Title: Bridge Over Troubled Water
Chapter: 3 – When the tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all.
Characters: Renji/Byakuya – Urahara, Unohana (and maybe a few others as this progresses – but these are the main ones for now.)
Rating: PG/PG13 – (no sex, a little violence, angst/tragedy)
Spoilers: All the current Manga might be referenced.
Words: Chapter 3600ish – Story 7300ish
Summary: The war is over. The cost has been great. Byakuya disappeared years ago and Renji is still looking for his Taichou. What will he do when he finds him?
Chapter Summary: It is decided where to put Byakuya, flashbacks and more backhistory about the war and Renji's relationship with his Taichou. Information about the Kuchiki family's plans for their leader.
A/N: This one actually happened pretty fast. Gotta love outlines. Sorry for the heavy angst, really, in about two chapters it'll get a little better. May write some omake drabbles – as there was a lot of humour that I've cut out of every chapter because it didn't flow. This was written rather quickly and was edited even more quickly.

(How the story is written: aka read this for better comprehension)
3rd Person POV Byakuya
1st Person POV Renji

3: When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all

He was dreaming of war. Blades flashing, monsters yelling and dying, comrades falling to the ground knowing that they would never get up again. And always present somewhere were the faces, yelling and screaming and begging and accusing. Even as he fought they were there at the edges of his world, waiting for this Armageddon to be over so that they could start their ceaseless torment. He was in battle next to someone – their backs pressed hard against each other, defending against the endless waves of white. Blood poured down, but he knew he would be only attacked from the front as long as the warrior behind him still breathed.

--

"Most killed themselves, Abarai-taichou. Their perceived reality caused them to do great physical harm to themselves. I must say that few have lived without restraints as long as Kuchiki-san has." Unohana was looking at Byakuya as she spoke and I could see that she was debating what the next course of action would be.

Urahara shuffled slightly at the door and we looked over at him, a thin layer of dust covered his clothing and he was nervously playing with his fan. Was it Unohana that caused his discomfort?

"I have… remade a room into something a bit more suitable. Perhaps you would want to see it, Unohana-taichou?"

She nodded and he turned and led us down a long hallway and then into one of his many sub-basements of the Shoten. This one was smaller than most of the others I had seen. It was just a hallway with four rooms on each side. Each room had three thick, padded walls and embedded hooks for restraints. The only piece of furniture was a chair in a corner, bolted to the ground. The fourth wall, the one facing the hallway was made out of a thick, plastic material that had an odd sheen to it.

"I believe I sent the plans over to Seireitei when these were made. New prototype of reiatsu sealing material. The clear wall can stay transparent, become fully opaque or turn into a mirrored surface when seen from the inside, but from the hallway the occupants will always be visible. I slightly modified one of the holding cells for Kuchiki." He pointed to the first cell on the right. He had added a futon on the floor and had sealed up the holes that were to hold the restraints. If it wasn't for the thought of my Taichou being in a place like this, I would have smiled at the cushion he had also added to the chair. "Is anything else needed, Unohana-taichou?"

I turned my eyes to the soft-spoken woman and saw her mouth twist slightly. "I do not wish to restrain Kuchiki-san, but he will hurt himself when he wakes if we do not." She looked around at the cell. "Would you be able to procure a straitjacket, Urahara-san?"

"What? You're going to put Kuchiki Byakuya in a straitjacket?" I exclaimed angrily and the healer turned towards me, a flash of ire in her eyes.

"Would you rather he tear at himself until he bleeds to death or does irreparable damage?"

Frowning, I dropped my gaze, still feeling that this whole situation was – wrong. I left them, walking back to the room where my Taichou lay and started mopping up the spilled water that still lay in pools, feeling frustrated at the world. Mentally chiding myself, I put aside all the negative thoughts and inside concentrated on the 'now'.

After Kurosaki left Soul Society the first time, Byakuya started treating me differently – less like broken rickshaw that needed a kick to work properly and more like his fukutaichou. His primary complaint for those first few weeks was that I could not settle my mind to any one task. He was right, as usual. So we spent hours practicing meditation in Rukongai forest and later in his estate – I learned how to quiet my mind and focus without letting memories and extraneous thoughts appear randomly.

I remember the first time he gave me a genuine smile, a smile that was directed towards me – not because I did something idiotic or because he was feeling self-satisfied – but because he was proud of what I had accomplished.

