TITLE: Our Greatest Secret
AUTHOR: Fen Jien Ren

ANIME: Bleach
DISCLAIMERS: Tite Kubo owns Bleach and all its characters.

SUMMARY: Grimmjow offers to teach Ulquiorra the things that the Cuatra regarded as unnecessary.
WARNINGS: Yaoi.
PAIRING/S and CHARACTERS: GrimmUlqui, Ichimaru Gin, Sousuke Aizen

FINAL SECRET

ULQUIORRA SCHIFFER
point of view

Ulquiorra knelt down to the ground, carefully collecting the blood-stained limbs of the Sexta Espada onto his arms. He pulled the man's head to his chest and held him there for a while. He pressed his cheek to Grimmjow's hair and looked away, eyes half open in deep contemplation. He remembered the way Grimmjow had smiled at him a few minutes before the man completely lost consciousness, and he wondered if he would be able to see it again. In truth, he wanted to, but he being worthy or unworthy of it was out of the question. He didn't want to think with any reason at the moment, because he knew that everything falls down to one and he didn't like it.

Green eyes fell close, resting.

I thought I was protecting you, Grimmjow.

He pondered more for a while, thought back of the things he wished that didn't happen. He loved the way their fingers interlace, the odd rush of coldness that would spread from his chest, leaving him to wonder just where it came and why it did. He didn't have a heart, he was sure, but where else would it come from? He had no clue, no proof. Without Grimmjow, only questions were what Ulquiorra had and lost was what he was.

"DISAPPEAR!!" Grimmjow's gruff yell resounded in his head; the desperate swinging of Pantera clearly visible beneath his closed eyes. He remembered the confusion and helplessness that flooded those blue eyes along with tears, and he hoped he had seen what Aizen was planning before hand. He would've come sooner, and Grimmjow wouldn't have to go through the pain and the burden of seeing him die only God knows how many times. It must've been really awful, Ulquiorra could only imagine.

He hated it: the fact that he could've come sooner. He really could've and he would've saved Grimmjow from everything. Ichimaru was telling him to come, that was why the man came knocking on his door with that mocking concern lacing his voice. The silver-haired lieutenant helped him somehow if only for the entertainment, but it was help nonetheless.

"Aizen-taichou ain't nice, Cuatra-chan."

If only he listened.

"Ya tellin' me it ain't my business, but if I were ya... I'd be glad I made it mine."

But still, what good would it do when he was sure that he would've done things the same that he did when he arrived? If he arrived sooner, would he point his zanpakuto to Aizen instead of Grimmjow? Would he fight his lord for a lowly adjuchas? Now that he thought about it, he could but he will not.

Why?

I'm sorry.

Because he is an Espada—a broken piece of something or nothing, a shattered piece of a mirror which a human used to look himself at, a forgotten portion of a worthless being without a heart, but most of all, he was, being an Arrancar, nothing more than a tool for war and destruction... something incapable of feeling and devoid of a heart, of his own mind, but then, can someone tell him why just where this feeling on his chest was coming from.

Ulquiorra rose up, securing the unconscious Espada in his arms, and strode to the unmade bed in the far corner of the once sterile white room. He laid him down as gently as he could, repositioning the limbs once Grimmjow was comfortably lying. He brushed his fingers against the curves of the Sexta Espada's arm, feeling the roughness of dried blood with his cold, naked skin. When he turned his hands to his face, the blood that should've been gone was still there, mocking him with their existence and the fact that it was not his own. Perhaps it was guilt that kept him from tearing his emerald eyes away from the deathly crimson liquid.

"I love you, Ulquiorra." Grimmjow once confessed, "Please, say you feel the same."

Hearing these words all over again made those strange creatures underneath his skin crawl all over his freezing body and the distant voices in his head began whispering. The voices were of Grimmjow, and the fact that they were not blaming him made him feel even worse. He raised his hands to his ears, hoping that it would block away the sounds, but unfortunately, it didn't manage to do a thing.

