patient left and sighed at seeing who was next, Ichigo Kurosaki. She wondered how today’s session would go and steeled her nerves for the conflicting emotions he always left her with. As the door to her office opened and the orange-haired man was ushered in she could tell just by his solemn face what kind of day it would be.
Ichigo Kurosaki was a delusional schizophrenic, one of the worst Rukia had seen in all her years as a doctor for the Karakura Psychiatric Care Home. From what they knew his symptoms were manageable when he was young but snowballed out of control to the point that he was living in his fantasies near constantly. He was rarely in his right mind, and when he was he was miserable with having to face the truth of why he escaped it so often.
While he was lost he and Rukia would have wonderful conversations, he was friendly and charming, open and inviting, he thought they were friends and in a sense they were. When he came back down he was too occupied with self-torment to be charismatic, and it made her wonder which one was really him. Whether or not Ichigo only existed in his delusion of soul reapers and spirit worlds. There was nothing new to learn about Ichigo Kurosaki, the struggle was keeping him from floating away again.
“It’s good to see you, Ichigo.”
“Hello, Doctor Kuchiki.” His voice was flat as it always was when he came back to reality.
“How are you feeling today?”
“I’m feeling horrible, but if you want to know what state I’m in, I’m lucid.” He let his head hit the back of the chair he sat in, staring up at the ceiling. These days were the hardest. Ichigo was happy to be out of his mind and tortured by reality, that’s what made Rukia feel so conflicted.
“It’s good that you’re yourself again.” The words were harder to drag out than she thought they would be.
“How long have you been present?”
“This is day two.”
“That’s good, do you remember what happens when you get to a week?”
“My family gets to visit, right?”
“That’s right, I know they miss you terribly.”
“I miss them too.”
“You remember what happened, right? How you got here?” She chanced. This question could very well make him lapse right back into talks of “Hollow” attacks and spirit world wars and heroism. She knew the truth. She knew he did too as he sighed and pulled his legs up on the seat.
“I used to have just mild symptoms, distant whispers, mild hallucinations, and it got worse when mom died.” He rolled through the explanation on autopilot, he could recall having this talk before.
“Do you remember what happened to her?” She hated asking, but she needed him to face the sources of his issue if he were to ever be cleared. Even if she wasn’t sure he ever could be.
“We were attacked in the street, a mugging gone bad. After that I convinced myself I could see ghosts, then maybe I’d see her again.” He was still staring holes in the ceiling.
“But it was still manageable?”
“Yeah, still manageable.”
“And do you remember when it escalated again? Why you’re here?”
“The home invasion. He broke in sometime in the middle of the night and had a knife on him. The noise woke Yuzu, he attacked, she screamed, I woke up and did what I had to. I needed to protect my family.” His voice broke and breath became shallow as he tried to hold it together.
Ichigo’s delusions stemmed from a sense of guilt. He couldn’t save his mother so he let his mind conjure up a window into the afterlife. He couldn’t live with knowing he’d killed a man so he imagined him as a monster, some heartless demon that needed to be exorcised. Over the years it became more elaborate, various adventures painting himself as an invincible hero, someone that could save the people he loved.
“I’m in that story, the other way you tell it.”
“Subconsciously, I knew you were trying to help me, so you were there, in my mind you gave me power.” She hadn’t met Ichigo until much later, but his mind was interesting like that, completely overwriting truth in favor of comfort.
“And my execution?”
“You told me someone else would be my psych because you didn’t think you could help me, and I couldn’t handle that. If you weren’t around you were as good as dead in my mind.” Saying he couldn’t handle it was an understatement, he had raised hell, he’d been inconsolable, he refused other doctors and threw violent fits. Even her own brother, expert that he was, had been no match for the level of Ichigo’s delusion and outbursts. So she was back, and for the most part he was agreeable again.
“Do you remember everything else?”
“No, there are hazy bits, I don’t remember who some of the people in my head are.”
“I’m sure they’ll come back to you sooner or later.”
“Hm.” The sound was defeated. They’d had this same conversation a hundred times before, and each time Ichigo was gone again before he could place all the people he had written into his fantasy.
The rest of their allotted time passed with easy questions and short answers, just small things used to ground him in the present. When time was up and he was escorted out she wondered if the next time she saw him he would be out of his mind again. Looking at her next patient she sighed and collected the tablet off her desk, pens were not allowed where she was going.
