Characters: Ichigo, Orihime, Aizen

XxXxXxX

Orihime came running into the lab, gaily waving a flimsy piece of paper.

"Ichigo, look what came in interoffice mail!" She laughed. "It's a pink slip! I don't think I've ever been so happy to be fired before!"

Ichigo grinned and took the paper. "Dear Dr. Inoue, we regret to inform you that your position has been eliminated due to a reorganization in the company." He snorted. "I'll bet there's been a reorganization. The CEO, President, and Comptroller are in jail, four members of the Board of Directors fled the country… Let's see." He ticked off names on his fingers with a satisfied expression. "Aizen, Ichimaru, Tousen, Granz are in jail…"

Orihime smiled and handed him an envelope before he could continue the litany. "This came for you as well."

He opened it and grinned. "Yup, as of today, I've joined the ranks of the unemployed." He dropped it on the lab bench and held out his arms to Orihime. "You know what this means, right?"

She smiled back in open delight. "We're free!" She ran into his arms and they hugged tightly.

He pulled back from her, stroking her hair. "Let's take the rest of the day off. I feel like strawberry shortcake. Want to go to that new lunch place a few blocks over?"

"Absolutely!" said Orihime, looking up into his face with a blissful smile, shaking her auburn hair back from her face. Ichigo was pleased to see that all the worry lines had disappeared from her face. She was back to the cheerful, lighthearted woman with the sunny disposition that had brought such joy into his life.

Hand in hand, the two of them walked out the door, leaving their security badges on the desk behind them.

XxXxXxX

A couple of weeks later:

The snow was falling softly as Ichigo and Orihime walked through the streets, now glittering with holiday decorations. The night air smelled fresh and crisp, with a faint odor of baking holiday loaves on the breeze as they turned a corner. "Here we are," said Ichigo with a pleased expression on his face.

Orihime gasped in pleasure. "Mariana's? You're taking me to dinner at Mariana's?"

He smiled. "Well, I know it's your favorite."

"But Ichigo," she said in dismay, "it's so expensive. And you're still unemployed!"

"Nope!" He grinned. "I have big news to celebrate. I've got a job!"

Orihime squealed in delight and grabbed him up in a big hug. "That's wonderful! Where?"

He smiled down at her. "The clinic just won a new grant, and they offered me my old position back."

"Oh, that's terrific!"

"So come on in," he said, holding the door of the restaurant open as he swept her a showy bow. "And I have another special surprise for you."

XxXxXxX

"Oh," Orihime said with a long intake of breath. "It's beautiful!" She gazed at the brochure showing a bucolic outdoor scene behind an arch covered thickly with jasmine, and unconsciously rubbed the ring on her finger. A couple in wedding dress smiled beatifically at each other under the arch.

"I don't want to wait any longer. I called them up and they have openings starting a couple months from now." He looked at her intently. "This whole misadventure made me think – who knows what's going to happen next?"

She slid her hand into his and looked up into his eyes, beaming. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Let's take the first day they have available."

Ichigo smiled blindingly and took her lips in a gentle, deep kiss.

XxXxXxX

In a corner of the recreation center of a maximum-security prison located at the end of a long, dusty road in a barren desert, several men in orange jumpsuits were gathered. Two of them held a third with his arms behind his back, forcing him to kneel before another, who sat relaxed in a standard-issue metal chair.

The man in the chair regarded the kneeling prisoner dispassionately with deep brown eyes. "I was wondering if you had an excuse for disobeying my orders," he said softly.

The man on the ground gasped in fear and pain. His eyes darted wildly back and forth. "S- sir!" he yelped as one of the men holding him gave a vicious twist to his arm. "I— I didn't know that I was supposed to—"

"Be still." The quiet voice of the other man cut across the prisoner's babbling. "I'm tired of hearing your lies. As a matter of fact, I'm tired of hearing you speak at all." He steepled his fingers. "It's time we make clear to the entire inmate population exactly what the new situation in this prison is." He looked at one of the other men. His eyes were cold. "Kill him. I think you know exactly what rumors to spread about his death." The man nodded briefly as the prisoner gasped and renewed his struggles until one of the others clouted him on the head. Then they began to drag the first prisoner away.

The brown-haired man in the chair sighed and said to a dark-skinned man with long hair bound back in neat cornrows, "Our next order of business?"

"I have the information on those individuals you requested, sir."

"Very well, go ahead."

"Ichigo Kurosaki and Orihime Inoue have remained in their residences. No special security is in place. The Director of the FBI has been moved to a secure location. We have identified the location and acquired a map and information on the security protocols. Kisuke Urahara has closed his shop and we have been unable to identify his whereabouts. Same for Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, location unknown. Toshiro Hitsugaya—"

"Stop." The man fell silent immediately.

