AN: I know this fic is cliche, but I wanted to post it anyway. This lil oneshot has been sitting in my fanfic docs for about five years. I never thought it was good enough to post, because Ulquiorra is such a difficult character to grasp, but after deleting several docs I thought I might as well post this one. So yeah, I polished this a little, but kept it simple, as a love letter to a ship that sank before it could really sail, and two characters that deserved more.

I'll probably always love this ship for the amount of quality fan fiction that's been written for it, the beautiful fan art, the dynamic, and the endless possibilities never explored in canon. I won't be writing another fic for you Ulquihime, but I will always appreciate you ~

An Infinitesimal Moment

"Are you afraid of me, woman?"

She bit her lip, tasting the dry sand that coated the lands around them.

It wasn't a sign of hesitation, but rather a weak attempt to hold back the strange feelings that rushed to the surface. She felt suffocated, as if she were drowning while standing completely still. Perhaps that was why hot tears stung her lashes.

"I'm not scared." She murmured, the ache in her chest becoming a crushing sensation.

And there it was, a look Orihime had only glimpsed once before, when he had touched the surface of her heart. It gave way to a mix of longing and something else. Barely comprehended before turning to ash. It left a sickly taste in Orihime's mouth. A silent metamorphosis took place within his eyes, futile as it burned and disintegrated before it even had a chance to breathe.

"...I see."

Blindly, perhaps with a sense of false hope, Orihime lifted her hand from where it lay at her side. It rose to meet his own, out-stretched one. She could have whispered her wish to reject his death, and perhaps deal with the consequences later. However, there was too much he had done, too much pain he had caused, and not enough time to untangle the mess of friend or foe. Ulquiorra seemed to know this, as he remained perfectly calm, accepting his fate with soft green eyes trained upon her face.

So although they reached for each other, both knew it was hopeless, they knew and yet...

Orihimes fingers met nothing but ash as she attempted to grasp his hand. It flitted over her skin, brushing softly like a cruel caress. And just like that he was fading quicker and quicker, staring at her with those eyes until the end.

And still she reached...

Orihime cried out, shooting out of bed to sit upright. Breathing heavily, she wiped cold sweat from her brow. Her fickle heart hammered in her chest, constricting painfully like fingers squeezing and releasing it in random bursts. Orihime sighed and placed her hand over where it lay in her chest, in an effort to soothe it back to its usual rhythm.

It'd been two weeks since the last dream. She'd long stopped counting the number of them, and instead counted the days in-between.

Orihime lay back down once the pulsing ache settled into a dull thrum.

Sighing to herself, she wondered if it would always be like this; Repressing memories until they surfaced with a vengeance in her dreams, stealing her rest and giving her uncountable sleepless nights. They came at odd intervals, and were so unpredictable she'd long given up trying to fight them during sleep.

Why had fate presented her with someone who contradicted everything she stood for? And what...what were those feelings unearthed right at the end? Why had it all come too late, when all had turned to blood and ash and it was too late to change anything.

All that was left of their time together was a silver bracelet and a shaken heart. The Cuatro Espada was gone, her prison cell a distant memory, but those human moments, where she'd glimpsed something beautiful, fragile and worth nurturing inside his eyes, were harder to forget than the nightmares and fear caused by his pale hands.

The horrific sensation of disintegrating flesh whispered over her fingers, and she shivered violently, turning on her side. Her eyes squinted against the sunlight that peeked out from in-between the buildings surrounding her apartment. Orihime groaned and petulantly pulled the covers over her head. Yet she lay tiredly awake for hours, unmoving as the sun slowly ascended into the sky.

Since it was a sunny day, with brilliant blue, cloudless skies, Orihime decided to take a walk. Lifting her chin to inhale the fresh morning air, a smile tugged at her lips.

Unlike when she was around her friends, this smile was genuine, and provided no effort on her part. It wasn't like she wanted to pretend around them, but she would rather have them think she was alright, than to worry. She didn't have a right to make them concerned, not after what they'd done for her.

This is my problem, she thought to herself. Tatsuki knew of the dreams, but she didn't understand, just as Orihime didn't understand it herself.

She scuffed her feet on the pavement, and swung her bag back and forth in her hand to try and shake the negative thoughts away. It wouldn't do for someone to see her gloomy, and besides others had suffered far worse in the war. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip in guilt.

Sacrifices and consequences weighed heavily on her mind whenever she thought of what her friends had done for her. She often wondered what would have happened if they'd never come.

A flash of emerald green caught her eye, and Orihime whipped her head around to catch a glimpse of it. Her long hair rushed in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision just as a memory clouded her mind.

The quick pounding of her heart thrummed loudly in her ears as blood was spilled before her, drifting through the air as casually as he approached. Though his hands slid back into his pockets, face wiped of expression, Orihime noted from his alert, piercing eyes, that this man was not as casual about this encounter as he appeared to be.