The halls were filled with chatter as she passed through, stopping at door E6 and nodding at one of the guards at the end of the hall to let her in. He approached and stayed posted at the door as she entered the room, her patient secured to his bed. So he’d had another bad day. As she approached she could see the way he stared at the wall, and hoped today would be a good one.
“Grimmjow, it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s not though, is it?” He clipped, looking over at her.
“Of course it is. How are you feeling today?”
“Be better if I could move.”
“You had another episode. You sound like you’ve calmed down now, would you be able to tell me what it was that set you off this time?”
“It wasn’t an episode, no bible shit this time, I just wanted to go outside and they acted like I was getting hostile.” That’s how he would refer to his delusions whenever he came down from them, ‘Bible Shit.’
Grimmjow was a violent one to deal with during his episodes, restrained more often than not, and quick to throw expletives and threats at whoever saw him. He was another tough patient, his mental state more a result of ignorant mistreatment than just his condition. He had a dissociative identity disorder with schizophrenic symptoms, and instead of seeking treatment his parents had him tied up, beaten, and burned for most of his childhood. Raised by religious zealots, he had been convinced by them early on that the voices and hallucinations were the work of the devil and that he needed to be exorcised.
The man was covered in scars from his parents’ years of abuse. It was no surprise that he had ended up here the way he did, in fact the neighbor that called the police said she didn’t even know they had a son, and probably no one would if it hadn’t been for the screams and pounding on her door that night. His mother’s forgetfulness allowed him to escape through the unlocked basement door and seek help, the “demon” only returning later that night to bite at policemen who got too close. For all the horror that came with him, Grimmjow was actually a fairly calm and reasonable individual when he wasn’t “possessed” and likely could have been helped had his upbringing been different.
“And how long have you been free of your delusions?”
“Three days already, this is the start of four.”
“That’s very good. Can you tell me-“
“How’s Ichigo?”
He was very much lucid. When he was back in his right mind he would always inquire after the other man; Rukia noted how rare it was for them to be free of their hallucinations at the same time. When the two first met they had been stable a fair amount of time and were allowed recreational freedoms. They’d gotten on well in several group sessions before months of progress were flushed down the drain and they were brought to blows. They fed each other’s delusions in the worst of ways despite how well they clicked when they were grounded. The worst was seeing them try to interact when one was still lost, Grimmjow trying frustratedly to talk some sense into an Ichigo that probably didn’t even hear the words he spoke.
In the end they always pulled each other into their lapses from reality, luckily the fallout wasn’t as physical as it used to be, but it was still jarring when they would start shouting and insulting each other. From Ichigo’s take on things Grimmjow was now a begrudging hollow ally, but from the other’s point of view the redhead was the exorcist that would one day take him back to Hell. Keeping them apart was the best choice, but seeing Ichigo was the one incentive the other man would ask for. It was disheartening.
“He’s doing well, I just spoke with him and he seems to be coming back to himself.” The man looked her over quietly with his stern blue-eyed gaze before replying again.
“And when you say that you mean he’s still sad and confused, don’t you?” He was too knowledgeable on the other’s patterns, he could probably recite his entire life story and diagnosis better than any doctor in this building.
“He’ll come around once he’s had time.”
“But he won’t have time, will he? Every time we get hopeful he goes right back, he just won’t accept the truth.”
“This could be the time he does.”
“Yeah, right.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Why don’t we talk about you now?”
“Does he remember who I am?” He asked quickly, he would always avoid speaking on his own life for as long as possible.
“The details of my patient sessions are quite private, as I’m sure you know.”
“So that’s a no.” Really she couldn’t be sure of the answer, while he had said some faces he still couldn’t place from his real life she hadn’t asked who.
“Why don’t we talk about you now?”
“How long until I get to see him?” She sighed in frustration, she should have known better.
“You have to be lucid for seven full days before we allow you two in the same room, you know that. However...” she debated whether or not she was at liberty to share this detail, but decided it couldn’t hurt, if anything it may help.
“Ichigo hasn’t been himself as long as you have, and he only gets to see his family after a full week.” She pleaded the best she could without being too leading. The man was quiet for a while, and she could tell when he screwed his eyes shut and turned his face toward the wall that he understood.
