Hi Everyone!

Well this baby has been on my mind for the past couple of months. What can I say about it? Well I like it enough to publish it, so there you go. I don't recommend you read any of my previous stuff since I have to go back and edit it. I started writing fanfics when I was thirteen and I think I've come a long way since then. Hopefully you like this. There will be more a couple more chapters to this but that's it. Please be patient with me, I'm a terrible perfectionist.

PS: This story is NOT STRUCTURED. It's meant to flow, be organic but I tried to keep it as clear as possible. Hopefully I don't confuse too many of you.

Sincerely,

Stephanie

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Bleach

Cabin Fever

He loved the smell of her skin.

He loved pressing his nose against her collarbone and breathing in. It reassured him that she was there, safe and next to him. Her hair always smelled of shampoo, the same scent would remain for a month or so before changing to whatever brand was on sale at the time. He'd sometimes get her to sit between his legs while watching TV, and as her large violet eyes fixed on the screen he'd bury his nose in her dark hair and inhale. He'd trek his nose down her neck to her shoulder where he delivered a playful nip. Sometimes she called him a dog for his fixation, when she did, he liked to show her how much of a dog he could be by running his nose down her naked body, part her legs and plunge right in.

He also loved how warm she was.

He often told her this during cold winter nights.

"The gigai's warm" She'd say. She liked to remind him of their situation from time to time. Liked to remind him she was still dead and they were still traitorous deserters. He always replied with a "Whatever" and a tightened grip around her waist.

In the winter they slept under seven blankets.

Every winter he tried to convince her to let him put a heater in their room. And every year she gave him the same reply.

"No, they'd bill us a fortune, plus you're practically a heater already strawberry."

At night, his arm was perpetually kept under her fleece top, his palm pressed against the soft, warm skin of her stomach. Their legs entangled and her feet rubbed the fabric of his pyjama pants or bare calves. Sometimes, Rukia slept with her nose buried in his neck, breathing him in with equal urgency. Sometimes she slept with her cheek on his bare chest, right over his heart.

"I like listening to your heart beat." She'd sometimes tell him after a round of lovemaking.

"Yours beats too." He'd reply and it never failed to surprise her to find that it really did.

He was surprised to find she could cook so well. He told her so the first evening she made dinner in their new home.

"Fool, I don't know why you thought I couldn't. I did fare for myself for decades before becoming a Kuchiki."

But she could cook, and well. Somehow she knew how to make a feast out of nothing and how to condiment the blandest dish. Fish was her specialty. She said it was because growing up it was all they could find to eat.

He could also cook, but only a limited array of dishes. Sometimes, when the elderly town doctor closed up the clinic early, Ichigo would surprise her with dinner.

He loved watching her face then. He'd hear her open the door and take off her shoes in a rush. She'd put down her purse and occasionally drag a grocery bag deeper into the modest dining room that led to the tiny kitchen. He'd hear her footsteps, quick, heavy and then she'd stop dead in her tracks at realizing there were steaming pots on the stove. Her big violet eyes widened, a sweet sudden smile appeared and she'd come closer to greet him with a welcoming smile and a kiss.

At times, she called him, "My sweet baka."

Sometimes she'd whisper it in his ear while he kissed every inch of skin he could find. Sometimes she'd whisper it against his lips after he did an unexpected kind gesture for her.

He only knew there was no better endearment.

At times, she also called him 'darling' or 'dear' in an annoyingly sugary voice but only when she wanted something.

Ichigo feared he'd become unbearably weak willed with age on anything regarding her. When he was fifteen he'd had no trouble denying her toys, sweets, magazines. Now in his late twenties, she only needed to ask and he'd do anything in his power to get it for her. She was mindful of their economic situation, but she was also sure to let him know what she wanted for her 'birthday' or their 'anniversary.'

It went both ways, when she'd ask him what he wanted for his last birthday and he'd answered:

"You on the dining room table"

She'd punched him in the stomach but she'd delivered.