It was minor, just some paperwork – seated officer reviews, but Madarame had stopped by the office and asked if I wanted to go to his place where a sake party was starting. I shot him a blank look and even though it was well after it was time to leave, gave him a frown and said, "No, I have to get these done – how'd you feel if your review didn't get turned in on time?" I had never said 'no' to Ikkaku before and felt as stunned as he must have been at my response. Madarame simply stormed away and I felt for a moment that I should go after him. However, looking over at my Taichou I saw the gleam of surprise in his eyes and then a smile curl the edges of his lips as he inclined his head towards me, obviously approving of my response. The thrill of that small gesture made me feel better than any sake ever could.

I had almost finished cleaning the floor when Urahara and Unohana came in with what looked to be an institutional-type straitjacket. Standing to the side, I watched them thread his arms through, buckling the back and placing the sleeves around his body and then through the loops on the sides, fastening it tightly behind his back.

"It will not be good to leave him like this for long periods of time, but he shall be waking up shortly and I cannot use another dose of my Division formula so soon after the last one. Hopefully, this will not cause him too much harm for a few hours," Unohana murmured and looked at me. "Could you please carry him, Abarai-taichou?"

Giving a slight scowl, I picked Byakuya up and carried him into the hidden basement and put him down on the futon on his back, figuring that that was the most comfortable position and walked out, closing the door softly behind me. My stomach was churning and I felt nauseous; I wanted to say it was just hunger, but I knew it was the stress of having to come to grips with what my Taichou had become. I didn't even really know what he had become, but he wasn't who he used to be. Silently, I vowed that I would do what I could to help him – whatever the cost.

I heard dishes clanking as I went back upstairs and wandered into the dining area where the two were seated at the table, serving themselves some dinner that Urahara had procured from somewhere.

"Renji-san! Sit. Eat. Surely you haven't lost your appetite in the last few years!" Urahara kidded lightly and I sat down casually and looked at the meat and fish.

"No, Urahara-san – that's something that'll never go away," I replied and started pushing rice into my bowl. "However, this time I'll say, 'thank you' for all the help as well as the food." I gave him a tight smile and he returned it with sad eyes, likely remembering the many jibes the kids had always given me at the dinner table. Those thoughts hung heavily over the food and until Unohana broke the silence.

"You will be here an additional five days, Abarai-taichou. I will stay as long as I am able, but may have to travel back and forth as Koutestu-fukutaichou is on leave for two weeks."

I looked at her in understanding. The anniversary of the end of the Winter War was coming and many shinigami who had family losses took two weeks off. Although she never once faltered in her duty, we all knew that Isane took Kiyone's death with difficulty and had since lost her ready smile. Realizing that I was focusing on the past, again, I swallowed my mouthful and pushed a piece of meat around my bowl.

"What should I do, Unohana-taichou?" I hated the confused sound in my voice, but I admitted to the fact that I really, truly had no idea what to do with my Taichou.

She gave a very small, graceful shrug. "Sadly, I cannot tell you that. While I am here I hope to talk with Kuchiki-san for a while and see at what level he is communicating and processing information. You must understand, Abarai-taichou, the reality that a person like this lives in is not the same as ours. We will need to bring him back to our reality, if possible. If not, we need to make him as comfortable as we can in his reality."

"And how do you do that?"

"If I knew that, Abarai-taichou, I would certainly tell you. Sadly, I do not. We have had a few cases of partial recovery where family had taken them in and the familiar surroundings and people have kept them comfortable." She slowly finished the last of the rice in her bowl and I realized that the two closest people to him had both been killed, the only people he considered family.

Closing my eyes briefly, I remembered the many times in the months before the war that I had caught Byakuya playing with Yachiru in his estate, or eating sweets with her in a very undignified manner. I also recalled the many quiet dinners he had with Rukia, which confused her, but I understood as his way of sharing personal space. And the constant questions about her abilities as the war neared – not as a Captain trying to determine the strength of another Shinigami – instead as a concerned brother hoping that his sister was prepared to face the trials ahead. And now they were both gone, in the most brutal way possible.

"Abarai-taichou, you should not be dwelling on the past." Unohana's voice cut around my consciousness and I opened my eyes, giving my head a shake.

"I was just thinking, Unohana-taichou, that he doesn't have any family who could provide that service."

