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Writing the incident report was the last thing Rukia wanted to be doing right now.
Worry gnawed at her, and she was exhausted to the point her mind felt fuzzy.
Her muscles were aching, the bruise in her side she kept forgetting about making her hiss in a breath every time she shifted in her seat.
Still, the paperwork had to be dealt with, the sooner the better.
When a lieutenant was injured during a mission in the real world, it was something the other squads as well as the higher-ups needed to be informed of immediately.
And that was why Rukia was here, rubbing her tired eyes and cursing at the paperwork, instead of sitting by Ichigo’s bedside in the barracks of the 4th squad.
Yet, that was where her thoughts kept straying.
She reminded herself that Ichigo had lived through much, much worse. That she'd patched him up with kidou in the field herself. That his visit to the 4th division was just a precaution as head wounds could be nasty and unpredictable.
And still, she worried.
Rukia stared at the words she’d scribbled, wondering if her jumpy handwriting would be legible for anyone else. She frowned and forced herself to concentrate, willed her thoughts not to stray to Ichigo’s bedside.
She sat straighter and winced when that bruise once again made itself known.
Somehow, she managed to cobble the report together, though she felt like she had to hunt down each and every word and drag them out, kicking and screaming.
Tiredly, Rukia muttered a kidou spell, then sent the report on its way.
She leaned back, ignoring the sharp twinge to her side and just sat there for a moment, her eyes closed.
Finally, Rukia allowed herself to feel the exhaustion, the fear and the worry, all of which she’d been trying for so long to push aside.
Her hands clenched into fists. She took a deep breath. A second, a third. Rode those wild waves of emotion.
For a fleeting moment, tears threatened, burning under her closed lids.
Then she pushed it all aside, composed herself and got up.
Moving briskly, she made her way to the infirmary housed in the 4th division.
Rukia heard Ichigo’s grouching even before she walked through the door and relief swept over her, sagging her shoulders.
A retort was ready at her lips when she strolled in.
“Let them do their job, Ichigo,” Rukia said, cutting into the irritated grumble.
Ichigo sat straighter, turning to Rukia.
“I’ve told you and them a thousand times, I’m fine!”
Rukia glanced at the nonplussed healer, who shrugged her shoulders.
“He seems to be recovering fine and there are no signs of concussion,” the healer supplied.
Rukia breathed easier.
No head trauma. He truly was fine, as he kept insisting.
“Told you so!”
“Protocol is protocol,” Rukia said, quieting Ichigo with a look.
He rolled his eyes but ceased his protest.
“So can I go?”
“Yes,” the healer decided. “No need to keep you here for observation, lieutenant Kurosaki.”
“Good. We’re off.” Ichigo got up from the infirmary bed, crossed over to Rukia.
He grasped her hand in his, and pulled her along.
A smile tugged at Rukia’s lips.
His warm hand engulfing her hand calmed the last errant traces of fear from her heart.
“Protocol and paperwork and all kinds of stupid shit,” Ichigo muttered under his breath, his fingers squeezing hers. “You were worrying and pushing yourself and working overtime. Didn’t even go see a healer yourself.”
“I only have some bruises,” Rukia replied.
“We’ll see,” Ichigo said, tossing a quick glance at her over his shoulder. “You’ve been so busy looking after me you haven’t been looking after yourself. Damn it, Rukia.”
And just like that, laughter bubbled in Rukia’s throat.
“Don’t fret, Ichigo. As soon as we get home, I’ll let you play the nurse.”
“You’d better!” Ichigo shot back, the tips of his ears turning pink.
Warmth flooding her chest, Rukia grinned at Ichigo’s back.
All was right in the world again.