"I always thought it was impossible, but then... you taught me what I was supposed to teach you."

Ulquiorra went down, bending his knees to a crouching position. His fingers almost dug themselves in his skull. He didn't want to hear anything anymore. The pain should've left when Aizen did, but why was it going on and on? He didn't want it anymore! He knew what he did. It was his fault, he was aware, and if he needed to say it out loud, he would. He didn't have any plans of running away; he wasn't one who denies the truth, so he didn't need any more of this... but why does it go on?

"Ulquiorra, I..."

"Silence." The Cuatra Espada weakly muttered, screwing his eyes shut. He gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on his aching head even more. He hoped the strange feeling would go if he cuts his connection to the world, but when he closed his eyes, more tormenting images raced in his mind. There was Grimmjow fighting, bleeding... dying, and then the one when those blue eyes were weeping. Ulquiorra continued to shake his head and shiver all over. He had enough of it. How many times does he have to say it?

Stop it.

Then there was Grimmjow puking his blood out while Murcielago was smoothly sliding through his abdomen, the merciful crimson drug spraying all over Ulquiorra's pale skin. The way Grimmjow's face twisted in pain was the hardest thing to forget about, and the rush of his own blood as his ears absorbed the guttural cry and hopeless breathing of the one he claimed he loved.

I didn't mean it.

"Ulquiorra..." the way those oceanic blue eyes wept as his name rolled out of those dry lips, it was something so painful to remember, but there was one thing even worst than the regret he felt that wrapped itself around his chest... and that was the way Grimmjow fell down without anymore life with a smile on his face as if saying, "I still love you."

It was the reason why his emerald eyes remembered how to cry...

"I will wait for you until you return these words to me."

...the reason he found his lost heart...

"It doesn't matter how long."

...but the fact that he didn't deserve this much love...

"I will always love you. With everything I have left..."

...made him feel even worse.

"I promise this to you."

xxx

Days came and went, Ulquiorra stayed by Grimmjow's side: spending sleepless nights and all the energy he had left to prepare himself for the waking once more of the Sexta Espada. He was sitting on the ground by the white bed, staring at his dark fingernails which edges were crying blood. He had just finished scrubbing the room clean, and to be hurt by such a simple task was absolutely stupid. Perhaps he didn't have any reiatsu left to keep his hierro up. Not that he was thinking that needed it at the moment, though. It was just customary for someone as high ranked as he was to have their defences held up at all times.

He sighed, intertwining his fingers exactly how Grimmjow used to intertwine theirs together. It didn't feel right, he felt incomplete just as how it was when Aizen would embrace him and make love to him. There was no warmth just as he was when left all alone. Without Grimmjow, he truly was nothing. Without Grimmjow, he was a creature with no purpose... although he being a creature alone was something he was even needed to be reassured of now, because he felt so empty. So very lonely.

Grimmjow.

How long had it been since he walked outside that door? Ulquiorra couldn't remember, because he hadn't left ever since, but he knew it had been long. Very, very long... and Grimmjow was bound to wake up soon. Now that he thought about it, what was he going to do when Grimmjow wakes up? Or the better question to ask himself is: was he ready to face him?

His head sunk down in between his folded knees near his chest, and then he began contemplating. It was true that he wasn't ready, but he thought it wasn't too late to prepare himself. What would he do? What would he say? Would he explain to Grimmjow that he didn't have any choice? That Aizen had forced him into a corner where he couldn't do anything but hurt him? Would he tell the truth that he was plainly confused? Or would he tell him nothing instead?

"Cuatra-chan, Aizen-taicho..."

The way things were now, it was obvious that his lord was against such bond. Who was he kidding? Aizen owns him after all, both mind and body... soul and body. It was kind of painful that he knew it, and that he would openly admit it if his lord wills it. He really shouldn't have dragged Grimmjow into this, but going back to his present problem... what would he tell him?