She made a sound of agreement, but gave a frown. "Well, he does have family. Very concerned family, in fact. Apparently, they have started the paperwork to remove Kuchiki-san as head of the clan and instate someone else. Now with his reappearance their plans have been disrupted and they are anxious to see if he is still capable of leading their clan."

I grit my teeth. Being his fukutaichou I had the dubious honour of being present during many meetings with his family. None of them had been pleasant – all of them overbearing, loud, obnoxious and rude - it was amazing that Byakuya had turned out as well as he did. "So what does that mean? They don't want him to lead anymore?"

"They have never approved of his methods, even if they were effective. He was not as malleable to their desires as they had wished. It would be more convenient for them to have a figurehead rather than a dictatorial leader. The Kuchiki clan is like the other large noble houses, every one of them tries to depose an overly strong leader so that the heads of each family within the house can retain more power."

"And if they see him like this it'll be easy to get rid of him." I finished for her succinctly and she gave a small nod.

"However, you can also not deny that he most likely is not capable of running a large noble house right now."

I bit back a smart remark, realizing she was right. However, if he had nothing to come back to, nothing left, then he would be truly lost, wouldn't he? Unohana blue-grey eyes met mine and I knew she understood where my thoughts were going.

"We can only try to do the right thing, Abarai-taichou."

--

He woke up on softness. Softer than anything in his recent memory. The dreams of the fighting left him relaxed – so much better than the dreams of the dead. His eyes opened slightly to stare at a grey ceiling. Not white, grey. And it was dimly lit, not black, just not light. It was comforting, the lack of black and white. Shades of grey made him feel more at ease. White always had red and in the black the faces would come.

His hair was in his face again, a brief flash of annoyance passed through him and he reached to push it away. His hair didn't move away from his eyes. He tried again and realized that his hands wouldn't move. Looking down he saw that they were bound closely to his body. Why? He sat up and pulled, no use. Taking in more of his surroundings he saw the bare walls and then a way out. No. It was the same as in the other place. That wall was there for people to come and stare, he had tried to run against those walls before.

He felt his breath come quicker as he tried to get his hands free. A tickle in the back of his mind and he knew that they were coming now.

You can't hide.
You can't run.

Noise swirled around him and he staggered to his feet backing up against a soft wall, realizing there was no escape in the room. He shut his eyes, but he couldn't bring his hands up to cover his ears. The whispering got louder.

Look at us.

No. There was no way to block them out now. He felt his nails digging into his palms, desperately wishing he could get his hands free, and then he could push all this away.

Look at us.

He sunk to the ground, burying his face in his knees, wishing for blindness, wishing for deafness, wishing for death.

Look at us.

It was more insistent now and he felt the need to just look, once, at what was demanding his attention. Opening his eyes he raised his head. Huge violet eyes staring back at him, the pupils so large he felt he was losing himself in the utter blackness. Red started streaming from the black, covering the violet and flowing towards him faster and faster.

Must run. Hard to get up without arms. The red was following. The voices were following.

Look at what you did.
Your fault.
Your failure.

Fear again. No way to escape. No way to hide his face or head. Frantic movements, he must get his hands free. No escape without hands. Pushing hard against something in a corner. Something to help hide him from the drowning red. Something to help stop his ears from the whispers. Please, something - anything.

You can't run.
You can't hide.

--

"Renji-san, would you mind doing a little shopping?" Urahara asked after their dinner.

"Of course not." I was more than happy to help him out with any little chores he had, glancing at the clock I realized it was late morning now.

"Ah, excellent. Just a few things. Your gigai is in the closet over there. I'll make up a list and get you some cash." Urahara bustled out and as if on cue, Unohana's phone rang. She pulled it out of her haori and flipped it open.

"Unohana speaking." A long pause. "Yes, I can come for a few hours. Everything here appears to be under control." She glanced at me and gave a reassuring smile. "Indeed? Well, that is a problem. I will return shortly." She closed the phone softly.

"Something bad?" I asked.

"No, it just appears that the 11th is back to their old tricks and caused a disturbance that has left the 4th Division inordinately busy. They just need a helping hand. I will be back this evening." She smiled and stood up. It was actually good to hear the 11th getting back on their feet. With Yachiru's death, Zaraki had also fallen into a deep depression and the 11th had suffered with their Taichou only a ghost of his former erratic self. Madarame had picked up the slack and proven his worth during these last few years and kept the Division going and even managed to raise Zaraki's spirits recently, getting his Taichou to beat him senseless several times. It was good thinking about them running around causing mayhem again.