The brown-haired man shifted in his chair. "Carry out the first phase of the plan against the Director. And let it be known that this is what happens to those who renege on deals with me. It must be well understood that my arm can reach anyone, even from here." He smiled faintly.

The other bowed. "Yes, sir."

"As for the others… no action is necessary at this time."

"But sir! Kurosaki and Inoue are completely unguarded and would be easy targets," the dark-skinned man protested.

"Kaname." The man narrowed his eyes at his subordinate. "I said that I wish to take no action against them."

"Of course, sir!" The other bowed his head. "Please forgive my audacity, sir!"

The brown-haired man gazed off into the distance. "There will be time to take revenge on all my enemies. However, I don't wish Inoue and Kurosaki to be harmed at this time."

XxXxXxX

He had been twelve years old that night by the river. The past seven years, his life had been focused on a single goal: revenge for the murders of his family. He had given up on legal routes early, when the police dropped the investigation into his family's case due to budget cuts. He had quickly realized that the only things that mattered were to become as strong as possible and to gather as much information as possible, and that ethics were only a limitation. In pursuit of his goal, his actions had already taken him along many dark and dangerous paths; however, he had always come out unscathed, thanks in large degree to the apparent talent he had for manipulating people, for thinking on his feet and making situations come out to his advantage.

But that night, he had been caught spying on a gang hideout. He had run, but they had caught up with him. He stood on the river bank, knife in hand, waiting for the three large, burly men to attack him. His rational mind calculated that his chances to survive that night were slim. But he would not go down without a fight.

Then under the light of a street lamp, he caught a glimpse of bright orange hair. His eyes narrowed as he recognized his classmate Ichigo Kurosaki. He had been aware of the boy for a long time; his unusual hair color made him hard to miss. They were the same age and had both lived in the neighborhood since birth; they had even gone to the same preschool. But they had never really spoken. All he knew of Kurosaki was his reputation as a tough street fighter.

The two boys eyed each other briefly. Then Kurosaki said, "It's easier to defeat multiple attackers if you fight them back to back." He turned to confront the three men, and the two boys faced in opposite directions as the others attacked.

Even at twelve years of age, Kurosaki had been an incredibly strong fighter. It had not taken long before the three men were lying on the ground, groaning. The two boys looked at each other and then in unspoken agreement took off downriver together.

As they ran side by side, he had asked, "Why? Why did you help me?"

Kurosaki looked at him with a scowl. "Why not? You looked like you needed some help."

They ran for a while in silence. As they stopped to catch their breath at the point where the path veered away from the river, he said suddenly, "This is where your mother was killed, wasn't it." He had heard the story, heard how Kurosaki haunted the riverbank where his mother had been shot three years ago, spending hours walking back and forth along the river. At the time, he had only been scornful of such an irrational waste of time.

Kurosaki glared at him, then looked away. "Yes."

"Do you know who killed her?"

There was silence for a while, and at first he thought Kurosaki wouldn't answer. But then the other boy said, "No. I never saw them."

"Didn't you ever try to find out who they were?"

Kurosaki glanced at him with a scowl. "What's the point of that? The best I can do is try to protect other people who are in trouble."

The boy had thought that was a strange and imprudent way to act, but he couldn't deny it had worked to his advantage this time. So all he said was, "Well, thank you. Those guys looked like they were going to kill me."

The orange-haired boy had scowled even more ferociously. "Don't worry about it. As a matter of fact, let's just both forget this ever happened."

"Agreed." The fact was that they had seriously injured three men. The police were likely to be involved, and it was always best to stay out of trouble. "We were never here."

The two had split up and gone their separate ways.

They had never really spoken again until a few months ago. However, he had been collecting information on Kurosaki ever since, partly because he obsessively collected information for its own sake, but partly because he had wondered what made an intelligent person make such apparently foolish choices, especially given the similarities in their lives.

Still, it was not until the recent events that he had admitted to himself what he really thought about the other man.

XxXxXxX

"I meant what I said. You can have anything."

"I want my freedom. Mine and Orihime's. After we finish this project for you, you allow us to leave and work somewhere else. And you leave us in peace for the rest of our lives."

XxXxXxX

The slight black-haired man entered the executive office and walked to the desk. After the "Thursday morning massacre" where so many Las Noches executives had been arrested or fled the country, Ulquiorra had found himself the ranking corporate officer. The remainder of the Board of Directors had hastily appointed him CEO. Ulquiorra's care and skill in legal matters had ensured that he was one of the few corporate officials with a completely clean slate when the government agents had descended on the company, going over everyone's record with a fine-toothed comb.