“I’ll wait then. I’ll let him see them.” He conceded to her unspoken request.
He wouldn’t talk much after that, he never did, not wanting to relive years of cult-like upbringing and horrendous attempts to ‘cleanse his soul.’ As Rukia returned to her office she took out a pad of sticky notes and jotted down a few tallies.
Lucid days: Grimmjow IIII Ichigo II
————————————
Ichigo: Day 8
Ichigo’s hands were shaking as he was led to the visitation area, a poorly decorated lobby full of tables and chairs that he hardly got to see. When the doors were opened his breath caught, there they were. Two dark heads of hair and one flaxen blonde, even facing away from him he could cry at seeing them at all. He knew how it broke their hearts that he wasn’t well, how every time he would talk about monsters and reapers his sisters would get misty eyed. So he’d made a promise, he would only talk to them when he was himself.
“Hey guys,” his voice wobbled as he approached them. Soon he was being crushed in a giant hug, his sisters sobbing into his scrubs and father pressing a kiss into his hair.
“Ichigo, we missed you so much!” Yuzu sobbed as they took their seats at the table once again.
“I missed you all too, I’m sorry I was gone.” He smiled through tears.
“We understand, it’s not your fault.” Karin tried to keep a straight face despite her own weeping eyes.
“I’m still sorry, I’m trying, I’ll try harder.” This made the girls give in completely to broken sobs, their father sadly stroking their backs. As Ichigo watched the scene he took account of little changes since the last time he’d seen them. Yuzu’s hair was longer, Karin was more fit, even their father seemed to have a handful more grey hairs. Just how long had he been gone for this time?
“How are things at home? How’s soccer Karin? Any big games coming up? And Yuzu did you finish that quilt you were telling me about?“ The girls stifled their cries but looked no less sad, Karin speaking up first.
“I haven’t played soccer for a few years Ichigo. It’s MMA now, remember?” She was so patient, much more patient than he could ever remember her being, but then she’d had a long time to grow that skill hadn’t she?
“I... I’m sorry. Yes, you did, I should have known that.” He couldn’t remember it at all.
“And you, Yuzu?”
“I‘ve done a lot of sewing, Ichigo. There are a few quilts and a pile of other things I made waiting for you when you come home.” Her smile was sad, something she didn’t want to say hiding behind it. It hurt almost as much as seeing the twisted scar across her collarbone. That damn holl- BURGLAR. THAT DAMN BURGLAR. He pulled himself back down before he could lose it again.
“That’s wonderful, thank you so much, Yuzu.”
He doesn’t think any of them stopped crying for long during the whole visit, and there were even more fresh tears when time came to part ways. He was exhausted and hurt by the entire encounter. He was hurting them just by being how he was, by living in some fairytale because he couldn’t face reality. Mom was dead, they were mugged. Their home was broken into, the intruder injured Yuzu and Ichigo had killed him before he could do worse. He had to keep remembering that.
————————
“Hey, shouldn’t you be heading home by now?” Renji peaked his head through the door of Rukia’s office where she was reading through patient files.
“Yeah, sorry, I’ll be leaving soon, just going over a few notes really quick.” Renji came over to the desk and looked at what it was she was reading.
“Kurosaki, huh? That’s a lost cause.”
“Don’t say that, you know he thinks you two are friends.” She looked at the orderly briefly before marking something on a page.
“Maybe, but I don’t think he can be cured. He only ever snaps out of it for, what? Five days? Then he’s right back to calling people shinigami and hollows and a bunch of other things.”
“It’s been eight days now, he got to see his sisters earlier today.”
“Wow, good for him, it’s been a while.”
“It has.”
“So why are you going over his file again? Find something new?”
“Not yet, but I’m hoping I can. A new connection or some common factor to keep him from lapsing again.”
“You really think you can find one?”
“I have to try. Tomorrow he’ll be seeing Grimmjow again.”
“Ah, fuck, now I have to keep my eye on them.” Renji pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing what happened every time the two were around each other.
“Unfortunately.”
————————-
Ichigo Day 9
He was being escorted to the yard, but he knew this wasn’t usually when they let him outside. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm with a soft breeze. He scanned the area and his eyes caught on a head of ash blonde hair. Not blue, he told himself, just a perfectly human shade of blonde, a familiar blonde. He knew the face without seeing it, knew the name and the fantasy he’d made, but now he had to fill in the rest.