"I'll see you tonight, then. Thank you, Unohana-taichou." She nodded and gave me another small smile before disappearing out of the Shoten. I went to the closet and pulled out my gigai, slipping into the fleshy body easily and standing up, feeling the world anew. Some people hated the feeling of a gigai, but to me it was just another interesting experience. Nothing was the same in a gigai: tastes, smells and feelings – they were all different when you had the fake flesh separating yourself from reality. It was an adventure every time and something I hadn't done for many years.

I was still wearing the faded blue jeans, white t-shirt and blue hooded sweatshirt – good enough. Deciding that while Urahara was making up his list I'd go see if Byakuya was still sleeping, I headed down to the basement. Before I had even reached the cell I knew something was wrong. It was just a gut feeling that I had learned not to ignore. I opened the door, my eyes adjusting to the dark.

"Taichou?" I peered around. The futon was empty, I heard a small noise coming from the corner of the room and saw Byakuya crouched near the chair, his head in the cushion. I walked over to him, wondering if he was sleeping. Then I saw the red stains seeping into the cloth and pushed him into a sitting position, horrified by the blood running down his face. I glanced at the chair and realized he must have been beating his head against it.

"Hands… need hands," he whispered and I nodded.

"Hold on a second, Taichou." My fingers were shaking as I undid the multitude of buckles and straps, pulling off the jacket as quickly as I could. As soon as it was off he brought his hands up to his head and grabbed at his hair again, clawing at his scalp and curled the right side of his body against the wall.

I pulled Byakuya back to towards me and used the straitjacket to wipe the blood away from his face, trying to figure out how bad the injuries were. Just a few nicks on his forehead that had slowed down to a trickle. His eyes were still closed, his hands over his ears as if he was trying to shut out everything. He barely moved as I cleaned off his face and when I let him go again he went back to his position against the wall.

"Go away!" he suddenly yelled and at the sound of command in his voice my body automatically moved to leave. I stopped myself. He wasn't talking to me. His eyes were open, his agonized gaze staring at something in front of him and then tears started pouring down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he sobbed over and over, like a litany that would keep his demons at bay. His hands went back to his head and I realized I couldn't let him go on like this. I kneeled behind him and gently took his wrists away from his head, holding them firmly in his lap.

"Stop, Taichou. It's not real. You don't need to be sorry for anything." He struggled against me slightly and I let go, I wasn't going to restrain him. When his hands went back up again, I brought them down, and the motion was repeated so many times I lost count. Finally, he stopped and was quiet. I grabbed a sleeve of the straitjacket and dried his face, feeling the tears still pouring from his eyes.

"It's okay, Taichou," I said lamely, his tears disturbing me more than the blood. I felt him slump against me slightly and start shaking with the aftermath of all the emotion. "Let's get you to bed."

--

The red had surrounded him. The eyes had started their gnawing on his soul. He couldn't get away. Helpless.

The new voice again, cutting through the colour. Help. Hands. Please.

Hands. He pushed his new freedom hard against his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut. Push harder. Push them away.

Feeling the new voice touching his face. Gentle. The red threatened, the eyes loomed.

Why?
Why did you do this to us?
Help us.

Guilt pouring down his face. Self-loathing red in his heart. The eyes staring at him sadly.

Warmth again. Pushing his hands away. No! Don't take them away again! He raised them. They were lowered. He raised them. They were lowered. Warmth on his arms, repeating. Comforting. A final glare and the eyes retreated into a corner, the voices hissed and settled into a low murmur. Tears came again, but in relief. Gratitude must be voiced.

"Thank you."

Don't know how many people are aware of the basics of schizophrenia - but it's a sucky disease, especially when it goes totally untreated. Not sayin' that the Soul Society version is the same, but for now it is. This was a quick write - mostly written in a coupla hours while listening to the Top 500 Songs from Rolling Stone Magazine and talking with my other half about hockey. And yes, the chapters are getting longer as promised. The next one is going to be inordinately long (I'm thinkin 7-8k) to get everything I want in it (I think.) Since there is a lot going on in my life the next update may not be for a week. Reviews, editing etc are, as always, welcome. (Now to work on the To Protect chapter...) Side note: Next week my life is getting a bit crazy, so writing/updates may be less if I run outta time to do anything.