"Come with me, woman."

Successfully blocking out the dulled images after a moment, Orihime tucked the hair away from her eyes and behind her ear. Sometimes, though rarely, she would unwillingly think of him during the day, and she'd start to remember things better left forgotten. All it took was a flash of emerald, or someone passing by with black hair. The smallest detail set off the memories, no matter how much she willed them away.

Continuing on her way as if nothing had happened, Orihime thought about stopping by the bakery, her mouth salivating at the thought.

But as she turned down the busy street that would lead her there, more images flashed behind her eyes. Orihime swayed, feeling distantly worried as the afterimage of her past self slapping the Espada faded away. It was extremely unusual to experience a memory without being triggered during the day, and so soon after the other. Her right hand stung, as it had before. She could still feel the rage that had built and burst like a dam-

The bag in her hand hit the ground with a dull thud. Yet another memory blinded her, then another, all varying ones of the same grim world she'd repressed into dreams.

"What is this "heart"? If I tear open that chest of yours, will I see it there? If I smash open that skull of yours, will I see it there?"

When she finally wrenched herself free from the images, surfacing into reality, Orihime heard a faint buzzing in her ears. Feeling disorientated, she jumped when a blare of a horn alerted her to her position in the middle of the road. Orihime could only stare blankly as the car swerved, skidding towards her. No matter how hard she tried, her body felt too numb to move. With the horn blaring in her ears, all comprehensive thought came to a halt.

Are you afraid?

The tires screeching, combined with the shouts of onlookers slowed down around her. She turned slightly to look at them, at the people watching her with horror in their eyes.

And yet before that last memory took over her completely, a lone stranger caught her fleeting attention. Pale skin set against dark lines trailed down his face, as if he were mourning her loss before she were even gone.

I'm not scared.

Her eyes widened, lashes lowering in a blink. When she opened them once more, he had vanished, and a harsh tug on her shoulder had Orihime's body reeling to the side.

She hit the pavement a moment later, car horn blaring loudly as the vehicle sped past her sprawled form. Some onlookers that had noticed her, bent to offer a hand, muttering words that blurred into one as she quickly stood. A child began to cry at the sight of her bloody knee, scraped from the fall, but Orihime was in too much of a hurry to assure her. Glancing around herself, she found no sign of him.

But she felt certain. Her heart had done that lurchy thing in her chest. Besides that, she remembered the tug that had saved her, the sensation of fingers grabbing a fistful of her jumper.

Despite being unable to sense him, Orihime ran, pushing through the crowd with apologies. Finding a nearby alleyway, she quickly hurried through it, instinct carrying her forward.

For a long, consuming moment, there was complete silence.

She tried to grasp an idea of how much time had passed and found nothing, feeling off-kilter and disorientated like she's missed a step on the stairs - falling - and then he was suddenly there, arms loose and heavy around her ribs.

She tried to relax her breathing, but her eyes remained wide, heart erratic as he slowly straightened her. Orihime couldn't remember being pressed so close to him before. He had solid form, and scent that dimly caught her interest, like the soft smell of grass after a downpour. His hands lingered around her waist to steady her as she stood once more on shaking legs. Shock rendered her speechless.

Silver eyes drank in the sight of him, taking in everything, as if they had never seen him before.…or never would again.

And he remained the same, staring back silently as he let her go, sliding pale hands inside his pockets. The familiarity of the action was enough to choke a noise from her throat, half sob and half strangled giggle.

The Espada wore normal, human attire, standing in a long grey coat. Despite this change, he possessed her attention as he had every time she'd been in his presence before. The same pale skin, ink black hair and tear marks running down his face tore at her in new ways.

But the thing that identified him most however, were those green eyes. They stared back at her with the same vivid intensity she had known from her imprisonment. The only colour she'd known in the world of black and white that was Hueco Mundo.

The park buzzed with distant activity, but Orihime could barley hear, staring ahead numbly. A dull roar sounded in her ears, blocking out all else as she waited with bated breath for his voice.

"Ulquiorra."

Silence met her whisper for a beat, and then-

"Why did you follow?" He asked tonelessly.

Orihime had pursued the feeling within her for hours. Not stopping to examine the reason why. It was less of a want and more of a gut-wrenching need, as if she somehow knew that this would be her only chance. She supposed that feeling had always lingered around the thought of him and...them. It wasn't something that could be put into words or explained logically. They were not friends, yet neither were they enemies anymore. The woman reflected in his eyes had no title.

"I wanted to see you again." She murmured softly. "Why did you run?"

His frame seemed to tense at the words 'run,' as if offended by the term. Perhaps she should have called it a tactful retreat, as running implied hiding, and she knew he'd view such a thing as a weakness only fit for 'trash'.

