Title: Rorschach

Rating: T

Pairing: Dark Ichigo x Orihime or Ichigo x Orihime (it really depends on how you look at it)

Word count: 980

Time: 'bout 3 hours, give or take

Summary: Aftermath. Ichigo wins the war, but loses to his hollow. Most likely a oneshot. The "Rorschach" test is a method of psychological evaluation. Psychologists use this test in an attempt to examine the personality characteristics and emotional functioning of their patients. This test is often employed in diagnosing underlying thought disorders and differentiating psychotic from non-psychotic thinking in cases where the patient is reluctant to openly admit to psychotic thinking. Just thought I'd mention it :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

.o0o.

When perception is reality, a picture is worth a thousand words.

.o0o.

And because all things pass with time, Orihime will be strong.

In her heart, she wonders if it will be enough, wonders if anything she has left can reach him now. And when her courage fades, she tries to dream dreams. She tries to reorder her universe into pieces small enough to manage. Weaving them together like snapshots, until they form something she can identify. But the shards are small and their edges snag at her like broken mirrors. When she looks into them, her image is so fragmented that she can't recognize it anymore. She thinks she must be losing her mind or maybe herself.

.o0o.

They hadn't realized she was missing at first. There had simply been too much for anyone to process. The war, though won, would be counted their greatest loss. And in the aftermath, one small, useless girl was hardly worth noticing.

They had miscalculated. Now, their once strong ally would be their most fearsome enemy.

She couldn't blame them really. They had a lot to do. But as she sits in her room, ironically the same she had occupied before, she wonders if they will ever remember her.

.o0o.

His body is all smooth skin and hard muscle. As he moves over her, she holds on for all she is worth; always trying to find purchase, a foothold, something that will give her a way in. There is none. There never is, but she tries anyway and he lets her. He lets her try until she's screaming in frustration and grief, mourning his loss and her own. Too many losses to number any longer, so she stops trying.

Then he smiles as he holds her down, relishing her trembling and broken heart. And she is glad to be restricted; glad that someone else is forcing the pieces together and if she squeezes her eyes tightly, she can pretend that it's him.

.o0o.

When they came, it was with fire and force and in mass. The great general himself led the army and the resulting battle was so fierce that great fields of sand were turned into smooth glass, only to be shattered and broken up into rubble.

She wept as she felt them extinguished, one by one, until silence once again ruled desolate plains.

After it was over, he took her down to where her would be saviors and conquers lay, all shredded bodies, dead and bleeding out in the never-ending moonlight. She cried as he looked on, a king, standing lord over his kingdom.

.o0o.

Once, she would have followed him anywhere. But no longer. Now, he was in a place she couldn't follow. Now, black eyes shine like obsidian in the pale light, glittering with hatred. And even when they look at her, they are measuring her moves, her thoughts, her restless hopes. And that is when she smiles, because they remind her that he isn't him, and she thinks that maybe if he looks at her with those eyes, she will be able to kill him.

But for now, she will pretend that his eyes are brown. She will pretend that when he looks at her, they glisten with tenderness.

.o0o.

Her life is fading away and he doesn't know why. He doesn't like that there is a place that she might be able to go where he can't reach her. She laughs at the irony and even to her ears it sounds unbalanced. He drinks it from her mouth anyway, feasting on her like a starving man. And even now, she can't find the heart to push him away.

.o0o.

She adores his scowl, because it means that he is unhappy. She likes it when he is unhappy, because it means that he has lost and she likes to see him lose.

Sometimes, when the light bounces through the open corridors, it reflects off marble floors and hits his face at just the right angle, and she forgets who she is looking at. Sometimes it looks so much like his scowl that she cries, weeping crystalline tears onto her fine gowns. And she hates what she has lost and can never have again. She hates that it still has the power to cut and it does.

.o0o.

He keeps her by his side now, unwilling to let her out of sight. Twice she has almost taken her life and he can no longer find punishments that frighten her. His amusement at her attempts has long since faded.

At last, she is victorious and her life pools out in crimson rivers. He screams at her in rage and frustration, and commands her to heal her body. When his snarls turn to pleading, she gives in, allowing her golden nimbus to form.

She wishes it could heal him, too.

.o0o.

He has always been strong, but now he falters.

He struggles to find something with which to tether her to him, but these are things he has no talent for and in a final act of desperation, he loosens his hold on his orange haired counterpart.

But she is afraid to let him see what she has become. In panic, she runs. When he finds her, she begs him to not to do it again.

And he smiles, because he has won.

.o0o.

She wonders if she will ever be whole again.

But as he comes into her, he fills her up and she thinks that if they keep chipping away at each other maybe someday they will form two halves, and then maybe they will be complete.

And so for now, she will stay with him. For now she will love him, and when he leaves his trail of purple and yellow bruises over her body, she traces them into hearts and pretends that he loves her back.