He walked over slowly, the lump in his throat growing as he sat beside the man. He noticed in his peripheral that the orderlies had moved a little closer. Enough to be within earshot but not directly hovering, part of him said they were waiting for something.
“Grimmjow?”
“Been a while, Ichigo.” His smile was as warm as the day itself, not manic as he remembered. Bit by bit things began to fill in, fragments of forgotten memory fitting right back together. There was no jawbone mask, just a horrible scar from where his mother had cut him. No teal estigma, just dark circles from a lack of sleep because of his horrible night terrors. Those eyes though, they were just as fantastically blue as in his imagination. He knew Grimmjow.
“Been too long.” He offered a smile of his own.
“Been a week for you already? Or did you have to bribe the doctor?” He elbowed the other playfully, earning a shove. The closest orderly, Renji, was momentarily alarmed before they started laughing.
“Been longer than a week, I’ve been waiting on you to catch up.” Grimmjow settled against the back of the bench, arms draped across the back. There was something pained in the way he said it. Ichigo thought momentarily on it.
“How long has it been?”
“Since last time we met? Or since we’ve been here?” Ichigo couldn’t remember either.
“I guess both.”
“You were still in LaLaLand last time, it was late last month. As for how long we’ve been here... “ he let his head roll back, eyes closed enjoying the sun on his skin.
“I don’t know if it even matters anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been here since I was fourteen, Ichigo. You’ve been here since you were fifteen and your twenty-sixth was last month. If they haven’t fixed us by now they’re not going to.” He wanted to argue, to assert that he would get better, that he’d get to go home, but he had a feeling it was an argument they’d had before.
“You know my birthday?” Blue eyes opened and turned to him.
“Of course I do. I remember everything, Ichigo. My affliction isn’t like how you rewrite everything, I’m still there mentally, I just can’t convince myself that the delusion isn’t actually part of my reality.” His tone was soft, a familiar patience laced through his words.
“We’ve had this conversation before, haven't we?”
“A few times, but it’s okay. I know it’s hard for you, so I’ll remember everything for us, okay?” He smiled and rubbed a hand down the other’s back.
“How long do you think we have?” Ichigo pierced through the moment as he recalled just why the orderlies were so on edge right now. Grimmjow didn’t look surprised.
“Together? Maybe til the end of the day? On our own, I’d give it a few more days. Maybe. Sooner or later you’ll start getting introspective and start feeling guilty, then you’re back to playing superhero. I’ll have a moment of insecurity looking at an old scar and start self-loathing, next thing I know I’m possessed again.”
“This could be the time we stay though, couldn’t it?”
“No. We’ll never be normal, Ichigo. We’re never leaving.” He hated how easily the words came. Who was Grimmjow to say that? He hated that he couldn’t just be ‘normal,’ not in the real world or his fantasy. But he could try.
“I can’t accept that, if you knew me at all, you would know that.”
“I do, and that’s how I’m so sure of this, because every part of you is too stubborn to just give in. Even the parts you wish would.”
“Maybe it’s better we leave each other alone then, if we just get worse when we’re around each other.” He suggested, watching the other patients wander and enjoy the beautiful day. Some faces he could almost place, but not quite. The silence that responded shook him enough to look back to the man beside him. He was staring at the clouds as they floated by, his devastation clear as day in the set of his features.
“That’s... is that what you want to do?”
“I don’t know, but it’s what would be logical, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.”
Ichigo stood from the bench, Grimmjow didn’t look at him as he did.
“I wish you the best.” Ichigo said and turned away, walking toward the building even as something deep within his psyche told him this was the wrong choice. As he passed Renji he paused, the man looked confused.
“It’s good to see you again, Abarai, really see you.”
“Yeah?” He looked between the orange-haired patient and the one still on the bench. Whatever was on his mind, he wouldn’t say it.
“Want to go back in?”
“Yes, Please.”
—————————-
He was seeing more and more people he had reimagined into his fantastical world, and each time the realization twisted his stomach in knots. Sitting in the common room he couldn’t really focus on whatever show was on the tv screen as he scanned the other occupants.
