AN: It's been three years since I left my last author's note! I can't believe time has passed so quickly. The last time I updated anything on here, I was a sophomore (or was it junior?) in college! I've kept an eye on my account all this time, and I really appreciate everyone who has left me reviews in my long absence! You guys are the reason I'm back! I'm planning on finishing up this fic, as well as "Angel of Music" so be looking for more updates soon! Much love!

"Well, that's another one I can scratch off my list…" Coyote Starrk mutters to himself.

He's not really surprised that he didn't find her at this restaurant, given that the last six had been the same. At this point, he's almost lost all hope he'll find her anywhere at all, if he's honest.

Starrk had not only been struggling to keep Grimmjow alive these past three years, but similarly to Nnoitra had been looking for Orihime endlessly. Any menial job similar to the one they'd originally "found" her in, he'd visit whenever he could. One stop, in and out, and then eliminated. Tedious, but well worth it as far as he was concerned- the ticking time bomb that Grimmjow had become recently made everything more pressing, since he knows if the whole thing is ruined this late in the game, it'll be all of their heads for sure. He needs to find her and end it, one way or another.

He checks his watch quickly, giving a sharp 'tsk' when he realizes the time.

"I need to get back to pick up Grimmjow." He thinks. "God knows Nelliel is probably already at her wits end dealing with him. If she hasn't killed him already."

He glances down the street for a moment, looking somewhat bored. He knows he can't search all of Japan. He knows he probably won't find her – but at this point all he can do is continue searching like the dog that he is.

He gives a faint sniff and heads back to his car.

"You did well, all things considered." Nelliel murmurs over to Grimmjow, who leans back in the simple chair provided to him in his backstage dressing room. "You didn't slur once – I'm going to have to thank Starrk for trashing the rest of that bottle you went for. You must've sobered up a bit on the drive."

"Screw him." Grimmjow mumbles, rubbing his face. "I would've done fine even if he hadn't. That was a damned expensive bottle too-"

"All in theory. If we could go back in time a lot of things would probably have worked out better, so it's no use thinking about it."

She watches him quickly deflate at the mention of time. He looks older to her now, but not wiser. Misery has made him weak and tired, and the alcohol has only broadened the effect. She steps over to him slowly.

"I understand that you're fighting this… whatever it is. But you need to try harder Grimmjow. We're barely passing the marks as it is, and Starrk and I are tired of running this company for you. You may be mostly a figurehead, but you had good instincts- hell, great instincts, that made all of this possible once."

She puts a gentle hand under his chin, lifting his head up to meet his gaze.

"I know you. I know you're stronger than this."

He hesitates but jerks his chin out of her hold, gritting his teeth. She hears his teeth grind.

"You have pity on me now that you've ruined me, is that it?" He finally says, bitterness lacing his voice. "Now that Orihime is dead, you've got pity for me."

"The girl was a mistake and you know it. Telling her everything was a mistake, and that was your choice."

"I begged you to let her go. She had made her decision, but she had told me that she loved me, so I know she wouldn't have ever said a word."

"Do you believe everything that comes out of a woman's mouth, Grimmjow? There was no way to know for certain. No way in hell Nnoitra or I could let her be a risk to all of this."

"I knew for certain." He chokes out.

She doesn't say anything after that, her eyes going soft.

And then she puts a hand on his shoulder as he begins to weep again.

"The press conference went well." Nnoitra speaks into his cellphone smugly. "Grimmjow did exactly what he was told, as I promised, Boss."

"So then, everything is falling into place?"

"As far as I can tell. Stocks are on the rise, and both Starrk and Nelliel have given me good reports as far as how the company has been running recently. The only thing that's still a wildcard is that girl-"

"Good. Proceed with the next phase then. I will call you if I have any further instructions."

The line clicks dead.

Nnoitra lowers the phone from his ear slowly, his uncovered eye narrowing irritatedly. The Boss has yet to support his reasoning for wanting to find her, but he knows he's right. He knows that the Orihime girl will become a problem sooner or later, and he won't rest until that variable is removed from the equation.

Tossing his cellphone into the wall opposite of him and watching it shatter, he imagines what it will be like to see that pretty skull of hers oozing blood from a fatal wound.

It's the only thing that keeps him calm these days.

The hospital is quiet as Orihime enters, feet aching, a coffee and some fresh-bought flowers in hand. It's an ominous chill that works its way up her back tonight, especially since Szayel is standing at the front desk.

Her eyes darken faintly at the sight of the man, her grip tightening around the bouquet she had been holding tenderly only moments ago.

"Miss Inoue! Come to visit your brother again today, I see?"

She fakes a small smile, stopping to speak with him.

"Of course. Have to replace his flowers!" She chirps.

He gives a friendly nod and heads back toward his office, letting the door shut behind him. She relaxes.

She'd long since begun to suspect Szayel and the hospital of using her. She couldn't really prove it, but with how long her brother had been in, how many times they've operated to try and wake him up… well, she was no longer as innocent as she used to be, and this is pushing her suspension of disbelief about as far as it can go.

Yet even so, she knows there's nothing she can do about it, even if she did have proof. As long as she's hiding from Nnoitra and all of his allies, she can't draw attention to herself. Sure she could go to the media, but all that would do is put a giant arrow over her head- not to mention a bullet probably in it.

Glancing toward the door Szayel had left through, however, she can't help the faint bit of resentment and suspicion bubbling up beneath her skin.

She turns away and heads for her brother's room.