I... I will...

Ulquiorra felt that odd rush again from his chest, but decided to ignore it for now. He looked up and leaned his head back to the edge of the soft bed. He started to reassess things... all things that were involved in his, his lord's, and Grimmjow's life. He wouldn't want to find himself and Grimmjow in such a mess again.

I...

He continued to think, deeper and deeper each minute. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. What was it that he truly wanted to say?

I don't know.

Ulquiorra sighed, standing up and turning to the showers to take a relaxing bath. He couldn't remember when the last time he had one as well. He was too preoccupied with stabilizing Grimmjow's health and erasing the remnants of the most painful battle he over fought. He peeled off his clothes and then walked in the showers, twisting the knob until the almost sizzling water sprayed all over his naked back.

He shuddered at the sudden feeling of pain, but he knew it was nothing compared to what Grimmjow felt. Because what Grimmjow went through was something that could never be relieved even if he cried it out through a hundred nights, but now was really not the time to think of it anymore. He should learn better than to destroy the progress he had so far when it came to actually moving on. What happened was truly regrettable, but fretting over it for the rest of his life was not going to take him anywhere... nor would it bring back everything to the way they originally were.

After a while, he walked out, shuddering when the cold winds caressed his burnt skin. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, but he stood still. When he reopened his eyes, he tried to ignore the awkward feeling and went on as normally as he could. He bent down to pick up his old clothes he dispersed by Grimmjow's closet, but he ended up gripping at something else.

He blinked. There was a long slim sleeve that trailed to the lowest drawer, and when he pulled it out further, he realized that it was his shattered uniform.

"Use my clothes for a while..."

That night... how could he forget? That wasn't the first time they kissed, but somehow he still remembered it like it was one of the most precious things that happened in his life. He was still scared of Grimmjow touching him then, and this was because the Sexta's hands felt exactly like Aizen's... which later became unbelievably soft and warm. He also had the awkward chance to be in Grimmjow's uniform, and it was quite a scene now that he thought about it.

"It suits you."

Ulquiorra pulled the ripped shirt to his nose, breathing in. It smells like him now.

xxx

More days passed, and still Ulquiorra was left there in one corner of the white room mulling over the things he would like Grimmjow to know. He watched the man's chest heave in every breath so very closely as if he would find his answers there. Sometimes he would hold Grimmjow's hand for no reason; sometimes he would lie there beside him, but most of the time he would talk like he was facing someone conscious, practicing the rolling of his explanation turned into words on his tongue. It didn't feel strange like he initially thought it would, telling Grimmjow what he feels that is.

"Grimmjow," he started, gazing at the peacefully resting form of the blue-haired Espada, "I hope to let you know..."

Hope? When did he ever felt hope? What was he talking about? Ulquiorra sighed, sliding his hands to his pockets, and decided to start all over. He breathed in, replaying in his mind the words he would want Grimmjow to hear, but before he was able to prepare himself for it... Grimmjow's reaitsu spiked, signalling the imminent waking of the Espada.

Emerald eyes grew wide, staring at the shifting form of the almost fully recovered Grimmjow.

What am I going to say to you?

Coldness swarmed all over Ulquiorra's body, reviving the odd creatures beneath his skin.

"Grimmjow, I..."

Blue eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times to fight the glare of the fake sunlight peeking through the small windows. He groaned and sat up, wrapping an arm around his abdomen to support his still recovering fractures. Nausea hit his head once he was upright, forcing him to close his eyes and moan in discomfort.

Ulquiorra's breath hitched, fear and pressure all rushing back to him so swiftly. He reached out his hand, shaking... growing cold with painful anticipation and all other things, but perhaps, above all the feuding emotions in his entire being was the guilt and the fear itself of being rejected and hated.

