Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Quote belongs to e.e cummings.

--

Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit.

--

Their arrival in Hueco Mundo creates a disturbance - corrupts the already twisted space that they have forged together.

"I'm coming in."

The only audible sound is the squeaking of the trolley's wheels behind him; Ulquiorra's feet themselves do not make a sound. Orihime, who is usually so compliant - so malleable, so easy to mold - eyes him warily. The sight of her trepidation unsettles Ulquiorra.

This is new.

"It seems you've noticed," he says coolly, drawing nearer to her. "It appears that idiot Nnoitra got impatient, despite the fact that he was given the order to wait in his palace..." He pauses, waits for this all to sink in. He expects Orihime's expression to falter, to wilt beneath his gaze as it always does. But instead she blooms, growing defiant at the harshness of his words.

"Sado-kun is not dead."

Someone else may have shrugged in a show of indifference, having been caught in a lie. But Ulquiorra will not give her a clear indication either way. He has always been a passive participant in situations such as these.

"He's not," she whispers again, fiercely.

Ulquiorra's deadpan expression does not falter. "Dinner time," he says instead, hands in his pockets. "Eat."

She turns away from the tea the servant is pouring for her. "I don't need it," she says, purposely being difficult. Ulquiorra can no longer ignore her insubordination; he has an obligation to Aizen to ensure the younger woman's well-being.

"It is your duty to preserve your life until Aizen-sama calls for you," he reminds her coldly. "So eat." Orihime now seems perfectly intent to ignore him entirely, and Ulquiorra very nearly sighs.

"Shall I implement force?" He asks. "Or do you want me to tie you down and give it to you your nutrition intravenously?"

"Sado-kun," she murmurs, her back still facing him - still giving him the cold shoulder. "Is not dead..."

What do you want from me, woman?

"Such persistence," he says dismissively. "Dead or alive, either way will do." Her shoulders stiffen, and he knows immediately that he's touched a nerve, that he's irritated those sensitive human emotions. "What would you have me say?" He continues blandly, watching as those tiny, delicate hands curl into fists at her sides. "'Don't worry, I'm sure he's still alive?'" He shakes his head slowly in disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not here to comfort you."

Orihime, at last, turns. Her eyebrows are knitted together, her expression downcast. The sight of it moves him - as much as Ulquiorra can be moved, that is - and his own features soften somewhat, neutralize back into indifference. "I don't understand," he says finally, more delicately. "Why are you so fixated on life and death?"

Orihime doesn't have an answer to that; or maybe she does, but she understands the pointlessness of trying to convey it to him: Ulquiorra is a hollow, after all, no matter how you spin it. There are some things he will never be able to understand. Topics such as these just don't hit home with him the way that they do with Orihime: they are frivolities, trifle matters he doesn't see worth being concerned with.

"They should have seen this coming."

Orihime bristles at the comment. "Stop it..." she says, weakly.

"If they couldn't see it coming," he persists, hoping to convey to her his meaning, "then the fault lies in their own foolishness. Laughing them off as a group of idiots would be sufficient." He pauses, those brilliant green optics searching her, trying to find the hidden answer. "Why can't you do that?"

Why do you need anyone else other than me?

"If it were me," Ulquiorra says, and Orihime shakes her head incredulously. "If it were me and my friends had entered Hueco Mundo without first gauging their strength, I would be infuriated by their stupidity."

It ends up happening so abruptly - so spontaneously - that Ulquiorra can not foresee the intent and take preventative measures to stop it. Orihime races forward, brings back her hand and slaps him right across the face. The force of the blow - and the shock behind it - actually causes Ulquiorra to turn his head.

Orihime's enormous chest is heaving from the effort of her movement. Ulquiorra is much stronger, and much sturdier, than she: his face remains pale and unblemished, despite the ferocity behind her attack. He remains unfazed, except perhaps the fact that inwardly, he's confused. She has never reacted violently to him: truly, he would have never considered her capable of it.

I can't believe it.

