Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Bird With Broken Wings

Prompt: Accidents happen...

A/N: Written for LJ.

Emotion had always been foreign, like the sands upon a distant beach, bathed in sunlight. The cold, white halls of Los Noches were what he was used to. Solitude was his ally; emptiness was his friend; dust was his final fate. Nothing, even the aspects of death that cursed and stole life away, could faze him. He was all but immune to such things. Lacking, some might have said, the skill set one needed to wind one's way through life. But he, being the embodiment of the word "hollow," could not understand.

In a way, he was broken. Doomed to live out his existence without knowing the joy, anguish, and rage felt by his companions. The way their faces changed in seconds, the different tones that manifested in their voices, it was all alien to him. But this child, this girl who seemed to be the beacon in the dark for the Soul Reaper boy and his friends, was far more strange than anything he could have observed. She had an energy about her, even while she hung her head in despair, that seemed to reach out to him. Beckoning for him to follow and discover.

It had been a subtle cry at first, but as the days passed, the gentle voice had grown louder, booming in his ears each time he set his gaze upon her. It seemed that she had sensed the confusion in his soul, as she had gone so far as to smile at him, even as he had taken her to his Lord Aizen. Unlike their first encounter, she seemed to have grown used to his presence, his quiet and obedient nature. It was almost suffocating to be so close to her, the curiosity slowly consuming him.

Now, lying in wait for the Soul Reaper boy to come and save her, he almost wished that her savior wouldn't show. It would give him some much-needed time to sort out the myriad of questions that had slipped into his mind. Looking at her, seated quietly on the floor, her gentle features were almost hypnotic, catching him in a moment that was unlike any other. It was as the Sexta had said. He was broken and grounded, unable to soar away from that which was unknown. His instinct, that of fight-or-flight, had all but dissipated, leaving him stranded before the human who seemed to want to mend his broken wings.

She was an enigma to him, one that he wished to understand. It had all happened by chance, and the hands that had caught hold of him would never let go.

Apparently, there's a poem of the same name.