So Las Noches had ended up in his hands. This had not been a prospect he imagined when he signed up for the corporate attorney position many years ago. Still, he supposed he would carry out his duties efficiently. He sat down at Aizen's huge desk and gazed at his desktop monitor. All of Aizen's files had self-destructed upon his departure, a logical precaution that Ulquiorra had expected. As a matter of fact, it was interesting how Aizen's presence seemed to have vanished without a trace from the company, surprising considering how heavily his shadow had dominated everything in Las Noches, and how he had run the company as his personal fiefdom.

Ulquiorra began methodically opening desk drawers, again finding nothing personal of Aizen's. Office supplies, pens, spare pads of paper… nothing worthy of note. He began to take the drawers out of the desk one by one, looking for hidden compartments. As he drew out the very last one, he paused. The top of the drawer back was slightly lower than it should have been. He bent down to inspect the interior. Sure enough, a slim drawer had been attached to the back of the desk, barely visible in the shadows.

He took a letter opener to the crack on its edge and eventually succeeded in prying the small compartment loose. He lifted it out carefully and set it on the desk. It appeared to be secured only by an old-fashioned pin-and-tumbler lock. He bent a couple of paper clips into a rake and tension pick, and set to work picking the lock.

It took less than a minute to open. He slid the inner compartment out of its housing and stared at the contents of the drawer.

It was empty except for what looked like a picture frame. Ulquiorra picked up the frame and turned it over. It was a double frame, with two photos inserted in it. On the left-hand side was a faded picture of a family of four: a handsome, brown-haired man smiling straight at the camera, his arm around an auburn-haired woman who was gazing up at him. Two small children were sitting in front of them, a red-haired girl of about nine years of age, and a much smaller boy with tousled brown hair and wide brown eyes. Ulquiorra looked at the photo for a long moment, noting that the boy looked quite familiar. The girl, on the other hand, bore a striking resemblance to Orihime Inoue (although it was not her), a resemblance made quite evident by the second photograph.

The right-hand side held a candid snapshot of Orihime and Ichigo, outdoors in what looked like a park. Orihime had just turned to face the camera, and her face was lit with a brilliant smile. Ulquiorra gazed at it for a while. The late afternoon sun was glinting off her hair, making it glow like fire. She looked happier than Ulquiorra remembered seeing her. Slightly in the background, Ichigo was standing just behind her, one hand reaching out toward her protectively, a frown creasing his brow. The light had caught his face and hair as well, the orange highlights in his spiky hair matching Orihime's. Despite the frown, his expression looked gentle and his face warm and attractive. The photographer had caught a great deal of emotion in both of the figures in the photo. Ulquiorra found it quite pleasant to look at.

He sat there, gazing at the photos, for many minutes, his face expressionless. Then he returned the double frame to the secret drawer, and slid the drawer back into the desk. It sealed itself with a small click.

XxXxXxX

Ichigo looked over at Orihime as they sat together one evening a few weeks later. She had given a particularly expressive sigh. He noted the sad expression on her face.

"What is it?" he asked gently. "Are you still feeling regret over the loss of your research?"

She made a face, absently reaching up to play with the hairpin that she always used to wear, an old habit, until her groping fingers touched nothing but hair. She had accidentally lost her hairpins during the frantic destruction of evidence in the lab that day a few weeks ago. She sighed and dropped her hand to her lap. She missed them; her brother had given them to her.

"No. Well, yes. I miss what I could have done with it, the people I could have helped…but I still think it was the right thing to do." She turned to look him full in the face. "What about you? You lost your work as well."

He said resolutely, "No. I don't regret anything. We did what we needed to do to stop Aizen. And we succeeded. There really wasn't any other way. Yes, it was a sacrifice. But I'd make the same sacrifice again in a heartbeat."

The two of them said nothing for a while, Orihime leaning against Ichigo as he stroked her hair. Then she said, "And you know, it may have been for the best anyway. Is the world really ready for immortality? Think about all the problems it could cause."

Ichigo nodded. "You're right about that. Even the rumor of it seemed to be fairly disruptive."

Orihime peeked up at him. She hesitated, and then said to him cautiously, "You do know, though… that I remember all the processes I went through. If necessary, I could reproduce my work—" she stopped as Ichigo put a finger to his lips with a small smile.

"Shhh—I think it's best if we don't even think about that."

She snuggled back into his arms, smiling. "Okay!" Then she looked up at him with a wide grin. "I've got an idea for something else to talk about. Maybe," she smirked slyly, "a better kind of immortality. What should we name our first baby?"

Ichigo looked at her, startled. Then his lips quirked up in a smile to match hers. "Well, if it's a boy—"

~ THE END ~