7.

Title: Blacklist

Rating: T

Summary: He's a former FBI agent turned supercriminal. She's a brilliant young profiler with a murky past. He's willing to turn himself in and work with the police on one condition – he will give his information only to Orihime Inoue. AU based on Blacklist.

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Blacklist.

Posting Date: 1/8/16

xxx

It had been many years since he had called this building home. The man gazed calmly across the wide plaza at the tall façade of FBI headquarters, his expensive jacket flapping in the stiff wind, a single curl of thick brown hair dancing in his face.

"Nostalgic, ain't it?" asked the lanky silver-haired man at his side, his ever-present grin just a little wider than usual.

"Indeed." Without another word of farewell he strode across the plaza and pushed open the heavy glass door.

He bestowed a smile brimming with charm on the sergeant at the gate. "I'm here to see Director Yamamoto."

"Do you have an appointment?" She turned to her computer screen.

"No. Tell him Sousuke Aizen is here to see him."

With an expression of detached amusement, the man retreated a step, waiting.

The woman typed in the name. All of a sudden multiple sirens began to blare and warning lights flashed. She stared, frozen, at her screen as military police scrambled from several corners of the lobby and trained their automatic weapons on the man. He quietly raised his hands, the picture of tranquility.

"Sousuke Aizen: #1 on the FBI Ten Most Wanted List."

xxx

They bound him to a high-backed metal chair; arms, legs, and even his head strapped into immobility. He bore all their moves with casual patience, saying nothing. Several hours went by.

At last the camera trained on his cell came to life and a small click sounded from the speaker. Aizen raised his head. "I see that finally someone with decision-making power has arrived. Commander Yamamoto, I'm pleased to see you again."

In the command and control center high above the prisoner's cell, the old man scowled. "I can't say the same for you, Aizen," he growled. "You were a highly trusted agent, completed years of delicate missions brilliantly, were being groomed for one of the top spots in our agency. Then one day, without a word or explanation, you up and disappeared. The next thing we knew, we received intel that you were running a criminal organization, consorting with the very worst gangsters from all over the world, performing heinous acts and establishing yourself as a world-class traitor." His fists clenched. "Why did you do it?"

Aizen shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. I'm here."

"And why return now? Why turn yourself in just as suddenly as you stabbed us all in the back?"

Aizen inclined his head. "I come here with information vital for United States national security, and I'm willing to share."

Yamamoto gritted his teeth. "Why should we possibly trust you?"

"I'm not asking for trust. I'll give you the first piece of information for free." His voice was smooth as silk. "You remember Aaroniero Arruruerie? Perhaps one of the most vile and greedy killers ever to walk this earth. A master of disguise, he has slipped through more dragnets than any other fugitive."

"And?" asked Yamamoto gruffly. "The man's been dead for five years."

"Is that so?" Aizen's smile showed the tips of his white teeth. "In that case, how can a dead man even now be stepping off United Flight 614 from Munich to Dulles?"

Yamamoto made a brusque gesture, and underlings scurried back and forth, searching through security videos and data collection sites. After only a few minutes, one of them approached at a run. "We have security footage from half an hour ago of a man matching Arruruerie's description at the gate at Dulles Airport. He's telling the truth, sir."

"All right," growled Yamamoto, turning back to the microphone. "What do you have to tell us about him?"

Aizen relaxed in his bonds, and somehow, despite the rough prison garb and the heavy bindings, he still gave off the serene confidence and imperious air of a monarch on his throne. "So you were wrong." He fell silent.

After a long, pregnant pause, Yamamoto muttered. "Yes. I was wrong."

Aizen smiled. "As you have been many times. But I am here only to aid you. Arruruerie has a plan that will involve very great loss of life. I can help you stop him and am willing to work with you to that end; however, I have one condition. I will speak with one person and one person only: Orihime Inoue."

xxx

In a brownstone on the other end of town, Orihime puttered in the kitchen, making breakfast. She hummed to herself as she tipped scrambled eggs onto a plate and poured ketchup all over them.

"Ichigo!" she called. "Breakfast's ready!"

Her husband stumbled out of the bathroom, his orange hair sticking up all over the place, and gave her a bleary grin. "Thanks, Orihime. I still don't understand how you can be so cheerful and energetic this early in the morning." He gratefully took the coffee mug she handed him and sipped it, took a brief look at the ketchup-smothered eggs and shuddered. "Um, no thanks; you know I'm never hungry in the morning."

She scooped the double helping of eggs onto her own plate and attacked it with a will. "That's okay! You know I'm always hungry enough for two."

Ichigo said, "Good luck on your first day in the new office."

"Thanks! And thank you for taking care of the appointment with the adoption office today."

Ichigo shrugged. "No problem. I'm sure they'll want to meet with you too, but I told them it was your first day on a new job and they said they understood."

Orihime's face darkened. "I hope so." She clasped her hands together. "Oh, Ichigo, starting a family together means so much to me. Especially after all that's happened."

He hugged her. "Don't worry. We'll do it together. You just go and make a great impression on your first day at work."

"I'm sure there won't be that much to do today, probably just a lot of paperwork and so on. Most likely no one will even notice me."

The sound of a helicopter flying very low over the house filled the room and the windows rattled. Orihime ran outside and stopped short. It had landed in the park across the street. Two men in trench coats emerged and ran toward her.

"Orihime Inoue?" one asked. "We have orders to take you immediately to a location where your services are urgently needed."

Behind her, Ichigo closed his gaping jaw. "No one will notice you, huh?" He grinned. "Well, have a good day!"

xxx

In the central lobby of a huge old abandoned post office now owned by the FBI and used as a black site for high level prisoners and other covert operations, the man had been secured, still bound to his chair, a spotlight trained on his black-clad figure. Uniformed military police ringed the large room, their automatic weapons at the ready. A single straight-backed wooden chair faced the man they called the most dangerous criminal on the planet. Orihime swallowed her apprehension and marched to the chair, shoulders back. It hit her with a slap how incredibly handsome he was, those confident deep brown eyes simmering with intensity, finely carved features and a languid grace imbuing the smallest of his movements. The photos she had seen didn't do him justice. She warned herself not to be affected by the physical package. This man was evil, responsible for countless deaths and other crimes, a traitor to his country and to all that was good. She would have to keep her guard up at all times, call upon her psychological training, skills, and intuition to the utmost.

They had briefed her in the helicopter and she had skimmed the file. His motivations were still murky to her.

Not for long though. She hadn't earned the reputation as the best profiler in the Baltimore office for nothing.

She looked the world's most dangerous traitor directly in the eyes, ignoring the zing they gave her, and said coolly, "I suppose you asked for me because you thought I am naïve and easily manipulated." She gave him a level stare. "You don't know me very well."

He smiled. Ever since she had entered the room, his gaze had fixated on her, and his eyes had traveled every part of her body, lingering on her large gray eyes. "Aaroniero Arruruerie plans to kidnap the daughter of General Kenpachi Zaraki within the next twelve hours and depart the country within thirty-six hours." He fell silent.

"You have to tell us more than that!" she exclaimed.

He spread his hands as far as he could within the restraints. "That's all I know."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do we know you're not lying?"

"You don't. After all, I'm a criminal and criminals are famous for their lies."

xxx

In the office, Yamamoto and a few of his top men clustered around a board covered with photos. "What do you think?" demanded the old man. "He's lying, right? Yanking our chain?"

"No." Stepping to the board to examine the photos, Orihime shook her head. "He's establishing value. This attack will take place, and we need to stop it." She picked up the photo of a tiny pink-haired child. "We need to protect Yachiru."

xxx

A/N: This could be continued if there's interest... let me know.