On his birthday he'd come home to find her naked on the table with whipping cream at his disposal.

However, age had also scarred him.

He couldn't turn a corner without looking over his shoulder, couldn't hear a dog howl without thinking of a Hollow. He couldn't let Rukia out of his sight without wondering if she was in pain. When he'd insisted they get cell phones Rukia immediately shot down the idea.

They lived in a quiet, sleepy town high up in the mountains. A town where they could not go ten paces without greeting five people. The medical clinic where Ichigo worked assisting the elderly doctor was a ten minute walk away from the preschool where Rukia worked. Ichigo saw Rukia walk pass the clinic every day after school on her way home. Yet he'd insisted on getting cell phones.

"What would we use it for Ichigo? It's just another expense! You know we're barely scraping by as it is."

"What if there's an emergency? What if one day you have to stay late at the school? Or there's a storm and I can't get home?" Although his excuses varied, the unspoken fear was the same. What he meant to say was; What if they ever find us and I can't get to you?

His persistence eventually won out and ever since then, Ichigo made sure to call her cell phone every day during her lunch break. She understood he needed the reassurance, she also understood he needed the control.

Scars and age had increased Ichigo's need to protect. His ultimate sacrifice had only worsened that need. She had now become his entire world, his sole person to protect. He grew anxious when she was not in his vicinity and at times, violent when he thought someone could be a threat. He'd already beaten up more than one asshole for looking at her the wrong way, or saying something he thought was disrespectful. Rukia knew the only reason he consented to her job at the preschool was because the only males around her were either under five years old or the seventy-three year old caretaker.

She too had changed. Once upon a time she would have resented his possessiveness. She would have fought tooth and nail to keep him in line. Would have assured him she could take perfectly good care of herself and that it was insulting for him to worry so much about her. But she was different now, for she too was scarred.

She couldn't deny the comfort she felt at feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket every day at lunch time. Couldn't deny liking the fact that she could make him jealous with just one smile at another man, be it a store clerk or someone who just happened to open a door for her. He was protective of her to the point of obsessive, but she too used it to her advantage. She too made sure that as cruel as it was, he would never be able to look at another woman without thinking of her. She found herself wanting to mark him during lovemaking as much as he wanted to mark her. Found herself needing to know where he was at all times and much as he. If their situation had caused them both to lose their minds, Rukia couldn't care less as long as she could pass by the clinic everyday and know he was in there, safe. If she was Ichigo's whole world, he was Rukia's and she no longer gave a damn.

He liked to think he was protecting her, possessing her even. But Rukia knew the truth, she knew that deep down she was the one in control. He was always trying to please her, always trying to make her feel like leaving it all behind for him had been worth it. That was why he always kept strawberry ice cream stocked in the freezer, why he took the care to go shopping with her in case there were items she couldn't reach, why even with his meagre salary he chose to use his saving to buy things for her.

She knew he didn't even realize the extent of his behaviour. Didn't quite realize how possessive he'd become, or how much he put her before anything or anyone else. Five months ago she told him to call his sisters for their birthday. She reminded him that morning over breakfast, and during their lunch-break phone call.

"What if Soul Society finds out?"

It hurt her to remember that three years ago he would have hiked through continents to see them.

"Just use a pay phone! At least leave a message! You haven't called your family in three years Ichigo."

They'd hung up with him promising to call after work using a payphone. When he got home that night he told her he'd left them a message on the machine, a simple "Hi Yuzu, Karin. Happy birthday." Guilt bittered her food that night, guilt at knowing she had taken him away from his sisters and father, from his town and friends, guilt at knowing he didn't even mind. She lay in his arms that night, her back to his chest, unable to sleep.

"Karin and Yuzu must hate me for taking their brother away." She whispered to the dark.

"Byakuya must hate me for stealing his sister."