Orihime bit her lip to keep from asking a second time. It wasn't in his nature to rush, but that didn't make it any easier to wait as he unhurriedly replied. She wove her fingers together to keep from fidgeting, feeling a sudden chill as the sun began to set, a hush falling over the park.

"Finding you seemed the best course of action to take, considering my condition. But it was... " He gazed at her with fervor, before closing his eyes and releasing an uncharacteristic sigh. "I should not have approached you."

"Condition?" She asked, worried he was hurt. His tone suggested that he was injured in some way, though he had no obvious wounds.

His gaze flicked away from her for a moment, before slowly resting back on her face again.

With deliberate slowness, a pale hand drifted to his chest, resting over where his heart would have been. He loosened a few buttons from his shirt, exposing the place where his hollow hole rested.

Or used to rest.

The dark void had been covered by the pale expanse of skin and muscle. His chest showed a faint red scar where it had once been.

His heart had been returned to him.

She understood immediately, now knowing what he'd been referring to before. It wasn't an injury to him, but a defect. A painfully human quality.

Though the Espada stood just as confidently as he always had, she began to see the tiredness lurking behind it. The confusion, the uncertainty. He'd sought and found the meaning of the heart at the cost of his life, but the action had now changed him. Though he wore human clothes and possessed a heart, he stood alone, like a spectator to a world he had no place in. Hueco Mundo would not accept him now.

Overcome, Orrihime's hand raised automatically, before she realized her actions. The want to touch him was there, but she let her hand drop, and did not bridge space between them, though her heart swayed as though to fill it. She supposed her own heart had been too loud for her to notice his own earlier, when he'd caught her. She now cursed herself for not paying better attention.

Ulquiorra's abrupt voice broke her from the spell that had settled upon her. "You're a cruel woman, Orihime Inoue."

She drew in a breath, figuring he was talking about the fight between himself and Ichigo. Orihime would always defend the actions of her hero, her knight in shining armor that was Ichigo Kurosaki. But nothing could excuse what he had become in order to win the last fight between himself and Ulquiorra. It had been the first time Orihime had felt actually afraid, terrified of Ichigo as he'd become unrecognizable.

It wasn't a memory she cherished, but it wasn't one soon forgotten. Ichigo himself, seemed forever changed by the experience, his warmth and carefree attitude only genuinely returning around Rukia.

She brushed back the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear and glancing away.

"Don't misunderstand."

Looking at him again, she noticed a tired shadow move across his emotionless face. "Your cruelty lies in your actions that day on the dome. My discovery of the heart should have ultimately been meaningless upon my death. Yet something changed within me, and you are to blame."

Though she was subject of his agitation, a brilliant smile cracked and splinted onto her face.

Orihime held her breath against the onslaught of tears that had gathered in her eyes, the happiness that bubbled in her chest. She giggled quietly, missing the way that Ulquiorras green eyes darted to her face, drinking in her expression. Her heart still sank heavy and burdened against her chest, but there was a fire under her skin that flickered every time he looked at her. She felt the tension seep out of her shoulders, until she was left light and free, full of relief.

"Well...I won't apologize for that." She smiled at him, silver eyes glittering with mirth and the tears that spilled down her cheeks. "But I'll take responsibility, I promise."

If he needed somewhere to belong, she'd make a space beside her. She was tired of running from ghosts. She wanted- well, Orihime wasn't sure what she wanted from him, and sensed that Ulquiorra felt the same, but for now, a peaceful feeling instead of a guilty, saddened one was something she held tightly with both hands.

Ulquiorra only blinked, but felt the uneasiness and disquiet that had been with him ever since waking up, fade in the light of her smile.

Tired eyes cracked reluctantly open, squinting against the harsh light pouring in from the opposite window. Orihime turned away from it, groaning and groggily stuffing the covers over her head to block out the suns rays.

"I was under the impression, woman, that you were a morning person." A smooth, toneless voice mused.

Orihime's lips lifted, and her hand slid out of the nest of covers to reach blindly for him.

Firm, cold fingers slid between her own warm ones. Her heart settled in her chest, and hearing a sigh that echoed her own, Orihime lifted the covers and pulled their linked hands down to her lips.

He was indispensable, according to her. If he didn't need her, want her, with the same kind of intensity, without a rational explanation of use behind it, he would call her a liar. But as Ulquiorra was slowly beginning to accept, Orihime herself was a being that couldn't be easily fathomed.

Barely a moment had existed between them during the war that was truly theirs. None except the last.

But the war was over now, and the warmth in her eyes, though alien, provoked him to hold her hand a little tighter. It felt fragile, easily breakable in his hands, but it was something he wanted to keep, and belong to.