"Grimmjow..." he weakly called, almost unheard... and Grimmjow barely did. He turned to it nonetheless; the Sexta Espada's throbbing heat whipping to the where he thought he heard someone call his name. And to his surprise, his oceanic eyes growing wide, there was no body there to even make a sound.

Ulquiorra Schiffer, the Cuatra Espada, had fled.

GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ
point of view

Grimmjow sat up, nausea hitting his head like a mallet. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in search for relief, and twisted around so he could dangle his legs at the edge of his bed. His blue eyes slowly reopened themselves, squinting and blinking a few times to fight the strain given by the fake light seeping through his windows. His body later began to ache, crying out for more movements to compensate for the long period of rest.

"Fuck." He moaned in discomfort, rubbing his temples in circles.

"...Grimmjow."

He lifted his head, looking around his quarters, and found himself alone. Not such a surprising fact, but... somehow, he wished that Ulquiorra would be there to greet him or even just a sign that he was there. The voice he heard, the faint whisper, he swore it was Ulquiorra's... but he couldn't be too sure. Because of his encounter with Aizen, he didn't know if he could be sure with anything anymore.

"I'm hearing things again." He muttered under his breath, staring down at his naked feet. There were tiny slashes and bruises, perhaps part of the aftermath of his battle against Aizen... and Ulquiorra. Now that everything was over and seemingly back to normal, he guessed it was the perfect time to investigate some stuff. He had a lot of questions, but the most important question residing in his mind was if Ulquiorra was alive or truly dead.

He stood up and headed to take his bath, peeling off his pure white uniform. He suddenly stopped. Wait, pure white? Grimmjow turned to face a mirror that reached the floor and the high ceiling. He looked at himself, his blue eyes grazing his figure. There were many scars, some still fresh wounds, and some fading bruises, but what should've been there above all else was non-existent.

There was no blood. Not a drop. Not a trace.

Ulquiorra. He looked down to his hand, somehow they felt so warm... and strange, as if someone was holding them still. Was this a proof that Ulquiorra was alive and had been taking care of him until just a few minutes ago? Or was this another madness that Aizen produced with his zanpakuto? Grimmjow couldn't tell. A big part of him was hoping that it wasn't just an illusion, but a bigger part of him was also scared to cling to this hope.

He closed his hand, turning them into fists. His body had been aching and the battle wounds were there, so at least he could say that the battle did happen. What happened during the fight, though, that he still couldn't believe. Grimmjow continued to take his bath, and decided to clear everything out after once and for all.

After a while, he walked out of the bath. His hair and whole body dripping wet. He headed to his closed at rummaged through his clothes. He took out the usual white uniform with a scowl, not that there was any other selection but he hoped Aizen would at least give them a break from the boringness of the stupid white.

The Sexta Espada continued to head out, brushing his hair with his fingers until they were dry and up to their usual messy spikes. He strode down the hall, closely observing every corner of Las Noches. Nothing felt odd. Everything was just as they always had been, but it didn't answer any of his questions especially the one that matter the most. So, he went on and on and on, until he found that familiar figure walking down the hall.

Ulquiorra!

A strange sensation flooded him, coldness crawling swiftly over his skin but it felt somewhat good. He quickened his pace and did not stop until he felt those slim body trapped in the middle of his limbs. He pulled him into his chest, embracing him as his heart continued to race in excitement.

"You're alive." Grimmjow whispered, his voice almost breaking in weakness due to indescribable glee. When Ulquiorra did not say anything, it didn't bother him and he even held him tighter as if Ulquiorra would disappear if he even thinks of letting go. He buried his face on the raven tresses, rubbing his cheek lovingly against it.

"Grimmjow,"

"Just let me hold you." He muttered, holding him even tighter if it was still possible. He leaned down further, his neck almost hurting by how much he bent it to reach Ulquiorra's shoulder but nothing else mattered. Grimmjow didn't want anything else to matter. "Just for a little longer."

"I think it has been long enough."

