Grimmjow was feeling rather… Down and out. Washed up. And maybe a little pathetic. Not that he would ever admit anything like that to anyone ever. But he couldn't hide it from himself. Here he was, bleeding out on Hueco Mundo's white white sand, his blood seeping into the grains and forming a wet, muddy puddle beneath him. Everyone was gone. Everyone. The Espada were dead. He knew- he'd felt their Reiatsu disappear one by one. He didn't have to be in the human world to feel them go. Aizen was also gone. Not that Grimmjow wasn't happy about that.

It was just that there was no one here now to heal him. He certainly couldn't do it himself. Waiting here was waiting for death. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was a goner, laying here like this. Eventually someone would come along- hollow or shinigami- and kill him for some reason or another.

But, he decided, he'd maybe welcome it. He certainly wouldn't have to show his face anywhere. This was a disgrace. If he was going to be killed, someone should have done it properly rather than just leave him here to bleed out. He should have gone down fighting. And after that pitiful defeat from Ichigo?

He might as well kiss his masculinity goodbye.

Grimmjow closed his eyes against Hueco Mundo's wide open expanse and breathed out a wheeze. Everywhere hurt. He was just hoping it would be over faster if he passed out.

Grimmjow awoke in his room, sitting straight up and in a cold sweat. He looked around in a blind panic, groping for Pantera with one hand and his hakama with the other.

And then he remembered. He exhaled, put Pantera back in its place by the bed, and laid back on his pillows. Just a dream. Just a fucking dream.

Just a fucking dream that he'd been having every night for a month.

"Fuck." He growled to himself, rolling over onto his side and curling up. Maybe, just maybe he'd be able to get back to sleep.

Yeah, 'cause that was actually going to happen.

Grimmjow had been living alone in Hueco Mundo for roughly six months now. There hadn't been even a whiff of another hollow. Which also meant no shinigami. He still trained every day- no need to get rusty, regardless of who did or didn't show up. The sheer emptiness of the place, though… It was tough to admit, but it was getting to him. He was becoming paranoid- checking over his shoulder every once in a while, feeling like Halibell or Staark or Lilynette was standing there. Sometimes he'd find himself just wandering the hallways of Las Noches, hands in his pockets, wondering where the hell Ulquiorra was.

And then he would remember that all of them were dead. He would never see them again. So why did he still look behind him? Why did he still check under his bed and in his closet for a monster that would never appear?

He needed to get out of this funk. He needed to be with people again, no matter how much he didn't want to be. In the morning. He'd deal with this shit in the morning. For now he needed some sleep, not peppered with the memories of his almost-death.

Ichigo was adjusting rather well to his new life. Everything had been pretty quiet since he'd gotten his powers back. Well, he still wasn't full power, but he was closer than he had been. He could at least see spirits and feel reiatsu again. Which was definitely an improvement. He was lounging in the park during the brief hour he had to himself. Which was at nine o'clock at night. He needed this time alone. His family and friends were always concerned about him, asking whether or not he was okay or happy or something like that. And those weirdos who helped him get his power back were incessant in trying to get him to cooperate.

Put that and school together, and Ichigo never had a second alone save for sleeping. And sometimes even then he wasn't alone.

A breeze ruffled the grass around him, making a gentle 'shhhh'ing sound. Ichigo sighed contentedly and closed his eyes against the stars, his hands behind his head as he lay back on the hill. This was really nice.

Suddenly, a large spike in reiatsu made Ichigo sit up abruptly. But it was gone just as fast, so he couldn't even be sure of what he'd felt. Blinking absently, Ichigo looked around at the park. The clearing he was laying in, the trees around it, and the path leading back to the entrance and the main pathway. There wasn't anyone around.

Wait. No. There it was. No one could completely hide that much spiritual pressure. Ichigo stood up, brushing himself off as he did, searching with his eyes and his mind, trying to find the source.

He didn't have to look far.

Emerging from the tree line was a white shape, a little bent over and tired-looking. Ichigo couldn't tell who it was from that far away- the dude was on the other side of the clearing, and it was dark. But then whoever it was looked up, and Ichigo felt the knowledge strike him instantly. And yet, for some reason, he felt no urge to attack or defend, no instinct to get into his shinigami form and kick some ass. Then he took a closer look at the person opposite, and he kind of understood why.

Grimmjow looked haggard and worn, worked to the bone and exhausted. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was much more unruly than usual. He even looked a little thinner since the last time Ichigo had seen him. But then again, that could just be Ichigo's mind playing tricks on him, his memory lacking a little or something.

He expected Grimmjow to attack, but all the teal-haired man did was grimace at him before arranging his face into a carefully neutral expression and approaching. Ichigo didn't move, frozen and watching Grimmjow's every move. And yet, all the Sexta Espada did was sit down heavily about a meter away from Ichigo, laying back and closing his eyes with a sigh.