She hadn't realized Ichigo was still awake but as usual his words soothed her. They'd both left loved ones behind, they'd both been equally selfish. But somehow with his breath on her skin and his arms around her waist Rukia couldn't summon the guilt back. They agreed that Ichigo would call his sisters every year on their birthday. Then she fell asleep, and Ichigo kissed her temple in apology for the lie he'd just told.

Rukia was a light sleeper. Ichigo could sleep through an earthquake.

It was normal for her to wake up briefly at least three times a night. Decades of living in the streets conditioned her to be constantly cautious of her surroundings, especially when asleep. Then decades of waking up to the sound of Hollow attack warnings reinforced the habit. Sometimes in those interludes of awareness Rukia liked to stare at Ichigo.

He'd grown unbearably handsome with age. His jaw defined, his cheekbones strengthened and his scowl softened. He was her handsome baka and he drew considerable attention because of it. Weeks after he got the job as the assistant of the local elderly doctor, the small clinic noticed a considerably increase in young female patients. They came as far as from the next town, scraped knees and all, to have the doctor's handsome assistant patch them up. She prided herself in not blatantly displaying jealous tantrums, after all, Rukia Kuchiki won her battles against silly love struck high school girls and other young women with finesse.

In the town's eyes, they were a young married couple, Mr and Mrs Kuroki and they wore the wedding bands to prove it. So after his first week of work, Rukia surprised him with a framed picture of herself and strict instructions to put it somewhere where his patients could see. The gesture greatly amused Ichigo and he followed her instructions if only to see if her plan would work. It did, and although the clinic was still frequented by a large number of young female patients, they all understood that Kuroki-sensei was happily married.

The first time Ichigo called Rukia 'wife' was while they were on their forth bus to the middle of nowhere. An elderly woman asked him if he was going to the mountains on vacation with his girlfriend.

"No, my wife and I are planning to move here." he replied.

Rukia had been pretending to snooze on his shoulder, if only to avoid acknowledging their actions. The further away they got from Karakura, the safer they felt but also the more reality sunk in. Hearing Ichigo call her his wife assured her that they would be fine, that he didn't regret his choice.

Watching her husband's face as he slept, his relaxed features and soft intakes of breath, she felt at peace. She was his dreamcatcher and she dutifully carried out her sacred mandate to keep his nightmares at bay. There were times when bad dreams could be soothed away with caresses and comforting whispers. But there were other times when only a slap or a punch could release him from the images. No matter what kind of nightmare he could have, she made sure she was there for the fallout.

She also liked to see him naked.

She liked to watch him step out of the bathroom in only a towel and then watch him take it off to get dressed in their bedroom. He called her a pervert whenever he caught her staring, she'd always answer that at least she didn't have paedophilic tastes. She knew how much the comment annoyed him, but the anger and disbelief in his eyes worked to reassure her. Rukia didn't fool herself, her breasts were small and perky, her waist tiny and although her gigai did age, it aged very slowly. She didn't like to stand beside him facing a mirror. He towered over her, and she looked too small, too different.

Her height rarely used to bother her before he came along. In fact, she always thought it came in handy. In Rukongai her petite frame saved her from suffering harassment and as a Shinigami it made her opponents underestimate her. Her height always seemed to give her an advantage, but now with just Ichigo in her universe it made her insecure. How could she compare to the voluptuous beauties that came to him at the clinic?

She knew well how ridiculous it was for her to be jealous, but it couldn't be helped. The old Rukia knew that those women didn't interest him for the same reason Yorouichi, Matsumoto and Inoue hadn't. She knew that somehow, he preferred her over all the voluptuous women of the world. But for the Rukia whose entire universe revolved around Ichigo, she couldn't help the tint of insecurity she felt every time a pretty patient greeted him in the street.

Rukia was no beauty, yet he told her she was beautiful with every caress, kiss and lick of her body. She had no sex appeal, yet she knew what standing naked before him did to him. She was tiny and weighed nothing, yet they both loved the fact that he could easily lift her up to kiss her breathless.