"Don't run away." Grimmjow whispered weakly. "If I let you go, don't disappear."

"I don't see any need to." He raised his hands, putting them in between their chests, and pushed a little. "Let go now."

"And don't die."

Ulquiorra lost his words, and it took him more minutes than he should've wasted in thinking of an answer. "I will not."

Albeit reluctantly, the Sexta Espada slowly loosened his hold and stepped away. He kept his eyes in contact with Ulquiorra's beautiful emeralds, and raised a hand to cup the small face. He trailed the green tear tracks with his thumb, hardly remembering the time that Ulquiorra wept just before he lost consciousness.

"What is it that you want, Grimmjow?" the Cuatra sternly asked, slapping away the hand that cupped his cheek gently. "If it is a fight that you want, go annoy the Quinta or the Decima. I do not have the time to spend on you..."

Grimmjow's eyes grew wide. Something was wrong.

"Trash."

Very, very wrong.

xxx

He was frantic, and as shameful as it was to admit... there was nothing else that could describe what he was feeling at the moment. The very second Ulquiorra pushed him away and left him there dumbfounded in the middle of the white pristine halls, he rushed back to his room, desperate to find a trace of the nights he spent with Ulquiorra. He turned all the furniture over, broke his things, scraped the walls and floors, and now, he had only one hope left.

Ulquiorra's ripped uniform.

He rummaged through his closet with gritted teeth, not caring if he was to destroy his own clothes in the process to find it. It was the only one left and the thing he treasure the most. Grimmjow was so sure he kept it here, but where was it?

Where is it?!

He continued to search, his eyes started to sting... he wanted it to be true. He was begging it to be true!

I'll give up every damn thing I have... just let me fucking find it!

Everything he went through, every smiles and stupid idea Ulquiorra had that he laughed at... he wanted it to be a memory.

Where the fucking hell is it?!

Every tear he saw the Cuatra Espda shed, he wanted them to be real.

Fucking give it to me!

But even how much he wished, no matter how much he wanted it... it didn't seem to be true. He couldn't find Ulquiorra's uniform anywhere, and it only meant one thing: none of it really happened.

No!

But still, he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop and give up. Grimmjow wasn't ready to believe that he was fooled, that he didn't learned to be happy with Ulquiorra, and that he fell in love with nothing more than a dream. The crystals that formed in his eyes began to crawl down, going through the same path Ulquiorra's tears had in his dreams—the tears that were for him. And now he was crying the tears that were for the other.

Ulquiorra...

For the both of them...

What have you done to me?

...and for the love that had never really been there.

I was tempted to even split this into two chapters, but I realized that I have already told everyone that this will be the last, so... lucky you. Anyway, if you are unsure... everything really did happen. Ulquiorra just didn't want to hurt Grimmjow anymore, and yes, this is really the end for Our Greatest Secret. And did you know that Grimmjow is forgetting to check one last thing? He lent Ulquiorra his own uniform the same night he got Ulquiorra's, do you remember? (Check chapter three.) I didn't mention anything about Ulquiorra returning it, now did I? :)

Thank you to all my readers! Thank you to ChiharuSato22 for being a great beta even for a short period, and thank you to the nice reviewers like Ririn, Horsesrulee12, Freakyaoifan,, luckless-is-me, and many more others! Thank you to Beppin14 for also being awesome in beta'ing some chapters of this fic. I also would want to thank Dior Crystal and Ravefirell for not only reading this, but also for creating the best and most active GrimmUlquiFC evaaaar~

Sequel? I don't know. There's a big chance that I would do a continuation story, but I'm not promising anything. If ever, it would most likely revolve around Grimmjow's promise and I think it would and could last up to six chapters... but I'm never really a consistent one. What I am only sure of is that there will still be angst (as always).

As always, feedbacks are golden. You can also throw in your opinion about the possible sequel.

With overflowing internet love,
Fen~ ;3