Stark was in a chair an arms length away whispering to ‘Lilynette’ as though she were really there beside him.
Ulquiorra had been in a comatose state as long as anyone could remember, just wheeled around the ward to stare out the windows.
Chad was another orderly, much more gentle and sympathetic than the others, sometimes they would play checkers together.
Orihime was almost always glued to his side, she had a nervous anxiety disorder that left her unable to communicate much without suffering severe panic attacks and had taken to him for his protective persona.
He met Urahara in the mornings, he would always give him his medications with a put-on smile and a “see you tomorrow.”
The more he remembered the more empty he felt. As fantastical a life as he made up, was this really all it equates to?
Sometimes he could see Grimmjow through the window, he was always outside during recreation time, reclined on that same bench. Ichigo couldn’t help but feel like he wanted to go outside most days, but he had to avoid the other patient if he could even think of getting better.
———————-
Ichigo Day 11
His family visited again, and he was elated to see them, they cried less, but there was still the underlying knowledge that something was being left unsaid. Karin described her apartment in the city, Dad talked about how the clinic was being expanded, Yuzu shared stories from her volunteer work at the shelter, and Ichigo smiled as he absorbed it all, hoping this time it stuck.
“What about you Ichigo? Your therapist has been keeping us updated, she says you’re making good progress.” His father said the statement with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and that was all the man needed to know he wasn’t really making progress at all if his father wasn’t bursting with the information.
“Things are coming back, or people are rather. I’m starting to see where I made connections to...” he waved a hand by his head, not wanting to give a name to the delusion.
“That’s good.” Dad sounded so exhausted, so defeated. They’d had this conversation before too, guaranteed. How many times has he relived this exact meeting? How many times has everyone thought he was on the road to recovery just to be let down? How long had he been disappointing them? Grimmjow had said something like eleven years, that was a damn long time. Maybe Grimmjow had been right.
“It’s not good.” He shook his head.
“What?”
“I’m not coming home, am I? No matter how many times I come back I’m gone again too soon and I can’t remember a damn thing the next time. It’s been too long for me to still be this bad, and I can’t see it getting better.”
“Ichigo, please, don’t say that.” Yuzu grabbed his hand, shaking as she did so. Chad came closer to signal that time was almost up.
“It’s the truth, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be a better brother. I wish I could be there for you all like you have been for me. Just know I love you all so much.” He kissed his sisters on the forehead and gave his father the tightest hug he could, his heart breaking when the man didn’t want to let him go. He went back to his room sobbing, facing the reality that he didn’t have long to stay this time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made it a full two weeks with his head out of the clouds. So he’d live down here on the earth while he could.
——————————
Ichigo Day 12
Grimmjow was where he always was, on the bench, arms draped over the backrest with his eyes closed as he basked in the sun. He was kept in solitary so often that he reveled in the feeling of the breeze and warmth of natural light, Ichigo could remember that. As he sat down the man barely roused before looking over to him.
“Glad you’re back.”
“Have I done that before? Just stop talking to you?” That caused the man’s eyes to widen and he sat up fully to face the ginger.
“Yeah, twice before, and a long time ago but... you’re never lucid the next time I see you.”
“I’m sorry. For every time, and for anything I’ve ever said to you while I was... in LaLaLand.” He looked away from the blue-eyed man and instead watched the dark clouds on the horizon, it looked like they’d be getting rain soon.
“I’m not innocent either, I’ve said some pretty sick things.”
“Yet we’re still close enough for me to have spent my birthday with you.”
“Doesn’t sounds like you’re asking me.” He rolled his head back to look at the sky once again.
“I’m not, I do remember you, and I’m starting to get back little bits of things I changed. Like how we spend our afternoons together.” Grimmjow smiled.
Ichigo looked at him and scanned over the collage of scars and bruises littering his skin. So many brands, so many razor-made tally marks and carved symbols, and Ichigo felt like he knew the story behind every single one. The yellowed bruising circling his neck and wrists haloed permanently pink welts; he had to be restrained so often, and he always struggled against it. The doctors could only sedate him so much before it became a danger to his health.