He cocks his head, looks her head-on. The sight of her tears disgusts him: it offends his very being. It is an insult to everything he has done for her.

I've cared for you, tended to you, taken care of your every physical need. And yet your allegiance continues to waver. Why?

A cold fury consumes Ulquiorra. It is because of them. "I will return in one hour," he says, no longer able to look her in the eyes. He pivots on one heel and marches toward the exit, leaving Orihime swathed in the long, imposing figure of his shadow as he goes. "If you have not eaten by then," he says, pausing in the doorway and turning back to gaze over his shoulder at her, "I will bind you and force you to eat. You can count on that."

Orihime's lower lip trembles, her hands clasped before her. Ulquiorra merely turns, coattails swirling, as he sets off to find Kurosaki.

--

"It's been a while, shinigami."

It doesn't take him long to locate the source of Orihime's anxiety: Ichigo Kurosaki's spiritual pressure is hardly subtle, ricocheting off of the dimensional walls of Hueco Mundo like a siren's call, guiding Ulquiorra straight to him. As he makes his way down the steps, his calculating gaze sweeps over the fiery-haired warrior's leanly muscled form. He wonders vaguely it is that Orihime sees in him: to Ulquiorra, the boy is hardly extraordinary in any sense, except for the deafening roar of reiatsu. Even still, it is quite evident that Kurosaki is all brawn, and no brains: he lacks finesse, control. Ulquiorra is not impressed by him in the slightest, although he does at last acknowledge him as a threat, although a threat of a very different kind.

Your presence is tainting the woman's stay here, Kurosaki. And for that, you deserve to be destroyed.

"Rukia Kuchiki is dead," Ulquiorra says flatly. Kurosaki's eyes immediately widen in surprise, which is the desired effect, but soon thereafter they narrow in suspicion.

But in the end Ichigo Kurosaki appears to be equally unimpressed with Ulquiorra. He seems to think that Ulquiorra is lying to him, and will eventually turn away from the Cuatro Espada.

Dangerous, Kurosaki. Don't you know who I am?

Suddenly it becomes paramount to Ulquiorra that the teenager acknowledge him. "Stubborn, aren't we?" Ulquiorra asks quietly. "Is it alright to leave first before killing me?"

I could strike you down where you stand.

"I have no reason to fight you," Kurosaki says, still not bothering to turn around. His imprudence invokes quiet anger on Ulquiorra's behalf. "You are an enemy, but you have yet to hurt my friends."

I'll make you bleed for your sins.

"I see," Ulquiorra says, his emerald eyes boring into the younger man's back. "What if I told you that I was the one who brought Orihime Inoue to Hueco Mundo?"

Fight me, Kurosaki.

Kurosaki's response is immediately gratifying: Ulquiorra lifts his wrist lazily to deflect Zangetsu as it comes screaming down.

"So Orihime didn't come to Hueco Mundo of her own free will…!"

How unnecessarily theatrical, Ulquiorra thinks, as he continues to bait the other man. For the first time in a while, he actually wants to fight, to show off his prowess. He wants to crush Ichigo Kurosaki, crush the little boy like the insignificant vermin that he is.

"Sorry though, I'm in a hurry," Kurosaki sneers eventually, after they break apart. "So let's go all out!"

This is her great defender? Ulquiorra thinks to himself as Kurosaki calls out his bankai. He's nothing but trash.

It isn't until the black swirling galaxy collides with him that Ulquiorra thinks that perhaps he's badly miscalculated.

--

Ulquiorra ends up walking away from the encounter completely unscathed, although his clothes have taken a severe beating. The shredded garments hang from his slender form, a reminder that Ulquiorra has indeed underestimated Kurosaki's own potential, but not by much. His opponent, it seems, did have a formidable amount of power, but one that fluctuated wildly, unable to be properly harnessed. Ichigo's inability to control his own chaotic spiritual pressure ends up being his undoing: he now lies, slain, at Ulquiorra's feat, pierced neatly through the chest.