"You're mine midget" He'd tell her, as if the fact itself explained all the mysteries of the world. Perhaps, for him it did.

Sometimes, during the hot summer months when they didn't sleep with a blanket, Rukia would stay awake for hours looking at Ichigo in all his naked glory. Saturday nights were theirs, marathon sex followed by languid Sunday mornings was their weekly ritual. It was especially during those nights that Rukia liked to watch him. His long, elegant neck, his strong torso, his stomach muscles, his belly button and pelvis, it inspired her to draw his portrait, to write a poem, perhaps even to take a picture. It was during those moments that she wished she could draw still life, or compose poetry like he could, or buy a camera at the risk of having a naked picture of him circulating around town. Finally, after some time of watching him sleep, Rukia would finally give in and wake him up with sweet kisses and rhythmic grinding. Sunday morning sex was always the most delicious part of the ritual.

He liked to watch her at work.

She didn't know this, but sometimes he sneaked out during his lunch break to watch her play with the children. He knew his actions fit the description of a stalker, but he justified it every time by saying he was merely making sure she was safe. He stayed hidden in the bushes and watched her push swings, chase kids, kiss fingers better and hold babies that were too young to play. The preschool doubled as a daycare centre, the only one in the area. Rukia was one of the four teachers that staffed the preschool. She took care of the youngest children and helped supervise the older ones during lunch and recess. Ichigo was used to seeing her with a baby in her arms or at least two children in tow. She could handle the most stubborn child and because of that she often got assigned the tougher cases: The little boys who were just a tad too violent, the little girls who were socially challenged, or the baby that always cried. They always ended up falling in love with her and he understood why.

Sometimes he could admit to himself that the real reason why he liked to watch her like this was because he yearned for something they could not have. Ichigo watched her hold babies all the time, yet he couldn't help feeling sorry that he would never get to see her holding their own child. A little boy or girl with his curse of hair and her gift of eyes. They never spoke about it, but both knew that her gigai was unable to bear children. She liked to remind him that it was miracle enough that she even had a permanent gigai.

He wished he could give her everything, a house, economic stability, children, friends. But their reality only allowed for so much.

"Fool, we're happy aren't we?"

It was her trademark saying for whenever he went off into 'I wish' land. And it worked, because they were happy, because they were together. But still he watched her, surrounded by children, wishing they could be theirs. Perhaps one day, in a few more years he'd suggest they adopt. Until that day he would continue to look at the ethereal smile she reserved strictly for children from the safety of the shadows.

He'd never admit it, but she was a good actress.

She always knew exactly what to say, when to say it and how to say it. It was thanks to her that they were considered respectable members of society. When they first arrived in the little town they were immediately the cause of suspicion. Where they runaway criminals? Drug dealers? They spent their first week living in a hostel but their money was running out and they needed jobs. Rukia began strategizing from the moment they arrived. She even choreographed an emotional tète à tète with the hostel's owner Mrs Asakura during one stormy night. She'd told the gossipy hostel owner that she came from a wealthy, powerful family and that while in high school she'd fallen in love with the son of a town doctor. They'd endured a 'trying love' for over five years before Ichigo finally proposed to her and married her in secret. In order to spend their lives together they'd both chosen to run away and leave their families behind. The woman had been so completely moved by Rukia's revelation that she made sure to propagate the story around town. Soon after that Mr and Mrs Yamita offered to rent them a house for a very reasonable price and job offers to suit Ichigo's medical experience and Rukia's made-up childhood education experience eventually followed.

Thus, the Kurokis were quite popular among the elderly residents of the small town, as was evident by the steady stock of fresh garden-grown veggies in their kitchen. But Ichigo knew keeping up appearances took work and even he was forced out of his anti-social attitude at times for the sake of their lives here. With practice, he learned to smile kindly throughout entire dinner conversations about the weather. Learned to listen patiently to patients' rants about their conclusive self-diagnosis and even grudgingly agreed to put on ears and whiskers for the pre-school's annual festival.