“Would you take a walk with me?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
It came back to him in pieces as they circled the yard and enjoyed the fresh air. They’d met in a group therapy session, back when they had been stable enough to still qualify for it. Ichigo was sixteen, Grimmjow was nineteen, and they’d found solidarity in the similar nature of their delusions. Their sixth session together was when shit hit the fan and the older boy snapped, convinced he was in fact one of the soul-devouring monsters Ichigo’s mind had conjured.
For several years their relationship was always one of two extremes, either trying to kill each other while they were still delirious or exclusively seeking each other out for companionship while lucid. They’d been friends for years, even when they only truly saw each other for a day or two at a time once or twice a month.
“How are your sisters?”
“They’re doing well, Dad too. Maybe you can meet them next time.”
“Introducing me to the family? They might just worry about you more if you do that.” He ruffled Ichigo’s hair before pushing his own back out of his eyes. One long gnarled scar bisected his inner arm from wrist to elbow, looking over he could see the other mirrored it. It was a suicide attempt from years ago, the first time they’d stopped talking. The next time they spoke there was crying and apologies and promises not to leave each other again. Ichigo had forgotten, and he’d left twice more. In his efforts to repress just one more thing that made him feel guilty he made the same mistake again.
“I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“Everything.” He traced his fingertips lightly down the scar and slid his hand into his friend’s, holding on for dear life.
“All I do is hurt you, but you’re so patient with me. You’re so beautiful and kind, and all I do is mistreat you because I can’t control my own damn head.”
“You’re sick, Ichigo. We all are. I can’t hold it against you when I have the same problems.”
“But why would you put up with it?”
“Because it’s you, and you always come back, you always say you’re sorry, and you always mean it. I don’t know why you keep coming back to me.” His stomach twisted, after a life time of heartache and abuse Grimmjow deserved so much more than he was able to give, at the very least he deserved the truth.
“I love you.” Their hands tightened around each other.
“I love you too.” The older man smiled, but he didn’t sound surprised.
“I’ve told you before?”
“Once, but I’m just as happy to hear it now as I was then, even if I don’t know why you do.”
“Don’t doubt yourself, you’re worthy of love, I love you and I’ll always come back to you, Grimmjow.”
“And I’ll always wait for you.”
—————————
“Man, Ichigo, you look like garbage.” Rukia said from her perch at the window while Ichigo skimmed a textbook at his desk.
“Another spar with that arrancar?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“I don’t get why you still humor him like that and don’t just ignore him, it seems like that would be so exhausting after a while.”
“It’s... complicated.”
“How?” Ichigo turned to look at her fully, she looked concerned, but thankfully not judgmental of his continued meetings with the hollow.
“I guess... we just have an understanding. I don’t know how to explain it, not really, but somehow I feel like I’m the only one that can really understand him, like I know what drives him past the bravado. Maybe I’m just being naive trying to see the best in him, but after everything we’ve been through he’s worth that little bit of effort.”
His friend was quiet as she regarded him, no immediate rebuttal presented for his justifications.
“Isn’t this the part where you call me a fool?”
“No, I’m glad you’re making progress.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, I have some business to take care of, but I’ll see you again soon, Ichigo.”
“I look forward to it.”
—————————————
As Ichigo was escorted back out of her office Rukia looked over her previous notes; never in their previous sessions had he shown such... awareness. Even subconsciously, he shared a connection and draw to the other patient, and now it was bleeding through the delusion of being rivals to something friendly, unique. She wanted to be hopeful, she knew from the inside the depth of their relationship and codependency, and she knew it well, but she couldn’t hold her breath that they could be allowed a happily ever after.
Speaking of, it was nearly time for their meeting.
He was restrained again, this time he struggled against the jacket and straps viciously, growling like a caged animal.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Eat shit you pint-sized skank!” He tried in vain to jump from the bed he was currently strapped to. The insults had long since lost their shock-value, Rukia only humming in reply.
“You were doing well, Grimmjow, what happened?”
“That weak fuck can’t keep me away for long, I’ll always be just under the surface. He thinks he’s so good and righteous, he forgets who’s really in control here.”
“He seemed very in control for the past two weeks.”
“Lucky fucking break. All it took though was a whisper in his ear and I was right back in the saddle.” His grin was too wide, manic and very unlike the more reserved yet snippy true personality she had found the man to have.
“What did you whisper to him, if I might ask?”