Killing him does not end up being as nearly as satisfying as Ulquiorra had hoped it would be. He will eventually walk away from the lifeless body of Orihime's beloved, feeling mildly disappointed.

--

He winds up being a little later than he said he would be; the encounter with Kurosaki had drawn out longer than the Cuatro Espada had intended. By the time he reaches Orihime's room, night has long since fallen in Los Noches, and the halls are dark and barren.

The first thing he notices when he enters his captive's room is that she has obeyed his wishes, and the tray of food provided has been picked clean. He sees Orihime curled into a fetal position on the couch, her front turned away from him. She appears to be sleeping.

As he draws nearer he sees that it is a restless slumber. Her hands, tucked against the mounds of her breasts, twitch restlessly, and her eyes remained squeezed tightly shut, as though trying desperately to ward off nightmares. At the corner of them he sees the remnants of dried tears, and the fact that even in sleep, Orihime cannot free herself from the restraints of her petty emotions softens Ulquiorra's heart somewhat. He leans down and kisses the dark lashes at the creases of her eyes, licks away the salty residue that resides there.

The feel of his tongue upon her causes Orihime to stir. She rolls onto her back and opens her eyes, gazing up into those familiar, narrow pupils. Ulquiorra is leaning over her from the arm of the couch, hunched over so that his dark, inky hair tickles the space between her chin and her clavicle.

"Ulquiorra?" She says, and there is none of that sleepy fondness that Ulquiorra is accustomed to seeing on nights like these. Instead, there is only wariness – and the first vestiges of creeping despair.

"I need to know if you're still angry at me," he says.

"Is Rukia really dead?" She whispers.

Ulquiorra pauses, closes his eyes. "I don't know," he admits, finally. When he opens his eyes again Orihime is searching his face, trying feebly to find any indication of a lie. He isn't lying: he honestly doesn't know.

"Kiss me," he says quietly, huskily. Orihime hesitates, and for a moment Ulquiorra stills, disturbed by her lack of cooperation. She has never denied him like this before, and he thinks angrily of the profound effect that her friends' presence here in Hueco Mundo have had on her. But then there is a beat, and the young woman acquiesces, rolling over and pulling herself up onto her elbows so that her mouth can find his own.

Orihime's kisses are like nothing else in this world or any other. It's over far too quickly for Ulquiorra's liking, but the look of her moist, lightly parted lips inspire deep pangs of lust inside of him. His hands reach for her again, one threading through her heavy auburn locks while the other strokes down between the valley of her breasts. Orihime frowns as he does this, at last taking in the unruly state of him.

"What happened to your clothes?"

Ulquiorra does not answer, instead leaning forward so that his mouth can find the hollow of her throat. Orihime shies away before his tongue can lave the shell of her delicate ear. She is eyeing the dried blood on Ulquiorra's right hand in horror. She suddenly knows that he's done something terrible, can smell the death of one of her friends on him.

"Oh, God," she whispers, recoiling away from him. When Ulquiorra tries to pursue her, she reaches out, pushes off of his chest with both hands and scuttles backwards until her back is pressed up against the opposite end of the couch. "Oh God," she moans in despair, "Ulquiorra, what have you done?"

--

A/N: I guess we're way overdue for a multi-chaptered Ulquihime from keem, eh? You knew it was bound to happy eventually.

From what I've seen of other authors, they tend to take these two characters and show the progression of their relationship through a series of events. I've decided to do something a little different: I've started at the pinnacle of their relationship, and am simultaneously moving forward and backwards. Their previous history will be shown in a series of flashbacks, while the active storyline shows us the regression of their current relationship. I like turmoil, and I definitely like strife: not to say that this won't end happily, because you never know with me.

This also has the potential of turning into an M rating, because let's face it: I'm a pervert and I've been dying to write something a little more explicit for these two ever since I became interested in the pairing. I don't have a fully fleshed out story in my mind: just bits and pieces that I have in my mind, and that I intend to build around.

Hopefully you've all enjoyed so far :D Please don't hesitate to review if I've successfully piqued your interest! I'll see you next chapter.