Ichigo didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this?

"You gonna sit down, Ichigo?" Grimmjow's speaking broke Ichigo out of his thoughts.

He sat down dumbly, still watching Grimmjow.

"What are you doing here?" He finally asked, his voice accusing.

Grimmjow didn't say anything. Didn't even open his eyes. Ichigo waited a beat, looking at the way Grimmjow's chest rose and fell slowly, the teal-haired man's hands resting gently atop it. Then anger enveloped him. How dare he show his face here when all he'd done was fuck things up for Ichigo? How dare he show his face without even a 'thanks for saving my life back there, Ichigo'?

Ichigo grabbed the front of Grimmjow's jacket, dragging him up so that Ichigo could snarl in the other's face.

"I asked you what the hell you're doing here!" Ichigo growled dangerously, glaring into Grimmjow's now-open eyes.

Grimmjow heaved a sigh, and Ichigo was forced to inhale his exhale. It actually wasn't as disgusting as Ichigo would have thought.

"I just wanted to get some fucking sleep." Grimmjow muttered, not looking at him.

"… Let me get this straight. You came to the world of the living… Just to get some sleep." Ichigo assessed slowly. "…What the fuck?"

"Please, Ichigo." There was a tone in Grimmjow's voice that Ichigo had never heard before. In fact, he sounded rather small and meek.

"Why should I believe you?" Ichigo was still skeptical, but his grip on Grimmjow was loosening.

"…Please, Ichigo. I can't…" Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo's wrist, trying to hold himself at the awkward angle with his other. But his grip wasn't hard or punishing. Grimmjow wasn't trying to get away.

The revelation made Ichigo let go, and Grimmjow eased himself back on the grass with another deep breath. They watched the stars together in fragile silence, as if either one of the speaking, especially to question exactly why they weren't tearing at each other's throats, would break the moment into pieces. When Ichigo next looked over at Grimmjow, the ex-Espada was asleep. His breathing was regular and his muscles were lax.

He looked a little less haggard like that, Ichigo decided. He still had a small scowl on his face, but he seemed more approachable than when he was awake. Ichigo found he had the nerve to scoot a little closer to get a better look at Grimmjow's expression.

It happened very, very fast from there.

Before Ichigo had realized what was going on, Grimmjow had attacked him.

Well, not really attacked, per sey. At least, not with any real intent to harm. Grimmjow's arm had shot out, smacking Ichigo on the shoulder hard enough to send the berry head to the ground, where he'd been leaning on his elbow beforehand. And as Ichigo was getting over that little shock, Grimmjow had rolled over on top of him, trapping the redhead beneath his muscular frame. Even if he had lost weight, Ichigo soon came to the conclusion that he was very well trapped underneath Grimmjow until the man decided to move, for no amount of pushing and shoving was getting him off. Apparently the Espada slept like a bear in hibernation, because Ichigo even hit him across the face to at least wake him up and still it did nothing.

So he relaxed, realizing that there was absolutely nothing he could do until Grimmjow woke up and moved his fat ass off of the substitute Shinigami. He sighed, huffing a stray lock of too-long teal hair out of his face. Grimmjow had somehow managed to bury his face into Ichigo's neck. Who knew this vicious, bloodthirsty heathen was a closet cuddler? Ichigo doubted Grimmjow even knew it himself.

It took him a moment to realize that Grimmjow was talking in his sleep. It was only a faint murmur, but the movement of his lips on Ichigo's neck and his hot breath in the cool night was rather distracting, no matter how many kinds of disturbing Ichigo found that.

It took him another moment to notice that Grimmjow was actually saying discernable words rather than random sounds. That was when he started paying attention.

"N… Not… 'Lone." Grimmjow breathed. "Dead… Don' wan' b' dead…" Ichigo's heart nearly stopped. Was this Grimmjow showing fear? Regardless of how aware of it he was. "Don' wan' b'… Alone." He mumbled.

Actually, considering the person it was coming from, that could be kind of serious. Was it the fact that Grimmjow was alone in Hueco Mundo that had affected his appearance so much? Ichigo looked down at the Espada, sprawled haphazardly over his own body. He found himself wanting to comfort the other, even if he was a jackass and didn't really deserve it.

Ichigo threaded his fingers through Grimmjow's hair, finger-combing out tangles and trying to be as soothing as possible with one arm trapped between himself and the ex-Espada.

"You're not alone, Grimmjow. You've got me." Ichigo murmured, massaging at the muscles in Grimmjow's neck. "It's gonna be alright, you'll see." He wasn't entirely sure if he was reassuring himself or Grimmjow now.