“Oh you know exactly what I tell him, doc. You look so disgusted every time I tell it to you, and that just makes it all the more appealing for me. It’s vile, isn’t it? All the things I want to do to that hot little redhead? Every way I want to bend him and make him scream.”
Truly, it was nothing new, but it was disturbing every time no matter how used to it she told herself she was. It was love in the most disturbed way possible, but the only way someone in such a severe state as this could manage; a ‘possessed’ Grimmjow would share lewd fantasies in graphic detail with a grin, while the more sensible side of him regarded the other with gentle adoration.
“That is enough, why don’t you tell me about this last time, how you managed to stay Grimmjow for so long?”
“He wants it too, he’d love it, live for it, maybe even die for it. Wouldn’t that be fun? If he breathed his last breath being fucked open under me? He’s so pretty when he’s in pain, he’d be beautiful with my hands around his throat. I want him to beg as I destroy him.”
“I said let’s move on.”
“Aw! Am I offending you, doc? Isn’t it your job to listen? Find out what motivates me? If so, you should listen when I tell you just how badly I want to fuck his mouth. Or how I want him to cry when I get rough so I can taste the tears on his skin. I want to know if he’d scream louder from the sex or me breaking his bones. He’d be so good then, living to take my cock, his legs shattered so he can never leave me. I’d ravage him day and night until the time came to end him. Fuck! I get off just thinking about it!” He cackled in the deranged way he always did and Rukia fought not to say something too sharp in response.
“You used to want to just kill him when you two were younger, but you’ve grown attached to him over the past few years, is it possible one day you won’t want to end his life at all?”
“Not a chance.” He was still grinning.
“And how are you so sure?”
“Kurosaki is mine, and I’ll never let him go. His body, his heart and soul, and his last breath on this miserable plane of existence is mine. His life is mine to take, and the day living in these weak vessels loses its appeal I will free us and take him back to Hell with me where we belong.”
“Do you think Grimmjow would approve? Would he be okay with you hurting Ichigo like that? Crippling him, raping him, ending his life when he’s trying his hardest to better it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you stupid cunt. I couldn’t care less what that fuck has to say if he would tell me no, I call the shots. But he wants him, more than air and life itself. He’ll object, but I can show him just how right I am, that it’s better when Kurosaki can’t leave us again and he deserves a little punishment for trying to. He wants us too, he’s said it himself, promised ‘forever’ and ‘always’ despite everything he knows. Meant every word of it. Just keeps coming back so faithfully even when he can’t remember a damn thing, he’s just that devoted to us, t-to me.” The grin started slipping and he appeared disoriented.
“He’s so loyal, so pure, and w-we... I... I’m so broken and corrupted. I don’t deserve him... but I can’t let him go.” There it was, the crack of daylight in the catacombs of his mind. Rukia only had to call back to lead him out.
“We talked about you today, Grimmjow. He spoke well of you.”
“He did?” Unfocused blue eyes turned to her, still hazy as he was brought back to the drivers seat of his own consciousness.
“He says you two understand each other, and through everything you are worth the effort.” She offered a small smile, he turned away to stare at the ceiling.
“I said some horrible things again.” It wasn’t a question, nor confession, just a statement of the facts, yet she felt the need to reassure her patient.
“You weren’t in your right mind, and besides, you’ve shown marked improvement from some of your previous statements.” He didn’t look reassured.
“Thank you, Doctor Kuchiki.”
“And you’re breaking through much more often than you used to, even if it’s not consistent.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” This was the shutdown, their session was essentially over once the man reached this point.
“You get some rest, I’ll be by to check on you tomorrow.” She made to leave the room, only to halt when she was called one last time.
“Hey, Doctor? For the record, you’re right, I’d never want to hurt Ichigo, I never did. I’m sorry for everything you had to hear.”
“I know, you have a good night Grimmjow.”
Sitting at her desk Rukia stared at the two patient files without really reading anything, just thinking. There was nothing to be done for them, no choices to be made, at this point it was clear that all anyone could do was keep them safe. They had a system and a routine, and while the two men were taking small steps toward wellness, she knew better than to expect much improvement. This was their lives, monstrous demon delusions and straitjackets, then at some point between they steal a day or two of walks in the sunshine and quick kisses the staff pretended not to see.
Closing the files she stuffed them back in her desk drawer, feeling just as conflicted as this case always made her.