He used to be... different.

Although he didn't realize it at the time, he used to have a lot of friends. Childhood friends, school friends, Shinigami friends, fighting friends. Sometimes, during those rare instances when he was able to just sit out in the porch, stare at nature and think, he liked to try to piece together exactly how he'd ended up here. He found the more they stayed away from Karakura and Soul Society, the more past facts seemed to simply slip his mind. Sometimes he confused the order of battles, other times he confused the people involved. He depended on Rukia to help clarify and separate his clumped past.

Last time he tried to shed light on his lapsed memory he'd been sitting out on the porch during a particularly hot Sunday. He heard Rukia yell from the kitchen to come help her and next thing he knew they were both sitting on the porch eating cold watermelon.

"Rukia, how many more wars where there after Aizen?"

"You don't remember?"

"Of course I remember, they all just... blend together I guess. I'm just trying to pinpoint when Yamamoto started meddling. Was it right after Tsukishima?"

"I got assigned back to Karakura during Tsukishima"

"Yeah, I remember..."

He remembered seeing her for the first time in over a year. Remembered her short hair and shiny Lieutenant badge. He also remembered wanting to lock her up in his closet to keep her from leaving him again. He remembered their first kiss, remembered the first time he touched her waist, her thighs. Remembered the first time he licked her lips and the first time he bit her shoulder. They had progressed slowly, he didn't even kiss her until his second year of University. They agreed to be 'together' after that, no more accidental touches, hidden meanings and fleeting hand holding. But their relationship had to be kept a secret in order to keep Rukia in Karakura. Then the world turned against him as he was forced to make a decision. He was ordered to never again use his powers as long as he was alive, or risk being considered an enemy of Soul Society and be jailed for eternity. His powers had grown beyond Soul Society's control and Yamamoto feared his inability to retrain the Ryoka. Then Yamamoto smartened up. Why lose the ultimate weapon out of fear when he could control it using heartstrings? Rukia was the perfect tool for coercion. He only needed to order for the girl to be put to death again and he'd have Ichigo and his powers at his disposal.

"That fucking old croon... I'll never forgive him" Ichigo threw the white and green remnants of watermelon into the wilderness as if it would somehow manage to kill the Captain Commander.

Three years ago, Ichigo Kurosaki stormed Soul Society one last time. This time he did it without friends, or allies. An entire decade after having gained his Shinigami powers he walked into the Sereitei, immobilized all who tried to stop him with his Riatsu alone, and once again rescued the girl who'd given him part of her soul ten years ago.

Yamamoto got the message, he allowed them to walk out of the Sereitei and agreed not send anyone after them as long as they stayed away from Soul Society and Karakura. No communication, no visits, nothing. Breach of contract would be met with the immediate death of everyone he cared about.

Sometimes power could cost someone everything.

With the last of the watermelon eaten, Ichigo tugged at his wife's arms until she was sitting in between his long legs. She leaned back against his naked chest, her eyes closing as he ran his finger tips up and down her slender arms, to her stomach and down her thighs. Her soft, sleepy voice broke his concentration.

"Love you, baka"

He smiled. The words were rarely spoken out loud, but they were said all the time. He leaned down to kiss her sticky cheek.

"Same"

Yes, Ichigo was different. His family and friends were now one person. His social life consisted of dinners with his landlord and landlady, his boss or sometimes Rukia's co-workers. But for this Ichigo, it was enough, she was enough. In the eyes of everyone around them the Kurokis were an inseparable young couple. The young man was solitary but kind, the young woman was sweet through stern. They were gladly welcomed into the small community and the sight of the two walking together side by side was now part of the town's sights. No one could ever suspect the burden they shared, or the scars they both bore, but no one need ever know for they were perfectly content within their tiny universe.

"Fool, we're happy aren't we?"

Thanks for Reading, please review. It'll help me update :)